Free Indiana Jones and the Dinosaur Eggs by Max McCoy Page A

friend, Lao Che."
    "No friend of mine." Granger sniffed. "But one uses what is at hand to get the job done, you know. Jones, did you really have to take a shot at me?"
    "He was holding a knife on me," Indy said. "Besides, I missed on purpose. I'll bet you're glad the train didn't hit a bump just then, huh?"
    "I don't know where you got the idea that you could shoot." Granger shook his head. "Concentrate, Jones, squeeze the trigger gently. I've watched you, and every time you shoot you hold your breath and snap the trigger like a four-year-old kid with a cap gun."
    "Sorry to interrupt your little chat," Joan said as she crawled up next to them, "but what do you intend doing about that fellow in black? If you haven't noticed, he's slicing open the canvas over the truck up there."
    "I told you to keep her back," Indy scolded.
    "I can't argue with a nun," Wu Han said.
    "What the devil is he up to?" Granger asked.
    "Say, that big machine gun mounted on the truck isn't loaded, is it? I mean, you didn't fit it with a magazine yet, right?"
    "It wouldn't be of any use if it weren't."
    "Terrific," Indy said.
    "Oh, I doubt whether the bugger will be able to figure out how to operate the thing. It's rather complicated, you know, and most of these simple people have no experience with advanced firearms. If it's not a muzzle loader, they're lost."
    The assassin brought back the bolt on the British machine gun and chambered a round. He was crouching in the back of the truck, and the muzzle of the gun was pointed into the air. He test-fired at the sky, laughed maniacally, then swung the barrel down and let go with a short burst at the truck where the others were hidden.
    The front end of the Dodge truck quivered as bullets chewed into it, shredding the canvas and sending bits of metal and glass spraying upward. When the shooting stopped, the truck settled down on two flat front tires and began to hemorrhage oil and antifreeze.
    "I think we ought to be hunting for a safer place to hide," Granger suggested. "This particular flatcar is loaded with petrol drums."
    "Indy," Wu Han said. "What's the plan?"
    "I don't have a plan," Indy replied. "Why do I always have to be the one with a plan?"
    "You just do," Joan said. "So make one."
    "Jeesh." Indy took off his hat and jammed it onto Joan's head. "Take care of this for me. I don't want any holes in it, you understand?"
    "What do you want me to do?" Granger asked.
    "Keep him pinned down in the truck," Indy said.
    Indy sprinted to the forward end of the car and jumped down onto the coupling while .30-caliber slugs riddled the area where he had been. His boots slipped on the grease-covered iron, but he caught himself before he fell.
    He took hold of the frame of the flatcar and began to pull himself along beneath it. As the roadbed whizzed beneath him Indy imagined the killer trying to point the machine gun at the deck. If there was a way to do it, he decided, the assassin would probably figure it out.
    Finally Indy reached the end of the flatcar and grasped the tongue with both hands. The heels of his boots sparked on the roadbed as he pulled himself up onto the coupling. Then he crouched on top of the coupling, resting briefly between the cars. He studied the mechanism for a moment, then drew his pocketknife and jammed it deeply into the brake hose. He had to twist with all of his might, but finally the blade punctured the tough hose with a hiss of escaping air pressure. Then Indy pulled the pin and strained against the lever that opened the coupling. Finally, it turned.
    "Let's see how you deal with that ," Indy announced.
    As the cars began to separate, Indy realized he was on the wrong side of the coupling. As the gap widened between the cars he would become a sitting duck for the assassin's machine gun, and there wouldn't be enough time to scramble to safety, regardless of whether he was on the top, side, or bottom of the car.
    The cars were now held together only by the damaged hose. As the drag