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Once Siwan Khan had been led out of the Depository building, he had been fitted with a harness with a long steel wire and large balloon attached. The balloon had been inflated from a bottle of pressurised gas and let fly, towing the cable. An enemy airplane had caught the wire with some kind of fork, pulling the Golden Master screaming into the air – the witnesses had been very clear on the point that Siwan Khan had seemed none to happy about the means of rescue.
OK, I agree with Siwan Khan. This has got to be the most humiliating, painfull, largest chance of getting killed etc way to get him back.
I love it! It belongs in a Austin Powers film.


Presumably he had later been pulled inside the plane.
I hope for him they didn't decide to tow him all the way back to San Francisco. Unless it's some sort of punishment for getting caught and spilling the beans.

Great update!
 
anonymous4401 said:
Is there anything Fu Manchu and his crew can't do? :wacko:

They cannot know love of freedom!
 
And they cannot...not...rescue a guy from one of the most highly-guarded places in the United States using only their bare hands... :wacko:
 
Hopefully, they can not win in the end because the authAAR is against them, though it certainly doesn't show at this point. :eek: And I hate to say it but i agree with the Shadow, against enemies like these traditional tactics won't work. An extra degree of rulthlessness is perhaps needed.
 
The warrior monks of the Black Temple are certainly a dangerous and nefarious group within the Si-Fan... and capable seemingly of the impossible. Fortunately, there are not that many of them, but the good guys have only one with similar capabilities; The Shadow!

Will the Nemesis of crime overcome his dispicable co-practioners of the secret arts of mind clouding? Or can some other match for their deadly skills be found?

Find out in the continued story of the EMPIRE OF FU MANCHU! :D
 
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Mexico City
United Mexican States

April 19th, 1940

streetcar.jpg


Deme… hip… otra mas de tequila, por favor!’ the old foreigner drunkard demanded with enormous attention to every syllable. The empty bottle of José Cuervo in front of him made it clear that he was ordering another bottle, not a glass.

The bartender looked at him with a mixture of pity and contempt. The white-grey beard, once surely noble-looking was spotted with his last meal. His face was shiny with grease and grime. His clothes were creased and spotted, and the clear-blue eyes dead. ‘Pendejo,’ he asked ‘why do you have to sit here and stink up my cantina, and drink up your last pesos? You’ve had far too many tequilas already! Go home, go home to your family!’

The old drunkard shuddered violently. ‘No, I can never go home… never…’ he explained in his strange, hard-sounding accent. ‘I offended an important man, un alto official… Now I am a wanted man in my country. And besides, I never want to sober up again… never… NEVER!’

The barman shrugged and looked away. He had seen similar declines before, and although he had profited from them, they always made him sad. Still, there were things to make any man break. He didn’t know what tortured the old Gringo, who beneath the Tequila breath and poor hygiene seemed like an educated and refined man, but he had seen him trash and whimper even in drunken stupor.

The doors opened, letting some light into the dark, smokey locale, and a man, another gringo in a worn leather jacket and brown fedora hat, with a whip hanging from his hip entered the cantina. After some hesitation he moved over to the bar, sitting down next to the old drunken gringo.

‘Professor Falken… Klaus… how are you doing?’ he asked, a frown creasing his forehead.

The old man looked up, his greasy face shining up in a smile. ‘Dr Jones! What on earth are you doing here? I figured you’d be mixed up in this horrible war!’

Indy shook his head. ‘I’m an archaeologist, and last time we met, so were you. What happened?’

Falken shrugged. ‘I just… let myself go. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat… I mean, what’s the use? Now I know what we are, how little we mean… and what things there are in the world… does anything really matter any more? Tequila seemed like a pretty good option… and it grows on you. I no longer bother with lemon and salt.’

‘Well, stop that right now. I’m looking for Professor Falken, the greatest authority in the world on the Western Xia Empire. You see, I’m off on a little expedition deep into Pan-Asia, and frankly, I could use some help.’

‘Into Pan-Asia? What on earth could you be looking for there?’ Falken said, sobering up instantly.

‘The lost tomb of Genghis Khan.’

Falken laughed. ‘You’re headed to the wrong country then, Dr Jones! Everyone knows that Genghis was buried near his birthplace, near the Onos river northeast of Ulan Bator in Mongolia!’

Indy smiled and poured himself a tequila. ‘Or so we were made to think. Genghis died besieging the capital of the western Xia in the province of Ningxia, it's called Yinchuan in our days, and as the story goes, his body was brought home for burial.’

Falken nodded. ‘Exactly. All along the way, anyone seeing the coffin was immediately put to death to keep his demise a secret, and later all taking part in his burial were also killed.’

‘Haven’t you ever thought that it’s a strange way of keeping a secret to parade a coffin through the heart of China while slaughtering everyone who you happen to catch seeing it? I’d rather say it’s an excellent way of advertising the transport of that coffin…’

‘What are you saying? That it was a ruse?’

‘Yes! You see, what I belive is that very coffin has found its way to New York, where I had the chance to examine it. I’m certain it never held a dead body, at least not for any length of time.’

‘You’re making fun of me, Dr Jones!’

‘No, Professor, I’m not. I think Genghis was buried where he died, and that the whole funeral procession and burial was a charade designed at misleading anyone searching for the tomb in later days.’

‘But… where in Yinchuan would the grave be?’ Falken asked, looking perplexed. ‘I’m familiar with the area, and there is nothing there looking like a Mongol Imperial tomb. If it’s there, it must be completely hidden, impossible to find!’

Indy shook his head. ‘No. Where is the last place you would look for a lost Imperial tomb, Professor Falken?’

Falken shrugged. ‘No guessing games, Dr Jones, please! Where?’

Indy smiled mischevously. ‘Where there already is one!’​
 
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Indy appears again! And on what is bound to be another exciting and riveting adventure! :eek:
 
So good old Professor Falken is in for another adventure, that will no doubt kill what's left of him both mentally and physically... ;)
 
boehm said:
nice update...

...but I want news from the front? US or traumland or whatever?!? pleeeease :rolleyes:

ok although I WAS looking forward for some more batle info ...indy is good too ...hell I guess I have to admit ALL YOUR STUFF IS GOOD....need more ...MORE....

...there is just soo many loose ends I cant wait to hear what happens with :)
 
Yes, a update that doesn't involve some sort of Pan-Asian victory! :D Good luck to Dr. Jones and Prof. Falken on their search for the tomb, I think they'll need it.
 
I managed to get time read this again from child care and most importantly with out my wife seeing :D
How can child under 3 weeks be so much awake and make her father so tired :confused:

Great updates Yogi.
No prison seems good enough to hold Shiwan Khan.
Nice to see Indy again.
 
Reich Chancellery, Berlin
Greater German Reich

April 19th, 1940

office1.jpg


Heil Hitler!’

Sturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny performed a textbook Nazi salute before his Führer, Adolf Hitler, who answered it still sitting behind his enormous desk with his characteristic sloppy flip of the underarm.

‘At ease, Sturmbannführer. I’m very happy to see you again, alive and in one piece. Are you and your men fully recovered from your ordeal in the Dreamland?’

Skorzeny’s lower jaw tightened as he remembered the long march through the abysmal vaults of Zin, fighting off constant attacks by ravenous Ghasts and colossal Gugs, the helplessness as the many wounded began to succumb to infection and exhaustion, the anguish in trying to protect the bodies of their fallen comrades from the nauseating swarms of Ghouls that hovered around the retreating Kampfabteilung Traumland… it had been a nightmare march to make the retreat of Napoleon’s Grand Armee from Russia look like a wholesome winter promenade.

‘My Führer, the third of my men that made it back alive AND with their minds and bodies still in one piece are in reasonably good shape and ready for action. Another third, the ones badly injured or driven mad, might never recover fully. The final third will most certainly never recover – their bodies, or the remains of them, litter The Dreamland from Sarkomand to the fringes of the Ghoul Realm.’

Hitler looked shaken. ‘Bad business this, very bad. Please accept my most sincere sympathies for you, your brave soldiers and their families. There will be an Iron Cross for every man, dead or alive in your unit and Swords for your Knight’s Cross, in recognition of your gallant leadership during the retreat. Your men have been screaming to heaven for it and I have nothing but respect for officers loved by their men.’

‘Thank you my Führer. And what of Sturmbannführer Duhrn?’ Skorzeny asked dryly. ‘Will he also be rewarded?’

Hitler shook his head. ‘He’ll get his Iron Cross 1st class, like any other soldier in your unit who already had the 2nd class, but this… this debacle was his idea, his project, his failure. I fear Obersturmbannführer Professor Scheel and my “Treuer Heinrich” are mightily put off with him. I’m sorry, I know you’re friends.’

‘That would be stretching the definition a bit, my Führer. The Sturmbannführer and me have a working relationship, you could say.’

‘Indeed. Well, we need to put this behind us and return to more mundane matters, Sturmbannführer. As you’re no doubt aware, the preparations for operation Barbarossa are in the final stages. Your Abteilung will be used as the cadre for forming a full Standarte as my Leibstandarte is expanded into a Motorised Division. Troop training, however, is not for you – I have another mission more suited to your unique skills.’

‘You have but to command, my Führer!’

Hitler beamed. ‘If only more of our men were like you, my own Knight Errant! This then is what I require – as you are certainly aware, the Pan-Asians used a new kind of super bomb against the Americans as a prelude to their landing, a secret weapon.’

‘A thermobaric bomb, the newspapers call it.’ Skorzeny said, nodding.

‘Exactly’, Hitler agreed. ‘Our explosives boffins say they have a good understanding about the underlying principles of the weapon, but it would save us much time in designing a working bomb if we had a model. SS-Sturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny, I hereby order you to steal a thermobaric bomb and bring it back to Germany for study. Can you do that for me?’

‘Yes, my Führer!’ Skorzeny promised without thinking. ‘Can I pick my team freely?’

‘Of course!’ the dictator agreed. ‘Here, I have had prepared and signed a letter giving you extraordinary powers to requisition anything or the help of anyone in the Reich. You’ll answer only to me in this matter. Will that be satisfactory?’

‘Yes my Führer, I believe it will,’ Skorzeny answered, smiling in anticipation.

****​

Wewelsburg SS-order Castle
Westfalen, Greater German Reich

April 19th, 1940

wewelsburgbig6eh.jpg


Obersturmbannführer Professor Dieter Scheel paced the floor in front of Duhrn’s desk, while his host and subordinate stood, even paler than usual, behind it.

‘Damn it, Günther!’ the occultist academic turned SS-officer shouted, never stopping except to remove his round steel-rimmed spectacles and wave them about. ‘Damn it to hell, you had Xaltotun – XALTOTUN – no less, the greatest sorcerer since the fall of Atlantis, and what do you have to show for it? Almost nothing! And what’s much, much, worse: you’ve disappointed the Führer with your wild scheme of attacking Fu Manchu through the Dreamland! Do you have any idea what kind of a dressing down I had to put up with from the chicken-farmer!? Me?! Do you?’

Duhrn said nothing – there was nothing to say. Success has many parents, but failure is an orphan goes the proverb, and now he experienced for himself the truth of it. Suddenly, it seemed he alone had been responsible for an operation that had involved, in some way or another, every major branch of the SS.

He wouldn’t be sacked, or executed or imprisoned, of that he was sure because there was no one able to replace him; but he had lost face and influence, while Skorzeny had won nothing but praise and accolades, and that was intolerable. Something drastic would have to be done to redeem his standing, and already he had a good idea of what his next great coup would be. There would be no more fooling around with minor magic. Emboldened by what little he had had time to learn from Xaltotun, Duhrn decided there and then to bet all his remaining chips in this game.

He would need a few things first, of course; the Heart of Ahriman, to compensate with that power-boosting gem for his own insufficient knowledge in the black arts. And of course, a version of the book more true to the original than the rat-gnawed 17th century copy of Wormius’s latin translation that held a place of honour in Duhrn’s black steel bookcase. Maybe a copy of the Greek first translation, unseen since the Salem witch hunts, would be found in the archives of the Soviet Union after Barbarossa opened them up - after all, many noble refugees from the Byzantine Empire had fled the Turk to Russia after the fall of Constantinople, in all probability bringing their litterary collections with them. But if not, he intended to go straight to the source, to Arabia, to experience for himself what the author Abdul Alhazred had only dreamt of – The Nameless City. There, no doubt, he’d find the incantations he need to show them, all of them, the true power of Günther Duhrn!​
 
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Finally! Another SKORZENY!!!!

Nice update. I wish Germany would focus a little more attention on taking down Pan-Asia rather than the USSR, but I really can't expect anything else from Hitler. No idea what Duhrn is planning, but something tells me it isn't good...

Keep up the good work!