Tomb Raider: The Ten Thousand Immortals (18 page)

Lara held the photograph in her hand for a long moment. She realised that she did know what it was made of, because she’d seen the object somewhere before. She knew that the ram was about five inches long and that it was made of gold. She could see it clearly in her mind’s eye.

Lara took the gold Queen Mary box out of her rucksack. She unwrapped the greasy, grey fragment of the Fleece from its silk covering and held it in one hand while she held the photograph of the ram statuette in the other. She inhaled deeply.

“It’s a ram,” she said. “The gold from the Fleece was made into a ram. It was a ram all along.”

She put the piece of Menelaou’s fleece back in its tin and the photographs back in the pocket of the Book.

“One question at a time, Lara,” she said.

“Who are you, Greg?”

Lara sat for a moment, the Book on her lap, her hands flat on top of it.

“Think, Lara. Why are you here? What are you doing? When did this begin?”

It had begun with Sam and with Yamatai. It had begun with Himiko.

“Don’t go back there, Lara. Use your time wisely.”

It had begun with Sam. It had begun with that call to the hospital. It had begun with the overdose. That’s when Lara had started to think about the Golden Fleece.

Lara snatched up her phone and scrolled back through her pictures, back to before Oxford. There he was! He was wearing a baseball cap and holding a rolled-up magazine, but it was definitely the same man. It was Greg. It was Magazine Man. It was the man she’d taken a photograph of on the Tube station at Warren Street. It was Greg who had made her late for her dinner with Professor Cahalane. He
had
been following her. He’d been following her in London. He’d been following her right at the very beginning of her quest.

How is that even possible?
wondered Lara.
Is he one of Ares’s people? Does Kennard know about this? Why wasn’t he in
Anafi?

Every time Lara found the beginning of a new answer, a new lead in her search for some solution to Sam’s problems, more questions reared their heads.

She needed answers, and she needed them soon.

Kennard had told her that the dig at Anafi had been ongoing for eight weeks. If that was true, how was it possible that Greg had been following her in London only a couple of weeks earlier?

I need to get into the wheelhouse,
thought Lara.
I’ve got to check the logbook to the
Alecto.
I need to find out for sure whether this dig is for real. I need to know who I can trust. I’ve got to find out whether I can trust
anyone.

Chapter 22

L
ara was itching to act. The fatigue had drained away with the good adrenaline of having a purpose and with having a plan. Getting into the wheelhouse wasn’t going to be easy, but, at the end of the afternoon, everyone would be busy. She wouldn’t have long to wait.

Lara checked her watch. It had been a little over two hours since she’d spoken to Kennard. She put everything back in her rucksack and made a pillow out of it. She lay down on the seating area that doubled as a bunk and pretended to be sleeping. She hoped that Kennard would soon come to find her. She could hear movement on the deck above. The diving was winding up for the day.

She let her body relax as her mind went through her plan. She heard quick, light footsteps on the stairs into the cabin, but no one spoke. Lara lifted her head a little and slowly opened her eyes, as if waking.

“Hey,” said Kennard. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“It’s fine,” said Lara.

“Do you feel OK?” asked Kennard.

Lara sat up and stretched a little.

“I feel fine,” said Lara. “I could use some fresh air, and I’m hungry.”

“Good,” said Kennard. “I’m about to cook. Why don’t you go up on deck.”

“I might just do that,” said Lara. She picked up her rucksack.

“You can leave that here, if you like,” said Kennard.

“I was going to relax with a book and maybe see if I can get a phone signal and ring Sam,” said Lara.

“OK,” said Kennard, smiling.

Lara climbed the stairs to the deck and looked around. Everyone was busy doing something, just as she’d hoped. The boat was anchored, and there was no one in the wheelhouse. Everyone was gathered around the other side of the boat, checking equipment and find bags, and dealing with logs. It was the perfect opportunity.

Lara set herself up on the deck close to the wheelhouse. She sat for a few minutes. Then, she took out her phone and paced back and forth, examining the screen. If anyone were watching her, it would look as if she was trying to get a phone signal. No one was.

It was a beautiful, bright, still day in the harbor, and the door to the wheelhouse was propped open with a weight. Lara stepped inside. She opened the door wide so that it almost filled the width of deck to the guardrail, making it difficult for anyone to enter behind her, and moved the weight.

The
Alecto’
s
logbook was attached to the bulkhead by a chain. She opened it and flicked through the pages. Everything was logged. There were times, dates, and coordinates. She began with the date that she’d first arrived in Anafi and worked backwards.

The coordinates had not changed since two days before her arrival on the island. Lara assumed those coordinates were for their current location. The
Alecto
had taken a journey four days before her arrival at Anafi. Prior to that, it had been moored for a week at coordinates that differed from its current position. In the three days before that, it had made another journey, and prior to that, it had been moored at another set of coordinates for six weeks. Apart from three short journeys, it had been moored at those coordinates for fourteen weeks prior to that.

Lara made a note of the coordinates. She couldn’t be sure, but she guessed that they were a considerable distance from Anafi. She’d have to check the coordinates to find out exactly where
Alecto
had been for the past five months, but she was almost positive it had not been at Anafi or anywhere close to it. She was almost sure that the dig had begun only two days before her arrival.

Why had Kennard Montez lied to her? Who was he working for?

I have to get off this boat, and I have to get off this island,
thought Lara.
I’ve got to stay one step ahead of these people, whoever they
are.

Two speedboats approached
Alecto
from the stern. The first cut its engine, and two men were already jumping onto the diving platform at the rear of the boat as it was being tethered by a third. The second speedboat came alongside to port, and two more men were boarding from grapple lines thrown over the guardrails before anyone on
Alecto
had realised what had happened.

The first of the crew to notice something was wrong tried to cut one of the grapple lines free as the boarder climbed, but the cable was too strong, blunting the knife. The boarder was fast, and grappled the crewman to the deck. He disarmed the crewman with a slam of his wrist against the deck, and knocked him unconscious with his second punch.

The second boarder had taken down one crewman with a blade wound to his gut and was attacking another. The second, a young woman, had been checking and stowing wet suits. She had one wrapped around her arm and was trying to defend herself against the blade while countering with well-aimed kicks.

Lara heard the commotion and ducked below the windows of the wheelhouse so that she could not be seen. She heard rapid steps on the stairs from below decks as Kennard and another crewman rushed onto the deck. They emerged behind the wheelhouse and met the two men who’d boarded the boat at the stern.

Lara checked the windows. She had to know what was going on. She could see both skirmishes on the deck. She counted four men in full, black wet suits, fighting with the crew of the
Alecto
, including Kennard, who appeared to be an expert in some form of martial arts. His arms and legs were swinging impressively as he drove one of the boarders back along the starboard deck towards the lower diving platform at the stern. She saw a glint of steel as the boarder held his ground for a moment, his stance wide and low, his left hand swinging into Kennard’s body at waist height.

Lara gasped, but her eyes kept moving. She didn’t have much time, and she needed to assess the situation. She did not see whether Kennard escaped the knife attack. On the port side of the boat, two more figures in black were doing battle with more of the crew. One of the women was struggling to keep her balance as she was being forced back over the guardrail. Suddenly, she snapped rigid fingers, hard, under the ribs of her assailant, and his head fell forward as he doubled over. Her neck stiffened and her back flexed, and then she drove forwards, full force, propelling the boarder’s body down onto one of the heavy metal storage lockers that lined that side of the deck.

A second crewman was attacking the other black clad figure from behind as he was clearly kicking a man that was already on the deck.

Lara saw another blade. This time it was in the hand of a crewman, not a boarder.

The thumps and shouts were loud, but the fighting was fierce, and Lara knew that it could not last for long. She was also sure that these were more of Ares’s people. She remembered the blistering skin of the face she had seen only hours before, the face of the jet skier that Kennard had attacked. If they were Ten Thousand Immortals, were they still after her?

Even if Kennard and his crew defeated them, there was the question of Greg’s allegiance and of Kennard’s lies about the dig.

Lara stepped out of the wheelhouse, shielded by the door. No one would notice her footsteps among the thuds and shouts of the skirmish. Some of the time, the dinghy was tied at the stern of the boat, but not when the diving platform was in use. The crew hadn’t finished packing up for the day, and Lara was relieved to find the dinghy tied up where Kennard had left it, forward of the wheelhouse.

Lara threw her rucksack into the dinghy and dropped down after it. The little engine started up immediately, and she drove the dinghy away from the boat on the starboard side, making a wide circle out into the harbour before doubling back towards the shore.

Chapter 23

L
ara looked back twice. She had not been seen. As she approached the quay, Lara kept a careful look out. Her eyes were peeled for familiar faces. She was expecting to see Peasley or Frink. Her luck couldn’t last. She smiled with relief when she saw a tall, lean, young Greek man with a lot of long, curly hair. She pulled the dinghy into the quay as close as she could to him and called his name.

“Georgos,” she said.

He looked up and smiled broadly at her. She was finishing tying up the dinghy when he reached her. She shouldered her rucksack and let him help her onto the quay.

“Hello, Lara,” he said.

“Is Rebekah here?” she asked.

Georgos looked around for a moment, and then pointed thirty or forty metres further down the quay to where his sister was standing talking in a small group. She was facing them, so he stepped into her line of sight and waved both his hands over his head. Rebekah soon noticed her brother and walked towards him. When she realised that the English girl was with him, she walked a little faster, a broad smile, matching her brother’s, soon spreading across her face.

“Lara,” she said, by way of a greeting, “you’re back.”

“Hello, Rebekah,” said Lara. She turned her head and looked up and down the quay.

“What is it, Lara?” asked Rebekah. “What is wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” said Lara. “I’m trying to avoid somebody.”

“Is that all?” asked Rebekah. She took Lara’s hand and began to run along the quay with Lara in tow, as if it was a game. Lara let herself be led. They passed the spot where Lara had been put in the car by Peasley and Frink. Lara couldn’t help casting a glance into the arched porches of the houses that clung to the slopes facing the quay.

Another fifty metres, and Lara was being led into the shady space beneath one of the arches. The house beyond was cool and comfortable and very homely. Lara was led through a large, low, whitewashed room into a kitchen.

“We can hide here,” said Rebekah. “Welcome to my home.”

“It’s lovely,” said Lara.

“I have wine and fish and salad,” said Rebekah. “Georgos will be here soon, and he will want to eat. Will you stay?”

“I have nowhere else to go,” said Lara. “Except, I need to get off the island. I need to get back to London.”

Rebekah stopped moving around the kitchen, finding glasses and wine. She looked hard at Lara.

“You are serious, Lara,” she said. “Something is wrong?”

“My friend is in hospital, and I need to get home,” said Lara.

“One phone call,” said Rebekah, holding up a finger. She turned, lifted the receiver of a landline hanging on the kitchen wall, and dialed a number. She spoke rapidly for a few moments, and then turned to Lara.

“Your name is Lara?”

“Croft,” said Lara.

Lara heard her name spoken into the receiver, along with a lot of Greek that she didn’t understand. When she hung up, Rebekah was smiling.

“You are on the ferry leaving for Piraeus at 10:20 tonight,” she said. “There’s a transport service from Piraeus to Athens International Airport.”

“Thank you. You made that so easy,” said Lara. “I hope I can repay the favour one day. You must come to see me when you visit England.”

“I will,” said Rebekah. “After we eat, Georgos can take you back to your hotel to collect your luggage.”

“I have everything here,” said Lara, lifting her rucksack from her shoulder and putting it on the floor at her feet.

Rebekah smiled again.

“More time together then,” she said. “A proper farewell.”

Rebekah handed Lara a small glass half-filled with wine.

“A proper farewell,” said Lara. She hesitated for a moment.

“There was something else?” asked Rebekah. “I am happy to help you, Lara.”

“You know about boats and the sea around here?” asked Lara. “You know about coordinates?”

“All my life,” said Rebekah. “For as many generations as anyone can remember. For my whole family it has been only fish and boats and our little houses on the quay.”

“If I showed you some coordinates, do you think you could tell me where they are?” asked Lara.