First things first…
Lara Croft and Tomb Raider are trademarks of Core and Eidos Interactive. This story includes references to Winston, Jaqueline Natla and several other elements of the original Tomb Raider game. All other characters in this story are my own creation. Any critique (positive or otherwise, as long as it's constructive) will be welcome at razors80@hotmail.com.
On with the show…
1 THE FOURTH LINK
2 Part One
by
3 Razors
* * * * *
If you were to ask Lara Croft what she was doing at the gates of Eric Phelner's California home that October morning, she probably would have replied, "Good question."
Unfortunately, the man in the black turtleneck with the dark glasses and the walkie-talkie was asking her what she was doing there, and she rightly suspected that this answer would not suffice. So she handed him her passport as identification, and told him that Mr. Phelner had invited her to his home to discuss business. All of this was true, except for the last part – she had no idea why Phelner wanted to talk to her. But since she was presently conducting business in Los Angeles anyway, she'd decided to take the opportunity to meet him. Many people in the field of archaeology considered Eric Phelner to be the Prince of Darkness, and it wasn't every day you got to have a social chat with Satan.
The man in the turtleneck checked her invitation on his walkie- talkie, then handed her passport back. She noticed that he was holding a metal-detector wand in his left hand. "Sorry, ma'am," he explained gruffly. "Just a precaution. Raise your arms, please."
Lara obliged, raising her arms as the man waved the device over her. It was rather ironic that this was one of the few occasions when she wasn't packing a gun - although she always felt slightly naked without one, she wasn't expecting to face anything life-threatening during her visit and had decided to leave the hardware behind for the day, deciding it might be more trouble than it was worth. She noticed the man's fixed expression as he scanned her – he probably hoped his sunglasses were hiding it, but she could tell he was staring at her chest. This didn't really bother her – she was used to intense male scrutiny of her figure, especially around the thorax region. And although she preferred to be appreciated for her more cerebral assets, she suspected it would bother her a lot more if men stopped looking.
Eventually the gate was opened, and Lara was directed to go up to the house. She made her way up the driveway like a casual dinner guest and – presently dressed in a knee-length skirt, light blouse, sleek leather jacket and high black boots – she probably looked like one. There were a couple of other turtlenecks wandering the grounds (did Phelner have them cloned somewhere?) who watched her approach the house with only casual interest. She'd been confirmed as an invited guest, so she felt their attention was partly professional caution and partly vague male admiration. She was well accustomed to both.
The house was like one of those million-dollar beach-houses that soap opera protagonists lurked in – all white curves and huge windows and ultra- modern design. Phelner met her at the door, which surprised her a little. She'd expected to be greeted by a maid or some other lackey, then formally announced – a courtesy that most wealthy men extended to their guests in order to impress them. She hadn't anticipated 'Satan' striding out of his front door in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt and giving her a warm smile.
"Lara," Phelner beamed. "Can I call you Lara? Sorry, I'm not much of a one for formality. You can call me Eric, but I'll stick to 'Ms Croft' if it bothers you."
He didn't make any comments about 'stuffy English manners', but the insinuation was all too clear. Lara had to admit he'd caught her off-guard a little with his instantly familiar tone, and mixing veiled cultural stereotypes with his over-friendly demeanour wasn't helping. "Lara's fine," she nodded, shaking his hand.
She took a moment to study him – he was shorter than her, quite stocky, with curly dark hair and one of those faces that seems to have been designed for smiling. He was smiling now, and it didn't look like he was about to stop.
She allowed him to usher her inside. The interior of the house was, as expected, just as modern and stylish as the outside. She followed Phelner into the living room, furnished with plush sofas that used up barely a tenth of the floor space. The bay windows afforded a magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean, but then so did the balcony in her hotel room.
They went through the motions of hospitality – Phelner offered to take her jacket, which she politely refused, even though she took it off. She was mildly impressed to see that his eyes remained on her face as she did so. She accepted a seat, and Phelner asked, "Would you like some coffee, or would you prefer…?"
"Yes, please," Lara responded, not giving him a chance to offer her a cup of tea. She wasn't entirely innocent of the stereotypes herself, of course – she'd half-expected him to offer her a Coke.
A few minutes later she was sitting cross-legged on the sofa with a flat white perched on the low glass table in front of her. Phelner sat opposite, sipping a cappuccino and asking her about her drive up the coast.
"I took a taxi," she replied coolly, and was satisfied to see surprise register on his face.
"Wouldn't have guessed you're a taxi person," he admitted.
Yeah right, Lara thought. You're probably thinking I only did it to be chauffeured around. "More convenient that way," she shrugged. "By the same token, I'm surprised you don't have a maid serving the coffee."
It was a mistake, and she realized it immediately. She was simply commenting on the absence of what she felt was a standard fixture in wealthy American homes, but had ended up sounding like a pampered English dowager.
Phelner grinned. He was good at it. "I do have a housekeeper who comes in and cleans up after me, and a guy who looks after the grounds. But I don't expect them to wipe my backside. I cook my own meals and I serve my own coffee." He failed to hide the slight amusement on his face as he added, "I hear you have a butler."
Lara tried not to show her irritation at the remark. "Winston, yes. He's an old family friend," she replied pointedly. "With a lifetime job. And although he doesn't 'wipe my backside', he would feel a bit offended if I started rummaging around in his kitchen."
"I understand," Phelner assured him, with the professional air of a man whose personal experience with butlers was limited to watching Alfred answer the phone for Bruce Wayne. "Now…" He leaned forward, placing his cappuccino on the table. "Let's see if I can read your mind."
Lara raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Right now, you're thinking… 'Why doesn't this loudmouth American bonehead stop making small talk about domestic labour and tell me what I'm doing in his living room?' Am I close?"
"Close enough," Lara replied, with a slight smile.
"Okay," Phelner smiled, leaning back into the sofa. "Then I'll let you off the hook. I've got a business offer for you."
Lara nodded. "Recovery, I assume?"
Phelner frowned slightly. "Sorry?"
"You want me to find something for you," Lara explained. "That's what most people have in mind when they have a business proposal. And given your reputation…"
"Ooooh, gossip," Phelner replied, his face lighting up. "So what are they saying about me around the campfire these days? I try to keep up, but I'm a busy boy."
Lara tried to conceal a smile. She'd heard about the man's infectious charm, and had to admit it was making an impression. "Let's see… Eric Phelner, thirty-seven years old, independently wealthy thanks to his business dealings in software and the aerospace industry, and an avid collector of artefacts. I've heard you have a private collection."
She didn't bother to hide the mild disdain in her voice when she spoke the word 'private', and Phelner picked up on it. "Ah, there it is," he smiled. "The old disapproval. I get that from a lot of people in your field. You think I should donate my collection to museums, right?"
Lara shrugged again. "Most artefacts I've come across in my career belong either in museums, or left where they are."
Phelner nodded. "Out of respect for ancient cultures."
"No," Lara sighed. "Because it's safer to leave them buried."
Phelner smiled. "Yeah, I've read your books. I believed most of it."
Lara let it pass.
Phelner chuckled. "Anyway - in answer to your question, no. I don't need you to recover an artefact for me. My offer involves an artefact that's already been recovered."
"What kind of artefact? And who recovered it? And from where?"
"To answer in reverse order – South America, Albert Gullardo, and… well, I was kinda hoping you could answer the first question yourself."
"Gullardo?" Lara scowled.
"You know him?"
"I've heard of him. He's a bounty hunter, not an archaeologist."
Phelner shrugged. "Yeah, he's a bounty hunter. In other words, he finds people – and objects – for money. And he's always maintained that he'll find anything if he's paid enough. However, it wasn't me that hired him to recover the artefact in question. His original buyer fell through, after he'd gone to all the trouble of tracking the damn thing down. We've done business before, so he called me and asked if I wanted it. Turned out I did."
"Alright," Lara nodded. "But if you don't need me to find it, then what… you need a professional opinion?"
Phelner pointed at her, tapping his nose with his other hand.
"Is it here at the house?"
"No, it's in the vault at my office. Better security there."
"Really? And here I was thinking you'd overdone the security here."
"What, the guards?" Phelner smirked. "Yeah, it's a little 'Don Corleone', I admit, but I had a little trouble with a stalker a while back, and the cops suggested I hire some babysitters."
"Must have been a pretty determined stalker."
"Hey, I'd have been offended if it was some amateur."
Lara smiled. Too charming for his own good, this man.
*
True to his convictions, Phelner didn't have a driver either. He showed Lara to his BMW, and – to his credit – waited to see if she would open the door herself or expect him to do it for her. She handled her own ingress to the vehicle, and her host slipped into the driver's seat. One of the turtlenecks got into the back seat without a word. "Lara, this Caleb," Phelner smiled. "Caleb, Lara Croft."
Caleb nodded to her without a word.
They drove into Los Angeles, a trip which took about thirty minutes. During the drive Phelner explained his proposal. He would pay Lara a flat- rate consultancy fee of one thousand US to inspect the artefact, with an option for a two-hundred-dollar-an-hour renewal if she agreed to a long- term study. There was a contract waiting to be signed at his office, and he also mentioned that there was a confidentiality clause involved. "I take the term 'private collection' quite seriously," he explained.
"Don't you think," Lara suggested carefully, "that it would be more lucrative to display your collection? Might help your reputation with my colleagues, as well."
"Lucrative?" he frowned. "What, charge admission? That'd make my reputation worse, I suspect. Anyway, I kind of like keeping all my trinkets to myself. Childish, I know, but I'm a selfish little kid at heart."
"Like Jerry Seinfeld and his car collection?"
Phelner laughed, quite loudly. "I said childish, not deranged."
They eventually reached a high-rise office building, and cruised into the subterranean parking lot below. The guard there greeted Phelner with subservient familiarity, and soon they were in an elevator taking them swiftly to one of the upper floors.
"You own this building?" Lara asked as they passed the thirtieth floor.
"Technically, no," Phelner admitted. "But I employ almost everyone in it, so I get treated like I do."
They finally reached their destination on the fortieth floor, and Lara stepped out into the air-conditioned environment beyond. There was a short, carpeted corridor leading to a set of wide double doors at the end. Another guard – wearing a suit, and without shades, but otherwise identical to the Turtleneck Boys – was standing outside it.
"Morning, Mr. Phelner," said the guard, in a broad New York accent. "How's life?"
"Same as always, William," Phelner replied.
"That good, huh?" the guard smiled. "Morning, ma'am," he said to Lara.
She nodded back, trying not to notice the way William glanced between her and Phelner. Did he think she was the man's girlfriend, brought here to be seduced by the opulent contents of his vault? It didn't matter, she decided.
William entered a code into the keypad next to the door, then opened it and stepped aside. "Tour of the vault today?" he asked of his employer.
"No, Ms Croft is only here to view one of the pieces. But first things first…" Phelner led Lara into a large round room, simply furnished with a glass table and a number of chairs. There was another set of doors opposite, and the walls were decorated with what appeared to be large Polynesian masks. Lara was surprised – even a little disgusted – to see that these were cheap island souvenirs, the type sold to tourists. Nice enough to look at, but their cultural and financial worth was next to nothing. Were they there for cheap ambience, she wondered, or to impress people who didn't know any better?
Caleb waited by the doors while William walked across the room. Phelner directed Lara to a seat, and slid a slim black folder in front of her. "Your contract," he explained, handing her a fountain pen. "Take as long as you need to read it. I hope you won't insist on calling your lawyer, everyone else always does."
"We'll see," Lara returned, with a wry smile. She opened the folder and started reading, deliberately taking her time. It was a very simple contract, promising her the agreed consultancy fee for her investigation of the artefact, and guaranteeing her discretion. Phelner's signature was already on it. After a few minutes, she picked up the pen and scrawled her own.
"Okay," Phelner smiled. "Let's get this show on the road. Wait here."
He and William walked over to the other doors, which opened without a code – but behind them was a large, shiny, and obviously very thick steel door. There were two keypads on opposite sides, and Lara watched as Phelner and the guard simultaneously entered two codes. The door was swung open with a faint hydraulic hiss, and Phelner used a keycard to open the barred door behind it. Then he went inside.
Lara wanted to follow him, wondering how many pieces of historical significance he had locked away inside. She could make out rows of shelves and metal boxes, but no more. William waited outside the door, obscuring her view further. She sat back and waited.
Phelner reappeared a moment later, carrying a metal box. It was about thirty centimeters square, and looked like it was built to take a beating. Phelner carried it with the care and reverence that any archaeologist would afford a valuable piece, though in his case she was sure it was the financial worth he was thinking of. He gently placed the box on the table, and started to unclip the catches around the base. "Ready?" he smiled.
Lara noticed that the two guards, without a word from their boss, were discreetly heading out into the corridor and closing the doors behind them. She looked up at Phelner and nodded.
Placing his hands on either side of the box, he lifted away the metal cover. Inside was a glass case, containing a tiny steel pedestal. And resting on the pedestal, protected by the glass around it, was…
She frowned. What was it? It looked familiar, but she couldn't place it. She was sure she'd seen it before. It was, for want of a better description, an amulet – a shiny flat circle about three inches across and an inch thick, with three flat arms protruding out like points on a star. The whole thing glistened with faint rainbow colours, and was engraved with swirling designs. And in the center of the ring was a small sphere, orange in colour, apparently made from some type of crystal.
And then it hit her. She hadn't seen this artefact before, but she'd seen something of similar design. Her eyes widened.
Phelner saw her reaction and smiled. "You recognize it."
"I… recognize the culture."
Phelner nodded excitedly. "So? Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking," Lara replied, regaining her composure, "that if I tell you what I'm thinking, you'll call me a nut."
"No I won't." And for once, he sounded deadly serious.
"Alright then," Lara nodded. "I think it's from Atlantis."
The smile returned. "I think you're right. In fact, I know you're right."
Lara's eyes narrowed. "So you knew what it was all along?"
Phelner sat down with a shrug. "I have background information on it, none of it confirmed. That's why you're here. And I'm pleased to say that you've given me the confirmation I was looking for."
"So fill me in." Lara's face was blank as she stared at the amulet. "What exactly is it?"
"I'm reading your mind again, and you know what it is," Phelner grinned. "What you're looking at, Lara, is the fourth piece of the Atlantean Scion."
*
"You know, I met Jaqueline Natla once," Phelner said, placing another cup of coffee before Lara. "Shortly before you did, I think." He sat down and stared reflectively at the table for a second. "She was a real bitch."
"You have no idea," Lara replied, picking up her cup to take a sip. They were sitting in Phelner's office, two levels down from the vault where the amulet was once again locked away. Phelner sat back in the armchair opposite Lara in one corner of the office, and paused to light up a Marlboro. He blew out a soft plume of smoke, and then remembered his manners. "Oh, I'm sorry – do you mind?"
"No," Lara replied, though her eyes said otherwise.
"Sorry," Phelner shrugged, stubbing out the cigarette in an ashtray on the small table between them. "My own office is one of the few places in this damn state where I'm allowed to smoke. So - all that stuff about the Scion, the tombs in Peru and Egypt, the suspended animation…" He hesitated before asking, "All that was true?"
Lara hesitated too, but finally gave in. "Yes, it's true. Depending on what you've actually heard."
"Modern folklore. One of the legends of Lara Croft." Phelner fixed her with a bemused look. "I don't want to sound like an idiot, but… do you really have a Tyrannosaurus head mounted over your fireplace?"
Lara smirked. "So I hear."
"Ah," Phelner nodded. "Never mind, then. So… old Jacqui was twenty thousand years old, huh? She carried it pretty well."
"Beats cosmetic surgery," Lara conceded. She thought briefly of Sofia Lee.
"And you found the other three pieces of the Scion for her?"
"I found the first piece for her," Lara corrected him. "The one in Peru. She made her own arrangements for the other two, but I got there first." And a fat lot of good it did me!
"And then it was wall-to-wall mutants, huh?" Phelner laughed. "You know, the official story on that island blowing up was a volcanic eruption. But the old Lara Croft fan network knew it was something else. Every time you go on an expedition the Internet starts buzzing."
Lara frowned at him. The laugh had bothered her. Wall-to-wall mutants might sound funny to him, but he hadn't been there. "I know. I don't even bother reading my e-mail anymore unless it's from someone I know. You wouldn't believe the stuff people send me. But we're drifting from the point, aren't we?"
"Just what I was thinking. Sorry, but I'm a fan myself. I've been trying to avoid asking for an autograph all day."
"You've already got my autograph," Lara reminded him.
"True."
"So – the fourth piece. What do we know?"
Phelner sat back and got comfortable. "Again, just folklore. There's a fair bit of rumour and superstition hovering around the Atlantean myth, if you know where to look for it. Most of it's UFO-related – y'know, X- Files crap. But I did come across a reference to the fourth piece of the Scion. The actual name for it, apparently, was the Scion Heart – the fourth and final link in the design. The three main pieces each had their own power, and could combine to wield all the power of the old Atlantean regime. But if the Heart was combined with them, then the power could be… focused."
"Focused how?"
Phelner shrugged. "No clue. I assume it had something to do with the Scion being used as a source of energy for the Atlantean pyramid. All the legends said was that with the Heart, the Scion's power was absolute."
"Well, we'll never know," Lara sighed. "The other three pieces are… well, in pieces. Probably microscopic pieces, after that explosion. If the Scion Heart is just a focusing device, then it's useless now."
"I wonder…"
Lara stared at him. "You wonder what?" She sounded defensive.
Phelner raised his hands. "Hey, I'm just doing my homework on an acquisition. And whatever I can find out will be useful to your profession, too. I'm not about to grow wings and try to breed a master race."
"You better not," Lara retorted, then felt slightly silly.
Phelner smiled, but it soon faded. "Look, there is something else I want to ask you. And if I'm barking up the wrong tree, then say so."
Lara's body was tense, but she motioned for him to continue.
"According to what I heard, and it's just what I heard," Phelner assured her. "But apparently, when you touched the Scion, you had… hallucinations of some kind."
Lara nodded slowly. "Visions of its history. Memories of Atlantis. Why?"
"Did the visions happen when you touched just one piece, or were they combined?"
Lara tried to read his face, and was frustrated to find that she couldn't. "It first happened when I put the first two pieces together. Then it happened again when all three were combined. More detailed. I assumed that the Scion had to be at least partially assembled for the visions to work." She stared at him for a few more seconds, then sighed. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting? You are, aren't you?"
"Just a theory," Phelner shrugged. "I've picked up the Heart in my bare hands and concentrated my brains out, and all I got was a headache. But you've already been exposed to… whatever it was, and you got a history lesson on Atlantis downloaded into your head. I'm not saying that anything'll happen if you hold the Heart, but I don't mind telling you I'm just about peeing myself waiting to find out."
Lara nodded, and put her coffee cup down. "In that case," she smiled. "I hope you're wearing Depends." She got to her feet.
"What?" Phelner frowned.
"I'm leaving, Eric," Lara spat. "I don't know why you're so eager to find out about the Scion Heart, but I do know it's not just theoretical interest. If what you've told me is true, then the Heart is harmless on it's own. I suggest you use it as a paperweight. Because if you've got another use in mind, then I'm not about to help you. I'll see myself out." She turned on her heel and walked towards the door.
"Hey, hey, hey," Phelner hurried after her, and managed to interject himself between her and the door. She stopped, but her harsh gaze suggested that getting out of her way might be a wise move on the American's part.
He didn't get the message. "Okay, you got me. It's not just theoretical interest. I own a company that designs computers and builds warplanes, and I've got an intact piece of advanced ancient technology sitting in my lap, okay? You can see how that might fire the imagination of a man like me. You know how long my industry's been trying to find an energy source like this? We've studied the damn thing for two years and we can't even scratch the surface. If I can get even half the story on how the Scion actually worked…"
"One," Lara said coldly.
Phelner's brow furrowed. "Huh?"
"Two," Lara continued.
Phelner finally got the message, and quickly moved aside.
"Three," Lara smiled, and strode out of the office.
Phelner watched her go, slowly nodding to himself. Then he sighed, picked up his cigarettes from the table, and lit one up as he calmly walked over to the desk. Tapping the intercom, he said, "Caleb? She didn't buy the pitch. She's on her way out now."
"I got her, Mr Phelner," said Caleb's voice.
Phelner nodded, switched off the intercom and slowly walked towards the door, smiling as he gave a long drag on his cigarette.
*
Lara stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby, quietly collecting her thoughts. Did she care about the Scion Heart? Was it dangerous, especially in the hands of someone like Phelner?
Probably not, she decided. The rest of the Scion was destroyed, the Atlantean pyramid and all it contained had been reduced to dust and vapour. If this was just another piece of the Scion, then it should be harmless enough on it's own. Phelner had admitted that they didn't have a clue how to use it. It was just another relic gathering dust in his vault. Still, she'd check up on what his company was up to from time to time, just to be sure…
For now, back to the hotel for a shower. She still had to brush up on her notes for the lecture tomorrow, and her publisher had said he'd be calling sometime this afternoon…
She felt the slight pressure of weight as the elevator stopped on the twentieth floor, and the doors rolled open. And Caleb walked in.
She almost smiled at him at first, before it became apparent that this wasn't a chance meeting. He strode towards her with an electric stun- gun in his hand and a cold look in his eye. If he was expecting to easily overpower a young female archaeologist, then he obviously hadn't done his homework and Lara was happy to disappoint him.
Her right hand moved so fast he barely saw it, her clenched fist connecting with the underside of his wrist. There was a faint crunch of bone fracturing, and Caleb gasped as the stun-gun clattered against the wall of the elevator. In the same movement Lara's left hand shot out, her fingertips driving into his windpipe. Caleb went down like a sack of cement, dropping to his hands and knees with a harsh gurgle. She followed up by raising her right leg and bringing her boot-heel down hard onto his hip, driving him to the floor and, at the same time, giving her the leverage to jump over him.
She didn't think about what was happening. She didn't have time to wonder. Phelner had apparently decided to gain her co-operation by force, but that was his problem. Her problem was getting out of here. The old instincts kicked in as if someone had flicked a switch. Fight or flight. Preferably flight.
Unfortunately, the instincts sometimes usurped common sense. The smart thing to do would have been to close the elevator and go for the lobby. But her subconscious had assessed the situation and decided that it didn't like her being in an enclosed space with an attacker - who, though disabled, was still moving – and responded accordingly. She had only a second to reflect on this as she charged out the door into the corridor beyond, and ran head-first into William's outstretched arm.
It was like a headbutting an Armani tree-branch.
She stumbled back into the lift, sprawling over Caleb's fallen carcass. William was on top of her in a second, the doors sliding shut behind him as he grabbed her by the lapel of her jacket and jerked her upwards. She swung her foot up in the direction of his groin, but he'd anticipated that and twisted his knee to block the kick. Without a word - or any apparent malice - he hauled her up into a sitting position, delivered a businesslike punch to her left temple and let her go. She was out cold before her head fell back onto Caleb's shoulder.
*
Dreams.
The dreams you had after being knocked senseless were very different to the ones you had when you just went to sleep. Lara should know – she'd had almost an almost equal share of both. This one was no exception.
She was back home at the manor, although it was different – bigger. The kitchen loomed around her like a cathedral. There were people all around her, crowding into the room, but she couldn't make them out. Just shadows, milling around.
Phelner was there, too, seated at the table, and Lara herself was… on the table. Lying on her back. She tried to sit up, but something was holding her down. She felt like she was stuck down with glue.
Winston stood at the other side of the table, across from Phelner. He was holding a meat cleaver. Giving Phelner a polite butler's nod, he inquired, "Are you a leg or a breast man, Sir?"
Phelner ran his eyes over Lara's immobilized form, and shrugged, "Breast man."
"Very good, sir." Winston grasped the cleaver between his teeth and started to tear Lara's shirt open. She tried to scream, but her mouth was sealed shut.
Winston was just raising the cleaver, when the real world came back like a tonne of bricks.
White light blasted into her eyes as her lids fluttered open. Pain shot through her skull, but whether it was from the light or the blow to the head, she couldn't tell. She moved to raise her hands to her head, and felt them straining against leather. She tried to sit up, but as in the dream, she couldn't budge.
"You awake yet?" said a voice.
Lara's eyelids shot open again. The first thing she saw was William standing over her, looking down with the same impassive expression. She tried to raise her hands, but this only confirmed that they were strapped down at the wrists and elbows, held out from her body in a crucifix position. She felt similar bonds around her thighs and ankles, and there seemed to be another strap fitted over her forehead.
The other feature of the dream that had carried over into reality was that William, with his usual calm professionalism, was methodically unbuttoning her blouse.
Panic hit her like a bucket of ice water. She tried to force herself up, but she was completely secured. She struggled against the straps, until William sighed, "You're only gonna hurt yourself, y'know."
Her head pounding from the effort, Lara lay still, though she was still screaming on the inside as William opened her blouse. For a moment his eyes wandered over the lycra bra underneath, and a faint smile stole across his face as he contemplated its contents.
"Don't even think about it," Lara spat.
William smirked. "Don't flatter yourself, kid." He stepped to one side, and Lara felt a slight shudder as he released a brake of some kind. Then she was suddenly tilted ninety degrees and turned around. She realized, with some discomfiture, that she was strapped down to one of those death-row gurneys they put condemned men on to give them a lethal injection. It was housed in a small square room – the walls and carpet confirmed that it was still somewhere in Phelner's building – with a single door and two metal tables against the right wall.
"What's this, then?" she asked weakly, trying unsuccessfully to turn her head. "Torture chamber?"
William walked past her, heading for the door. "You'll see," he said over his shoulder. He exited the room, and she heard muffled voices for a few seconds. Then William re-entered, flanked by Eric Phelner. The latter sauntered over to Lara, his eyes fixed on her revealed chest as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Popping one into his mouth, he smiled, "You don't mind, do you?" He lit up the cigarette and blew the smoke into her face.
Blinking rapidly, she snarled, "Well, that was very mature of you."
"Thanks."
Another person entered the room – a young blonde woman in an olive- green jacket and slacks, carefully carrying the glass case containing the Scion Heart. She placed it on one of the tables and waited, her hands folded in front of her.
Lara nodded. "I see. Still want me to do a psychic reading for you?"
"Aahhh – no," Phelner smiled. "That was just a little fib to get your co-operation. I figured you might be a bitch about the whole thing, so I made sure I had a contingency plan."
"My co-operation," Lara replied slowly, "with what?"
"Little experiment," Phelner told her. "See, my research into the background of the Scion Heart turned up some pretty funky stuff. If my information's right, then we're gonna get a hell of a lot more than some old hallucinations out of this."
Though she wasn't about to show it, Lara was starting to panic again. Bravado was all very well, but she was completely helpless here, and she knew it. Worse than that, Phelner knew it too.
He motioned to William, who moved around and started fiddling with the gurney again. Lara was soon returned to her original horizontal position, but as the room wheeled around her she saw Phelner carefully lifting the glass cover off the case.
She heard the whine and snap of rubber from the corner, and few seconds later Phelner was looming over her. Held reverently in his hands, protected by the surgical gloves he now wore, was the Scion Heart.
"You should probably try to relax. It'll be easier that way."
"Not really possible, I'm afraid," Lara sneered back, her face pale.
"Don't worry," said William's voice from her right. "This'll do the trick."
Lara's eyes widened as she felt a needle slide into her arm. "No!" she hissed, her panic rising dangerously close to the surface. "You bastards…"
"Oh, relax," Phelner winced. "It's just a little sedative. If you're kicking and screaming the whole time we may not get the results we're looking for."
Lara felt a dull tingle in her arm that slowly started to spread up into her chest and neck. When it reached her face, her vision started to swim. "I'm going to break your legs, Eric," she growled.
"I'll look forward to it," he replied. He sounded far away.
"And then reverse my car over you."
"Yeah, yeah. Less talk, honey."
Lara's entire body was going limp. She couldn't feel the gurney under her any more. She felt a cold press of metal against her skin, and realized that Phelner had laid the Scion Heart on her stomach. "What… what are you…?"
And then it moved.
Lara was paralyzed by the straps and the sedative, so she couldn't see what was happening below. But she could feel the amulet moving, undulating, like it was alive.
Phelner could see it, and his eyes were bulging. The Scion Heart rippled like water, and the three arms started to slowly curl upwards. William backed up a step, staring at the thing with undisguised fear. The young blonde woman was peering over Phelner's shoulder in horrified fascination.
Then the three arms curled downwards, and the amulet… stood up. Stood up like a spider, supporting itself on its arms like a tripod. It slowly started to walk down Lara's belly.
William was up against the wall now, and Phelner felt the woman behind him grab his arm. He irritably shook her off. "Just watch," he snapped.
Reaching Lara's navel, the amulet slowly lowered itself down again, until it was resting with the crystal sphere directly over her belly- button. It raised its arms, which slowly bent downwards…
…and then stabbed into her.
If Lara was still conscious, she wasn't capable of crying out as the three arms pierced her flesh. William let out a yelp as he watched them thrust deeply into her stomach. Her entire body went rigid, arching her back off the gurney, and a violent convulsion tore through her. She hung there for what seemed like an eternity.
And then she slumped back, her body going limp.
The Scion Heart finally lay still, it's probes buried in her body, the sphere glimmering with what might have been a reflection from the overhead lights, or might have been…
Phelner finally exhaled, staring at the amulet in awe. "Bingo," he breathed.
*
It's inside me…
…feel-it-in-my-gut-like-talons-tearing-at-my-stomach-it-wants-me-to- listen…
…it's inside me…
… screaming-as-loud-as-I-can-but-they-can't-hear-me-it-wants-me-to- listen-it-wants-me-to-go…
…it's talking to me...
…can you hear it…?
… can't-stop-it-coming-in-it's-in-my-mind-it's-shouting-things-into- my-brain-it-wants-me-to-listen…
…where am I…?
…still in the room…?
…am I awake…?
…it-wants-me-to-listen-it-wants-me-to-go-it's-telling-me-things-feel- it-in-my-gut-it-wants-me-to-go-like-talons-tearing-at-my-stomach-it's- telling-me-what-it-wants…
…am I awake…?
…can-hear-what-it's-saying-it-wants-me-to-go-screaming-as-loud-as-I- can-it-wants-me-to-go-talons-in-my-stomach-can't-stop-it-shouting-things- into-my-brain-they-can't-hear-me-it-wants-me-to-go…
…am I alive…?
…it's-talons-in-my-brain-shouting-things-coming-into-my-mind-I-can- hear-what-it's-saying-it-wants-me-to-go-I'm-screaming-as-loud-as-I-can-but- they-won't-STOP…
…it's over…
…I'm alive…
…I'm home.
*
"No pulse," William reported, holding Lara's limp wrist in his hand. He moved his fingers to her neck, just to make sure. "Nothing. She's dead."
"She's alive," Phelner told him, looking down at Lara while nervously chewing a thumbnail. Her eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling.
William looked up at him. "There's no pulse, Mr. Phelner. She's dead. I don't know what you thought it was gonna do, but it killed her."
"She's alive," Phelner insisted. "Screw her pulse, she's alive. I did the research, I expected this. She looks dead, she feels dead. But she's not."
William let out a long sigh. "Then explain it to me."
Phelner shot him a glare. "Don't give that look, William. I'm not paying you to give me attitude. And I'll explain it to you when I decide you need an explanation."
William nodded and lowered his eyes. He looked up at Lara's face, her dull eyes staring at nothing.
Screw it, he thought. She's dead. He reached up to close her eyelids.
And then she looked straight at him.
*
I'm home…
…I can't see anything…
…but I can feel it…
…I'm home…
…there's someone here…
…I can feel them…
…I can see them…
…there's someone here…
…it's Natla…
…she's smiling at me…
…Natla…
…she's here…
…she's always been here…
…Natla…
…she's smiling at me…
…she's talking to me…
"I told you."
…she's talking to me…
"I told you you couldn't kill me and my brood."
…Natla…
…she's here…
…she's always been here.
*
"Okay," William nodded, his back against the wall. "So she's alive." He clutched at his chest. "Jesus Christ."
"Told ya," Phelner grinned.
The blonde woman stepped carefully up to the gurney and leaned over to look at Lara's face. Her eyes were open, darting back and forth in all directions. "Oh my god…"
"So what's happening to her?" William gasped, pushing himself away from the wall.
"She's bonding with the Heart," Phelner nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Yes. She's bonding with it. It knows her."
William's head darted upwards. "What the hell do you mean, it knows her?"
Phelner was grinning from ear to ear. William couldn't help but notice the beads of sweat on his employer's forehead. "She bonded with the Scion. The three main pieces. It wasn't a hallucination. It got inside her head. It took her back to Atlantis, and the damn thing was inside her head. And when she destroyed it…"
William backed up a step, his mouth going dry.
"When she destroyed it," Phelner hissed excitedly, "it stayed there."
"What the hell," William growled, "are you talking about?"
"It's inside her," Phelner giggled.
"I can see that…"
"No, no, no," Phelner waved his hands. They were shaking. "You don't get it. The Scion Heart was designed to bond with the Scion, to focus its power. The Scion's in a million bits at the bottom of the Atlantic." He was talking too fast, almost raving. "But we don't need the Scion. We've got her."
*
Natla is gone…
…I'm home…
…Natla is gone…
…but I'm not alone…
…it's here…
…it's talking to me…
"You know."
…it's talking to me…
"You know what you are."
…I'm not alone…
"You know what you are."
…yes… I know what I am…
"Then say it."
…it's here…
"Say it."
…I'm not alone…
"Say it!"
…I know what I am…
"SAY IT!"
…I Am…
…like-talons-in-my-stomach-shouting-things-into-my-brain-it's-telling- me-what-it-wants-it's-telling-me-what-I-am-it-wants-me-to-go…
I Am The Scion.
*
Phelner whirled around. "What did she say?"
The blonde woman leaned over Lara. "What did you say? Can you hear me? Are you…?"
It happened all at once.
There was a flash of light. It could have come from the Scion Heart, no-one could tell. It could have come from Lara herself.
But there was a flash of light that turned the room white, and a smell of burning leather.
Lara was up off the gurney like a shot out of a cannon. The blonde woman didn't even have time to scream before Lara's arm shot out in a wide arc, catching her in the side of the chest. The sound of ribs shattering was accompanied by a loud whoosh, like air emptying out of a bellows, and the blonde woman crashed into the wall, already dead.
William stumbled back, drawing the gun from inside his jacket. Lara was on her feet, and leaned forward to swing a back-heel kick into the gurney. It was thrown across the room, slamming into William and crushing him against the wall. He barely registered that his neck was broken before he slid into a heap on the floor.
Phelner ran for the door, tore it open and launched himself through, slamming it shut behind him.
Lara calmly walked across the room, pressing her hand against the wood. There was another flash, and the door toppled off its hinges. Beyond it was another corridor, leading to another elevator. Phelner was already there, hammering at the buttons.
Lara smiled, and walked down the corridor towards him.
*
She woke up in the street.
She was standing in the plaza outside Phelner's building, her blouse still hanging open. A couple of people wandered past, staring at her. Shaking off the dizziness, she quickly pulled the garment closed over her chest and started to button up.
As she did so, her fingers brushed over metal.
She stood there with her hand inside her blouse, her fingers gently caressing the edges of the Scion Heart, still locked into her stomach. She ran a loving fingertip over the crystal sphere.
You know what you are.
Lara smiled. "Yes," she whispered.
You know where to go.
"Yes."
You know what to do.
"Yes…"
Doing up the last button, she smoothed her blouse and walked away across the plaza.
4 To Be Continued
Lara Croft and Tomb Raider are trademarks of Core and Eidos Interactive. This story includes references to Winston, Jaqueline Natla and several other elements of the original Tomb Raider game. All other characters in this story are my own creation. Any critique (positive or otherwise, as long as it's constructive) will be welcome at razors80@hotmail.com.
On with the show…
1 THE FOURTH LINK
2 Part One
by
3 Razors
* * * * *
If you were to ask Lara Croft what she was doing at the gates of Eric Phelner's California home that October morning, she probably would have replied, "Good question."
Unfortunately, the man in the black turtleneck with the dark glasses and the walkie-talkie was asking her what she was doing there, and she rightly suspected that this answer would not suffice. So she handed him her passport as identification, and told him that Mr. Phelner had invited her to his home to discuss business. All of this was true, except for the last part – she had no idea why Phelner wanted to talk to her. But since she was presently conducting business in Los Angeles anyway, she'd decided to take the opportunity to meet him. Many people in the field of archaeology considered Eric Phelner to be the Prince of Darkness, and it wasn't every day you got to have a social chat with Satan.
The man in the turtleneck checked her invitation on his walkie- talkie, then handed her passport back. She noticed that he was holding a metal-detector wand in his left hand. "Sorry, ma'am," he explained gruffly. "Just a precaution. Raise your arms, please."
Lara obliged, raising her arms as the man waved the device over her. It was rather ironic that this was one of the few occasions when she wasn't packing a gun - although she always felt slightly naked without one, she wasn't expecting to face anything life-threatening during her visit and had decided to leave the hardware behind for the day, deciding it might be more trouble than it was worth. She noticed the man's fixed expression as he scanned her – he probably hoped his sunglasses were hiding it, but she could tell he was staring at her chest. This didn't really bother her – she was used to intense male scrutiny of her figure, especially around the thorax region. And although she preferred to be appreciated for her more cerebral assets, she suspected it would bother her a lot more if men stopped looking.
Eventually the gate was opened, and Lara was directed to go up to the house. She made her way up the driveway like a casual dinner guest and – presently dressed in a knee-length skirt, light blouse, sleek leather jacket and high black boots – she probably looked like one. There were a couple of other turtlenecks wandering the grounds (did Phelner have them cloned somewhere?) who watched her approach the house with only casual interest. She'd been confirmed as an invited guest, so she felt their attention was partly professional caution and partly vague male admiration. She was well accustomed to both.
The house was like one of those million-dollar beach-houses that soap opera protagonists lurked in – all white curves and huge windows and ultra- modern design. Phelner met her at the door, which surprised her a little. She'd expected to be greeted by a maid or some other lackey, then formally announced – a courtesy that most wealthy men extended to their guests in order to impress them. She hadn't anticipated 'Satan' striding out of his front door in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt and giving her a warm smile.
"Lara," Phelner beamed. "Can I call you Lara? Sorry, I'm not much of a one for formality. You can call me Eric, but I'll stick to 'Ms Croft' if it bothers you."
He didn't make any comments about 'stuffy English manners', but the insinuation was all too clear. Lara had to admit he'd caught her off-guard a little with his instantly familiar tone, and mixing veiled cultural stereotypes with his over-friendly demeanour wasn't helping. "Lara's fine," she nodded, shaking his hand.
She took a moment to study him – he was shorter than her, quite stocky, with curly dark hair and one of those faces that seems to have been designed for smiling. He was smiling now, and it didn't look like he was about to stop.
She allowed him to usher her inside. The interior of the house was, as expected, just as modern and stylish as the outside. She followed Phelner into the living room, furnished with plush sofas that used up barely a tenth of the floor space. The bay windows afforded a magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean, but then so did the balcony in her hotel room.
They went through the motions of hospitality – Phelner offered to take her jacket, which she politely refused, even though she took it off. She was mildly impressed to see that his eyes remained on her face as she did so. She accepted a seat, and Phelner asked, "Would you like some coffee, or would you prefer…?"
"Yes, please," Lara responded, not giving him a chance to offer her a cup of tea. She wasn't entirely innocent of the stereotypes herself, of course – she'd half-expected him to offer her a Coke.
A few minutes later she was sitting cross-legged on the sofa with a flat white perched on the low glass table in front of her. Phelner sat opposite, sipping a cappuccino and asking her about her drive up the coast.
"I took a taxi," she replied coolly, and was satisfied to see surprise register on his face.
"Wouldn't have guessed you're a taxi person," he admitted.
Yeah right, Lara thought. You're probably thinking I only did it to be chauffeured around. "More convenient that way," she shrugged. "By the same token, I'm surprised you don't have a maid serving the coffee."
It was a mistake, and she realized it immediately. She was simply commenting on the absence of what she felt was a standard fixture in wealthy American homes, but had ended up sounding like a pampered English dowager.
Phelner grinned. He was good at it. "I do have a housekeeper who comes in and cleans up after me, and a guy who looks after the grounds. But I don't expect them to wipe my backside. I cook my own meals and I serve my own coffee." He failed to hide the slight amusement on his face as he added, "I hear you have a butler."
Lara tried not to show her irritation at the remark. "Winston, yes. He's an old family friend," she replied pointedly. "With a lifetime job. And although he doesn't 'wipe my backside', he would feel a bit offended if I started rummaging around in his kitchen."
"I understand," Phelner assured him, with the professional air of a man whose personal experience with butlers was limited to watching Alfred answer the phone for Bruce Wayne. "Now…" He leaned forward, placing his cappuccino on the table. "Let's see if I can read your mind."
Lara raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Right now, you're thinking… 'Why doesn't this loudmouth American bonehead stop making small talk about domestic labour and tell me what I'm doing in his living room?' Am I close?"
"Close enough," Lara replied, with a slight smile.
"Okay," Phelner smiled, leaning back into the sofa. "Then I'll let you off the hook. I've got a business offer for you."
Lara nodded. "Recovery, I assume?"
Phelner frowned slightly. "Sorry?"
"You want me to find something for you," Lara explained. "That's what most people have in mind when they have a business proposal. And given your reputation…"
"Ooooh, gossip," Phelner replied, his face lighting up. "So what are they saying about me around the campfire these days? I try to keep up, but I'm a busy boy."
Lara tried to conceal a smile. She'd heard about the man's infectious charm, and had to admit it was making an impression. "Let's see… Eric Phelner, thirty-seven years old, independently wealthy thanks to his business dealings in software and the aerospace industry, and an avid collector of artefacts. I've heard you have a private collection."
She didn't bother to hide the mild disdain in her voice when she spoke the word 'private', and Phelner picked up on it. "Ah, there it is," he smiled. "The old disapproval. I get that from a lot of people in your field. You think I should donate my collection to museums, right?"
Lara shrugged again. "Most artefacts I've come across in my career belong either in museums, or left where they are."
Phelner nodded. "Out of respect for ancient cultures."
"No," Lara sighed. "Because it's safer to leave them buried."
Phelner smiled. "Yeah, I've read your books. I believed most of it."
Lara let it pass.
Phelner chuckled. "Anyway - in answer to your question, no. I don't need you to recover an artefact for me. My offer involves an artefact that's already been recovered."
"What kind of artefact? And who recovered it? And from where?"
"To answer in reverse order – South America, Albert Gullardo, and… well, I was kinda hoping you could answer the first question yourself."
"Gullardo?" Lara scowled.
"You know him?"
"I've heard of him. He's a bounty hunter, not an archaeologist."
Phelner shrugged. "Yeah, he's a bounty hunter. In other words, he finds people – and objects – for money. And he's always maintained that he'll find anything if he's paid enough. However, it wasn't me that hired him to recover the artefact in question. His original buyer fell through, after he'd gone to all the trouble of tracking the damn thing down. We've done business before, so he called me and asked if I wanted it. Turned out I did."
"Alright," Lara nodded. "But if you don't need me to find it, then what… you need a professional opinion?"
Phelner pointed at her, tapping his nose with his other hand.
"Is it here at the house?"
"No, it's in the vault at my office. Better security there."
"Really? And here I was thinking you'd overdone the security here."
"What, the guards?" Phelner smirked. "Yeah, it's a little 'Don Corleone', I admit, but I had a little trouble with a stalker a while back, and the cops suggested I hire some babysitters."
"Must have been a pretty determined stalker."
"Hey, I'd have been offended if it was some amateur."
Lara smiled. Too charming for his own good, this man.
*
True to his convictions, Phelner didn't have a driver either. He showed Lara to his BMW, and – to his credit – waited to see if she would open the door herself or expect him to do it for her. She handled her own ingress to the vehicle, and her host slipped into the driver's seat. One of the turtlenecks got into the back seat without a word. "Lara, this Caleb," Phelner smiled. "Caleb, Lara Croft."
Caleb nodded to her without a word.
They drove into Los Angeles, a trip which took about thirty minutes. During the drive Phelner explained his proposal. He would pay Lara a flat- rate consultancy fee of one thousand US to inspect the artefact, with an option for a two-hundred-dollar-an-hour renewal if she agreed to a long- term study. There was a contract waiting to be signed at his office, and he also mentioned that there was a confidentiality clause involved. "I take the term 'private collection' quite seriously," he explained.
"Don't you think," Lara suggested carefully, "that it would be more lucrative to display your collection? Might help your reputation with my colleagues, as well."
"Lucrative?" he frowned. "What, charge admission? That'd make my reputation worse, I suspect. Anyway, I kind of like keeping all my trinkets to myself. Childish, I know, but I'm a selfish little kid at heart."
"Like Jerry Seinfeld and his car collection?"
Phelner laughed, quite loudly. "I said childish, not deranged."
They eventually reached a high-rise office building, and cruised into the subterranean parking lot below. The guard there greeted Phelner with subservient familiarity, and soon they were in an elevator taking them swiftly to one of the upper floors.
"You own this building?" Lara asked as they passed the thirtieth floor.
"Technically, no," Phelner admitted. "But I employ almost everyone in it, so I get treated like I do."
They finally reached their destination on the fortieth floor, and Lara stepped out into the air-conditioned environment beyond. There was a short, carpeted corridor leading to a set of wide double doors at the end. Another guard – wearing a suit, and without shades, but otherwise identical to the Turtleneck Boys – was standing outside it.
"Morning, Mr. Phelner," said the guard, in a broad New York accent. "How's life?"
"Same as always, William," Phelner replied.
"That good, huh?" the guard smiled. "Morning, ma'am," he said to Lara.
She nodded back, trying not to notice the way William glanced between her and Phelner. Did he think she was the man's girlfriend, brought here to be seduced by the opulent contents of his vault? It didn't matter, she decided.
William entered a code into the keypad next to the door, then opened it and stepped aside. "Tour of the vault today?" he asked of his employer.
"No, Ms Croft is only here to view one of the pieces. But first things first…" Phelner led Lara into a large round room, simply furnished with a glass table and a number of chairs. There was another set of doors opposite, and the walls were decorated with what appeared to be large Polynesian masks. Lara was surprised – even a little disgusted – to see that these were cheap island souvenirs, the type sold to tourists. Nice enough to look at, but their cultural and financial worth was next to nothing. Were they there for cheap ambience, she wondered, or to impress people who didn't know any better?
Caleb waited by the doors while William walked across the room. Phelner directed Lara to a seat, and slid a slim black folder in front of her. "Your contract," he explained, handing her a fountain pen. "Take as long as you need to read it. I hope you won't insist on calling your lawyer, everyone else always does."
"We'll see," Lara returned, with a wry smile. She opened the folder and started reading, deliberately taking her time. It was a very simple contract, promising her the agreed consultancy fee for her investigation of the artefact, and guaranteeing her discretion. Phelner's signature was already on it. After a few minutes, she picked up the pen and scrawled her own.
"Okay," Phelner smiled. "Let's get this show on the road. Wait here."
He and William walked over to the other doors, which opened without a code – but behind them was a large, shiny, and obviously very thick steel door. There were two keypads on opposite sides, and Lara watched as Phelner and the guard simultaneously entered two codes. The door was swung open with a faint hydraulic hiss, and Phelner used a keycard to open the barred door behind it. Then he went inside.
Lara wanted to follow him, wondering how many pieces of historical significance he had locked away inside. She could make out rows of shelves and metal boxes, but no more. William waited outside the door, obscuring her view further. She sat back and waited.
Phelner reappeared a moment later, carrying a metal box. It was about thirty centimeters square, and looked like it was built to take a beating. Phelner carried it with the care and reverence that any archaeologist would afford a valuable piece, though in his case she was sure it was the financial worth he was thinking of. He gently placed the box on the table, and started to unclip the catches around the base. "Ready?" he smiled.
Lara noticed that the two guards, without a word from their boss, were discreetly heading out into the corridor and closing the doors behind them. She looked up at Phelner and nodded.
Placing his hands on either side of the box, he lifted away the metal cover. Inside was a glass case, containing a tiny steel pedestal. And resting on the pedestal, protected by the glass around it, was…
She frowned. What was it? It looked familiar, but she couldn't place it. She was sure she'd seen it before. It was, for want of a better description, an amulet – a shiny flat circle about three inches across and an inch thick, with three flat arms protruding out like points on a star. The whole thing glistened with faint rainbow colours, and was engraved with swirling designs. And in the center of the ring was a small sphere, orange in colour, apparently made from some type of crystal.
And then it hit her. She hadn't seen this artefact before, but she'd seen something of similar design. Her eyes widened.
Phelner saw her reaction and smiled. "You recognize it."
"I… recognize the culture."
Phelner nodded excitedly. "So? Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking," Lara replied, regaining her composure, "that if I tell you what I'm thinking, you'll call me a nut."
"No I won't." And for once, he sounded deadly serious.
"Alright then," Lara nodded. "I think it's from Atlantis."
The smile returned. "I think you're right. In fact, I know you're right."
Lara's eyes narrowed. "So you knew what it was all along?"
Phelner sat down with a shrug. "I have background information on it, none of it confirmed. That's why you're here. And I'm pleased to say that you've given me the confirmation I was looking for."
"So fill me in." Lara's face was blank as she stared at the amulet. "What exactly is it?"
"I'm reading your mind again, and you know what it is," Phelner grinned. "What you're looking at, Lara, is the fourth piece of the Atlantean Scion."
*
"You know, I met Jaqueline Natla once," Phelner said, placing another cup of coffee before Lara. "Shortly before you did, I think." He sat down and stared reflectively at the table for a second. "She was a real bitch."
"You have no idea," Lara replied, picking up her cup to take a sip. They were sitting in Phelner's office, two levels down from the vault where the amulet was once again locked away. Phelner sat back in the armchair opposite Lara in one corner of the office, and paused to light up a Marlboro. He blew out a soft plume of smoke, and then remembered his manners. "Oh, I'm sorry – do you mind?"
"No," Lara replied, though her eyes said otherwise.
"Sorry," Phelner shrugged, stubbing out the cigarette in an ashtray on the small table between them. "My own office is one of the few places in this damn state where I'm allowed to smoke. So - all that stuff about the Scion, the tombs in Peru and Egypt, the suspended animation…" He hesitated before asking, "All that was true?"
Lara hesitated too, but finally gave in. "Yes, it's true. Depending on what you've actually heard."
"Modern folklore. One of the legends of Lara Croft." Phelner fixed her with a bemused look. "I don't want to sound like an idiot, but… do you really have a Tyrannosaurus head mounted over your fireplace?"
Lara smirked. "So I hear."
"Ah," Phelner nodded. "Never mind, then. So… old Jacqui was twenty thousand years old, huh? She carried it pretty well."
"Beats cosmetic surgery," Lara conceded. She thought briefly of Sofia Lee.
"And you found the other three pieces of the Scion for her?"
"I found the first piece for her," Lara corrected him. "The one in Peru. She made her own arrangements for the other two, but I got there first." And a fat lot of good it did me!
"And then it was wall-to-wall mutants, huh?" Phelner laughed. "You know, the official story on that island blowing up was a volcanic eruption. But the old Lara Croft fan network knew it was something else. Every time you go on an expedition the Internet starts buzzing."
Lara frowned at him. The laugh had bothered her. Wall-to-wall mutants might sound funny to him, but he hadn't been there. "I know. I don't even bother reading my e-mail anymore unless it's from someone I know. You wouldn't believe the stuff people send me. But we're drifting from the point, aren't we?"
"Just what I was thinking. Sorry, but I'm a fan myself. I've been trying to avoid asking for an autograph all day."
"You've already got my autograph," Lara reminded him.
"True."
"So – the fourth piece. What do we know?"
Phelner sat back and got comfortable. "Again, just folklore. There's a fair bit of rumour and superstition hovering around the Atlantean myth, if you know where to look for it. Most of it's UFO-related – y'know, X- Files crap. But I did come across a reference to the fourth piece of the Scion. The actual name for it, apparently, was the Scion Heart – the fourth and final link in the design. The three main pieces each had their own power, and could combine to wield all the power of the old Atlantean regime. But if the Heart was combined with them, then the power could be… focused."
"Focused how?"
Phelner shrugged. "No clue. I assume it had something to do with the Scion being used as a source of energy for the Atlantean pyramid. All the legends said was that with the Heart, the Scion's power was absolute."
"Well, we'll never know," Lara sighed. "The other three pieces are… well, in pieces. Probably microscopic pieces, after that explosion. If the Scion Heart is just a focusing device, then it's useless now."
"I wonder…"
Lara stared at him. "You wonder what?" She sounded defensive.
Phelner raised his hands. "Hey, I'm just doing my homework on an acquisition. And whatever I can find out will be useful to your profession, too. I'm not about to grow wings and try to breed a master race."
"You better not," Lara retorted, then felt slightly silly.
Phelner smiled, but it soon faded. "Look, there is something else I want to ask you. And if I'm barking up the wrong tree, then say so."
Lara's body was tense, but she motioned for him to continue.
"According to what I heard, and it's just what I heard," Phelner assured her. "But apparently, when you touched the Scion, you had… hallucinations of some kind."
Lara nodded slowly. "Visions of its history. Memories of Atlantis. Why?"
"Did the visions happen when you touched just one piece, or were they combined?"
Lara tried to read his face, and was frustrated to find that she couldn't. "It first happened when I put the first two pieces together. Then it happened again when all three were combined. More detailed. I assumed that the Scion had to be at least partially assembled for the visions to work." She stared at him for a few more seconds, then sighed. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting? You are, aren't you?"
"Just a theory," Phelner shrugged. "I've picked up the Heart in my bare hands and concentrated my brains out, and all I got was a headache. But you've already been exposed to… whatever it was, and you got a history lesson on Atlantis downloaded into your head. I'm not saying that anything'll happen if you hold the Heart, but I don't mind telling you I'm just about peeing myself waiting to find out."
Lara nodded, and put her coffee cup down. "In that case," she smiled. "I hope you're wearing Depends." She got to her feet.
"What?" Phelner frowned.
"I'm leaving, Eric," Lara spat. "I don't know why you're so eager to find out about the Scion Heart, but I do know it's not just theoretical interest. If what you've told me is true, then the Heart is harmless on it's own. I suggest you use it as a paperweight. Because if you've got another use in mind, then I'm not about to help you. I'll see myself out." She turned on her heel and walked towards the door.
"Hey, hey, hey," Phelner hurried after her, and managed to interject himself between her and the door. She stopped, but her harsh gaze suggested that getting out of her way might be a wise move on the American's part.
He didn't get the message. "Okay, you got me. It's not just theoretical interest. I own a company that designs computers and builds warplanes, and I've got an intact piece of advanced ancient technology sitting in my lap, okay? You can see how that might fire the imagination of a man like me. You know how long my industry's been trying to find an energy source like this? We've studied the damn thing for two years and we can't even scratch the surface. If I can get even half the story on how the Scion actually worked…"
"One," Lara said coldly.
Phelner's brow furrowed. "Huh?"
"Two," Lara continued.
Phelner finally got the message, and quickly moved aside.
"Three," Lara smiled, and strode out of the office.
Phelner watched her go, slowly nodding to himself. Then he sighed, picked up his cigarettes from the table, and lit one up as he calmly walked over to the desk. Tapping the intercom, he said, "Caleb? She didn't buy the pitch. She's on her way out now."
"I got her, Mr Phelner," said Caleb's voice.
Phelner nodded, switched off the intercom and slowly walked towards the door, smiling as he gave a long drag on his cigarette.
*
Lara stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby, quietly collecting her thoughts. Did she care about the Scion Heart? Was it dangerous, especially in the hands of someone like Phelner?
Probably not, she decided. The rest of the Scion was destroyed, the Atlantean pyramid and all it contained had been reduced to dust and vapour. If this was just another piece of the Scion, then it should be harmless enough on it's own. Phelner had admitted that they didn't have a clue how to use it. It was just another relic gathering dust in his vault. Still, she'd check up on what his company was up to from time to time, just to be sure…
For now, back to the hotel for a shower. She still had to brush up on her notes for the lecture tomorrow, and her publisher had said he'd be calling sometime this afternoon…
She felt the slight pressure of weight as the elevator stopped on the twentieth floor, and the doors rolled open. And Caleb walked in.
She almost smiled at him at first, before it became apparent that this wasn't a chance meeting. He strode towards her with an electric stun- gun in his hand and a cold look in his eye. If he was expecting to easily overpower a young female archaeologist, then he obviously hadn't done his homework and Lara was happy to disappoint him.
Her right hand moved so fast he barely saw it, her clenched fist connecting with the underside of his wrist. There was a faint crunch of bone fracturing, and Caleb gasped as the stun-gun clattered against the wall of the elevator. In the same movement Lara's left hand shot out, her fingertips driving into his windpipe. Caleb went down like a sack of cement, dropping to his hands and knees with a harsh gurgle. She followed up by raising her right leg and bringing her boot-heel down hard onto his hip, driving him to the floor and, at the same time, giving her the leverage to jump over him.
She didn't think about what was happening. She didn't have time to wonder. Phelner had apparently decided to gain her co-operation by force, but that was his problem. Her problem was getting out of here. The old instincts kicked in as if someone had flicked a switch. Fight or flight. Preferably flight.
Unfortunately, the instincts sometimes usurped common sense. The smart thing to do would have been to close the elevator and go for the lobby. But her subconscious had assessed the situation and decided that it didn't like her being in an enclosed space with an attacker - who, though disabled, was still moving – and responded accordingly. She had only a second to reflect on this as she charged out the door into the corridor beyond, and ran head-first into William's outstretched arm.
It was like a headbutting an Armani tree-branch.
She stumbled back into the lift, sprawling over Caleb's fallen carcass. William was on top of her in a second, the doors sliding shut behind him as he grabbed her by the lapel of her jacket and jerked her upwards. She swung her foot up in the direction of his groin, but he'd anticipated that and twisted his knee to block the kick. Without a word - or any apparent malice - he hauled her up into a sitting position, delivered a businesslike punch to her left temple and let her go. She was out cold before her head fell back onto Caleb's shoulder.
*
Dreams.
The dreams you had after being knocked senseless were very different to the ones you had when you just went to sleep. Lara should know – she'd had almost an almost equal share of both. This one was no exception.
She was back home at the manor, although it was different – bigger. The kitchen loomed around her like a cathedral. There were people all around her, crowding into the room, but she couldn't make them out. Just shadows, milling around.
Phelner was there, too, seated at the table, and Lara herself was… on the table. Lying on her back. She tried to sit up, but something was holding her down. She felt like she was stuck down with glue.
Winston stood at the other side of the table, across from Phelner. He was holding a meat cleaver. Giving Phelner a polite butler's nod, he inquired, "Are you a leg or a breast man, Sir?"
Phelner ran his eyes over Lara's immobilized form, and shrugged, "Breast man."
"Very good, sir." Winston grasped the cleaver between his teeth and started to tear Lara's shirt open. She tried to scream, but her mouth was sealed shut.
Winston was just raising the cleaver, when the real world came back like a tonne of bricks.
White light blasted into her eyes as her lids fluttered open. Pain shot through her skull, but whether it was from the light or the blow to the head, she couldn't tell. She moved to raise her hands to her head, and felt them straining against leather. She tried to sit up, but as in the dream, she couldn't budge.
"You awake yet?" said a voice.
Lara's eyelids shot open again. The first thing she saw was William standing over her, looking down with the same impassive expression. She tried to raise her hands, but this only confirmed that they were strapped down at the wrists and elbows, held out from her body in a crucifix position. She felt similar bonds around her thighs and ankles, and there seemed to be another strap fitted over her forehead.
The other feature of the dream that had carried over into reality was that William, with his usual calm professionalism, was methodically unbuttoning her blouse.
Panic hit her like a bucket of ice water. She tried to force herself up, but she was completely secured. She struggled against the straps, until William sighed, "You're only gonna hurt yourself, y'know."
Her head pounding from the effort, Lara lay still, though she was still screaming on the inside as William opened her blouse. For a moment his eyes wandered over the lycra bra underneath, and a faint smile stole across his face as he contemplated its contents.
"Don't even think about it," Lara spat.
William smirked. "Don't flatter yourself, kid." He stepped to one side, and Lara felt a slight shudder as he released a brake of some kind. Then she was suddenly tilted ninety degrees and turned around. She realized, with some discomfiture, that she was strapped down to one of those death-row gurneys they put condemned men on to give them a lethal injection. It was housed in a small square room – the walls and carpet confirmed that it was still somewhere in Phelner's building – with a single door and two metal tables against the right wall.
"What's this, then?" she asked weakly, trying unsuccessfully to turn her head. "Torture chamber?"
William walked past her, heading for the door. "You'll see," he said over his shoulder. He exited the room, and she heard muffled voices for a few seconds. Then William re-entered, flanked by Eric Phelner. The latter sauntered over to Lara, his eyes fixed on her revealed chest as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Popping one into his mouth, he smiled, "You don't mind, do you?" He lit up the cigarette and blew the smoke into her face.
Blinking rapidly, she snarled, "Well, that was very mature of you."
"Thanks."
Another person entered the room – a young blonde woman in an olive- green jacket and slacks, carefully carrying the glass case containing the Scion Heart. She placed it on one of the tables and waited, her hands folded in front of her.
Lara nodded. "I see. Still want me to do a psychic reading for you?"
"Aahhh – no," Phelner smiled. "That was just a little fib to get your co-operation. I figured you might be a bitch about the whole thing, so I made sure I had a contingency plan."
"My co-operation," Lara replied slowly, "with what?"
"Little experiment," Phelner told her. "See, my research into the background of the Scion Heart turned up some pretty funky stuff. If my information's right, then we're gonna get a hell of a lot more than some old hallucinations out of this."
Though she wasn't about to show it, Lara was starting to panic again. Bravado was all very well, but she was completely helpless here, and she knew it. Worse than that, Phelner knew it too.
He motioned to William, who moved around and started fiddling with the gurney again. Lara was soon returned to her original horizontal position, but as the room wheeled around her she saw Phelner carefully lifting the glass cover off the case.
She heard the whine and snap of rubber from the corner, and few seconds later Phelner was looming over her. Held reverently in his hands, protected by the surgical gloves he now wore, was the Scion Heart.
"You should probably try to relax. It'll be easier that way."
"Not really possible, I'm afraid," Lara sneered back, her face pale.
"Don't worry," said William's voice from her right. "This'll do the trick."
Lara's eyes widened as she felt a needle slide into her arm. "No!" she hissed, her panic rising dangerously close to the surface. "You bastards…"
"Oh, relax," Phelner winced. "It's just a little sedative. If you're kicking and screaming the whole time we may not get the results we're looking for."
Lara felt a dull tingle in her arm that slowly started to spread up into her chest and neck. When it reached her face, her vision started to swim. "I'm going to break your legs, Eric," she growled.
"I'll look forward to it," he replied. He sounded far away.
"And then reverse my car over you."
"Yeah, yeah. Less talk, honey."
Lara's entire body was going limp. She couldn't feel the gurney under her any more. She felt a cold press of metal against her skin, and realized that Phelner had laid the Scion Heart on her stomach. "What… what are you…?"
And then it moved.
Lara was paralyzed by the straps and the sedative, so she couldn't see what was happening below. But she could feel the amulet moving, undulating, like it was alive.
Phelner could see it, and his eyes were bulging. The Scion Heart rippled like water, and the three arms started to slowly curl upwards. William backed up a step, staring at the thing with undisguised fear. The young blonde woman was peering over Phelner's shoulder in horrified fascination.
Then the three arms curled downwards, and the amulet… stood up. Stood up like a spider, supporting itself on its arms like a tripod. It slowly started to walk down Lara's belly.
William was up against the wall now, and Phelner felt the woman behind him grab his arm. He irritably shook her off. "Just watch," he snapped.
Reaching Lara's navel, the amulet slowly lowered itself down again, until it was resting with the crystal sphere directly over her belly- button. It raised its arms, which slowly bent downwards…
…and then stabbed into her.
If Lara was still conscious, she wasn't capable of crying out as the three arms pierced her flesh. William let out a yelp as he watched them thrust deeply into her stomach. Her entire body went rigid, arching her back off the gurney, and a violent convulsion tore through her. She hung there for what seemed like an eternity.
And then she slumped back, her body going limp.
The Scion Heart finally lay still, it's probes buried in her body, the sphere glimmering with what might have been a reflection from the overhead lights, or might have been…
Phelner finally exhaled, staring at the amulet in awe. "Bingo," he breathed.
*
It's inside me…
…feel-it-in-my-gut-like-talons-tearing-at-my-stomach-it-wants-me-to- listen…
…it's inside me…
… screaming-as-loud-as-I-can-but-they-can't-hear-me-it-wants-me-to- listen-it-wants-me-to-go…
…it's talking to me...
…can you hear it…?
… can't-stop-it-coming-in-it's-in-my-mind-it's-shouting-things-into- my-brain-it-wants-me-to-listen…
…where am I…?
…still in the room…?
…am I awake…?
…it-wants-me-to-listen-it-wants-me-to-go-it's-telling-me-things-feel- it-in-my-gut-it-wants-me-to-go-like-talons-tearing-at-my-stomach-it's- telling-me-what-it-wants…
…am I awake…?
…can-hear-what-it's-saying-it-wants-me-to-go-screaming-as-loud-as-I- can-it-wants-me-to-go-talons-in-my-stomach-can't-stop-it-shouting-things- into-my-brain-they-can't-hear-me-it-wants-me-to-go…
…am I alive…?
…it's-talons-in-my-brain-shouting-things-coming-into-my-mind-I-can- hear-what-it's-saying-it-wants-me-to-go-I'm-screaming-as-loud-as-I-can-but- they-won't-STOP…
…it's over…
…I'm alive…
…I'm home.
*
"No pulse," William reported, holding Lara's limp wrist in his hand. He moved his fingers to her neck, just to make sure. "Nothing. She's dead."
"She's alive," Phelner told him, looking down at Lara while nervously chewing a thumbnail. Her eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling.
William looked up at him. "There's no pulse, Mr. Phelner. She's dead. I don't know what you thought it was gonna do, but it killed her."
"She's alive," Phelner insisted. "Screw her pulse, she's alive. I did the research, I expected this. She looks dead, she feels dead. But she's not."
William let out a long sigh. "Then explain it to me."
Phelner shot him a glare. "Don't give that look, William. I'm not paying you to give me attitude. And I'll explain it to you when I decide you need an explanation."
William nodded and lowered his eyes. He looked up at Lara's face, her dull eyes staring at nothing.
Screw it, he thought. She's dead. He reached up to close her eyelids.
And then she looked straight at him.
*
I'm home…
…I can't see anything…
…but I can feel it…
…I'm home…
…there's someone here…
…I can feel them…
…I can see them…
…there's someone here…
…it's Natla…
…she's smiling at me…
…Natla…
…she's here…
…she's always been here…
…Natla…
…she's smiling at me…
…she's talking to me…
"I told you."
…she's talking to me…
"I told you you couldn't kill me and my brood."
…Natla…
…she's here…
…she's always been here.
*
"Okay," William nodded, his back against the wall. "So she's alive." He clutched at his chest. "Jesus Christ."
"Told ya," Phelner grinned.
The blonde woman stepped carefully up to the gurney and leaned over to look at Lara's face. Her eyes were open, darting back and forth in all directions. "Oh my god…"
"So what's happening to her?" William gasped, pushing himself away from the wall.
"She's bonding with the Heart," Phelner nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Yes. She's bonding with it. It knows her."
William's head darted upwards. "What the hell do you mean, it knows her?"
Phelner was grinning from ear to ear. William couldn't help but notice the beads of sweat on his employer's forehead. "She bonded with the Scion. The three main pieces. It wasn't a hallucination. It got inside her head. It took her back to Atlantis, and the damn thing was inside her head. And when she destroyed it…"
William backed up a step, his mouth going dry.
"When she destroyed it," Phelner hissed excitedly, "it stayed there."
"What the hell," William growled, "are you talking about?"
"It's inside her," Phelner giggled.
"I can see that…"
"No, no, no," Phelner waved his hands. They were shaking. "You don't get it. The Scion Heart was designed to bond with the Scion, to focus its power. The Scion's in a million bits at the bottom of the Atlantic." He was talking too fast, almost raving. "But we don't need the Scion. We've got her."
*
Natla is gone…
…I'm home…
…Natla is gone…
…but I'm not alone…
…it's here…
…it's talking to me…
"You know."
…it's talking to me…
"You know what you are."
…I'm not alone…
"You know what you are."
…yes… I know what I am…
"Then say it."
…it's here…
"Say it."
…I'm not alone…
"Say it!"
…I know what I am…
"SAY IT!"
…I Am…
…like-talons-in-my-stomach-shouting-things-into-my-brain-it's-telling- me-what-it-wants-it's-telling-me-what-I-am-it-wants-me-to-go…
I Am The Scion.
*
Phelner whirled around. "What did she say?"
The blonde woman leaned over Lara. "What did you say? Can you hear me? Are you…?"
It happened all at once.
There was a flash of light. It could have come from the Scion Heart, no-one could tell. It could have come from Lara herself.
But there was a flash of light that turned the room white, and a smell of burning leather.
Lara was up off the gurney like a shot out of a cannon. The blonde woman didn't even have time to scream before Lara's arm shot out in a wide arc, catching her in the side of the chest. The sound of ribs shattering was accompanied by a loud whoosh, like air emptying out of a bellows, and the blonde woman crashed into the wall, already dead.
William stumbled back, drawing the gun from inside his jacket. Lara was on her feet, and leaned forward to swing a back-heel kick into the gurney. It was thrown across the room, slamming into William and crushing him against the wall. He barely registered that his neck was broken before he slid into a heap on the floor.
Phelner ran for the door, tore it open and launched himself through, slamming it shut behind him.
Lara calmly walked across the room, pressing her hand against the wood. There was another flash, and the door toppled off its hinges. Beyond it was another corridor, leading to another elevator. Phelner was already there, hammering at the buttons.
Lara smiled, and walked down the corridor towards him.
*
She woke up in the street.
She was standing in the plaza outside Phelner's building, her blouse still hanging open. A couple of people wandered past, staring at her. Shaking off the dizziness, she quickly pulled the garment closed over her chest and started to button up.
As she did so, her fingers brushed over metal.
She stood there with her hand inside her blouse, her fingers gently caressing the edges of the Scion Heart, still locked into her stomach. She ran a loving fingertip over the crystal sphere.
You know what you are.
Lara smiled. "Yes," she whispered.
You know where to go.
"Yes."
You know what to do.
"Yes…"
Doing up the last button, she smoothed her blouse and walked away across the plaza.
4 To Be Continued