December 21, 1999
Lara Croft and Tomb Raider are creations of Adrian Smith for Core Design and Eidos Interactive, and Tomb Raider comics are published by Top Cow Productions, Inc.
Batman and related characters are creations of Bob Kane for Detective Comics, and published by DC Comics Inc.
The characters and incidents featured in this story are entirely fictional. Any similarities to persons living or dead are purely coincidental. To infringe or challenge the copyrights or trademarks of the above is not the intention of this author.
THE EXPOSITION - Part Four
Lara pressed the numbers on the cell phone.
An answering machine responded.
She frowned, closed the cell phone, and viewed the passing scenery through the car's window.
"Still unable to contact your friend, Miss Lara?" He maneuvered the car into a driveway and remained silent when she didn't reply.
Her fingers brushed her cheek as she gazed out the window. After several seconds her head moved from left to right. "Where are we? What is this place?"
"Wayne Manor. I thought it would be more relaxing to have tea here then the café at the Galleria or hotel. Don't you agree?" His eyes sparkled as he drove to the front door.
"In some ways it reminds me of home in Surrey." She observed the massive building, and then snapped her fingers. "Alfred, may I use the phone? I have to report to my publisher how the book signing went along."
"Why, of course, Miss Lara. Follow me."
Trailing through the main door into the large foyer, she twirled and admired the décor and the adjoining rooms, and marveled at the twin staircases that ended at the opposite sides of the foyer.
Alfred beckoned her to follow. "There is a phone you can use in the library."
The double doors were swung open.
Lara's mouth hung in amazement as she circled the hub of the room. It was a two-story room with shelves of books on every wall. Circular stairs to the second floor section led to a small desk and reading lamp. On the main floor in the middle of the room were a couple of reading chairs with end tables and a floor lamp. A couch of similar style faced the chairs. On the edge of this group was a formal desk with a reading light and a telephone.
She scanned the books on one shelf and noticed a number of first editions.
"Master Bruce's collection is quite extensive."
"Almost heaven," she whispered.
"Make your calls while I prepare the tea. It shouldn't be more than a moment." Alfred left the room.
Lara dialed a number and looked at her watch. "She may still be in the office."
The phone clicked for overseas exchange. A few seconds passed until someone answered.
"Yes, Heather Green's office, please... Thank you... Hello, Heather, its Lara. How have you been?... The book signing went better than I expected, but the curator has been disagreeable at times... I don't know why... The Exposition is over on Sunday. Why?... What!"
She dropped in the chair and listened for a long time. Her face turned red.
"I'm sorry, Heather, but I cannot tell you that... I cannot... I cannot tell you their names... Why? Because they are trusted friends, that is why... No!... No, no, I cannot!... Give me his phone number and I will call him!... I'll tell him the same thing."
She lifted a pen from the desk drawer and ripped a slip of paper from the message pad.
"Yes, I've got it now... No, Heather, I am not angry with you... Don't feel that way, okay?" She rested her chin on her hand. "I'll call him straight away... Right... When I get back I'll let you know... Right, bye."
She set the phone on the cradle and slumped in the chair.
"You look as if you just completed a twelve round bout with a frightening large opponent," exclaimed Alfred.
"Problems at home. Lately, everywhere I go there seems to be a problem. At this rate, my digestive system will be lined with ulcers before the month ends." Her head tilted up against the chair.
"What could possibly be troubling you now?" He placed a tray of teacups and croissants on the desk. The teapot was set next to the tray.
"Apparently, certain members of Parliament want my head on a platter. They believe I jeopardized the country's relationship with China from my latest 'unauthorized' excursion to the Great Wall. My publisher told me the Prime Minister wants a full detailed report by tomorrow. He wants names of the people involved as well." Lara covered her eyes and sighed.
Alfred poured the tea. "May I make a suggestion. Due to the fact reporters will have you in their scopes about this news, why not stay here. It is evident they will not leave you a moments rest. But here, you could regain your sanity from the maelstrom of circumstances that have entangled your life. We have all the necessities you require to finish any report or complete any task, plus some luxuries you may enjoy."
"Yes, Lara. Please stay." Bruce stood by the door.
She suppressed a smile and looked at Alfred. He winked at Lara.
"Alfred, arrange to pick up Lara's things at the hotel. While you're away, I'll give her a tour of the grounds."
"Certainly, Master Bruce. I shall see to it, personally."
"I don't want to impose on your hospitality," she responded.
Alfred snapped, "Nonsense. It's no imposition at all. We very rarely have overnight guests. This would be a treat." He smiled and exited the room.
Bruce lowered his head and blushed.
Lara snickered, "Rarely have overnight guests? Mr. Wayne, how did you ever generate a playboy reputation?"
"Don't believe everything you read. Most of those articles are from women I never met." He walked to the couch and sat.
She placed an elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her knuckles. "And what about those you have met?"
He shrugged, "I don't know what compels those women to tell their fantasies to the media. In truth I have a friend who is a talent agent. Whenever a large function will occur in town, he arranges the dates for the exposure of upcoming movie stars--."
"I see. A private escort service."
He waved a hand. "It's nothing like that--."
"Oh, your own private pimp?" She appeared angry.
Bruce paused. "How did this turn from an invitation for a tour to a sordid accusation on my personal life?"
She shook her head and giggled. "Because it is pitiful, Bruce. Just pitiful. You are a well-known philanthropist, a stunningly handsome bachelor, and you resort to prearranged blind dates with want-to-be movie starlets. It sounds so... ludicrous."
He pouted and acted as if the air was sucked out of his cheeks. Immediately he stood and pointed at her. "You know... you're right! You are absolutely right! It does sound ludicrous!" He walked in a semi-circle to the edge of the desk. "And I will do something about that."
A second passed in silence.
"Are you ready for the tour?"
Lara tilted her head away. "No, I don't think you will do anything about that." She laughed to herself and picked on a croissant. "Give me a moment to make a call to the Prime Minister, then I will take your little tour."
He winked, "Let me check on some personal things while you make your calls. I'll be right back."
Lara watched Bruce leave and let out a long sigh. After a sip of tea, she dialed the number on the slip of paper.
* * *
Gregor entered the warm room and paced slowly. Voldo stood by the door. Steven held his leg and groaned.
"We've got a problem," Gregor hissed and sat in the chair.
Steven whimpered, "Please, no more. Please."
Gregor rested his chin on his thumb and stared. "One of our cartridge tapes is missing. You know the one, Steven. The same kind we do our daily backups with. Where is it?"
"I... I kept it in... in a safe place," he gasped.
Gregor leaned towards Steven. "Voldo did not find it in your desk, nor in your apartment. Where is it?"
Voldo twisted Steven's arm and grabbed two other fingers.
"No! No! No! Please... Please don't!"
"Where is it?"
"It's... in a locker... in the terminal... the bus terminal." He gulped for air.
"Steven, I pressed the redial button on the phone on your desk, just out of curiosity. Guess who answered?" He frowned, "The receptionist at the Grand Hilton Hotel." His finger tapped his temple. "Now, who is staying at the Grand Hilton that we know? Hmm..." He mocked a surprise look. "Lara Croft!" He leaned forward and snarled, "Does she have the key?"
Voldo placed his knee on the back of the bruised leg, pulled on Steven's foot, and twisted.
Steven screamed and shook his head as if in a wild spasm. His face turned blood red as he yelled louder with every twist.
Voldo sneered and wrenched the leg.
"Does Lara Croft have the key?"
Steven screeched long and hard, and then passed out.
Voldo dropped the leg and stood. He placed his fingers on Steven's neck and looked at Gregor. "He is still alive," he grimaced.
Gregor thought for a moment and pointed to Voldo. "I want you to go back to his apartment and look for the key. Also, get our new employee, Mr. Gray, to keep an eye on Lara Croft and report to you anything he finds." He glanced at Steven. "I hope, for his sake, he didn't get her involved."
Voldo asked, "And what if the woman is involved?"
"He's a dead man," he replied.
"And the woman?"
Gregor glared at Voldo, and then he exited the room.
* * *
Lara sent her personal secretary an e-mail. Notes were sent from her escapade to China and a brief outline on how the report should look before presenting it to the Prime Minister. Then the articles on Elias Gregor were highlighted and read. They were short old clips, regarding graduation from school and starting a real estate company. They were not interesting, and she closed her laptop.
The décor in the large living room was simple but elegant. The light from the fireplace danced along the opposite wall to the huge unadorned windows. Outside, the declining sunlight turned the grounds into obscured grays.
She faced the windows and recalled the tour of Wayne Manor: lovely landscape, an invitingly long outdoor pool, a company helicopter on a grassy knoll, an impressive automobile and motorcycle collection, and lots of rooms. "What does he do for enjoyment?" she murmured.
Alfred and Bruce entered.
"Dinner will be served in a few minutes. I took the liberty of putting the suitcases in your room. I believe Master Bruce did show you which one it was."
She nodded, "He was a very pleasant host."
Bruce smiled.
"Just to inform you, Miss Lara, there were a number of messages I collected from the front desk of the hotel. The majority appears to be from reporters requesting interviews for the BBC, CNN, 20/20, and Larry King. They are all on the table next to the bed." He turned to Bruce. "I tried my best to elude the reporters laid siege at the hotel, but one persistent fellow in a gray car was able to follow me here."
"Don't worry about it, Alfred. You did a fine job." Bruce patted him on the back before he left.
"He is an exceptional person." She walked to an end of the sofa.
Bruce glanced at her, sat on the sofa, and faced the fireplace. "Yes, he is. I don't know what I would do without him."
Except for the crackling from the fireplace, the room was silent for several seconds. Then they both spoke at the same time, and stopped.
"I'm sorry. What was that you said?"
"No, no, Lara. What were you going to say?"
She slid into the sofa. "Elias Gregor said he had approached you with a business proposition, which eventually was very profitable to him. Why didn't you participate in the venture?"
His head turned and he looked above the fireplace. "Regardless of what others may think of me or how I acquired my wealth, I remind myself of the one thing my parents gave me, and that is my name. I know that it is written, 'A good name is better than great riches...'. That is the one thing I have always kept in mind throughout my business affairs. I could have easily succumbed to self-gratification because of my wealth, but that would not have honored my parents memory."
Lara gazed above the mantel and saw a large painting of a woman sitting in a chair with a man standing behind her.
"So every business deal I do is to uphold the Wayne name as honorable as I can. Now to address Elias Gregor's proposal, I was cautious. I researched the company, Natla Technologies, as well as Jacqueline Natla and Elias Gregor. From my sources I found them to be unscrupulous in one way or another. It was my decision not to mix my name with theirs. I may have lost a fortune by not investing in the project, but I didn't loose my credibility. In the end my associates still know who they are dealing with when they approach me."
"What did you find on Elias Gregor that was unscrupulous?"
"Dubious land deals he was charged with, but settled out of court. Commingling client's money with his own, which almost cost him his broker's license, but also was settled in a quiet fashion. And a folder of juvenile offenses that was kept from public scrutiny." He sat back and folded his hands.
She brought a leg on the sofa and faced him. "How did you find all this out?"
"I have my sources."
Lara furrowed her brow. "I'm worried about a friend who is employed by Gregor Shipping Company. He hasn't called."
"When was the last you heard from him?"
"Yesterday afternoon. We had lunch together."
"If you want to file a missing person's report--."
She shook her head and frowned. "He may be with someone, on a date, or something like that. I probably am worrying needlessly."
Bruce extended his hand towards her. "Give me his phone number and I will have someone check on him."
"A private investigator?"
He nodded.
Lara pulled out a slip of paper from her handbag.
He teased, "This is Steven's number, and not the Prime Minister's number. Right?"
She chuckled. "There would be a lot more digits if it was... On second thought, maybe we should know the Prime Minister's whereabouts and the company he keeps."
They laughed.
"Now what were you going to say, Bruce?"
He sighed, "Well... since you will be my guest for the next few days... Would you like to go to the concert at the Gotham Center tomorrow evening?"
"A concert?" Her voice was gleeful.
"Or maybe the circus?"
"Just because I am your guest, you expect me to automatically say 'yes'?" she teased.
"No. I expect you to say 'yes' because you would want to go."
"Really?" She raised an eyebrow.
Bruce paused. "No, not really. It's because I want you to come with me." His face turned red.
"I would love to go." She touched his hand, squeezed, and locked eyes with his. Her senses soaked in his strong features; warm dark eyes, granite-edge chin, and tight lips.
He studied her lovely face; wide brown eyes, creamy smooth skin, and full lips.
They gazed for a few seconds, and slowly moved closer.
A log snapped and heels clicked on hardwood.
They flinched and looked at the doorway.
"I said, dinner is served," Alfred bellowed.
* * *
Voldo walked into the ship's mess hall and waited just beyond the light. Gregor stood at a table where eight dark-clad men had gathered.
"Now you know the plan, the time schedule, what rooms to hit, and the escape route. The ship will not be in port tomorrow evening but there will be a boat waiting at the docks. These are the coordinates of our rendezvous point at sea. In case you split up and don't make it to the boat with the others, find a way to get there, I don't care how, and set your GPS to the coordinates. Gentlemen, remember, after you cut off the power at the Galleria, the backup generators will kick in within thirty seconds. Plenty of time to dash and grab. We start at twenty-three hundred, tomorrow evening. The boat will leave the docks at twenty-three fifteen, at the latest. If all goes well, we'll be on our way at oh-six hundred the following morning." He leaned on the table. "The General assured me you are an elite group, so I don't expect any deviation from the plan. But, in case of that unknown factor, carry small arms or concealed weapons, and wear your bulletproof vests. See you at the rendezvous point." He walked towards Voldo and folded his arms. "What do you have for me?"
Voldo folded his arms in kind. "Mr. Gray reported he heard an old man settle her bill and had the woman's bags. The old man went to a large estate. He said it was Wayne Manor."
Gregor pushed air through his clenched teeth. "Lara, Lara. Why are you getting involved with that playboy when I can do so much more, and better, for you." He bit his thumbnail and thought. "We don't know for sure if she knows anything, right?"
Voldo nodded.
"Take a couple of these men to patrol the bus terminal. I want to know if anyone picks up that tape cartridge before tomorrow night."
"Then we clean up?"
"Yes, brother, then we clean up."
* * *
Bruce and Lara strolled through the foyer to the living room.
"I hope you can relax tomorrow. Just let Alfred know of anything you need during your stay. He will keep you comfortable and guard your privacy from the public."
"What if I wish to go about town?"
"Speak to Alfred. He will give you the keys to one of the vehicles in the garage. But you should be careful. This China debacle is fresh and newsworthy, which will make you a target for the media."
They sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace.
Lara fidgeted and glanced at Bruce. "When will you contact your private investigator?"
"As soon as possible."
She looked at the fire, fidgeted some more, and took a deep breath. "Bruce, I have a confession to make. The real reason I agreed to participate in the Exposition was to meet with you and..." She sighed. "The reason I came was to..." Her eyes closed and she bit her lip. "I'm not very good at this."
He faced her and listened.
"Originally, my reason in being here was as a fundraiser for the British Museum." She watched him.
He tilted his head.
"Let me explain what had happened. When I returned home from China, colleagues who heard snippets of my adventure and what had occurred at the Great Wall confronted me. Well, the curator and some board directors got wind of the story. They arranged a private audience with me, and I received a thorough tongue lashing from them. They feared the ramifications from my unauthorized expedition. First, they were worried the Chinese government would pull out of the Asian Exhibit and humiliate the museum. Second, the bad publicity would hamper their fundraising efforts and cause a great deal of embarrassment. They were afraid a number of projects would be shelved, terminated, or delayed due to lack of funds. 'Financial backers would pull out from all of this bad press,' they said. Fortunately I had your invitation in my hand and I said, 'What if I could get a well-known foundation to make a contribution to the British Museum.'
When they asked what foundation, I presented the letter. They read it, but said I couldn't exhibit any items the museum presently had. I was to use whatever I had in my personal collection. A huge argument followed, and nasty accusations were flung. The end result from the discussion was... if I can get a major contribution from your foundation, they would take it into consideration and look more favorably on me."
She paused and brushed back her hair.
"The next couple of days blurred on by. I had to arrange for my collection to be shipped on short notice. If it weren't for your personal secretary to assist in my flight arrangements and accommodations, I would definitely be a bundle of nerves. She was extremely helpful."
He smiled briefly.
"If the truth be told, I would admit I normally don't do this sort of thing. The museum has professionals to perform fundraising. I may attend a dinner or two, just to show my face... and I never allow my personal collection to be on tour. I must have leaned a little bit on your associate to guarantee a secured room."
Bruce folded his hands. "He said you sounded a bit high-strung regarding the exhibit room when I met with him this morning. He apologizes for any misunderstanding."
"But what I wanted to say is... I reacted defensively when they accused me of adventurism. The result has led me here to Gotham City's Exposition, but..."
She closed her eyes tight.
"Everything has started to unravel. Now the British government is involved and Parliament has made wild accusations in what happened in China. This could be a total embarrassment for the museum. When I return to London, I shouldn't be surprised if the museum vacated my position and removed my name from their roster of approved archaeologists."
She took a long deep breath.
"My question to you is this. Whatever museum or institute I associate my name with, may I count on your support... and a contribution from the foundation?"
Bruce brought his folded hands to his mouth and thought. "Let me see if I understand this correctly. In case the British Museum drops you because of the current events, you want the Wayne Foundation to be your... parachute, if you will, so wherever you land, your reputation will not be damaged from the fall. Your research will continue because of the funding of a major contributor to the institution you are associated with. Did I guess right?"
Lara nodded hesitantly, and blinked.
He pointed at her. "One question, do you like working with the British Museum?"
Her eyes drifted down, and she contemplated. "I would have to say 'yes'. I am comfortable with them, regardless of the political games they play. But I have to deal with the reality that they may drop me in order to save face. Your support will definitely soften the blow to my reputation and allow me to continue with my career."
He shifted his jaw, and said, "Let me propose this. My secretary will draw up a letter and address it to the British Museum stating as long as Dr. Lara Croft maintains her present position within their institution, and is on the roster of approved archaeologists, the Wayne Foundation will contribute to their fundraising projects."
She exhaled, grinned, and held his hand. "Thank you, Bruce. You don't know what a relief it is for me to hear that."
He straightened his back. "It's just good business, Lara. Don't think any more about it."
"But you don't know that much about me, yet you are willing to take a risk on my career. Unless...," She thought for a moment. "Do you happen to have a folder filed away about me?"
"Lara, I have your books. What more do I need?"
She leaned forward and kissed him.
Startled, he asked, "What was that for?"
"For my memoirs. I want to be able to write, 'I kissed Gotham City's most eligible bachelor'." She blushed, tilted her head, and grinned like a Cheshire cat.
He placed a hand on her soft cheek and moved closer.
"Excuse me, Master Bruce," the baritone voice resounded.
He turned towards the doorway. "Alfred, you have impeccable timing."
"I'm sorry, sir, but an urgent matter has occurred that demands your attention."
Bruce stood, looked at Lara, and sighed. "Excuse me, Lara. There are some things that require my personal touch."
"No need for apologies. It provides time for me to check my messages. Good night, gentlemen." She exited and climbed the stairs to her room.
They stood still until her door closed.
"The computer received a transmission this afternoon. Another cartoon commercial for a breakfast cereal, but there is a difference between this latest one and the others received before. The latest one was generated from a different location, a few blocks south from the spot of the previous transmissions."
Bruce pouted and crossed his arms. "A few blocks south is the harbor. They must be on the ship. I don't like it. Something is going to happen soon and I haven't a clue. I probably have to get on the ship to find something, plus look in after Lara's friend."
"Will it be a long night?" Alfred sounded remorseful.
"Don't wait up." He walked across the foyer, touched a hidden trigger, and opened a secret panel. He descended the hidden staircase that led to the cave.
* * *
Lara thumbed through the messages and stashed a couple in her briefcase. Messages from reporters, and Elias Gregor, were tossed in the wastebasket. A small white envelope on the table caught her attention. When she picked it up, the weight of something inside was felt. A key dropped out of the envelope after she opened it. She walked out of the room and headed towards the foyer.
Alfred was turning away from the living room.
"Where is Bruce?"
Alfred jumped. "Miss Lara, you gave me a start." He glanced over his shoulder to a panel. "He had to step out for a while. He should return shortly. Is there something I may help you with?"
She frowned, and then held up a key. "Do you know where this key came from?"
"I believe that was amongst your messages, probably in the white envelope."
"Correct. Do you know what it unlocks?"
"From the looks of the engraved number, a traveler's locker, like the kind in the Gotham City bus terminal."
"Where is the bus terminal located?" she asked.
"In the heart of downtown, about six blocks south of the Grand Hilton Hotel. Do you plan to go there tonight?"
"Not tonight, Alfred. This could be something Steven left for me."
"Steven?"
"Yes, my friend Steven. Didn't I tell you the name of my friend?"
"No, Miss Lara, I'm afraid you didn't."
She paused. "Well, then... Steven is the friend I am worried about. Will Bruce be contacting his investigator?"
"Yes, he will contact him and be on the case, as they say."
* * *
The dark figure landed on the roof of an apartment building and scurried down the fire escape to a fourth floor window. The window was unlocked and the glass broken.
After climbing through the window, the absence of glass shards on the floor was noted. The apartment looked disheveled, but a flashlight showed contents from drawers and shelves were emptied on the floor, and books littered about. The entrance door was locked. Next to the door a small stereo system laid on the floor. A broken portable television rested near a chair.
The room was scanned one more time, and then the figure exited through the window.
Several minutes later, on the rooftop of a warehouse, a pair of night-vision binoculars was used to view the harbor. A slow pan of the waters accounted for every ship, except one. The Kraken was not there.
* * *
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Lara Croft and Tomb Raider are creations of Adrian Smith for Core Design and Eidos Interactive, and Tomb Raider comics are published by Top Cow Productions, Inc.
Batman and related characters are creations of Bob Kane for Detective Comics, and published by DC Comics Inc.
The characters and incidents featured in this story are entirely fictional. Any similarities to persons living or dead are purely coincidental. To infringe or challenge the copyrights or trademarks of the above is not the intention of this author.
THE EXPOSITION - Part Four
Lara pressed the numbers on the cell phone.
An answering machine responded.
She frowned, closed the cell phone, and viewed the passing scenery through the car's window.
"Still unable to contact your friend, Miss Lara?" He maneuvered the car into a driveway and remained silent when she didn't reply.
Her fingers brushed her cheek as she gazed out the window. After several seconds her head moved from left to right. "Where are we? What is this place?"
"Wayne Manor. I thought it would be more relaxing to have tea here then the café at the Galleria or hotel. Don't you agree?" His eyes sparkled as he drove to the front door.
"In some ways it reminds me of home in Surrey." She observed the massive building, and then snapped her fingers. "Alfred, may I use the phone? I have to report to my publisher how the book signing went along."
"Why, of course, Miss Lara. Follow me."
Trailing through the main door into the large foyer, she twirled and admired the décor and the adjoining rooms, and marveled at the twin staircases that ended at the opposite sides of the foyer.
Alfred beckoned her to follow. "There is a phone you can use in the library."
The double doors were swung open.
Lara's mouth hung in amazement as she circled the hub of the room. It was a two-story room with shelves of books on every wall. Circular stairs to the second floor section led to a small desk and reading lamp. On the main floor in the middle of the room were a couple of reading chairs with end tables and a floor lamp. A couch of similar style faced the chairs. On the edge of this group was a formal desk with a reading light and a telephone.
She scanned the books on one shelf and noticed a number of first editions.
"Master Bruce's collection is quite extensive."
"Almost heaven," she whispered.
"Make your calls while I prepare the tea. It shouldn't be more than a moment." Alfred left the room.
Lara dialed a number and looked at her watch. "She may still be in the office."
The phone clicked for overseas exchange. A few seconds passed until someone answered.
"Yes, Heather Green's office, please... Thank you... Hello, Heather, its Lara. How have you been?... The book signing went better than I expected, but the curator has been disagreeable at times... I don't know why... The Exposition is over on Sunday. Why?... What!"
She dropped in the chair and listened for a long time. Her face turned red.
"I'm sorry, Heather, but I cannot tell you that... I cannot... I cannot tell you their names... Why? Because they are trusted friends, that is why... No!... No, no, I cannot!... Give me his phone number and I will call him!... I'll tell him the same thing."
She lifted a pen from the desk drawer and ripped a slip of paper from the message pad.
"Yes, I've got it now... No, Heather, I am not angry with you... Don't feel that way, okay?" She rested her chin on her hand. "I'll call him straight away... Right... When I get back I'll let you know... Right, bye."
She set the phone on the cradle and slumped in the chair.
"You look as if you just completed a twelve round bout with a frightening large opponent," exclaimed Alfred.
"Problems at home. Lately, everywhere I go there seems to be a problem. At this rate, my digestive system will be lined with ulcers before the month ends." Her head tilted up against the chair.
"What could possibly be troubling you now?" He placed a tray of teacups and croissants on the desk. The teapot was set next to the tray.
"Apparently, certain members of Parliament want my head on a platter. They believe I jeopardized the country's relationship with China from my latest 'unauthorized' excursion to the Great Wall. My publisher told me the Prime Minister wants a full detailed report by tomorrow. He wants names of the people involved as well." Lara covered her eyes and sighed.
Alfred poured the tea. "May I make a suggestion. Due to the fact reporters will have you in their scopes about this news, why not stay here. It is evident they will not leave you a moments rest. But here, you could regain your sanity from the maelstrom of circumstances that have entangled your life. We have all the necessities you require to finish any report or complete any task, plus some luxuries you may enjoy."
"Yes, Lara. Please stay." Bruce stood by the door.
She suppressed a smile and looked at Alfred. He winked at Lara.
"Alfred, arrange to pick up Lara's things at the hotel. While you're away, I'll give her a tour of the grounds."
"Certainly, Master Bruce. I shall see to it, personally."
"I don't want to impose on your hospitality," she responded.
Alfred snapped, "Nonsense. It's no imposition at all. We very rarely have overnight guests. This would be a treat." He smiled and exited the room.
Bruce lowered his head and blushed.
Lara snickered, "Rarely have overnight guests? Mr. Wayne, how did you ever generate a playboy reputation?"
"Don't believe everything you read. Most of those articles are from women I never met." He walked to the couch and sat.
She placed an elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her knuckles. "And what about those you have met?"
He shrugged, "I don't know what compels those women to tell their fantasies to the media. In truth I have a friend who is a talent agent. Whenever a large function will occur in town, he arranges the dates for the exposure of upcoming movie stars--."
"I see. A private escort service."
He waved a hand. "It's nothing like that--."
"Oh, your own private pimp?" She appeared angry.
Bruce paused. "How did this turn from an invitation for a tour to a sordid accusation on my personal life?"
She shook her head and giggled. "Because it is pitiful, Bruce. Just pitiful. You are a well-known philanthropist, a stunningly handsome bachelor, and you resort to prearranged blind dates with want-to-be movie starlets. It sounds so... ludicrous."
He pouted and acted as if the air was sucked out of his cheeks. Immediately he stood and pointed at her. "You know... you're right! You are absolutely right! It does sound ludicrous!" He walked in a semi-circle to the edge of the desk. "And I will do something about that."
A second passed in silence.
"Are you ready for the tour?"
Lara tilted her head away. "No, I don't think you will do anything about that." She laughed to herself and picked on a croissant. "Give me a moment to make a call to the Prime Minister, then I will take your little tour."
He winked, "Let me check on some personal things while you make your calls. I'll be right back."
Lara watched Bruce leave and let out a long sigh. After a sip of tea, she dialed the number on the slip of paper.
* * *
Gregor entered the warm room and paced slowly. Voldo stood by the door. Steven held his leg and groaned.
"We've got a problem," Gregor hissed and sat in the chair.
Steven whimpered, "Please, no more. Please."
Gregor rested his chin on his thumb and stared. "One of our cartridge tapes is missing. You know the one, Steven. The same kind we do our daily backups with. Where is it?"
"I... I kept it in... in a safe place," he gasped.
Gregor leaned towards Steven. "Voldo did not find it in your desk, nor in your apartment. Where is it?"
Voldo twisted Steven's arm and grabbed two other fingers.
"No! No! No! Please... Please don't!"
"Where is it?"
"It's... in a locker... in the terminal... the bus terminal." He gulped for air.
"Steven, I pressed the redial button on the phone on your desk, just out of curiosity. Guess who answered?" He frowned, "The receptionist at the Grand Hilton Hotel." His finger tapped his temple. "Now, who is staying at the Grand Hilton that we know? Hmm..." He mocked a surprise look. "Lara Croft!" He leaned forward and snarled, "Does she have the key?"
Voldo placed his knee on the back of the bruised leg, pulled on Steven's foot, and twisted.
Steven screamed and shook his head as if in a wild spasm. His face turned blood red as he yelled louder with every twist.
Voldo sneered and wrenched the leg.
"Does Lara Croft have the key?"
Steven screeched long and hard, and then passed out.
Voldo dropped the leg and stood. He placed his fingers on Steven's neck and looked at Gregor. "He is still alive," he grimaced.
Gregor thought for a moment and pointed to Voldo. "I want you to go back to his apartment and look for the key. Also, get our new employee, Mr. Gray, to keep an eye on Lara Croft and report to you anything he finds." He glanced at Steven. "I hope, for his sake, he didn't get her involved."
Voldo asked, "And what if the woman is involved?"
"He's a dead man," he replied.
"And the woman?"
Gregor glared at Voldo, and then he exited the room.
* * *
Lara sent her personal secretary an e-mail. Notes were sent from her escapade to China and a brief outline on how the report should look before presenting it to the Prime Minister. Then the articles on Elias Gregor were highlighted and read. They were short old clips, regarding graduation from school and starting a real estate company. They were not interesting, and she closed her laptop.
The décor in the large living room was simple but elegant. The light from the fireplace danced along the opposite wall to the huge unadorned windows. Outside, the declining sunlight turned the grounds into obscured grays.
She faced the windows and recalled the tour of Wayne Manor: lovely landscape, an invitingly long outdoor pool, a company helicopter on a grassy knoll, an impressive automobile and motorcycle collection, and lots of rooms. "What does he do for enjoyment?" she murmured.
Alfred and Bruce entered.
"Dinner will be served in a few minutes. I took the liberty of putting the suitcases in your room. I believe Master Bruce did show you which one it was."
She nodded, "He was a very pleasant host."
Bruce smiled.
"Just to inform you, Miss Lara, there were a number of messages I collected from the front desk of the hotel. The majority appears to be from reporters requesting interviews for the BBC, CNN, 20/20, and Larry King. They are all on the table next to the bed." He turned to Bruce. "I tried my best to elude the reporters laid siege at the hotel, but one persistent fellow in a gray car was able to follow me here."
"Don't worry about it, Alfred. You did a fine job." Bruce patted him on the back before he left.
"He is an exceptional person." She walked to an end of the sofa.
Bruce glanced at her, sat on the sofa, and faced the fireplace. "Yes, he is. I don't know what I would do without him."
Except for the crackling from the fireplace, the room was silent for several seconds. Then they both spoke at the same time, and stopped.
"I'm sorry. What was that you said?"
"No, no, Lara. What were you going to say?"
She slid into the sofa. "Elias Gregor said he had approached you with a business proposition, which eventually was very profitable to him. Why didn't you participate in the venture?"
His head turned and he looked above the fireplace. "Regardless of what others may think of me or how I acquired my wealth, I remind myself of the one thing my parents gave me, and that is my name. I know that it is written, 'A good name is better than great riches...'. That is the one thing I have always kept in mind throughout my business affairs. I could have easily succumbed to self-gratification because of my wealth, but that would not have honored my parents memory."
Lara gazed above the mantel and saw a large painting of a woman sitting in a chair with a man standing behind her.
"So every business deal I do is to uphold the Wayne name as honorable as I can. Now to address Elias Gregor's proposal, I was cautious. I researched the company, Natla Technologies, as well as Jacqueline Natla and Elias Gregor. From my sources I found them to be unscrupulous in one way or another. It was my decision not to mix my name with theirs. I may have lost a fortune by not investing in the project, but I didn't loose my credibility. In the end my associates still know who they are dealing with when they approach me."
"What did you find on Elias Gregor that was unscrupulous?"
"Dubious land deals he was charged with, but settled out of court. Commingling client's money with his own, which almost cost him his broker's license, but also was settled in a quiet fashion. And a folder of juvenile offenses that was kept from public scrutiny." He sat back and folded his hands.
She brought a leg on the sofa and faced him. "How did you find all this out?"
"I have my sources."
Lara furrowed her brow. "I'm worried about a friend who is employed by Gregor Shipping Company. He hasn't called."
"When was the last you heard from him?"
"Yesterday afternoon. We had lunch together."
"If you want to file a missing person's report--."
She shook her head and frowned. "He may be with someone, on a date, or something like that. I probably am worrying needlessly."
Bruce extended his hand towards her. "Give me his phone number and I will have someone check on him."
"A private investigator?"
He nodded.
Lara pulled out a slip of paper from her handbag.
He teased, "This is Steven's number, and not the Prime Minister's number. Right?"
She chuckled. "There would be a lot more digits if it was... On second thought, maybe we should know the Prime Minister's whereabouts and the company he keeps."
They laughed.
"Now what were you going to say, Bruce?"
He sighed, "Well... since you will be my guest for the next few days... Would you like to go to the concert at the Gotham Center tomorrow evening?"
"A concert?" Her voice was gleeful.
"Or maybe the circus?"
"Just because I am your guest, you expect me to automatically say 'yes'?" she teased.
"No. I expect you to say 'yes' because you would want to go."
"Really?" She raised an eyebrow.
Bruce paused. "No, not really. It's because I want you to come with me." His face turned red.
"I would love to go." She touched his hand, squeezed, and locked eyes with his. Her senses soaked in his strong features; warm dark eyes, granite-edge chin, and tight lips.
He studied her lovely face; wide brown eyes, creamy smooth skin, and full lips.
They gazed for a few seconds, and slowly moved closer.
A log snapped and heels clicked on hardwood.
They flinched and looked at the doorway.
"I said, dinner is served," Alfred bellowed.
* * *
Voldo walked into the ship's mess hall and waited just beyond the light. Gregor stood at a table where eight dark-clad men had gathered.
"Now you know the plan, the time schedule, what rooms to hit, and the escape route. The ship will not be in port tomorrow evening but there will be a boat waiting at the docks. These are the coordinates of our rendezvous point at sea. In case you split up and don't make it to the boat with the others, find a way to get there, I don't care how, and set your GPS to the coordinates. Gentlemen, remember, after you cut off the power at the Galleria, the backup generators will kick in within thirty seconds. Plenty of time to dash and grab. We start at twenty-three hundred, tomorrow evening. The boat will leave the docks at twenty-three fifteen, at the latest. If all goes well, we'll be on our way at oh-six hundred the following morning." He leaned on the table. "The General assured me you are an elite group, so I don't expect any deviation from the plan. But, in case of that unknown factor, carry small arms or concealed weapons, and wear your bulletproof vests. See you at the rendezvous point." He walked towards Voldo and folded his arms. "What do you have for me?"
Voldo folded his arms in kind. "Mr. Gray reported he heard an old man settle her bill and had the woman's bags. The old man went to a large estate. He said it was Wayne Manor."
Gregor pushed air through his clenched teeth. "Lara, Lara. Why are you getting involved with that playboy when I can do so much more, and better, for you." He bit his thumbnail and thought. "We don't know for sure if she knows anything, right?"
Voldo nodded.
"Take a couple of these men to patrol the bus terminal. I want to know if anyone picks up that tape cartridge before tomorrow night."
"Then we clean up?"
"Yes, brother, then we clean up."
* * *
Bruce and Lara strolled through the foyer to the living room.
"I hope you can relax tomorrow. Just let Alfred know of anything you need during your stay. He will keep you comfortable and guard your privacy from the public."
"What if I wish to go about town?"
"Speak to Alfred. He will give you the keys to one of the vehicles in the garage. But you should be careful. This China debacle is fresh and newsworthy, which will make you a target for the media."
They sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace.
Lara fidgeted and glanced at Bruce. "When will you contact your private investigator?"
"As soon as possible."
She looked at the fire, fidgeted some more, and took a deep breath. "Bruce, I have a confession to make. The real reason I agreed to participate in the Exposition was to meet with you and..." She sighed. "The reason I came was to..." Her eyes closed and she bit her lip. "I'm not very good at this."
He faced her and listened.
"Originally, my reason in being here was as a fundraiser for the British Museum." She watched him.
He tilted his head.
"Let me explain what had happened. When I returned home from China, colleagues who heard snippets of my adventure and what had occurred at the Great Wall confronted me. Well, the curator and some board directors got wind of the story. They arranged a private audience with me, and I received a thorough tongue lashing from them. They feared the ramifications from my unauthorized expedition. First, they were worried the Chinese government would pull out of the Asian Exhibit and humiliate the museum. Second, the bad publicity would hamper their fundraising efforts and cause a great deal of embarrassment. They were afraid a number of projects would be shelved, terminated, or delayed due to lack of funds. 'Financial backers would pull out from all of this bad press,' they said. Fortunately I had your invitation in my hand and I said, 'What if I could get a well-known foundation to make a contribution to the British Museum.'
When they asked what foundation, I presented the letter. They read it, but said I couldn't exhibit any items the museum presently had. I was to use whatever I had in my personal collection. A huge argument followed, and nasty accusations were flung. The end result from the discussion was... if I can get a major contribution from your foundation, they would take it into consideration and look more favorably on me."
She paused and brushed back her hair.
"The next couple of days blurred on by. I had to arrange for my collection to be shipped on short notice. If it weren't for your personal secretary to assist in my flight arrangements and accommodations, I would definitely be a bundle of nerves. She was extremely helpful."
He smiled briefly.
"If the truth be told, I would admit I normally don't do this sort of thing. The museum has professionals to perform fundraising. I may attend a dinner or two, just to show my face... and I never allow my personal collection to be on tour. I must have leaned a little bit on your associate to guarantee a secured room."
Bruce folded his hands. "He said you sounded a bit high-strung regarding the exhibit room when I met with him this morning. He apologizes for any misunderstanding."
"But what I wanted to say is... I reacted defensively when they accused me of adventurism. The result has led me here to Gotham City's Exposition, but..."
She closed her eyes tight.
"Everything has started to unravel. Now the British government is involved and Parliament has made wild accusations in what happened in China. This could be a total embarrassment for the museum. When I return to London, I shouldn't be surprised if the museum vacated my position and removed my name from their roster of approved archaeologists."
She took a long deep breath.
"My question to you is this. Whatever museum or institute I associate my name with, may I count on your support... and a contribution from the foundation?"
Bruce brought his folded hands to his mouth and thought. "Let me see if I understand this correctly. In case the British Museum drops you because of the current events, you want the Wayne Foundation to be your... parachute, if you will, so wherever you land, your reputation will not be damaged from the fall. Your research will continue because of the funding of a major contributor to the institution you are associated with. Did I guess right?"
Lara nodded hesitantly, and blinked.
He pointed at her. "One question, do you like working with the British Museum?"
Her eyes drifted down, and she contemplated. "I would have to say 'yes'. I am comfortable with them, regardless of the political games they play. But I have to deal with the reality that they may drop me in order to save face. Your support will definitely soften the blow to my reputation and allow me to continue with my career."
He shifted his jaw, and said, "Let me propose this. My secretary will draw up a letter and address it to the British Museum stating as long as Dr. Lara Croft maintains her present position within their institution, and is on the roster of approved archaeologists, the Wayne Foundation will contribute to their fundraising projects."
She exhaled, grinned, and held his hand. "Thank you, Bruce. You don't know what a relief it is for me to hear that."
He straightened his back. "It's just good business, Lara. Don't think any more about it."
"But you don't know that much about me, yet you are willing to take a risk on my career. Unless...," She thought for a moment. "Do you happen to have a folder filed away about me?"
"Lara, I have your books. What more do I need?"
She leaned forward and kissed him.
Startled, he asked, "What was that for?"
"For my memoirs. I want to be able to write, 'I kissed Gotham City's most eligible bachelor'." She blushed, tilted her head, and grinned like a Cheshire cat.
He placed a hand on her soft cheek and moved closer.
"Excuse me, Master Bruce," the baritone voice resounded.
He turned towards the doorway. "Alfred, you have impeccable timing."
"I'm sorry, sir, but an urgent matter has occurred that demands your attention."
Bruce stood, looked at Lara, and sighed. "Excuse me, Lara. There are some things that require my personal touch."
"No need for apologies. It provides time for me to check my messages. Good night, gentlemen." She exited and climbed the stairs to her room.
They stood still until her door closed.
"The computer received a transmission this afternoon. Another cartoon commercial for a breakfast cereal, but there is a difference between this latest one and the others received before. The latest one was generated from a different location, a few blocks south from the spot of the previous transmissions."
Bruce pouted and crossed his arms. "A few blocks south is the harbor. They must be on the ship. I don't like it. Something is going to happen soon and I haven't a clue. I probably have to get on the ship to find something, plus look in after Lara's friend."
"Will it be a long night?" Alfred sounded remorseful.
"Don't wait up." He walked across the foyer, touched a hidden trigger, and opened a secret panel. He descended the hidden staircase that led to the cave.
* * *
Lara thumbed through the messages and stashed a couple in her briefcase. Messages from reporters, and Elias Gregor, were tossed in the wastebasket. A small white envelope on the table caught her attention. When she picked it up, the weight of something inside was felt. A key dropped out of the envelope after she opened it. She walked out of the room and headed towards the foyer.
Alfred was turning away from the living room.
"Where is Bruce?"
Alfred jumped. "Miss Lara, you gave me a start." He glanced over his shoulder to a panel. "He had to step out for a while. He should return shortly. Is there something I may help you with?"
She frowned, and then held up a key. "Do you know where this key came from?"
"I believe that was amongst your messages, probably in the white envelope."
"Correct. Do you know what it unlocks?"
"From the looks of the engraved number, a traveler's locker, like the kind in the Gotham City bus terminal."
"Where is the bus terminal located?" she asked.
"In the heart of downtown, about six blocks south of the Grand Hilton Hotel. Do you plan to go there tonight?"
"Not tonight, Alfred. This could be something Steven left for me."
"Steven?"
"Yes, my friend Steven. Didn't I tell you the name of my friend?"
"No, Miss Lara, I'm afraid you didn't."
She paused. "Well, then... Steven is the friend I am worried about. Will Bruce be contacting his investigator?"
"Yes, he will contact him and be on the case, as they say."
* * *
The dark figure landed on the roof of an apartment building and scurried down the fire escape to a fourth floor window. The window was unlocked and the glass broken.
After climbing through the window, the absence of glass shards on the floor was noted. The apartment looked disheveled, but a flashlight showed contents from drawers and shelves were emptied on the floor, and books littered about. The entrance door was locked. Next to the door a small stereo system laid on the floor. A broken portable television rested near a chair.
The room was scanned one more time, and then the figure exited through the window.
Several minutes later, on the rooftop of a warehouse, a pair of night-vision binoculars was used to view the harbor. A slow pan of the waters accounted for every ship, except one. The Kraken was not there.
* * *
(TO BE CONTINUED)