"Feels kinda strange to be attending one of these fancy affairs with an actual invitation."
Victor tugged uncomfortably at his unaccustomed necktie, as his hair stuck to the back of his neck, a trickle of sweat leaked uncomfortably beneath his colour down his back.
Nate, however, wore his suit well. A little older, a little more filled out perhaps, but with a gloss and polish that only some years as a respectable businessman had been able to bestow. He still drew admiring looks from many of the women thronging around the event, but unlike ten years ago, he barely noticed. Contentment and relative prosperity suited him as well as a few years of not being shot at or dangled from clifftops.
"Yeah, well … just keep hoping that nobody takes too close of a look at yours."
"But you said you were…"
"Yeah, I was invited. You were … kind of an unofficial plus one."
Nate's grin was infectious. For a second, Victor couldn't decide whether he was joking or not. Once he laughed, Victor knew for sure.
"Nate! Seriously, you should know better than to mess with the stress levels of an old man like me."
"Ptff … old man. Yeah right. If you want to know what an old man in our line or work looks like, take a look at this guy…"
The portrait, one of the lots on offer at the exclusive and invitation only auction, was impressive. An oil painting, one that should have hung in an academic's office at a prestigious university. Nate reminded himself that it had done just that, for some years, at Marshall College. The subject was sedate but luxurious in colour palette, wearing a rich brown and green tweed jacket and trousers, neat polished shoes, horn rimmed glasses, his grey hair neatly barbered, a hand resting on a leather book set to one side, with a tantalizing pile of notes, covered in sigils…
"Yeah, he was something alright. How did you find out about this event anyway, Nate? I thought you were out of this game now..."
"Contacts, Sully. Contacts. There are some names that just can't be ignored."
Nate glanced at the unassuming invitation he carried, to the private auction of the personal effects of the late Mr Henry Williams, proprietor of Williams and Sons Automobile Services. Nothing to suggest he had been anything special during his lifetime. But the watermark, hologrammed logo and microchip hidden in the ticket's thick paper betrayed this first impression of banality. As did the slick suited security guards who hovered around every entrance and exit.
For anyone with an interest in archaeology, antiquities or any form of treasure, this was definitely the hottest ticket in town. Not because of Mr Henry Williams, himself, but because he had been the sole beneficiary of his father's estate. The late Doctor Henry Walton Jones of Mashall College, Conneticut. Indiana to his friends, and at twenty five years deceased still the keeper of some of the most speculated upon secrets in the field of Ancient History.
"Quite magnificent, wasn't he…"
The cool, assured, feminine voice behind them made both Victor and Nate jump. As they turned to the sound of a throaty, female giggle, it was only years of practice that prevented their jaws from dropping.
Tall, willowy, wearing an exquisitely cut white dress with killer heels, long white gloves and a white broad brimmed hat, their new companion could have stepped from the pages of any glossy magazine. She removed her sun glasses, revealing eyes that were dark and wicked; intelligence sparkled among the smokey makeup. Her sleek smile hinted at a filthy sense of humour. A few dark tendrils of curling hair deliberately escaped from beneath the brim of the hat, which alone surely cost more than Nathan Drake's honest annual income.
"Absolutely, they broke the mold with him," Victor recovered that fraction of a second faster than Nate, extending his hand smoothly. "Victor Sullivan. And this is my business associate, Nathan Drake, miss…?"
"Croft. Lady Croft." The hand that shook Victor's in return might have seemed delicate and feminine, but there were muscles of steel and unexpected callouses apparent beneath the thin gloves. "Lara."
"A pleasure to meet you Lady Croft. Lara."
Nate finally recovered his powers of speech having sternly reminded his hind brain that he was a Happily Married Man, with a wife who was blessed with both mind reading powers and the ability to break him with her little finger.
"Speaking of magnificent, that's a beautiful necklace, Lady Croft…"
Lara's hand strayed to the pendant which hung artlessly around her slender throat. Heavy, golden, the size of an old sovereign, it was intricately carved, the design resembling an old compass.
"Oh this? Something I picked up on my last trip to Peru."
"Travel a lot, do you?"
"Oh here and there … South America, the Caribbean, South East Asia… wherever business takes me."
"Business, eh? Well, perhaps our paths will cross again on a future business trip."
Her eyes lightened, sparkled with interest.
"Perhaps they will, Mr Drake. Perhaps they will, " she replacing her dark glasses. "Until then…"
Nathan and Victor couldn't quite help themselves watch her walk away through the crowd, the sway of her hips was hypnotic. Once she vanished from view, Nate give himself a little shake. Happily Married Man, she thought to himself firmly and smiled inwardly at the thought of picking up Elena at the airport later.
The ever single Victor had no such need for self control. He whistled softly to himself. "Man … I tell ya Nate, it I was 30 years younger…"
"... You'd still have no chance, Sully. So stop the day dreaming and let's get back to business. Did you see what she was wearing?"
"Oh yes … sharp of you to spot it, not so sharp to draw attention to it! Show off. That will be back in her handbag in no time."
"Business Trip to Peru my ass, that must have taken years of work to unearth..."
"And now she's here hunting for the matching set."
Nate pulled out his pocket book and turned to the page which showed a sketch of the jewellery Lara had been wearing. The next page showed a set of earrings with similar markings, with a whole set of notes scribbled around the notches on the outside. In the glossy catalogue, lot number 428 featured photograph of a remarkably similar set, a gift from Dr Jones to his late wife, Marion Jones, on the occasion of their thirtieth wedding anniversary.
"If we're bidding against her, we're out of luck. She could buy and sell the whole catalogue for pocket money."
"Then it's a good thing we're only bidding for fun."
The two men smiled at each other. It was good to be back in business together again.
"Ladies, gentlemen, honoured guests, please take your seats, so that the auction can commence…"
"C'mon Sully. Let's go see if we can get seats with a good view."
"Of the pieces? Or your new lady friend?"
"Both…"