Elfstones are Forever

Chapter Two

Dr Sinclair was more than a little surprised to discover that the SHIELD team leader was an Englishman, indeed an aristocrat, if his bearing and easy courtesy was anything to go by. Nevertheless, Agent Malfoy directed his team and conducted his investigation thoroughly and professionally.

"You are sure," the tall blond man asked, "that HYDRA was in search of something specific?"

"Entirely." Sinclair averred. "They were extremely careful with the finds, not even touching the more fragile items, but the way they passed things over indicated that they did have particular items in mind."

"And you say they did not find them?" Draco continued.

Sinclair shook his head. "Their leader – the scarred man they called 'Standartenfuhrer' - was very angry about that. I think he was contemplating violence until one of his men reminded him of their orders.

"I was surprised. I have been given to understand that HYDRA operatives are entirely ruthless?"

"As am I, upon occasion." Draco admitted. "But it is clear that HYDRA saw no value in killing anyone here, and that they seemed to regard your work as of some importance.

"Now, you said that you and your colleague Dr Michaels had taken a full inventory after they left. Is there, in fact, anything missing?"

"Yes." Sinclair told him. "Two items. A large and heavy crystal sphere, and a silver brooch in the shape of an eagle, set with an unusual, self-luminescent, green gemstone."

"Arguably, then, two of the most valuable items found thus far?" Draco queried.

Sinclair shrugged. "That depends upon your definition of 'value', Agent Malfoy. Such trinkets excite the interest of the general public, and so-called 'treasure-hunters', of course. But as an archaeologist, I find greater value in shards of everyday pottery, scribbled graffiti and the contents of midden-heaps. Such items tell us far more about the day-to-day lives of the people of this city than all the jewellery of the wealthy!"

"Quite so." Draco agreed. "Nevertheless, I have to infer that, since these items are missing, and HYDRA failed to find what they sought, then these must be the objects in question. Where were they kept?"

"In the back office, the one your Agent Rosenberg is investigating." Sinclair told him.

"Ah! The office used by Dr Croft, who is currently, as my team-mates would say, 'in the wind'. You say you did not see her leave? Is it possible she took the items with her?" Draco enquired.

"Possible, yes, but it would be uncharacteristic." Sinclair stated. "Dr Croft, despite her celebrity status, is a total professional. She would not abscond with finds on the grounds of mere cupidity."

Draco was about to reply, when the comlink in his ear beeped. With an apologetic gesture toward Sinclair, he turned aside.

"Malfoy." He said quietly.

"Boss, it's Cypher." Doug Ramsays' voice was urgent. "You're azure."

"Understood." Draco replied crisply. "We're finished here, anyway. Round everyone up and we'll meet on the plane." He turned back to Sinclair. "My apologies, Doctor, but I have just received new information. My team and I will now leave you in peace. My best advice is to continue your work and to carry out the instructions Dr Croft gave you yesterday regarding corroboration of your findings.

"A SHIELD security team will be onsite shortly, they will not interfere with your work. Should Dr Croft contact you, please let them know.

"Thank you for the copies of your notes and reports. Be assured they will remain confidential until you tell us otherwise."

Draco Malfoy looked around the conference room at his team. As a schoolboy, he had assumed an air of cold arrogance as cover for a painful shyness. He was still uncomfortable in all but the most familiar company. The fact that he was about to address this many people, from such varied backgrounds, without a hint of apprehension was an indication of how far he had come since then. Astoria would be pleased, indeed she was pleased.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I think I should begin with a brief recap of the known facts so far. Yesterday, at about midnight local time, a magical device called a palantir was activated in the warehouse we have just visited. A palantir is an ancient and sophisticated scrying device resembling a large crystal globe.

"Until that point, only one was known to be extant, and that is in the possession of Dr Stephen Strange. Using his own palantir, Dr Strange was able to communicate with the person using the other, who he identified as the noted archaeologist Dr Lara Croft. Dr Croft claimed to have found the item on her current dig. Dr Strange then warned her of the dangers inherent in the possession of such an artefact and advised her to surrender it to someone capable of guarding it. He then terminated the conversation and immediately contacted WAND to inform them what had happened.

"An hour after this, SHIELD received a call from the Turkish authorities indicating that HYDRA personnel had conducted a bloodless raid on the warehouse in question. Clearly this was not a coincidence, and Director Rogers has assigned us to find out what is going on.

"It is now clear that Dr Croft and her team have discovered an cavern beneath the sea which contains the ruins of a city. The structure of the city itself, along with certain documented finds within it, appear to identify it as Minas Tirith, or Minas Anor, a city better known from its part in a famous high fantasy trilogy written by an Oxford don in the middle of the last century. A trilogy which I gather has been read by everyone around this table, including myself.

"We now know that HYDRA were in search of specific items. We also know that Dr Croft has disappeared with two items from the dig, at least one of which seems to be the palantir. I deduce, therefore, that the items taken by Dr Croft are the ones HYDRA is after.

"Do we have any more? Agent Ramsay?"

"The warehouse is bugged." Cypher told them. "Has been for some time, I think. At least since the dig team started using it as their HQ. HYDRA tech, digital, new configuration or I'd have found them sooner. But whoever planted them didn't have full access, because there are several blind spots, including the office."

"Ah, yes, the office. Did you find anything of interest there, Miss Rosenberg?" Draco asked.

"Well, HYDRA didn't carry out a thorough search." Willow remarked. "Dr Crofts' laptop was still there. Looks like she'd been researching Tolkien for most of the evening until about twelve local. She'd also sent a long email to an address with a domain name I don't recognise. I sent it to Cypher.

"There was a window in the office that let onto a fire escape. The window was closed but unlocked. I used some forensic spells and they showed that two people had gotten out of the window around 12:20. They must've known that HYDRA would be watching the alley, because they didn't go down, but jumped across to the next building – a six-foot jump, anyone reasonably fit could've made it – and gone off over the rooftops.

"I didn't want to follow them too far in daylight in case HYDRA still has people in the area. I could've asked Gabbi, but I figured you wouldn't want her using the Sight with so many muggles about."

"Wise." Gabrielle Delacour noted. "Not all muggles are insensitive to magic."

"Very well." Draco said. "Then our priority is to locate Dr Croft. I will leave that in the capable hands of agents Ramsay and Rosenberg. The rest of you will no doubt find something useful to do in the interim.

"Rhodes, a private word?"

When the others were gone, Rhodey looked at Draco and asked. "What's up, Boss?"

Draco steepled his hands – an habitual gesture indicating a degree of concern.

"As you know, Rhodes," he began, "the initial alert from Dr Strange came through to WAND, which as a division of SHIELD, naturally passed the matter up to HQ. We also know that the good Doctor informed the White Council, UNIT and the Brotherhood of the Sword. All of these, as per our usual arrangements, will share information and resources with us.

"However, I suspect – and Director Rogers agrees with me – that Strange has very likely passed on his warning to other organisations, as well. In particular, I am concerned with Torchwood Four and Warehouse 13. Both of those organisations operate outside any supervision, and are known for maverick methodology.

"We will need to keep our eyes peeled, Rhodes, and not to automatically assume that any third-party intervention is hostile."

"Noted." Rhodey responded. "We don't have a quarrel with those guys, and we don't need to start one, right?"

"Quite so." Draco nodded, then shifted uncomfortably. "There is another matter, Rhodes. One of a personal nature. You read the witness descriptions of the man who led the HYDRA team, of course?"

Rhodey nodded. "It was Piet van Roek. Again. Sounds as if he got himself demoted, general to colonel if I understand those SS ranks right."

"You do." Draco allowed. "It is somewhat ironic that, although the Red Skull claims to have gone beyond Nazi ideology, he nevertheless retains the titles and structure of the SS within his organisation.

"However, it is, as you say, not the first time we have encountered Mynheer van Roek. I know he has good cause to hate me personally, but I find myself beginning to develop a positive dislike for him. Should we encounter him directly, it is possible that I will become less than professional. This would likely endanger the team and the mission."

"So you want me to warn you if I see it starting?" Rhodey asked.

"I want you to knock me down and sit on me, if necessary." Draco said firmly. "I would not allow an operative to endanger the team for a personal vendetta, and I expect you to perform the same function for me, Rhodes. Are we clear?"

"Crystal." Rhodey allowed. "But just so you know, if you get a clear, safe shot, I won't stop you taking it."

"All other things being equal, I would not expect you to." Draco replied. "But now, I think a spot of lunch is in order."

One thing about the Boss, Rhodey noted, was that he made sure nobody missed any meals they didn't have to!

"OK, so the last traces we have of Lara Croft, as Lara Croft, happened between one am and three am local time." Cypher was saying. "There were two large cash withdrawals from AMTs at opposite ends of the city, then she went to Istanbul Airport and claimed the contents of a left-luggage locker. At that point, she drops off the grid.

"But I had an inkling, so I asked the airport to send over details of any cash ticket purchases between three am and now. At seven this morning, a Linda Cummings – British national – paid cash for a one-way flight to New York JFK. I got hold of the security footage and ran facial recognition. This is what I got."

The large plasma screen showed a young woman with long dark hair, dressed in a vaguely hippy style and wearing heavy-rimmed spectacles. She was behaving in a distinctly scatty manner and giggled a lot. Very different from the poised and scholarly Lara Croft as she appeared in magazines and TV interviews.

"I know." Cypher answered the unspoken questions. "Clothing, body language, look. All different. But facial recognition doesn't lie. Linda Cummings is Lara Croft. People using fake names tend to keep their initials, I don't know why."

"It would seem," Draco said, "that Dr Croft is a person of some resource. It is not usual for archaeologists to have a set of forged identity documents. On the other hand, some of Dr Crofts' past activities have been...colourful.

"Do we have anything else?"

"Yeah." Cypher grinned. "I did a search on Linda Cummings. It seems that between retrieving her stuff and buying her ticket, Dr Croft dispatched a small but heavy parcel via confidential courier to Boston, Massachusetts, to be called for. Paid up front in cash.

"Courier is called 'Penguin Confidential Logistics', based in Boston. According to their website they specialise in 'small, high-value' items and promise discretion and safety of the goods. Apart from that there's just a list of offices in airports round the world and a contact email. Oh, and a coat of arms instead of a logo!"

"Hum!" Draco examined the shield. "Per fess, vert and argent. In chief three wheatsheaves d'or, in base an Emperor penguin, statant, proper. Not familiar, but that's hardly surprising. Check the College of Arms, there can't be many arms that have a penguin on them."

Draco was right. "Here it is!" Cypher announced. "A grant of arms made to Joseph Cobblepot, merchant and victualler, of London in 1915, in recognition of his work in supplying the 1910 and 1914 Antarctic Expeditions of Scott and Shackleton. The current bearer is his great-great grandson, Oswald Cobblepot, who is owner and CEO of Penguin Confidential Logistics. Dual nationality – American mother – lives in Boston.

"By the way. The email Dr Croft sent was to someone at the Temple of the Sword in Vie de Marlie."

"It's an 11-hour flight from Istanbul to New York." Rhodey noted. "We can be there in four. Less if somebody takes the Jumper."

"That would be unwise." Draco said. "We are no doubt under surveillance. The last thing we need to do at the moment is attract undue attention to Dr Crofts' probable location. We are also lacking in certain background information. Nevertheless, I am reluctant to leave Dr Croft in the open, as it were."

"I know a way to get her some off-the-books help." Cypher noted.

"I did not, of course, hear that suggestion." Draco told him. "But should Dr Croft acquire some allies, it would set my mind at rest.

"Now, we should prepare to depart for Boston. Rhodes, you will take Agents Kent, Delacour and Rosenberg there and find out what it is Dr Croft sent, securing it if necessary.

"Once we are out of sight of land, Agents Wayne and Ramsay will accompany me in the Jumper to Vie de Marlie in search of background intel.

"Depending upon developments, we will rendezvous in either Boston or New York. Shall we proceed?"

"Ok, people!" Rhodey said. "You heard the man! Wheels up in thirty!"

Lara had guessed that the Linda Cummings identity would have a limited lifespan, especially if HYDRA were after her. That didn't matter too much if it got her to her safe house in New York. She had other papers there. More importantly, she had the gear to get in direct contact with Father Simeon. He was the only person she trusted to tell her if this Strange character was on the up-and-up.

What she hadn't expected was to be made as soon as she got off the plane. But the two men who had been trailing her since Immigration were definitely suspect. She'd thought HYDRA was a paramilitary group, but these two were something else. Professionals, without a doubt, you could see them watching everything, assessing the area. More importantly, they were deftly avoiding surveillance. That took some doing in a post -9/11 JFK, and Lara didn't make it any easier for them by making sure she was full in the field of any and all cameras.

Still, that had its' disadvantages in that she had to do what was expected of her. The Cummings identity wouldn't run to hiring a car – no credit card – so she'd have to take a cab. Apparently, that was what they'd counted on, because as soon as she reached the rank, a taxi swept up with more than usual haste. From the corner of her eye, Lara saw one of her 'attendants' deftly blocking the approach of the cab which had been legitimately next in line. In the window of the taxi, she could also see the other approaching behind her rather too quickly for comfort. She was to be bundled into the cab and whisked away, no doubt. Yeah. Right.

Things were about to get noisy when a womans' voice shouted "Linda! Over here, lassie!"

An older woman, late forties, early fifties, it was hard to say. Slim and a little taller than Lara herself, wearing black slacks and jacket over a white blouse, with a tartan scarf round her neck. Moving too quickly to be interrupted, she swept Lara into a sinewy embrace, whispered "Jane." into her ear, then said aloud.

"I was sure I'd missed ye, pet! Ye're lookin' grand!"

"Auntie Jane!" Lara squealed, in Linda Cummings high-pitched, girlish tones. "I couldn't remember whether I'd given you the right flight number. When you weren't at the terminal I just thought 'durr' and came to find a cab!"

"Och, it's my own fault, lass. Uncle Jimmy's leg is playing up, and I'd to make him comfy before I left. Come on, I'm parked in short stay, and your uncle would no' thank me for gettin' a fine!"

She all but dragged Lara off, chattering at high speed about Uncle Jimmy and his poor leg and what a fine lass the wee girl had grown into. But she was watching everything as she bundled her companion into a silver-grey SUV and set off toward the city. For a while, she drove in silence, motioning Lara to hold her questions for now. Then she loosened the scarf and appeared to switch on some kind of microphone.

"Three." She said. "In a checker cab four cars back. Have you got them?" She paused a moment, obviously listening to a reply. "OK, but try not to make too much mess."

A few moments later there was a screech of brakes and a crash from behind. Lara twisted round in her seat in time to see a checker cab hanging half-way across the central barrier. She turned to Jane, who simply said. "Don't ask."

"Ok, ok." Lara said, as much to herself as anyone. "Then can I ask who you are and what you want with me?"

"I'm Jane, like I said." The Scots accent was more muted now, but still present. "Somebody contacted the man I work for and asked us to look after you, Dr Croft, and that's what we'll do. You'll not be needing the SIG, dearie. Not right now. Save it for later."

"You know my name? My real name?" Lara was taken aback.

"Oh, aye, we know all about you." Jane said easily. "Dr Lara Croft. Three years ago you were a young graduate with an obsession about the Japanese legend of Himiko the Sun Queen, out on her first expedition. You were shipwrecked on an island where the inhabitants were half-insane cultists. Somehow you found your way out with most of your friends and some incredible finds. Enough to get you your doctorate. You've been chasing, and finding, legends ever since.

"Latest story is that you found something big under the Sea of Marmara. News and internet chatter has it that half the distinguished archaeologists in Europe and North America are on their way to Istanbul to examine what your team found.

"All that apart, you seem to have stirred up a hornets' nest, lassie. What made you run out on your team and come here under a false name?"

"It's complicated." Lara allowed. "I can't – won't - tell you all of it. Mostly because I'm not sure I believe more than half of it myself.

"All I can say is that I found something that has bad people chasing me, and that somebody promised to help if I can get to him. But I need to find out if I can trust him first."

"By 'bad people', you mean HYDRA?" Jane asked. "Oh, don't look so worried. The person who contacted my boss is SHIELD. We can put two and two together.

"But right now, wee girl, we're going to a safe house where you can get yourself some food, a shower and a few hours' sleep. You look done in. Then after that I'll take you wherever you want to go!"

Lara was not sure she wasn't being scammed somehow. But she was weary, hungry and grubby. There'd be time to turn the tables or get away later. Besides, she didn't think she was up to taking on this woman at the moment. Under the motherly warmth there was more than a hint of steel, and she definitely had back-up, of a very professional kind.

"Who's this person you need to see?" Jane asked.

"His names' Strange, Stephen Strange." Lara was hoping to get some information, so she had to give some. "I researched him on the flight. He's a doctor, used to be a famous neurosurgeon. Bit of an arsehole by all accounts, as well. Had an accident at the peak of his career that ruined his hands – for surgery anyway. He dropped out of sight after that – rumours say he went out East somewhere. Came back a few years later and settled in Greenwich Village. He's mostly a recluse, but he's on the boards of a couple of charities and does lecture at the local medical schools.

"I've only spoken with him the once and he seems a bit...weird. But he also seems to know something about what I found. What HYDRA are after."

"Hmm." Jane mused. "I'll see what my people can find out. Here we are!"

The safe house proved to be the top-floor apartment of a brownstone mansion. Far enough out of the heart of Manhattan to be private, but not so far as to admit of any loud shenanigans without drawing the attention of New Yorks' Finest. A young Oriental man was waiting outside bearing Chinese food. He obviously wasn't a delivery boy, and Jane thanked him warmly, calling him Som.

Lara showered quickly, but gratefully, ate heartily and was almost ecstatic to be given a large mug of hot, sweet tea, a beverage she had once described to a Jewish friend as 'Britains' equivalent of chicken soup'. After that she had no option but to sleep.

Jane Fleming could have done with some sleep herself, but she had things to do first. It had been one long rush since Bett had summoned them with more than his usual peremptoriness. The need to get to New York ahead of the lumbering commercial flight their target was booked on had been foreseen by their contact, who apparently had enough pull, not only to have a Stark International executive jet waiting for them at Nice, but to have the pilot wordlessly hand the plane off to Rebekah.

Their orders had been to follow and not intervene unless a threat emerged. One had, earlier than expected, and Jane had been forced to improvise. The lass was quick on the uptake, though, picking up on the 'Auntie Jane' thing without batting an eyelid. Jane had thought she might be. Lara Croft had once been dropped into a situation like nothing she'd experienced before, and it had wakened something in her that would never sleep again. Jane Fleming knew all about that! Once Jane had Lara safely under her wing, it had been child's play for Somboon and Armand to deal with their pursuers.

But now Jane had to let Bett know what was happening, and what she'd learned from Lara. He listened, he was good at that. He asked a few terse questions, but not too many – he trusted her judgement. Jane was the only one of the team who'd been trusted with the information that SHIELD was the source of this job.

"It's off the books." He'd told her. "SHIELD aren't supposed to use outside contractors without going through a long process. They got bitten badly by that in the 70s. But the contact is somebody I know and nobody I want to upset. We won't get paid, as such, but..."

"But what goes around comes around." She'd finished for him – she was the only one allowed to do that as well. "They'll owe us one, and they'll find a way to make it good."

Now he had more information for her. "We've been lucky, in a way." He said. "I though HYDRA might act directly, which is why I told you in case you needed to brief the others – no sense worrying them if nothing happened. It seems, though, that they are also using contractors. The men who were trying to kidnap Dr Croft were SPECTRE."

"We're sure?" She asked.

"It's not the kind of thing Armand would make a mistake about." Bett said.

Jane sighed. SPECTRE - Special Executive for Counter-intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion – had recently been revived from a moribund state by its founders' grandson, Heinrich Blofeld. Blofeld had taken advantage of the vacuum left by the demise of Simon "the Black Spirit" Darcourt to grow the business even more. Betts' team had encountered them more than once recently, and both sides had developed a healthy professional respect for each other.

"SPECTRE are private sector." She noted. "Not ideologically driven like HYDRA. On the one hand, it makes them more dangerous, but on the other..."

"We'll be dealing with professionals, not fanatics." Bett finished. "I'll look into this Dr Strange for you. The team are on watch, so get some sleep. And Jane..."

"I know." She said. "A-fag."

She glanced at Lara, sound asleep, before she settled into the neighbouring bed. A-fag. She thought. All fun and games until somebody loses an eye. You found that out far too young, lassie!