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 Five
The following day started as a sunny morning. A cool refreshing breeze from the ocean permeated the mansion. The distant squawk of seagulls carried to each corner of every room.
Lara bounded down the stairs. Dressed in boots, tan shorts, and a blue-green body suit, she skipped into the dining room. A leather knapsack hung under her arm.
Alfred placed a plate of food on the table and said in a cheery tone, "Good morning, Miss Lara."
"Good morning, Alfred. Is Bruce awake?" She grabbed a slice of fruit and ate.
"He has left for a morning meeting and should return before noon."
She drank a glass of juice and said, "Bruce gave permission should I need a vehicle to go about town, to ask you for the keys."
"Wouldn't you like breakfast first?"
A banana and pastry were selected, wrapped in a napkin, and stuffed in her knapsack. "I'll eat them along the way."
"Follow me." Alfred handed her a bottle of water.
They walked by the kitchen, through a short hallway, down a few steps, and into the garage area.
Alfred opened a key cabinet and looked at Lara.
She pointed at a vehicle before he could speak.
The key was lifted from the hook, and a nearby closet door opened.
"Before I give you the key, promise you will wear these." He handed her a brown leather jacket and a red helmet.
Lara fastened her gunbelt and took the helmet.
"Oh, no, no, my dear. You cannot be seen in the city with those pistols exposed." He opened the leather jacket. "There are two deep pockets inside the jacket for those items."
She slipped on the jacket and placed the guns inside the pockets. The knapsack was tied on the back of the motorcycle.
"I shouldn't be gone long." She straddled the bike and fastened the helmet.
"Please be careful," he pleaded.
She nodded and flipped the engine on. The bike growled to life, and then settled into a deep purr. She kicked it into gear and roared down the driveway.
Alfred returned to the dining room, took the plate of food, and walked towards the foyer. The secret trigger was pressed, and he stepped down into the staircase.
Bruce reclined in front of the computer panel. The cowl and cape draped over the chair's headrest. His eyes were dark and angry, while his right fist smacked the palm of his left. "I lost, Alfred! The ship is gone!" He shook his head. "I should have investigated the boat myself when I became suspicious! Damn fool!"
"Sir, don't be so hard on yourself. You said the harbormaster sent officials on board to investigate. Their report suggested nothing unusual was found."
"Something is going to happen! These short masked transmissions have made me uncomfortable! Without the computer program to filter them or uncover their signal, I have no insight what they were about or what is going on aboard that ship!" He stared at the cartoon commercial on a nearby monitor. "The filter is the key! Otherwise I have nothing! No clue!"
Alfred placed the plate on a desk and crossed his arms.
"I must have lost focus somewhere," Bruce continued. "I should have dropped out of the committee for the Exposition! I knew that would take away my time!"
"Sir, you cannot neglect public appearances or personal obligations. How could the company or the foundation function without their namesake?"
"I'm just a figurehead, Alfred, and you know it! They could continue very well without me!"
"You still need a personal life, with all the joys and sorrows that come with it."
"Bruce Wayne doesn't deserve a personal life! He would be better off without the responsibilities!" He slumped in the chair.
"On the contrary, it is because of Bruce Wayne that you are the Batman. Without his life, you would not be able to exist down here." Alfred paused. "Remember when you asked for names of possible exhibitors for the Exposition? I suggested Dr. Croft... and your eyes lit up. For the first time in years, your countenance glowed for days... and when she accepted the invitation, your voice had a gleeful tone and your walk had a little more pop in it." He eyed the plate and tapped its edge. "Those little enjoyments are the things I strive for you to have, Master Bruce."
"But she came for a donation! She came for her own reasons! A contribution from the foundation!"
"Yes, she may have come for that, but she came because of your name. The Wayne Foundation is a legacy to the memory of your parents... established by their loving son."
Silence settled into the cave for a few seconds.
Bruce rubbed his forehead. "Where is Lara now?"
"Traveling to downtown on the red motorcycle. The one you had considered to sponsor for the racing circuit. A 900cc seemed to suit her quite well."
"I don't have much news about her friend, either. Someone ransacked the apartment and tried to make it look like a break in. They apparently were searching for something."
Alfred's eyes widened. "Oh, dear!"
"What is it?"
"Miss Lara received a key from Steven yesterday! When she asked what kind of key it was, I told her it looked like a key used for a traveler's locker at the downtown bus terminal! She is on her way there!"
Bruce flipped a switch on the panel. "Let's hope she carried the cell phone with her."
A map of the city appeared on a screen and a red light blinked in the middle.
Alfred peered over Bruce's shoulder. "She seems to have taken the scenic route."
"And she is traveling at a high rate of speed." Bruce paused. "Someone must be chasing her!" He grabbed the cape and cowl.
"It could be reporters."
"It could also be the person who ransacked her friend's apartment! I have to be sure!"
"But, sir, in the daylight... as Batman?"
"She may be in trouble, Alfred! I have to be ready!"
"I assure you, she appeared very capable of handling her own troubles." Alfred stepped in front of Bruce. "Why not use the company's helicopter? It is still on the back lawn. You will see if she is having problems, and if that is so, then you could intervene."
Bruce nodded and ran up the stairs.
* * *
Lara looked up and down the street at the end of the driveway.
On the left a gray car was partially hidden by the bend in the road.
She turned and cruised near the car.
The driver leaned over to the passenger side to hide from sight.
Lara raced past the car and looked in the rearview mirror.
The car squealed and whirled around.
"Come on, sport. Let's see what you got," she sneered, revved the engine, and accelerated.
Unfamiliar with the twists and turns of the backroads, she braked often. She had to contend with stop signs and traffic as well, while the gray car stayed in view. When directional signs to the interstate appeared, she turned and sped up the entrance ramp. The bike was brought up to a cruising speed of ninety-five miles per hour, which created a huge gap between her and the car. It almost became a dot in the mirror.
"Don't worry, love. I'm not going to loose you," she murmured.
A few miles later she took the next exit, and waited. As soon as the car was spotted, she followed signs to a wooded park. Rushing through the road in the park, she found a secluded area near some bushes, drove off the road, and hid.
Several minutes later the gray car crept in sight.
Lara pounced.
The driver's door was opened and a gun prodded his temple.
"Shut off the car!" she yelled.
The man turned the key and raised his hands. He leaned towards the passenger side as the gun was pushed harder on his head. The keys were pulled from the ignition.
"Get out!" she commanded.
The man squirmed out and pressed against the car while the gun pointed to his face. "You won't get away with this, Croft," he shivered.
"On the contrary, Mr. Gray, yes I will. This is retribution for your many comments." She pulled his collar and slammed his face down on the trunk. "Empty your pockets!"
Frantically he tossed everything on the trunk. "Com'on, I didn't mean anything by it! Honest! It was harmless fun!"
She picked up his cell phone and dropped it on the ground. Her heel twisted on the phone until it crackled into pieces. "Why are you following me, Mr. Gray?"
"They told me to keep tabs on you and report where you were," he shuddered.
"Why?"
"I don't know why. They never told me why."
Lara stepped back and shot.
Gray shook at the sound, and then heard a hissing noise near his leg.
"The next one will be aimed at your leg!" she growled.
He squealed, "Honest! Honest! They never told me why! I was to report where you were every hour! The phone number is right there above my head!"
She picked up a piece of paper on the trunk. "Whose phone number is this?"
"Gregor's associate. A tall, muscular fellow, and very mean looking."
"Where is Elias Gregor now?"
"I don't know. I just speak with his associate." The sweat glistened on his forehead.
Lara poked the gun in the back of his head.
"Oh my God! Oh my God! No! Please, Croft! No! That's all I know! Honest! Believe me!" he cried.
She stepped back and looked about the secluded area of the park.
"Strip!" she bellowed.
His eyes grew large. "What?"
"You heard me! I said, strip!"
"What are you going to do? Shoot me while I'm naked?"
The gun jabbed into his back. "Take them off!"
His jacket was dropped and pants unraveled. The shoes were scooped off, and he stepped out of his pants and unbuttoned his shirt. His voice trembled, "This doesn't serve any purpose, Croft, and you know it!"
"All of it!"
His mouth opened and his jaw quivered. The tee shirt was ripped off and boxers pulled down. His hands covered his groin as he faced the car. Beige colored socks were the only clothing left. His pudgy body was riddled with blemishes on his back and shoulders.
Lara winced.
"Croft, please, please, please don't shoot me!" he wept.
"Well, now you know how a celebrity feels when hounded by the press. Like a fish in a glass bowl, naked for the world to see! And what does the press want to do? This!" She shot at another tire.
Gray jumped and shrieked, "Please don't shoot me! Please don't shoot me!"
"The press wants to shoot you down! They want your blood!" She paused.
He whimpered and looked over his shoulder.
"Now, Mr. Gray, I'm going to give you a sporting chance." The cold barrel of the gun was struck in to his back.
He twitched and listened.
"See that group of trees over there? Start running for them, and I will count to ten. If you get to those trees before I reach ten, then you have a chance of getting away by hiding among them."
"Wha-what happens wh-when you reach t-t-ten?" he stammered.
Her voice turned cold, "Then I'm coming after you, Mr. Gray! When I reach ten, I'm going to hunt you down!"
He pleaded, "Croft, come on! Let's make a deal here!"
"One!"
"This is not the way to do it! Give me a chance! Please!"
"Two!"
He scampered in front of the car and shouted, "Please don't shoot me! Please don't shoot me!"
"Three!"
The trunk of the car was opened. She saw him racing to the trees. His mounds of fat jiggled in the sun.
"Four!"
The clothes were collected and dumped into the trunk.
"Five!"
Keys were thrown on top of the clothes and the trunk closed.
"Six!"
He reached the shade of the first tree.
"Seven!"
The driver's door was closed, and she walked to the front of the car.
"Eight!"
He trotted between the trees and looked back at her.
"Nine!"
She aimed.
He froze and watched.
"Ten!"
She fired and nicked a tree close to him.
He sprinted away and disappeared among the foliage.
She jumped on the bike and was briefly distracted by the thumping sound of a helicopter. Without further thought she exited the park and roared back onto the interstate.
* * *
The stop and go traffic of downtown Gotham City made Lara take a longer time to reach the bus terminal. After weaving between the cars, she parked at a corner near the terminal. The terminal's architecture was over-imposing with its thick columns and ornate façade.
Inside, the ticket booth was located in the middle of the main floor. Pay phones, vending machines, and a few specialty stores lined the walls. A magazine stand stood near the ticket booth. Benches were placed sporadically around the floor.
She approached the ticket booth. "Excuse me. Where are the lockers located?"
The man behind the booth sorted papers and didn't look up. "They are on the mezzanine area. Go up the stairs next to the entrance."
With a brief view up, she noticed the handrail of the upper level, which overlooked the main floor.
A man on a bench lowered his paper and watched Lara ascend the stairs.
Rows of lockers stretched in both directions on the mezzanine floor. She stepped to the first row and walked to the end until she found the locker number. After glancing over the handrail, she opened the locker. Steven's backpack was pulled out and placed on the floor.
A beefy arm came around her neck. "Come with me and you won't get hurt--."
Lara's reflex brought her elbow into the man's solar plexus. Within the second of his loosened grip, she grabbed his collar with both hands, placed a boot on his stomach, rolled on her back, and sent him sailing over the handrail.
A crash of magazines resounded throughout the terminal.
The backpack was picked up, and she scurried to the stairwell.
A tall, muscular fellow waited at the bottom of the steps. He waved a gun with a silencer, and aimed it at her.
She jumped back to the top and dashed down the row of lockers. At the other end of the mezzanine was a smaller stairwell to the main floor. She leapt down the steps.
Another large man appeared at the bottom.
At the last few steps she jumped at the man and landed with both feet on his chest.
He flew across the floor and banged his head against a vending machine.
Lara pushed against the handle of the metal emergency door and raced down the busy sidewalk, colliding with a few pedestrians. As soon as the bike was reached, she glanced back.
The tall stranger ran and shoved people aside for a clear shot.
The engine revved and the bike leapt into traffic. It wove between the cars, got to the other side of the street, and accelerated down the sidewalk. At the next street it zipped around the corner, and zigzagged from one street to another until the beltway leading out of the downtown area was reached.
* * *
At Wayne Manor, Lara cruised around the driveway to the garage. From a distance she noticed the helicopter's blades rotating slowly and Bruce walking away. He wore a pullover sweater and loose-fitting slacks.
"Good afternoon. You came back later than expected. Was it 'business casual' day at the office?"
"I was overseeing the work of... someone. It took longer than I thought." His manner was grim.
She noted the coldness in his tone and asked, "Did everything go alright?"
"The person performed admirably, and the results were satisfactory."
Silence followed, and Lara waited for more of an explanation. When it didn't come, she asked, "What's wrong, Bruce? Why the somber mood?"
He guided her to a stone bench, and they both sat.
Bruce was expressionless when he spoke. "Lara, the investigator found your friend's apartment ransacked. He believes the intruder was searching for something."
Shocked, she inquired, "Did... did he find Steven?"
He shook his head.
She rubbed her forehead. "Maybe he is hiding someplace. Did your investigator say anything else?"
He tightened his jaw. "There was no evidence of a forced entry."
"And what does that mean?"
"That means the intruder had a key to the apartment. The investigator found the door locked when he checked."
Her eyebrows rose. "Is he really sure? Maybe they entered another way! Did he check that as well?"
"A window to a fire escape was broken, but no broken glass was on the floor. That suggests the window was broken from the inside... maybe to make it look like a robbery."
She clasped her hands. "If the intruder had the key that means...," she thought for a moment. "Oh Lord, it means they have him! They have him somewhere!" All of a sudden she stood. "Bruce, he must still be alive! There were men at the bus terminal waiting for me! Why would they be there unless Steven told them where he placed his backpack?" She dropped the backpack on the bench and eyed the helicopter. "Gregor must have him on the ship! Bruce, could you fly over Gregor's ship? It's called The Kraken! From the air we could see the best way to storm the ship! Do you know how to use a gun?" She pulled out her pistols and slipped them into the holsters.
Bruce placed his hands on her shoulders. "We can't storm the ship."
She pulled away and snarled, "If you don't want to be a part of this rescue operation, then... fine! I will do it alone, but I have to save him! I have to save my friend!" Her anger was held back, and she demanded, "I would like the use of the helicopter, if you don't mind!"
"Lara, the ship is not in the harbor. It left yesterday. It's gone."
His statement was like a cold knife into her heart. Her hands covered her eyes and she leaned against his chest.
He wrapped a consoling arm around her.
She lifted her head. "What about the vigilante, the Batman? I know he was doing an investigation. Maybe he found something. Is there any way we could contact him?"
Bruce bit his lip, shrugged, and shook his head.
"We know Gregor is involved. Isn't there anything we can do? Can't we stop him?" she said desperately.
"There is no evidence that links Gregor to anything."
Her eyes lit up. "You said someone ransacked Steven's apartment! They were looking for something! Steven sent me a locker key! That is what they were looking for! The evidence must be in Steven's backpack!"
The backpack was unzipped and the contents emptied on the bench. Software manuals, notebooks, pens, pencils and a tape cartridge spilled out.
Frantically Lara thumbed through the manuals and notebooks. "Why send anyone to watch the lockers unless they were concerned about the contents in this backpack! There's got to be something among these items!"
Bruce came behind and held her arms. "Lara, please relax! We can examine them inside!"
In frustration she pushed an arm out, and then sat motionless.
Gently he coaxed her from the bench, and they slowly walked back inside.
* * *
The knee had swollen to twice its size. Steven struggled to sit up. Through agonizing pain, he pushed off the bed and stood in an one-legged position. His arm braced against the wall, and he hopped to the door. His head peeked into the hallway.
Gears whirled and an occasional heavy thump sounded, but no voices were heard.
He worked his way to a stairwell and clambered up the steps. Time moved slowly as he climbed to the top. Nervously panting, he wondered why no one was in the hallways. After stumbling towards a door, he pushed and stepped out to the main deck. His hands shielded the sunlight, and he observed the activity before him. The salty air from an ocean breeze rushed into his nostrils. His head snapped from a putrid smell.
The ship's cranes whirled and their sound deafened the shouting of men. Cargo was hoisted from the side of the ship.
Steven inched to the deck railing and looked over the side. He pinched his nose because of the stench.
A tugboat and a couple of barges were anchored next to the ship. In the barges men were dressed in chemical suits and gas masks. They pulled crates from within the barge and loaded them on the cranes. Other men uncovered boxes beneath the garbage.
"Steven! I'm so glad you could make it! I was wondering if you were ever going to come out of your cabin!"
Steven pivoted and trembled.
Elias Gregor approached with a goblet of red liquid in his hand. He leaned against the handrail. "Would you like some sherry?"
Steven shook his head.
"A beautiful day, don't you think?"
"What's going on, Mr. Gregor?"
"Taking in the hardware. Getting ready to deliver the goods." He sipped.
A crane deposited a load of boxes inside the belly of the ship.
"What's in the boxes?"
"Assault rifles, grenades, automatic weapons,... munitions,... a few TOW missiles,... that sort of stuff. The necessities for a regular coup d'etat."
"Who are these for?"
"Sorry. If I told you, I would have to kill you." Gregor laughed at his own joke.
Pain racked across Steven's faced. He held his knee and watched in silence.
Gregor sipped and said, "I suppose you're wondering what is going to happen to you. Right now I am considering you as a bargaining chip."
"For what?"
"For Lara Croft. I want her to work for me, and, somehow, you are going to help," he sneered.
"Lara will never work for you."
"Oh, yes she will. I'm acquainted with a number of her enemies she has worked for. She has no scruples. No scruples at all. So why not work for me?" He sipped.
"I don't think you know her well enough to say that."
"Doesn't matter. You will convince her it is a great idea to work for me."
"And what if I won't?"
"Do you think you have any other choice in the matter?" He chuckled and sipped.
Steven felt hollowness in the pit of his stomach. "What if I can't convince her?"
Gregor leaned forward. "Then it would be most unpleasant for you. Voldo will see to that." He walked away and entered a nearby door.
Steven slumped to the floor and covered his face.
* * *
In the library, Bruce flipped through a couple of pages in a notebook. A page was examined in greater detail, and then more pages were flipped.
Alfred entered with a tray of refreshments. "I forgot to ask this morning if you had a proper night's rest. Did you sleep at all?"
"Couple of hours."
"Why not take the time to rest now? You have to attend the concert tonight with Miss Lara."
"I'm not thinking about that now, Alfred. An important clue is in the contents of this backpack, and I need to find it." He placed a thumb and index finger on his chin. "How is Lara doing?"
"Resting in her room. The mild sedative I slipped into her tea will keep her asleep for two hours."
The tape cartridge was grabbed. "Let's see what is on this."
They crossed the foyer, triggered the secret panel, and descended.
Bruce went to the control panel. The cartridge was slotted into the computer's tape drive. A few keys were clicked and the main screen flickered. A list of files scrolled by and didn't stop until four minutes later.
"A lot of files. It may take the computer a couple days to analyze and categorize them," Alfred murmured.
A sad expression appeared on Bruce's face and his eyes drooped. He looked down. "Maybe I should take a nap after all." He clicked a few more keys. "I've set the computer to examine the tape for viruses, passwords, encrypted codes, and hidden files. After that, sort and analyze the files by date, starting with the last date of backup." He headed for the stairs.
"Will you be going out for dinner?"
"No. We will have a meal here, before the concert."
* * *
"The cellular phone customer has traveled beyond the service area..."
Voldo closed the phone and huffed. He glanced at the eight men squeezed into the small cabin in the boat.
One of them asked, "Is the mission still on?"
"Gregor is too far to contact and is under radio silence. And that insect, Nat Gray, hasn't called."
"Are you calling off the mission?"
Voldo paused and thought. "I need three men for a separate mission."
"For what reason?"
"According to Gregor's commands, if this woman has any knowledge of what we are doing, then she must be captured. We are to bring her to Gregor."
"Is this the same woman encountered at the bus terminal?"
Another man spoke, "I will volunteer for this mission! I want another chance at the woman!"
"She must be brought back to Gregor alive. Those are his orders," Voldo said.
"How do you know this woman has knowledge of anything?"
Voldo shrugged. "I don't know, yet she was at the bus terminal and fled. In my eyes, she is trouble. To Gregor, she is a challenge. He desires her." He selected three men for the new mission. "She stays at a place called Wayne Manor. You are to take her alive. Anybody else you encounter, execute them. I will show you on the map where this place is."
* * *
(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 Five
The following day started as a sunny morning. A cool refreshing breeze from the ocean permeated the mansion. The distant squawk of seagulls carried to each corner of every room.
Lara bounded down the stairs. Dressed in boots, tan shorts, and a blue-green body suit, she skipped into the dining room. A leather knapsack hung under her arm.
Alfred placed a plate of food on the table and said in a cheery tone, "Good morning, Miss Lara."
"Good morning, Alfred. Is Bruce awake?" She grabbed a slice of fruit and ate.
"He has left for a morning meeting and should return before noon."
She drank a glass of juice and said, "Bruce gave permission should I need a vehicle to go about town, to ask you for the keys."
"Wouldn't you like breakfast first?"
A banana and pastry were selected, wrapped in a napkin, and stuffed in her knapsack. "I'll eat them along the way."
"Follow me." Alfred handed her a bottle of water.
They walked by the kitchen, through a short hallway, down a few steps, and into the garage area.
Alfred opened a key cabinet and looked at Lara.
She pointed at a vehicle before he could speak.
The key was lifted from the hook, and a nearby closet door opened.
"Before I give you the key, promise you will wear these." He handed her a brown leather jacket and a red helmet.
Lara fastened her gunbelt and took the helmet.
"Oh, no, no, my dear. You cannot be seen in the city with those pistols exposed." He opened the leather jacket. "There are two deep pockets inside the jacket for those items."
She slipped on the jacket and placed the guns inside the pockets. The knapsack was tied on the back of the motorcycle.
"I shouldn't be gone long." She straddled the bike and fastened the helmet.
"Please be careful," he pleaded.
She nodded and flipped the engine on. The bike growled to life, and then settled into a deep purr. She kicked it into gear and roared down the driveway.
Alfred returned to the dining room, took the plate of food, and walked towards the foyer. The secret trigger was pressed, and he stepped down into the staircase.
Bruce reclined in front of the computer panel. The cowl and cape draped over the chair's headrest. His eyes were dark and angry, while his right fist smacked the palm of his left. "I lost, Alfred! The ship is gone!" He shook his head. "I should have investigated the boat myself when I became suspicious! Damn fool!"
"Sir, don't be so hard on yourself. You said the harbormaster sent officials on board to investigate. Their report suggested nothing unusual was found."
"Something is going to happen! These short masked transmissions have made me uncomfortable! Without the computer program to filter them or uncover their signal, I have no insight what they were about or what is going on aboard that ship!" He stared at the cartoon commercial on a nearby monitor. "The filter is the key! Otherwise I have nothing! No clue!"
Alfred placed the plate on a desk and crossed his arms.
"I must have lost focus somewhere," Bruce continued. "I should have dropped out of the committee for the Exposition! I knew that would take away my time!"
"Sir, you cannot neglect public appearances or personal obligations. How could the company or the foundation function without their namesake?"
"I'm just a figurehead, Alfred, and you know it! They could continue very well without me!"
"You still need a personal life, with all the joys and sorrows that come with it."
"Bruce Wayne doesn't deserve a personal life! He would be better off without the responsibilities!" He slumped in the chair.
"On the contrary, it is because of Bruce Wayne that you are the Batman. Without his life, you would not be able to exist down here." Alfred paused. "Remember when you asked for names of possible exhibitors for the Exposition? I suggested Dr. Croft... and your eyes lit up. For the first time in years, your countenance glowed for days... and when she accepted the invitation, your voice had a gleeful tone and your walk had a little more pop in it." He eyed the plate and tapped its edge. "Those little enjoyments are the things I strive for you to have, Master Bruce."
"But she came for a donation! She came for her own reasons! A contribution from the foundation!"
"Yes, she may have come for that, but she came because of your name. The Wayne Foundation is a legacy to the memory of your parents... established by their loving son."
Silence settled into the cave for a few seconds.
Bruce rubbed his forehead. "Where is Lara now?"
"Traveling to downtown on the red motorcycle. The one you had considered to sponsor for the racing circuit. A 900cc seemed to suit her quite well."
"I don't have much news about her friend, either. Someone ransacked the apartment and tried to make it look like a break in. They apparently were searching for something."
Alfred's eyes widened. "Oh, dear!"
"What is it?"
"Miss Lara received a key from Steven yesterday! When she asked what kind of key it was, I told her it looked like a key used for a traveler's locker at the downtown bus terminal! She is on her way there!"
Bruce flipped a switch on the panel. "Let's hope she carried the cell phone with her."
A map of the city appeared on a screen and a red light blinked in the middle.
Alfred peered over Bruce's shoulder. "She seems to have taken the scenic route."
"And she is traveling at a high rate of speed." Bruce paused. "Someone must be chasing her!" He grabbed the cape and cowl.
"It could be reporters."
"It could also be the person who ransacked her friend's apartment! I have to be sure!"
"But, sir, in the daylight... as Batman?"
"She may be in trouble, Alfred! I have to be ready!"
"I assure you, she appeared very capable of handling her own troubles." Alfred stepped in front of Bruce. "Why not use the company's helicopter? It is still on the back lawn. You will see if she is having problems, and if that is so, then you could intervene."
Bruce nodded and ran up the stairs.
* * *
Lara looked up and down the street at the end of the driveway.
On the left a gray car was partially hidden by the bend in the road.
She turned and cruised near the car.
The driver leaned over to the passenger side to hide from sight.
Lara raced past the car and looked in the rearview mirror.
The car squealed and whirled around.
"Come on, sport. Let's see what you got," she sneered, revved the engine, and accelerated.
Unfamiliar with the twists and turns of the backroads, she braked often. She had to contend with stop signs and traffic as well, while the gray car stayed in view. When directional signs to the interstate appeared, she turned and sped up the entrance ramp. The bike was brought up to a cruising speed of ninety-five miles per hour, which created a huge gap between her and the car. It almost became a dot in the mirror.
"Don't worry, love. I'm not going to loose you," she murmured.
A few miles later she took the next exit, and waited. As soon as the car was spotted, she followed signs to a wooded park. Rushing through the road in the park, she found a secluded area near some bushes, drove off the road, and hid.
Several minutes later the gray car crept in sight.
Lara pounced.
The driver's door was opened and a gun prodded his temple.
"Shut off the car!" she yelled.
The man turned the key and raised his hands. He leaned towards the passenger side as the gun was pushed harder on his head. The keys were pulled from the ignition.
"Get out!" she commanded.
The man squirmed out and pressed against the car while the gun pointed to his face. "You won't get away with this, Croft," he shivered.
"On the contrary, Mr. Gray, yes I will. This is retribution for your many comments." She pulled his collar and slammed his face down on the trunk. "Empty your pockets!"
Frantically he tossed everything on the trunk. "Com'on, I didn't mean anything by it! Honest! It was harmless fun!"
She picked up his cell phone and dropped it on the ground. Her heel twisted on the phone until it crackled into pieces. "Why are you following me, Mr. Gray?"
"They told me to keep tabs on you and report where you were," he shuddered.
"Why?"
"I don't know why. They never told me why."
Lara stepped back and shot.
Gray shook at the sound, and then heard a hissing noise near his leg.
"The next one will be aimed at your leg!" she growled.
He squealed, "Honest! Honest! They never told me why! I was to report where you were every hour! The phone number is right there above my head!"
She picked up a piece of paper on the trunk. "Whose phone number is this?"
"Gregor's associate. A tall, muscular fellow, and very mean looking."
"Where is Elias Gregor now?"
"I don't know. I just speak with his associate." The sweat glistened on his forehead.
Lara poked the gun in the back of his head.
"Oh my God! Oh my God! No! Please, Croft! No! That's all I know! Honest! Believe me!" he cried.
She stepped back and looked about the secluded area of the park.
"Strip!" she bellowed.
His eyes grew large. "What?"
"You heard me! I said, strip!"
"What are you going to do? Shoot me while I'm naked?"
The gun jabbed into his back. "Take them off!"
His jacket was dropped and pants unraveled. The shoes were scooped off, and he stepped out of his pants and unbuttoned his shirt. His voice trembled, "This doesn't serve any purpose, Croft, and you know it!"
"All of it!"
His mouth opened and his jaw quivered. The tee shirt was ripped off and boxers pulled down. His hands covered his groin as he faced the car. Beige colored socks were the only clothing left. His pudgy body was riddled with blemishes on his back and shoulders.
Lara winced.
"Croft, please, please, please don't shoot me!" he wept.
"Well, now you know how a celebrity feels when hounded by the press. Like a fish in a glass bowl, naked for the world to see! And what does the press want to do? This!" She shot at another tire.
Gray jumped and shrieked, "Please don't shoot me! Please don't shoot me!"
"The press wants to shoot you down! They want your blood!" She paused.
He whimpered and looked over his shoulder.
"Now, Mr. Gray, I'm going to give you a sporting chance." The cold barrel of the gun was struck in to his back.
He twitched and listened.
"See that group of trees over there? Start running for them, and I will count to ten. If you get to those trees before I reach ten, then you have a chance of getting away by hiding among them."
"Wha-what happens wh-when you reach t-t-ten?" he stammered.
Her voice turned cold, "Then I'm coming after you, Mr. Gray! When I reach ten, I'm going to hunt you down!"
He pleaded, "Croft, come on! Let's make a deal here!"
"One!"
"This is not the way to do it! Give me a chance! Please!"
"Two!"
He scampered in front of the car and shouted, "Please don't shoot me! Please don't shoot me!"
"Three!"
The trunk of the car was opened. She saw him racing to the trees. His mounds of fat jiggled in the sun.
"Four!"
The clothes were collected and dumped into the trunk.
"Five!"
Keys were thrown on top of the clothes and the trunk closed.
"Six!"
He reached the shade of the first tree.
"Seven!"
The driver's door was closed, and she walked to the front of the car.
"Eight!"
He trotted between the trees and looked back at her.
"Nine!"
She aimed.
He froze and watched.
"Ten!"
She fired and nicked a tree close to him.
He sprinted away and disappeared among the foliage.
She jumped on the bike and was briefly distracted by the thumping sound of a helicopter. Without further thought she exited the park and roared back onto the interstate.
* * *
The stop and go traffic of downtown Gotham City made Lara take a longer time to reach the bus terminal. After weaving between the cars, she parked at a corner near the terminal. The terminal's architecture was over-imposing with its thick columns and ornate façade.
Inside, the ticket booth was located in the middle of the main floor. Pay phones, vending machines, and a few specialty stores lined the walls. A magazine stand stood near the ticket booth. Benches were placed sporadically around the floor.
She approached the ticket booth. "Excuse me. Where are the lockers located?"
The man behind the booth sorted papers and didn't look up. "They are on the mezzanine area. Go up the stairs next to the entrance."
With a brief view up, she noticed the handrail of the upper level, which overlooked the main floor.
A man on a bench lowered his paper and watched Lara ascend the stairs.
Rows of lockers stretched in both directions on the mezzanine floor. She stepped to the first row and walked to the end until she found the locker number. After glancing over the handrail, she opened the locker. Steven's backpack was pulled out and placed on the floor.
A beefy arm came around her neck. "Come with me and you won't get hurt--."
Lara's reflex brought her elbow into the man's solar plexus. Within the second of his loosened grip, she grabbed his collar with both hands, placed a boot on his stomach, rolled on her back, and sent him sailing over the handrail.
A crash of magazines resounded throughout the terminal.
The backpack was picked up, and she scurried to the stairwell.
A tall, muscular fellow waited at the bottom of the steps. He waved a gun with a silencer, and aimed it at her.
She jumped back to the top and dashed down the row of lockers. At the other end of the mezzanine was a smaller stairwell to the main floor. She leapt down the steps.
Another large man appeared at the bottom.
At the last few steps she jumped at the man and landed with both feet on his chest.
He flew across the floor and banged his head against a vending machine.
Lara pushed against the handle of the metal emergency door and raced down the busy sidewalk, colliding with a few pedestrians. As soon as the bike was reached, she glanced back.
The tall stranger ran and shoved people aside for a clear shot.
The engine revved and the bike leapt into traffic. It wove between the cars, got to the other side of the street, and accelerated down the sidewalk. At the next street it zipped around the corner, and zigzagged from one street to another until the beltway leading out of the downtown area was reached.
* * *
At Wayne Manor, Lara cruised around the driveway to the garage. From a distance she noticed the helicopter's blades rotating slowly and Bruce walking away. He wore a pullover sweater and loose-fitting slacks.
"Good afternoon. You came back later than expected. Was it 'business casual' day at the office?"
"I was overseeing the work of... someone. It took longer than I thought." His manner was grim.
She noted the coldness in his tone and asked, "Did everything go alright?"
"The person performed admirably, and the results were satisfactory."
Silence followed, and Lara waited for more of an explanation. When it didn't come, she asked, "What's wrong, Bruce? Why the somber mood?"
He guided her to a stone bench, and they both sat.
Bruce was expressionless when he spoke. "Lara, the investigator found your friend's apartment ransacked. He believes the intruder was searching for something."
Shocked, she inquired, "Did... did he find Steven?"
He shook his head.
She rubbed her forehead. "Maybe he is hiding someplace. Did your investigator say anything else?"
He tightened his jaw. "There was no evidence of a forced entry."
"And what does that mean?"
"That means the intruder had a key to the apartment. The investigator found the door locked when he checked."
Her eyebrows rose. "Is he really sure? Maybe they entered another way! Did he check that as well?"
"A window to a fire escape was broken, but no broken glass was on the floor. That suggests the window was broken from the inside... maybe to make it look like a robbery."
She clasped her hands. "If the intruder had the key that means...," she thought for a moment. "Oh Lord, it means they have him! They have him somewhere!" All of a sudden she stood. "Bruce, he must still be alive! There were men at the bus terminal waiting for me! Why would they be there unless Steven told them where he placed his backpack?" She dropped the backpack on the bench and eyed the helicopter. "Gregor must have him on the ship! Bruce, could you fly over Gregor's ship? It's called The Kraken! From the air we could see the best way to storm the ship! Do you know how to use a gun?" She pulled out her pistols and slipped them into the holsters.
Bruce placed his hands on her shoulders. "We can't storm the ship."
She pulled away and snarled, "If you don't want to be a part of this rescue operation, then... fine! I will do it alone, but I have to save him! I have to save my friend!" Her anger was held back, and she demanded, "I would like the use of the helicopter, if you don't mind!"
"Lara, the ship is not in the harbor. It left yesterday. It's gone."
His statement was like a cold knife into her heart. Her hands covered her eyes and she leaned against his chest.
He wrapped a consoling arm around her.
She lifted her head. "What about the vigilante, the Batman? I know he was doing an investigation. Maybe he found something. Is there any way we could contact him?"
Bruce bit his lip, shrugged, and shook his head.
"We know Gregor is involved. Isn't there anything we can do? Can't we stop him?" she said desperately.
"There is no evidence that links Gregor to anything."
Her eyes lit up. "You said someone ransacked Steven's apartment! They were looking for something! Steven sent me a locker key! That is what they were looking for! The evidence must be in Steven's backpack!"
The backpack was unzipped and the contents emptied on the bench. Software manuals, notebooks, pens, pencils and a tape cartridge spilled out.
Frantically Lara thumbed through the manuals and notebooks. "Why send anyone to watch the lockers unless they were concerned about the contents in this backpack! There's got to be something among these items!"
Bruce came behind and held her arms. "Lara, please relax! We can examine them inside!"
In frustration she pushed an arm out, and then sat motionless.
Gently he coaxed her from the bench, and they slowly walked back inside.
* * *
The knee had swollen to twice its size. Steven struggled to sit up. Through agonizing pain, he pushed off the bed and stood in an one-legged position. His arm braced against the wall, and he hopped to the door. His head peeked into the hallway.
Gears whirled and an occasional heavy thump sounded, but no voices were heard.
He worked his way to a stairwell and clambered up the steps. Time moved slowly as he climbed to the top. Nervously panting, he wondered why no one was in the hallways. After stumbling towards a door, he pushed and stepped out to the main deck. His hands shielded the sunlight, and he observed the activity before him. The salty air from an ocean breeze rushed into his nostrils. His head snapped from a putrid smell.
The ship's cranes whirled and their sound deafened the shouting of men. Cargo was hoisted from the side of the ship.
Steven inched to the deck railing and looked over the side. He pinched his nose because of the stench.
A tugboat and a couple of barges were anchored next to the ship. In the barges men were dressed in chemical suits and gas masks. They pulled crates from within the barge and loaded them on the cranes. Other men uncovered boxes beneath the garbage.
"Steven! I'm so glad you could make it! I was wondering if you were ever going to come out of your cabin!"
Steven pivoted and trembled.
Elias Gregor approached with a goblet of red liquid in his hand. He leaned against the handrail. "Would you like some sherry?"
Steven shook his head.
"A beautiful day, don't you think?"
"What's going on, Mr. Gregor?"
"Taking in the hardware. Getting ready to deliver the goods." He sipped.
A crane deposited a load of boxes inside the belly of the ship.
"What's in the boxes?"
"Assault rifles, grenades, automatic weapons,... munitions,... a few TOW missiles,... that sort of stuff. The necessities for a regular coup d'etat."
"Who are these for?"
"Sorry. If I told you, I would have to kill you." Gregor laughed at his own joke.
Pain racked across Steven's faced. He held his knee and watched in silence.
Gregor sipped and said, "I suppose you're wondering what is going to happen to you. Right now I am considering you as a bargaining chip."
"For what?"
"For Lara Croft. I want her to work for me, and, somehow, you are going to help," he sneered.
"Lara will never work for you."
"Oh, yes she will. I'm acquainted with a number of her enemies she has worked for. She has no scruples. No scruples at all. So why not work for me?" He sipped.
"I don't think you know her well enough to say that."
"Doesn't matter. You will convince her it is a great idea to work for me."
"And what if I won't?"
"Do you think you have any other choice in the matter?" He chuckled and sipped.
Steven felt hollowness in the pit of his stomach. "What if I can't convince her?"
Gregor leaned forward. "Then it would be most unpleasant for you. Voldo will see to that." He walked away and entered a nearby door.
Steven slumped to the floor and covered his face.
* * *
In the library, Bruce flipped through a couple of pages in a notebook. A page was examined in greater detail, and then more pages were flipped.
Alfred entered with a tray of refreshments. "I forgot to ask this morning if you had a proper night's rest. Did you sleep at all?"
"Couple of hours."
"Why not take the time to rest now? You have to attend the concert tonight with Miss Lara."
"I'm not thinking about that now, Alfred. An important clue is in the contents of this backpack, and I need to find it." He placed a thumb and index finger on his chin. "How is Lara doing?"
"Resting in her room. The mild sedative I slipped into her tea will keep her asleep for two hours."
The tape cartridge was grabbed. "Let's see what is on this."
They crossed the foyer, triggered the secret panel, and descended.
Bruce went to the control panel. The cartridge was slotted into the computer's tape drive. A few keys were clicked and the main screen flickered. A list of files scrolled by and didn't stop until four minutes later.
"A lot of files. It may take the computer a couple days to analyze and categorize them," Alfred murmured.
A sad expression appeared on Bruce's face and his eyes drooped. He looked down. "Maybe I should take a nap after all." He clicked a few more keys. "I've set the computer to examine the tape for viruses, passwords, encrypted codes, and hidden files. After that, sort and analyze the files by date, starting with the last date of backup." He headed for the stairs.
"Will you be going out for dinner?"
"No. We will have a meal here, before the concert."
* * *
"The cellular phone customer has traveled beyond the service area..."
Voldo closed the phone and huffed. He glanced at the eight men squeezed into the small cabin in the boat.
One of them asked, "Is the mission still on?"
"Gregor is too far to contact and is under radio silence. And that insect, Nat Gray, hasn't called."
"Are you calling off the mission?"
Voldo paused and thought. "I need three men for a separate mission."
"For what reason?"
"According to Gregor's commands, if this woman has any knowledge of what we are doing, then she must be captured. We are to bring her to Gregor."
"Is this the same woman encountered at the bus terminal?"
Another man spoke, "I will volunteer for this mission! I want another chance at the woman!"
"She must be brought back to Gregor alive. Those are his orders," Voldo said.
"How do you know this woman has knowledge of anything?"
Voldo shrugged. "I don't know, yet she was at the bus terminal and fled. In my eyes, she is trouble. To Gregor, she is a challenge. He desires her." He selected three men for the new mission. "She stays at a place called Wayne Manor. You are to take her alive. Anybody else you encounter, execute them. I will show you on the map where this place is."
* * *
(TO BE CONTINUED)