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 Six
Bruce and Lara ate dinner but exchanged few words. Questions about the contents of Steven's backpack were met with laconic answers.
"And the tape cartridge?" she asked.
"Being analyzed."
"By whom?"
"An associate."
"When will he have the results?"
He shrugged. "It's a large tape."
She finished the meal in silence.
After dinner they strolled into the library.
Bruce wandered about the books. He paced from one corner to the other and fingered a couple of books.
Lara sat on the sofa and thumbed through a software manual. She recalled the chilled responses he gave at the dinner table and decided to break the ice. "I was thinking, when I left the garage this morning, I could not help but notice the helicopter."
Bruce listened.
"It was perched on the hill in the yard when I drove by on the bike this morning. When I returned in the afternoon, you were walking away from it. Now, Alfred said you were at a meeting--."
"I told Alfred to say that. In truth, I was here and left after you did. Sorry if you were misled."
She paused and blinked. "Bruce, please sit down."
He sat in a reading chair.
"I feel as if I have upset you in some fashion. The only thing I can think may have caused it was when I requested financial assistance from your foundation. I believe it was very awkward and bold to ask for a contribution, and I would like to rescind my request. I can handle my problems and I will get through this one as well. It wasn't proper to take advantage of your invitation, but like I said before, I acted defensively. I'm sorry that--."
He waved his hand. "Don't do that, Lara. I told you it was good business, and I still want to help."
She smiled briefly. "Why are you so sullen?"
He glanced at the doorway and took a deep breath. "There are some burdens I carry that sometimes are reflected in my composure. I hope it won't interfere in the enjoyment of tonight's concert."
She patted the empty spot on the sofa.
He moved to the spot.
She rested her head against his chest and hugged him.
He placed his cheek on top of her head and hugged.
"Excuse me, Master Bruce. I believe you should be getting ready for the concert."
They both nodded and stood.
"Go ahead and get ready, Lara. I want to speak with Alfred."
She exited, glanced back at Bruce, and climbed the steps.
"You have some good news, Alfred?"
He whispered, "Incriminating evidence of money laundered through Gregor Shipping Company. The computer analyzed spreadsheets and their accounting software. Results were transactions of a dubious nature. If these were sent to the proper authorities, they would freeze the assets of Gregor, Inc., and a full investigation of their books would definitely be called for."
"Great news, but it still doesn't tell me anything about the ship."
"Patience, sir. The computer is still analyzing more files. I will keep you informed."
Bruce patted him on the arm and went upstairs.
* * *
The Gotham Center for the Performing Arts was located a few blocks away from the Galleria. A simple, modern building and less ornate. Thin marble pillars stretched three stories over the glass entrances. The influential and upper class members of Gotham's elite filed into the doors. The crowd atmosphere was more subdued than at the Grand Opening of the Galleria, although a few social reporters milled about and tried to extract the juiciest of gossips.
Bruce drove a black Maserati up to the valet attendant. The attendant took the keys, while another opened the passenger door for Lara. She waited at the curb and adjusted the hem. Her white gown, similar in style to the dark blue but without the slits for the legs, shimmered in the cool night air. Her back was covered with a white shawl, and she carried a white purse. The hair was braided in the usual style. Bruce wore his standard tuxedo. He extended a bent elbow, and she placed her hand inside.
As they approached the entrance, a woman and a photographer intercepted them.
"Bruce, dear, you look handsome as ever," the woman gushed, and kissed him on the cheek. "And who is this with you? Another movie starlet, I suppose?"
"Gwendolyn, this is Dr. Lara Croft, a prominent archaeologist, and has an exhibit of her personal collection at the Galleria. Lara, this is Gwendolyn Brown, a columnist on the Gotham Weekly Review. She attends the social functions of Gotham's well known, and writes about it in the society page."
"We're not the Gazette, but we try harder," she laughed. "My word, may I say you look fabulous in that dress. Can we get a quick picture of you two together?"
Bruce hesitated, but Lara leaned into him and smiled. "Sure," he said. The camera bulb flashed.
"That was great! So, Bruce, when is your next soiree at Wayne Manor?"
"I haven't planned any parties because of the Exposition committee meetings. I've been busy, Gwen."
"That's right, that's right. Oh... yes, Dr. Croft, now I remember. I heard some news about you and China... and strained relations between them and England. Would you like to comment on that?"
"I'm sorry, no. I cannot comment."
"Honey, are you sure? It would help with our circulation. Are you really sure about that?"
"Yes, I am sure. I cannot comment on that."
"Maybe another time, okay?" She turned to Bruce. "I see you have elevated to a new type of woman to date. She's beautiful, intelligent, and she can keep a secret."
He blushed. "Excuse us, Gwen, but we have to go inside."
"Of course you do, Bruce, of course you do. How silly of me to delay you. Go ahead and enjoy. Oh... one more thing, Dr. Croft. That reporter, Nathaniel Gray... the one you knocked down outside the Galleria. Did you hear the news? He was arrested this afternoon for indecent exposure in a park outside of the city."
Lara's eyes sparkled. "No, I didn't."
Bruce piped in, " We'll see you inside. Enjoy the concert."
* * *
During intermission in the concert hall, the cultured and wealthy mingled near the bar. The men's initial attention was focused on Lara. They gawked and snickered. A couple feinted boxing moves and shouted, "Come on, Dr. Croft. Let's see the famous left hook." They joked and jested, until a popular country singer was identified and their attention shifted. Lara smirked and walked away.
Bruce escorted her back to the seats. "So what really happened in China?"
She looked around to be sure no one else listened. "Let me say this, in my travels I have encountered things that are so deadly and horrendous, it would only benefit the world if they remained a secret. That is all I could tell you. I hope you understand. At times it is a burden for me to carry."
"I'm not asking you to divulge everything, Lara. I was just curious to know the real story behind the explosion at the Great Wall."
She looked around again. "If I answer your question, would you answer one for me?"
"What is the question?"
She shifted in the seat. "First, when you requested my friend's phone number for your investigator, you knew Steven's name. I don't recall ever telling you, or Alfred, his name before this morning. I find that puzzling. Second, during this afternoon when I hastily demanded you to fly over Gregor's ship, and mentioned the name of the ship, you said it left the harbor. You already knew the name of the ship! I remember only one other time I mentioned Steven's name and the ship's name. It was to another... 'gentleman'... who was doing an investigation. My question is, this... 'gentleman'... is he--."
Bruce's cell phone rang.
He held up his hands. "Hold that thought," and answered the phone.
"Master Bruce, sir! Urgent news! Are you alone!"
"Wait a moment." He turned to Lara. "I have to take this call. Excuse me. I'll be right back."
He walked up the crowded aisle, through the immense lobby, and outside the entrance.
"Okay, Alfred. What is it?"
"The filter you needed for those recorded transmissions, I found it on the tape! I ran the program and fed the transmissions... Master Bruce, Gregor is selling weapons! The buyer intends to fund it by a robbery! They plan to burglarize the Galleria exhibits! Tonight!"
"What time did they say?"
"That wasn't discussed!"
Bruce's jaw tensed as he gazed at the entrance door to the Center. His silence seemed like an eternity. He looked at the city skyline and straightened his back.
"Alfred, I'll have to use the suit in the briefcase in my car."
"Be careful, sir! That is not one of your better suits! And Miss Lara, what will become of her?"
"I'll give her the valet ticket. She can drive the Maserati back home. Park the Bentley a block east of the Galleria. I'll meet you there. Notify the police before you leave." He closed the phone and rushed into the Center to his seat.
"Lara, I have to leave. Here is the valet ticket. Drive home safely."
"Bruce, what's going on? Where are you going?"
"I'm sorry. I've got to go." He stepped back, and then walked away.
She stood. "No! Don't go, Bruce! Don't do this to me!"
He was half way up the aisle when she spoke.
Her face turned red, and she felt like a hundred eyes were watching her reaction. She sat down quickly and fumed. "How could he leave me like that? How could he leave without an explanation?" she growled and looked up the aisle.
The audience streamed in from the bar and lobby to their seats, but Bruce did not return.
With extreme difficulty she wrestled with her anger, and convinced herself people were whispering how Bruce Wayne left her in a hurry.
She vented, "This is the last time that moody rich man will leave me high and dry! I'll make him rue the day he met me!"
The lights dimmed in the auditorium and slowly darkened.
Lara leapt to her feet, strutted up the aisle and out into the lobby. An usher opened the main entrance for her. Outside, she marched to the nearest attendant and handed him the valet ticket.
* * *
Bathed in floodlights, the Galleria shimmered like a crystal. The security guard looked about the front, returned to the guardhouse, and viewed the monitor. The screen blinked, and then went black. He stepped out and saw the Galleria, and the neighborhood, enveloped in darkness. A cloth covered his mouth and nose, and he collapsed from the fumes.
Five black-hooded men scrambled to the front door. One pulled out an Uzi and released a short blast to shatter the glass door. With flashlights waving, they raced down the long hallway to the exhibit rooms. Each entered a separate room and crashed through the displays. The glass casings were knocked over, the objects snatched and dumped into sacks.
One of them shouted, "Ten seconds! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"
They ran out of the rooms and down the short hallway to the nearest exit. Three black-hooded men gathered by the door.
"Five seconds! Let's go, let's go!"
They heard nothing, and looked at each other.
One of the three peered around the corner and into the hallway to the exhibit rooms.
The lights went on.
His eyes widened, and he screamed, "A demon--."
A hand grabbed his collar and flung him to the opposite wall. He crumbled on top of another black-hooded body.
The other two jerked out their weapons. Before they could react, smoke pellets exploded in front of them. Frozen from fear, they swept the dense smoke with short blasts. Then they stopped and listened.
One of them stepped towards the smoke. "I-I hear nothing."
"We have to leave!"
"What about the other--."
Two hands lifted him into the smoke.
The last black-hooded man jumped back to the exit door, released a short blast from his Uzi, and raced out into the street. He fired wildly behind, ran to a car, and drove away. Before the car left the block, he saw the flashing lights of a police car illuminated a dark figure outside the exit door.
It watched him.
"A demon!" he yelped and sped recklessly towards the harbor.
The figure sprinted across the street and to the next block. At the street corner it looked up and down.
The car wasn't there.
A second passed, and lights appeared from a far corner. A car approached and stopped. The passenger door opened, and the dark figure entered.
"Sorry I am late, sir."
"Turn the lights off, Alfred." His teeth gritted.
"Are you alright?"
"A bullet grazed my ribs. It stings."
Alfred pulled out the first aid kit from under the seat and handed over gauze pads, antiseptic, and bandages. "We'll dress that properly when we get back home."
"Not yet. I've got to speak with Gordon." He opened the cell phone. "Commissioner! The usual place! One hour!" He closed the phone, leaned back, and rested.
* * *
Lara drove down the street towards Wayne Manor, and ranted. "I have never been so humiliated! This has never happened to me before! Never!"
In her fury she recalled the many men she dated. Admirable men, military men, men with warrior spirits, explorers, adventurers, men with passion, scientists, professors, and businessmen. Dynamic, spirited, passionate, and loving warriors. Those are the ones she favored.
Her mind churned as she remembered the men she wasted time with: sycophantic wimps, fawning students and associates, unemployed leeches, brawny leather clad bikers, and smug self-absorbed rich men. "I'll have to create a new category for Mr. Wayne! Rich, moody playboys!"
She turned up the driveway and thought about Steven. "Where are you now, Steven. You were so sweet and kind." She pouted. "Maybe I should reconsider him. He is an aspiring businessman. I have to find him and make amends."
As the car stopped in front of the door, three black-hooded men appeared. One flashed an Uzi.
"Get out of the car!" he yelled.
The car slipped into gear and fishtailed towards the front gate. The rear fender knocked over one of the men as it swerved. The others fired. The bullets bounced off the skin of the car but only penetrated the tires. The steering became sluggish and hard to turn. It skidded into a brushy area near the gate.
Lara grabbed the gun from her purse. Shielded by the car, she fired a couple of rounds and knocked down one of them. More bullets ricocheted off the car, which made her duck. She flipped her high heels off and leapt through the bushes. The thorny limbs tore at her gown and made her stumble. With the hem held above the knees, she ran towards the darker foliage. Flashlights danced around her and made the gown glisten in the night.
"There she is! Come on, let's get her!"
'No chance hiding from them with this thing on,' she thought while running among the trees. She stopped behind a large tree and contemplated removing the gown. She hesitated. 'I have nothing other than a thong underneath this!' Her mind raced for other options. "I guess this isn't the time to be bashful," she said and began to pull up on the dress.
Three flashlights blinded her.
"Drop the gun!"
The gown fell back onto her form, and the gun dropped at her feet. 'They must have bulletproof vests,' she thought while the flashlights came closer.
A hand became visible and ripped the front of her dress.
She flung a backfist across someone's head. The recipient toppled to the ground.
A fist slammed into her gut.
She doubled over and groaned.
"What are you doing?" one of them exclaimed.
"I wanted to see what she looked like... and have some fun."
"We have no time for that! Bring her!"
"But her dress is like a beacon."
"We have a blanket in the car! Now tie her up and bring her!"
Lara flailed weakly at her assailants but was pushed face down on the ground. Her wrists were forced behind her back and tied together. Another sat on her legs and tied her ankles.
"What do you want with me?" she moaned.
"Shut up." A hand covered her mouth with duct tape.
She was hoisted to her feet, and the gown cascaded off her body.
They argued.
"I'm carrying her."
"Hey, I'm carrying her! She shot at me! I should get some benefit for risking my neck!"
"Shut up both of you! I confronted her at the bus terminal. I will carry her." She was lifted over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He slapped her bare bottom. "That's for flipping me over the railing."
They laughed.
Another spanked her. "That's for shooting at me."
"And this is for knocking me over with the car." Her bottom was whacked hard.
Lara writhed in pain and muffled a cry.
"Enough already! We have a boat to catch."
* * *
Voldo placed a sealed aluminum tube within the cabin of the boat. He heard the pounding of footsteps, and climbed out.
"We have to leave now! Hurry! We have to leave!"
"Where are the others?"
"We've got to go before it finds us! Hurry! Hurry!"
Voldo gripped the man by the collar, slapped him to the deck floor, and yelled, "Where are the others? Where are the others?"
The man wept uncontrollably. "A demon got them!"
"What are you talking about?"
"These pieces from the museum are cursed! When we touched them, a spirit was released, a demon from hell!"
"Don't talk nonsense." Voldo opened the man's sack and pulled out a gold artifact.
"It's true! I saw it with my own eyes! The demon will be after us!"
"The demon should be the least of your problems as soon as Gregor and the General find out this mission has failed! What happened to them!" he fumed.
"They were attacked by a creature! I saw its bloody hands drag one of them away! It's coming for us! We've got to leave! Now!"
"Shut up, you stupid fool! We wait for the others!"
A couple of minutes later a car stopped near the docks. Three black-hooded men climbed out. One carried a rolled up blanket over his shoulder with a head sticking out. The head bobbed with every movement.
"We have completed our mission," they beamed and laid the blanket on the deck.
Voldo knelt and examined their captive. He noticed her lack of clothing.
Lara cringed and moaned.
He questioned, "Did you harm her?"
"She fought back so we did what was necessary to subdue her."
"Did you take advantage of her? Did you have your way with her?" he grilled.
The men looked at each other. "No, we did not!"
"Good. I can tell Gregor she is undefiled by you. He would be glad, until I tell him our main mission has failed."
"What happened to the others?"
Voldo stood. "Ask your sniffling comrade in the corner!" He walked to the boat's controls. "Place her inside the cabin! We leave for the ship now!"
* * *
Gordon waited by a park bench outside the Gotham City Zoo. He paced and watched the dark areas around the street.
"Commissioner Gordon."
He whirled and saw Batman near the zoo gates. "I'm sorry for the delay, but I had to get more details from the burglary at the Galleria."
"What do you have?" Batman asked.
"Four men dressed in military outfits, protective vests, and with no identification. One found in an exhibit room, two in the hallway, and one near the exit door hall. They carried flashlights and burlap sacks. Two had Browning 9mm handguns; the others had Uzis with clips. Found two global positioning units among them. The Galleria, and neighborhood, lost power from a blown transformer. The front door is in pieces. Five exhibit rooms are in shambles. We contacted three of the five exhibitors to come down and give an inventory of what was in their rooms. I think we recovered most of the objects, but I need to be sure."
"Who were you unable to contact?"
"Dr. Lara Croft and Elias Gregor." Gordon stepped to the curb. "We also found the curator, Willard Slaughter, dead in his office."
"How did he die?"
"Strangulation. There was evidence of a struggle, but nothing else. However, we did find blood near the exit door. We believe a fifth member got away. Am I right?"
Batman nodded. "But those men weren't there long enough to strangle Willard Slaughter. Do you know how long he was dead?"
"Two hours at the most." Gordon looked up and down the street. "Come over here. I want to show you something." He opened the passenger door of his car.
A portable tape player with monitor rested on the seat.
"I confiscated the security tape made from the cameras in the rooms and hallway, for obvious reasons." He slotted the tape into the player, and they watched. Gordon pointed to a black and white picture in the lower corner of the screen. "This is when the power came back on. See the jump in time? That's you taking hold of a burglar before the area filled with smoke."
Batman placed a fist under his chin. "Could you rewind the tape before the burglary?"
Buttons were pressed on the player to rewind and pause. The screen was studied.
"Now play the tape backwards until I tell you to stop."
The rewind button was held down and the digital clock on the screen rolled back.
"Stop." A gloved finger pointed to the upper left corner of the screen. "Camera one shows the interior of this exhibit room. Look at this picture frame hanging on the wall. You can see a slice of the painting within the frame. Play the tape."
The play button was pressed.
"Now look! The painting is no longer in the frame! And the clock has jumped three minutes! Thirty minutes later the burglars arrive and grab the objects in each room!"
Gordon had a puzzled expression. "What does that mean?"
"It means this exhibitor knew a burglary was going to occur and removed it... or had someone do it for him."
"By Slaughter! He was the only other person to have access to the security room."
"Slaughter removed the painting, went to the security room and erased the recording of himself by rewinding the tape. Then went to the office and handed the painting to..."
Gordon flipped the pages of his notebook. "Elias Gregor's collection is in that exhibit room."
"All the items are covered by his insurance. He hasn't lost anything if the burglary was successful."
"Is this a hunch?"
"It's more than a hunch, Commissioner. Do you have anything else?"
Gordon flipped a couple of pages. "These numbers were found on a piece of paper in the pocket of one of the burglars. Do they look familiar to you?"
"These look like longitude and latitude coordinates for the GPS units. Could be a rendezvous point. My guess would be somewhere out at sea."
"You've been a tremendous help. I'll get an APB on Gregor. Then I'll get the Coast Guard to check on these coordinates to see if anything's out there." He closed the door. "One question, how did you know this was going down tonight?"
Batman held out a small package. "Inside is a tape cartridge, a recordable CD, and notations on what files to look at on both media. The answer is there."
Gordon took it. "You've done enough, my friend. Go get some sleep." He walked to the driver's door, heard the rustling of leaves, and looked around.
Batman was gone.
* * *
Alfred was quiet on the way back to Wayne Manor. Peering at the rearview mirror he saw Bruce's eyes closed, and thought, 'He needs the rest. But what about Miss Lara? I hope she is not too upset with his actions.' He shook his head and frowned. "I'm afraid she will have every right to be upset."
The Bentley turned into the driveway and stopped. The gates were partially opened. A few yards beyond, the Maserati rested on a slant next to the bushes.
"Master Bruce, something is not right! Look!"
Bruce jumped out of the car, ran to the Maserati, and examined it.
Alfred stepped out and looked at the driveway. "Sir, there are shell casings up ahead."
A flashlight was flicked on and a shell picked up. 'Uzis.' The light searched the bushes and found shimmering threads among the thorns.
Bruce dashed towards the trees and located the glistening gown and a handgun.
"Lara has been kidnapped, Alfred! I have to find her!"
"Where do you think she was taken to?"
"My guess is... a rendezvous point!"
* * *
(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 Six
Bruce and Lara ate dinner but exchanged few words. Questions about the contents of Steven's backpack were met with laconic answers.
"And the tape cartridge?" she asked.
"Being analyzed."
"By whom?"
"An associate."
"When will he have the results?"
He shrugged. "It's a large tape."
She finished the meal in silence.
After dinner they strolled into the library.
Bruce wandered about the books. He paced from one corner to the other and fingered a couple of books.
Lara sat on the sofa and thumbed through a software manual. She recalled the chilled responses he gave at the dinner table and decided to break the ice. "I was thinking, when I left the garage this morning, I could not help but notice the helicopter."
Bruce listened.
"It was perched on the hill in the yard when I drove by on the bike this morning. When I returned in the afternoon, you were walking away from it. Now, Alfred said you were at a meeting--."
"I told Alfred to say that. In truth, I was here and left after you did. Sorry if you were misled."
She paused and blinked. "Bruce, please sit down."
He sat in a reading chair.
"I feel as if I have upset you in some fashion. The only thing I can think may have caused it was when I requested financial assistance from your foundation. I believe it was very awkward and bold to ask for a contribution, and I would like to rescind my request. I can handle my problems and I will get through this one as well. It wasn't proper to take advantage of your invitation, but like I said before, I acted defensively. I'm sorry that--."
He waved his hand. "Don't do that, Lara. I told you it was good business, and I still want to help."
She smiled briefly. "Why are you so sullen?"
He glanced at the doorway and took a deep breath. "There are some burdens I carry that sometimes are reflected in my composure. I hope it won't interfere in the enjoyment of tonight's concert."
She patted the empty spot on the sofa.
He moved to the spot.
She rested her head against his chest and hugged him.
He placed his cheek on top of her head and hugged.
"Excuse me, Master Bruce. I believe you should be getting ready for the concert."
They both nodded and stood.
"Go ahead and get ready, Lara. I want to speak with Alfred."
She exited, glanced back at Bruce, and climbed the steps.
"You have some good news, Alfred?"
He whispered, "Incriminating evidence of money laundered through Gregor Shipping Company. The computer analyzed spreadsheets and their accounting software. Results were transactions of a dubious nature. If these were sent to the proper authorities, they would freeze the assets of Gregor, Inc., and a full investigation of their books would definitely be called for."
"Great news, but it still doesn't tell me anything about the ship."
"Patience, sir. The computer is still analyzing more files. I will keep you informed."
Bruce patted him on the arm and went upstairs.
* * *
The Gotham Center for the Performing Arts was located a few blocks away from the Galleria. A simple, modern building and less ornate. Thin marble pillars stretched three stories over the glass entrances. The influential and upper class members of Gotham's elite filed into the doors. The crowd atmosphere was more subdued than at the Grand Opening of the Galleria, although a few social reporters milled about and tried to extract the juiciest of gossips.
Bruce drove a black Maserati up to the valet attendant. The attendant took the keys, while another opened the passenger door for Lara. She waited at the curb and adjusted the hem. Her white gown, similar in style to the dark blue but without the slits for the legs, shimmered in the cool night air. Her back was covered with a white shawl, and she carried a white purse. The hair was braided in the usual style. Bruce wore his standard tuxedo. He extended a bent elbow, and she placed her hand inside.
As they approached the entrance, a woman and a photographer intercepted them.
"Bruce, dear, you look handsome as ever," the woman gushed, and kissed him on the cheek. "And who is this with you? Another movie starlet, I suppose?"
"Gwendolyn, this is Dr. Lara Croft, a prominent archaeologist, and has an exhibit of her personal collection at the Galleria. Lara, this is Gwendolyn Brown, a columnist on the Gotham Weekly Review. She attends the social functions of Gotham's well known, and writes about it in the society page."
"We're not the Gazette, but we try harder," she laughed. "My word, may I say you look fabulous in that dress. Can we get a quick picture of you two together?"
Bruce hesitated, but Lara leaned into him and smiled. "Sure," he said. The camera bulb flashed.
"That was great! So, Bruce, when is your next soiree at Wayne Manor?"
"I haven't planned any parties because of the Exposition committee meetings. I've been busy, Gwen."
"That's right, that's right. Oh... yes, Dr. Croft, now I remember. I heard some news about you and China... and strained relations between them and England. Would you like to comment on that?"
"I'm sorry, no. I cannot comment."
"Honey, are you sure? It would help with our circulation. Are you really sure about that?"
"Yes, I am sure. I cannot comment on that."
"Maybe another time, okay?" She turned to Bruce. "I see you have elevated to a new type of woman to date. She's beautiful, intelligent, and she can keep a secret."
He blushed. "Excuse us, Gwen, but we have to go inside."
"Of course you do, Bruce, of course you do. How silly of me to delay you. Go ahead and enjoy. Oh... one more thing, Dr. Croft. That reporter, Nathaniel Gray... the one you knocked down outside the Galleria. Did you hear the news? He was arrested this afternoon for indecent exposure in a park outside of the city."
Lara's eyes sparkled. "No, I didn't."
Bruce piped in, " We'll see you inside. Enjoy the concert."
* * *
During intermission in the concert hall, the cultured and wealthy mingled near the bar. The men's initial attention was focused on Lara. They gawked and snickered. A couple feinted boxing moves and shouted, "Come on, Dr. Croft. Let's see the famous left hook." They joked and jested, until a popular country singer was identified and their attention shifted. Lara smirked and walked away.
Bruce escorted her back to the seats. "So what really happened in China?"
She looked around to be sure no one else listened. "Let me say this, in my travels I have encountered things that are so deadly and horrendous, it would only benefit the world if they remained a secret. That is all I could tell you. I hope you understand. At times it is a burden for me to carry."
"I'm not asking you to divulge everything, Lara. I was just curious to know the real story behind the explosion at the Great Wall."
She looked around again. "If I answer your question, would you answer one for me?"
"What is the question?"
She shifted in the seat. "First, when you requested my friend's phone number for your investigator, you knew Steven's name. I don't recall ever telling you, or Alfred, his name before this morning. I find that puzzling. Second, during this afternoon when I hastily demanded you to fly over Gregor's ship, and mentioned the name of the ship, you said it left the harbor. You already knew the name of the ship! I remember only one other time I mentioned Steven's name and the ship's name. It was to another... 'gentleman'... who was doing an investigation. My question is, this... 'gentleman'... is he--."
Bruce's cell phone rang.
He held up his hands. "Hold that thought," and answered the phone.
"Master Bruce, sir! Urgent news! Are you alone!"
"Wait a moment." He turned to Lara. "I have to take this call. Excuse me. I'll be right back."
He walked up the crowded aisle, through the immense lobby, and outside the entrance.
"Okay, Alfred. What is it?"
"The filter you needed for those recorded transmissions, I found it on the tape! I ran the program and fed the transmissions... Master Bruce, Gregor is selling weapons! The buyer intends to fund it by a robbery! They plan to burglarize the Galleria exhibits! Tonight!"
"What time did they say?"
"That wasn't discussed!"
Bruce's jaw tensed as he gazed at the entrance door to the Center. His silence seemed like an eternity. He looked at the city skyline and straightened his back.
"Alfred, I'll have to use the suit in the briefcase in my car."
"Be careful, sir! That is not one of your better suits! And Miss Lara, what will become of her?"
"I'll give her the valet ticket. She can drive the Maserati back home. Park the Bentley a block east of the Galleria. I'll meet you there. Notify the police before you leave." He closed the phone and rushed into the Center to his seat.
"Lara, I have to leave. Here is the valet ticket. Drive home safely."
"Bruce, what's going on? Where are you going?"
"I'm sorry. I've got to go." He stepped back, and then walked away.
She stood. "No! Don't go, Bruce! Don't do this to me!"
He was half way up the aisle when she spoke.
Her face turned red, and she felt like a hundred eyes were watching her reaction. She sat down quickly and fumed. "How could he leave me like that? How could he leave without an explanation?" she growled and looked up the aisle.
The audience streamed in from the bar and lobby to their seats, but Bruce did not return.
With extreme difficulty she wrestled with her anger, and convinced herself people were whispering how Bruce Wayne left her in a hurry.
She vented, "This is the last time that moody rich man will leave me high and dry! I'll make him rue the day he met me!"
The lights dimmed in the auditorium and slowly darkened.
Lara leapt to her feet, strutted up the aisle and out into the lobby. An usher opened the main entrance for her. Outside, she marched to the nearest attendant and handed him the valet ticket.
* * *
Bathed in floodlights, the Galleria shimmered like a crystal. The security guard looked about the front, returned to the guardhouse, and viewed the monitor. The screen blinked, and then went black. He stepped out and saw the Galleria, and the neighborhood, enveloped in darkness. A cloth covered his mouth and nose, and he collapsed from the fumes.
Five black-hooded men scrambled to the front door. One pulled out an Uzi and released a short blast to shatter the glass door. With flashlights waving, they raced down the long hallway to the exhibit rooms. Each entered a separate room and crashed through the displays. The glass casings were knocked over, the objects snatched and dumped into sacks.
One of them shouted, "Ten seconds! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"
They ran out of the rooms and down the short hallway to the nearest exit. Three black-hooded men gathered by the door.
"Five seconds! Let's go, let's go!"
They heard nothing, and looked at each other.
One of the three peered around the corner and into the hallway to the exhibit rooms.
The lights went on.
His eyes widened, and he screamed, "A demon--."
A hand grabbed his collar and flung him to the opposite wall. He crumbled on top of another black-hooded body.
The other two jerked out their weapons. Before they could react, smoke pellets exploded in front of them. Frozen from fear, they swept the dense smoke with short blasts. Then they stopped and listened.
One of them stepped towards the smoke. "I-I hear nothing."
"We have to leave!"
"What about the other--."
Two hands lifted him into the smoke.
The last black-hooded man jumped back to the exit door, released a short blast from his Uzi, and raced out into the street. He fired wildly behind, ran to a car, and drove away. Before the car left the block, he saw the flashing lights of a police car illuminated a dark figure outside the exit door.
It watched him.
"A demon!" he yelped and sped recklessly towards the harbor.
The figure sprinted across the street and to the next block. At the street corner it looked up and down.
The car wasn't there.
A second passed, and lights appeared from a far corner. A car approached and stopped. The passenger door opened, and the dark figure entered.
"Sorry I am late, sir."
"Turn the lights off, Alfred." His teeth gritted.
"Are you alright?"
"A bullet grazed my ribs. It stings."
Alfred pulled out the first aid kit from under the seat and handed over gauze pads, antiseptic, and bandages. "We'll dress that properly when we get back home."
"Not yet. I've got to speak with Gordon." He opened the cell phone. "Commissioner! The usual place! One hour!" He closed the phone, leaned back, and rested.
* * *
Lara drove down the street towards Wayne Manor, and ranted. "I have never been so humiliated! This has never happened to me before! Never!"
In her fury she recalled the many men she dated. Admirable men, military men, men with warrior spirits, explorers, adventurers, men with passion, scientists, professors, and businessmen. Dynamic, spirited, passionate, and loving warriors. Those are the ones she favored.
Her mind churned as she remembered the men she wasted time with: sycophantic wimps, fawning students and associates, unemployed leeches, brawny leather clad bikers, and smug self-absorbed rich men. "I'll have to create a new category for Mr. Wayne! Rich, moody playboys!"
She turned up the driveway and thought about Steven. "Where are you now, Steven. You were so sweet and kind." She pouted. "Maybe I should reconsider him. He is an aspiring businessman. I have to find him and make amends."
As the car stopped in front of the door, three black-hooded men appeared. One flashed an Uzi.
"Get out of the car!" he yelled.
The car slipped into gear and fishtailed towards the front gate. The rear fender knocked over one of the men as it swerved. The others fired. The bullets bounced off the skin of the car but only penetrated the tires. The steering became sluggish and hard to turn. It skidded into a brushy area near the gate.
Lara grabbed the gun from her purse. Shielded by the car, she fired a couple of rounds and knocked down one of them. More bullets ricocheted off the car, which made her duck. She flipped her high heels off and leapt through the bushes. The thorny limbs tore at her gown and made her stumble. With the hem held above the knees, she ran towards the darker foliage. Flashlights danced around her and made the gown glisten in the night.
"There she is! Come on, let's get her!"
'No chance hiding from them with this thing on,' she thought while running among the trees. She stopped behind a large tree and contemplated removing the gown. She hesitated. 'I have nothing other than a thong underneath this!' Her mind raced for other options. "I guess this isn't the time to be bashful," she said and began to pull up on the dress.
Three flashlights blinded her.
"Drop the gun!"
The gown fell back onto her form, and the gun dropped at her feet. 'They must have bulletproof vests,' she thought while the flashlights came closer.
A hand became visible and ripped the front of her dress.
She flung a backfist across someone's head. The recipient toppled to the ground.
A fist slammed into her gut.
She doubled over and groaned.
"What are you doing?" one of them exclaimed.
"I wanted to see what she looked like... and have some fun."
"We have no time for that! Bring her!"
"But her dress is like a beacon."
"We have a blanket in the car! Now tie her up and bring her!"
Lara flailed weakly at her assailants but was pushed face down on the ground. Her wrists were forced behind her back and tied together. Another sat on her legs and tied her ankles.
"What do you want with me?" she moaned.
"Shut up." A hand covered her mouth with duct tape.
She was hoisted to her feet, and the gown cascaded off her body.
They argued.
"I'm carrying her."
"Hey, I'm carrying her! She shot at me! I should get some benefit for risking my neck!"
"Shut up both of you! I confronted her at the bus terminal. I will carry her." She was lifted over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He slapped her bare bottom. "That's for flipping me over the railing."
They laughed.
Another spanked her. "That's for shooting at me."
"And this is for knocking me over with the car." Her bottom was whacked hard.
Lara writhed in pain and muffled a cry.
"Enough already! We have a boat to catch."
* * *
Voldo placed a sealed aluminum tube within the cabin of the boat. He heard the pounding of footsteps, and climbed out.
"We have to leave now! Hurry! We have to leave!"
"Where are the others?"
"We've got to go before it finds us! Hurry! Hurry!"
Voldo gripped the man by the collar, slapped him to the deck floor, and yelled, "Where are the others? Where are the others?"
The man wept uncontrollably. "A demon got them!"
"What are you talking about?"
"These pieces from the museum are cursed! When we touched them, a spirit was released, a demon from hell!"
"Don't talk nonsense." Voldo opened the man's sack and pulled out a gold artifact.
"It's true! I saw it with my own eyes! The demon will be after us!"
"The demon should be the least of your problems as soon as Gregor and the General find out this mission has failed! What happened to them!" he fumed.
"They were attacked by a creature! I saw its bloody hands drag one of them away! It's coming for us! We've got to leave! Now!"
"Shut up, you stupid fool! We wait for the others!"
A couple of minutes later a car stopped near the docks. Three black-hooded men climbed out. One carried a rolled up blanket over his shoulder with a head sticking out. The head bobbed with every movement.
"We have completed our mission," they beamed and laid the blanket on the deck.
Voldo knelt and examined their captive. He noticed her lack of clothing.
Lara cringed and moaned.
He questioned, "Did you harm her?"
"She fought back so we did what was necessary to subdue her."
"Did you take advantage of her? Did you have your way with her?" he grilled.
The men looked at each other. "No, we did not!"
"Good. I can tell Gregor she is undefiled by you. He would be glad, until I tell him our main mission has failed."
"What happened to the others?"
Voldo stood. "Ask your sniffling comrade in the corner!" He walked to the boat's controls. "Place her inside the cabin! We leave for the ship now!"
* * *
Gordon waited by a park bench outside the Gotham City Zoo. He paced and watched the dark areas around the street.
"Commissioner Gordon."
He whirled and saw Batman near the zoo gates. "I'm sorry for the delay, but I had to get more details from the burglary at the Galleria."
"What do you have?" Batman asked.
"Four men dressed in military outfits, protective vests, and with no identification. One found in an exhibit room, two in the hallway, and one near the exit door hall. They carried flashlights and burlap sacks. Two had Browning 9mm handguns; the others had Uzis with clips. Found two global positioning units among them. The Galleria, and neighborhood, lost power from a blown transformer. The front door is in pieces. Five exhibit rooms are in shambles. We contacted three of the five exhibitors to come down and give an inventory of what was in their rooms. I think we recovered most of the objects, but I need to be sure."
"Who were you unable to contact?"
"Dr. Lara Croft and Elias Gregor." Gordon stepped to the curb. "We also found the curator, Willard Slaughter, dead in his office."
"How did he die?"
"Strangulation. There was evidence of a struggle, but nothing else. However, we did find blood near the exit door. We believe a fifth member got away. Am I right?"
Batman nodded. "But those men weren't there long enough to strangle Willard Slaughter. Do you know how long he was dead?"
"Two hours at the most." Gordon looked up and down the street. "Come over here. I want to show you something." He opened the passenger door of his car.
A portable tape player with monitor rested on the seat.
"I confiscated the security tape made from the cameras in the rooms and hallway, for obvious reasons." He slotted the tape into the player, and they watched. Gordon pointed to a black and white picture in the lower corner of the screen. "This is when the power came back on. See the jump in time? That's you taking hold of a burglar before the area filled with smoke."
Batman placed a fist under his chin. "Could you rewind the tape before the burglary?"
Buttons were pressed on the player to rewind and pause. The screen was studied.
"Now play the tape backwards until I tell you to stop."
The rewind button was held down and the digital clock on the screen rolled back.
"Stop." A gloved finger pointed to the upper left corner of the screen. "Camera one shows the interior of this exhibit room. Look at this picture frame hanging on the wall. You can see a slice of the painting within the frame. Play the tape."
The play button was pressed.
"Now look! The painting is no longer in the frame! And the clock has jumped three minutes! Thirty minutes later the burglars arrive and grab the objects in each room!"
Gordon had a puzzled expression. "What does that mean?"
"It means this exhibitor knew a burglary was going to occur and removed it... or had someone do it for him."
"By Slaughter! He was the only other person to have access to the security room."
"Slaughter removed the painting, went to the security room and erased the recording of himself by rewinding the tape. Then went to the office and handed the painting to..."
Gordon flipped the pages of his notebook. "Elias Gregor's collection is in that exhibit room."
"All the items are covered by his insurance. He hasn't lost anything if the burglary was successful."
"Is this a hunch?"
"It's more than a hunch, Commissioner. Do you have anything else?"
Gordon flipped a couple of pages. "These numbers were found on a piece of paper in the pocket of one of the burglars. Do they look familiar to you?"
"These look like longitude and latitude coordinates for the GPS units. Could be a rendezvous point. My guess would be somewhere out at sea."
"You've been a tremendous help. I'll get an APB on Gregor. Then I'll get the Coast Guard to check on these coordinates to see if anything's out there." He closed the door. "One question, how did you know this was going down tonight?"
Batman held out a small package. "Inside is a tape cartridge, a recordable CD, and notations on what files to look at on both media. The answer is there."
Gordon took it. "You've done enough, my friend. Go get some sleep." He walked to the driver's door, heard the rustling of leaves, and looked around.
Batman was gone.
* * *
Alfred was quiet on the way back to Wayne Manor. Peering at the rearview mirror he saw Bruce's eyes closed, and thought, 'He needs the rest. But what about Miss Lara? I hope she is not too upset with his actions.' He shook his head and frowned. "I'm afraid she will have every right to be upset."
The Bentley turned into the driveway and stopped. The gates were partially opened. A few yards beyond, the Maserati rested on a slant next to the bushes.
"Master Bruce, something is not right! Look!"
Bruce jumped out of the car, ran to the Maserati, and examined it.
Alfred stepped out and looked at the driveway. "Sir, there are shell casings up ahead."
A flashlight was flicked on and a shell picked up. 'Uzis.' The light searched the bushes and found shimmering threads among the thorns.
Bruce dashed towards the trees and located the glistening gown and a handgun.
"Lara has been kidnapped, Alfred! I have to find her!"
"Where do you think she was taken to?"
"My guess is... a rendezvous point!"
* * *
(TO BE CONTINUED)