Tomb Raider: The Ten Thousand Immortals (20 page)

Man-bag took off his bag and his jacket. He put the bag back on and turned the reversible jacket inside out, switching from black to a pale grey. He put it back on over the bag and didn’t fasten it. Shades pulled a beanie hat out of his pocket and put it on. He took off his shades and unbuttoned his jacket. Shades joined the queue in one of the coffee shops, and Man-bag went into a newsagent’s to look at magazines. They both had good views of the concourse when the security guard emerged with Lara and the cleaner.

It became clear very quickly that the interview was going to take longer than an hour. Lara was going to miss her flight.

“Passport,” said the interviewer. She was a petite woman in a skirt suit who took a very formal, unsmiling attitude. Her badge said that her name was Marina Kasapis.

Lara handed over her passport and answered questions about where she was travelling to and from. She answered questions about her latest visit to Paris. She tried to explain why she had so little luggage. She talked about being a student of archaeology and explained how she was able to afford to travel.

Someone had taken her passport away. She was searched. Her luggage was searched. They wondered why she had disabled her phone. She claimed it was broken and that she didn’t want to put the battery back in it in case she made things worse. When they asked why she hadn’t thrown the battery away, she just shrugged.

The Book was difficult to explain. She talked about it being a study aid, but it was clear that she had not made it herself, that some of the notes were old and in several different hands. It did, however, back up her claim to be an archaeologist.

The Queen Mary tin was more difficult.

“What is this?” asked Ms. Kasapis.

“It’s a Queen Mary tin,” said Lara. “They were given as Christmas gifts to serving soldiers in 1914.”

“Why do you have it?” she was asked.

“It was a gift,” said Lara. “Given to me in Paris by a friend.”

“Is there anything inside?” asked Ms. Kasapis.

“Yes,” said Lara. “There is an ancient piece of wool. A piece of a fleece from Colchis in Georgia. It’s wrapped in silk cloth.”

“What does it mean?” asked Ms. Kasapis.

“It’s an antiquity,” said Lara. “In Georgia, gold was mined from streams. Instead of using pans, the miners used fleeces that they laid in the streambeds. The gold collected in the wool, and when the fleeces dried, the gold was combed out. This is a piece of one of those fleeces.”

“It is an antiquity?” asked Ms. Kasapis.

“Yes,” said Lara.

“Do you have a license for it?” asked Ms Kasapis.

“No,” said Lara. “I brought it from Paris. It was a gift given to me by a friend there. It originates in Colchis.”

“You claim it is not a Greek antiquity?” asked Ms. Kasapis.

“It is not,” said Lara.

“The box is not Greek?” asked Ms. Kasapis.

“It is English,” said Lara. “It is not an antiquity.”

“Please open the box,” said Ms. Kasapis.

Lara opened the Queen Mary tin and drew back the silk covering the piece of the fleece.

Ms. Kasapis peered at the matted grey scrap of wool. She drew on a pair of latex gloves and pulled the piece of the fleece out of the tin with her fingertips. She felt it for a moment and then placed it back in the tin.

“You can verify its provenance?” she asked.

“No,” said Lara. “It was a gift from a friend. I know only what he told me.”

“Close the box,” said Ms. Kasapis.

Lara covered the scrap of wool with the silk and put the lid back on the tin. It was taken away.

Two hours passed.

“Have you found the men?” Lara asked.

“No men answering your descriptions have boarded any flights from the airport,” said Ms. Kasapis. “We are preparing to show you CCTV footage of the concourse for you to identify them.”

“OK,” said Lara.

Lara was able to identify the men with ease. They were exactly as she remembered them, and exactly as she had described them.

“I am going to show you some more footage,” said Ms. Kasapis. “I want you to identify any individuals that look familiar. Try to disregard clothing. Appearance might be altered.”

Lara watched footage of a newsagent’s for two or three minutes. There was something familiar about one of the men who left the shop and walked along the concourse before disappearing after two or three seconds. The man was wearing a grey jacket that was open, and he wasn’t carrying a bag, but there was something familiar about him. She asked to have the film replayed.

“That’s him,” she said. “That’s the man with the bag and the zip-up jacket. It looks just like him.”

“Good,” said Ms. Kasapis. “And now, this piece of footage.”

Lara looked at a second piece of film, and she spotted Shades immediately. It was the stubble and the line of his jaw. The jacket was the same, too.

“That’s him,” said Lara, pointing at the monitor. “That’s the other man.”

“Thank you,” said Ms. Kasapis. “If you’d like to wait here.”

Lara was left in the interview room with a security guard. She was wearing the standard uniform of a blue shirt and a peaked cap, and was much less threatening than the guard who’d escorted her to her interview. Another half an hour passed, and Lara was brought a bottle of water and some food on a tray. She took the water, but she was too tense to eat. They had taken her passport and Menelaou’s fleece, and she didn’t know if she’d be allowed to travel. She was desperate to get back to London, and she was fearful that Ares’s people or Kennard’s, or even Christian Fife’s henchmen would get to Babbington before she did. She was afraid for his safety, but she also wanted to secure the Golden Fleece statue before it could be taken away from her.

If I know where it is, the others won’t be far behind me,
she thought.

Ms. Kasapis finally returned.

“You will be allowed to leave on the 7:30 flight to London Heathrow,” she said, handing Lara her passport.

“And the men?” asked Lara.

“They have been detained and are being interviewed,” said Ms. Kasapis. “That is all I can tell you.”

“Can I have an escort to my flight?” asked Lara.

“We insist upon it,” said Ms. Kasapis.

“My tin?” asked Lara.

Ms. Kasapis produced the tin.

Lara opened it and checked the contents. She looked at the scrap of fleece carefully and held it in her hands for a moment.

“It was photographed and the details recorded and checked by an expert,” said Ms. Kasapis by way of an explanation. “It was found to be of no interest. It is an offence to export artifacts without the proper authorisation. There are rules and regulations, Miss Croft.”

“Of course,” said Lara.

“There are forms to fill in. An incident report for our records,” said Ms. Kasapis.

The paperwork was completed, and, finally Lara was escorted to her flight. It was a strange and disconcerting experience, and she had no doubt that Ares’s men would walk out of the airport free men in much less time than it had taken her to board her plane for London. She had no idea whether they had been able to call in reinforcements in the meantime.

No matter what it took, she was determined to get to Oxford tonight. There was no more time to waste.

Chapter 26

L
ara’s plane arrived on time at Terminal 5 at 9:15, and she headed straight for the Heathrow Express for a train to Paddington. She knew it would be late when she finally reached Oxford, but there was nothing she could do about that. She’d get to Babbington first thing in the morning.

She bought a ticket with ten minutes to spare for the 9:57, and decided that this was her best chance to use her phone. If Ares was tracking her, he probably already knew she was heading for London; a railway station wouldn’t tell him much about where she was going from there. She put the battery in her phone, checked her contacts, and wrote Willow’s number on the back of her hand. Then, she took the battery out of her mobile again and headed for a public phone.

“Hello?” said Willow when she picked up. Her voice sounded cautious.

“Hi, Willow. It’s Lara… Lara Croft,” said Lara.

“Hi, Lara. How lovely to hear from you,” said Willow. “I almost didn’t answer my phone.”

“I’m using a pay phone,” said Lara. “I’m coming to Oxford tonight, and I wondered if you could possibly do me a favour?”

“Anything,” said Willow.

“Would it be OK if I crashed with you?” asked Lara. “I won’t get there ‘til about midnight, and I know it’s inconvenient.”

“A sleepover?” asked Willow. “That’d be lovely. I can’t wait!”

“Good,” said Lara, smiling. “Where shall we meet?”

“Do you know the Turf Tavern?” asked Willow.

“It’s just off Catte Street,” said Lara.

“That’s right,” said Willow. “I’ll bring some of the guys and wait for you there.”

“Wonderful,” said Lara. “See you later.”

Lara was as vigilant as always on the platform, checking the passengers. Terminal 5 was the terminus for the train, so she was able to walk along the platform and see into the carriages. She checked who was sitting where and joined a carriage with several small groups of people. No one was travelling alone, and everyone had some sort of luggage. She couldn’t see anyone who looked like they might be one of Ares’s men or women. She was the last to enter the carriage. Lara sat down in the aisle seat of a pair, closest to the doors, and put her rucksack on the seat next to her. She could see down the full length of the carriage at all the other passengers. Six minutes later, the train stopped to let in more passengers for the other Heathrow terminals, but only one more family joined her carriage. Sixteen minutes after that, the train pulled in at Paddington station without making any more stops.

Lara was grateful that she didn’t have to travel across London on the Tube. She vividly remembered the ride to Cahalane’s hotel and her encounter with Magazine Man… with Greg. She still didn’t know how Greg and Kennard fit into the story. She still didn’t know whether they were connected to Ares. She had no reason to believe that they had anything to do with Christian Fife. She wondered whether they had their own agenda. She was sure there were things she still didn’t know.

Someone had spent a good deal of money setting up the pretend dig in Anafi, if it was a total hoax set up for her benefit. If it wasn’t a hoax, then what was it?

There were very few people on the 10:48 from Paddington. Lara didn’t want to sit in an empty carriage, but she was wary of joining a carriage where there were people sitting alone. She opted for a carriage where a young couple was sitting together. Again, she took the aisle seat of a pair, closest to the door. The station had been busy, and she’d been able to buy a cup of coffee and a sandwich at the Costa on the main concourse. She hadn’t eaten on the plane. She hadn’t eaten anything for twelve hours, and the stress of the day had made her hungry.

She ate the sandwich and drank the coffee as she watched passengers get on and off the train between Paddington and Oxford. There were four stops before Oxford. The young couple got off the train at Slough, and Lara was alone until the guard came to check her ticket. She asked how long until the next stop, but it was only a ten-minute wait, so she decided to stay where she was until she knew who was getting on at the next station. A large group of young people got on the train at Maidenhead, so she remained where she was. When she left the train at Oxford, they were still in the carriage.

Lara was first off the train, and into a taxi at the station, and minutes later, she was walking into the Turf Tavern where Willow was sitting at a table with Ben and Imran. The pub was half-full of students, and Lara was happy to be in a crowd again, and to be around familiar people, particularly Willow.

“So, what have you been up to?” asked Willow.

Lara smiled.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said. “But I’m back now.”

“Sounds intriguing,” said Ben. “And I always thought archaeology was dull.”

“Haven’t you seen the Indiana Jones movies?” asked Willow. “Archaeologists are adventurers, aren’t they Lara?”

“Not in the slightest,” said Lara. “Mostly, we sit in dirty holes in the middle of fields in the cold and damp, digging through odds and sods the size of your fingernails.”

“Are you staying for long?” asked Willow.

“I’ve got a meeting in the morning,” said Lara. “So just tonight, I think.”

“Oh,” said Willow, disappointed. “You’re not going back to Merton for some more lectures.”

“I think I’ve found out what I needed to know,” said Lara.

“Let’s have another drink,” said Ben, “and you can at least tell us something about what you’ve been doing.”

So, Lara told them that she’d been on holiday to a Greek island. She didn’t tell them anything about her quest for the Golden Fleece, but she did tell them about Rebekah and about finding her maps and how valuable they might be. It wasn’t the whole story, but it was a good one, and her friends loved the idea of her finding some real treasure.

Chapter 27

L
ara was up early and walked over to Merton College shortly after eight o’clock. She thought she’d have to wait for Professor Babbington to get to his office, but if she had to wait, so be it.

She knocked purposefully on his door, and was surprised when she heard his voice on the other side.

“Come,” he said.

Lara entered the room to find him sitting with a student, apparently taking a tutorial.

“Miss Croft,” he said. “We don’t have an appointment. Perhaps you’d like to wait.”

“I’m sorry, Professor Babbington,” said Lara. “This is a rather urgent matter.”

“Leave your essay, Sarah,” Babbington said to the girl, who was sitting in the low chair that Lara had occupied during her last visit. “It would appear you have earned a reprieve. Come back at half past two, and we’ll recommence then. Re-read the section on establishing provenance.”

Sarah looked blankly at Lara, picked up her bag, and scurried out of the room without a word, closing the door behind her.

“Well, Miss Croft, to what do I owe this dubious pleasure?”

Lara had cast her eyes around the room. It was exactly as she remembered it. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. She knew exactly where to look for the ram statuette, and it was where she expected it to be, tucked away, high up in the far corner of the room.

Now that she was in Babbington’s study, now that she was confronting him, she wasn’t entirely sure where to begin or what to say.

“Come along, Miss Croft,” said Babbington. “What is so very urgent that you burst into my office and turn out my student? The Golden Fleece has been a mythical artifact for two millennia, and suddenly it is a matter of urgency? I assume it is the Golden Fleece to which you refer?”

“It is,” said Lara. “You misled me.”

“I did no such thing,” said Professor Babbington. “I imparted to you the same information that I would impart to any student on the subject. I referred you to historic findings. I deconstructed the myth. I informed you.”

“And yet, you don’t believe a word of it,” said Lara.

“Empirical fact and belief are two entirely different things, Miss Croft,” said Babbington. “That which we can verify and that which we believe to be true are often at odds, one with the other. If we could verify the presence of God, there would be no need for faith.”

Lara could hardly believe what she was hearing. Babbington was arrogant, pompous even. He talked as if he was superior to the students he taught, as if they deserved to know nothing of the mysteries that surrounded the objects they studied. In that moment, Lara felt nothing but contempt for Babbington. He reminded her of another collector.

He’s no better than Ares,
she thought.

“I know about the Golden Fleece,” said Lara. “I know about the gold from the fleece.”

Babbington’s expression did not change.

Lara wasn’t sure what she expected, but it was not his total lack of any reaction. There was a moment’s pause while she considered her next words.

There was a heavy double knock on Babbington’s study door.

Babbington was facing the door, and Lara turned to see who was there as the professor said, “Come.”

The door opened, and two men entered, closing the door behind them. Mr. Peasley and Mr. Frink strode across the room, drawing pistols from holsters under their jackets as they approached Lara and Babbington.

Lara ducked as she saw the barrel of Frink’s gun emerging. She turned to look in Babbington’s direction. Peasley had the professor in an armlock, with a gun pointed at his head.

Lara looked back at Frink and the gun he was pointing at her.

“You left Anafi without our permission,” said Frink. “Mr. Fife is not a happy man.”

“What are you doing in my study?” asked Babbington, defiant. “Why are you hounding this poor girl? You can’t just come in here—”