Chapter 20

A comforting vibration and an accompanying noise fought all of Max's attempts to reach consciousness. He was in a safe, happy place, where all of his wishes were granted and everything was soft and warm to the touch.

Then he opened his eyes.

Immediately, he could not help but notice the splint that had been taped over his nose, making breathing out of that orifice rather difficult. He attempted to get up...

...and then the pain came.

All of Max's face seemed to be swollen and sore, he found it difficult to move his mouth. On the bright side, he was able to wiggle the toes of his leg that had been sliced open - how long ago had that been?

Max looked towards his watch and found that it was not there, and neither were his glasses. Eyes squinting, Max tried to get his bearings, finally identifying the noise and vibration that had allowed him to sleep so peacefully.

He was on an airplane.

Truth be known, Max had traveled by aircraft many times - but had never awoken on one without the slightest idea of where he was - okay, there was that time he fell off the wagon...

Max tried to recall his last memory; they had made it back to Lara's home, and found that her office had been ransacked and her pieces of the artifact missing - as they had feared. Lara began to work on Max's leg as he began rattling off ideas of how they were going to get halfway across the world and into a potential war zone.

At some point he had agreed to be a good boy and pass out - and now he was here...

Through his fuzzy vision and dull ache, Max surveyed his surroundings. A large part of him wished he was on the jet from Goldfinger - but knew that was unlikely.

He was in the dirty cargo area of a prop driven transport, as the noise of the blades was unmistakable. It had to be a fairly large craft, large enough to fit his Subaru into - for it was a scant ten feet from him, unmistakable even without his glasses. Was it a C-130? No, not long enough. Too fat in the middle to be a C-47.

It really didn't matter.

Max sat up in the row of jump seats that served as his bed, his body was not really up to the task, but he did so anyway. When he stood, he noticed that his attire consisted of the same pair of (now bloodied) boxer shorts he had on the other night. On a shelf not far away, Max caught a glimpse of a bright color that had to be one of his shirts - and indeed it was, along with some more of his clothes, glasses, and other items.

The door to the cockpit opened just as Max was unsuccessfully trying to don his pants while the plane bucked under some turbulence. Lara's head appeared in the doorway and seemed surprised to see Max up and about.

"What are doing up?"

"Getting dressed, I don't feel like taking on the Elder and the Russian Army in my undies."

Lara came to her friend, "Let me help you..."

Max shrugged her off, then another bob of the plane made Max loose his balance and fall back into a seat. He used his momentum to propel his feet into the air and slip his pants on.

"Ha! Thought I couldn't do it..."

"Actually, I wanted to check your dressing - how is your leg?"

"Pretty stiff, but I think I'll pull through. How bad does my face look?"

"Not too bad, I wasn't even sure if it was broken - probably just a hairline fracture."

"Hey, some good news..."

"Quite."

"So, you gonna tell me what the hell's going on?"

"Well, as you guessed, we are on our way to Russia, we have about twenty hours before our ETA - with a stop for fuel."

"So we take this bird in and drop the wagon on a sled for a nice, clean insertion?"

"Actually, we're going to be landing in Petropavlask-Kamitchky - at the airport."

Lara's pronunciation of their destination answered Max's next question concerning who would be translating for them, as he was limited to German, Spanish, and 'Where is the men's room?' in most Asian dialects. Those language skills had been more than enough for his past experiences - he had actually never even been to Russia.

"But I wanted to para-drop..." Max whined like a child.

"Maybe next time..." Lara chided.

"Okay. So, ve're on our vay to ze Motherland..." he said in one of the ten worst Russian accents ever heard.

"Yes, we're stopping at an airfield in Khazicstan. From there, it's non-stop to the Kamchatka Peninsula. Mount Koryaksky is only about thirty kilometers north of the city. We drive there and get started."

"I see...now we're takin' my car."

Lara gave a weary sigh.

"Yes. The roads here are not very good, and with my Subaru retired, the only other vehicle I own that can navigate well is the Range Rover - and it is very important that we keep a low profile."

With that, the door to the cockpit opened and burly man entered the cargo area.

"Oy," The large man greeted in a thick Australian accent, "see the cargo is awake."

"Indeed he is," Lara replied. "Max, this is Jon - out pilot."

Jon approached Max and the two shook hands - Max thought the Big Lug from down under was going to rip his arm off, but it ended up remaining firmly in place.

"Pleasure," Jon said as he pumped Max's hand.

"Good to meet you, Jon. Nice plane you've got here."

"Thanks."

"C-119?"

"Yeah, Gee model - with a few modifications 'ere and there."

"My Dad did his share of jumps out of one of these."

"Airborne?"

"Hundred and forty-one jumps - and he'll tell ya about each and every one of 'em."

"Airborne, all right," the man let out a deep, hearty laugh. "I just came back to see if you folks need your toys yet - just realized that I'd locked 'em in place."

"Yes," Lara replied, "I think we are...'

The large man walked to some cargo webbing at the rear of the Subaru and started working. Max turned to Lara.

"What 'toys' did you bring along?"

"I brought my normal kit, the toys are yours."

"My crate came?"

"It arrived as we were preparing for take-off."

"Cool. Guess I've got some work ahead of me here."

"I should think so."

Max went over to assist Jon while Lara watched from a distance. She was taking a awful risk with Max. Her methods had been proven over and over - they worked. However, her plans were orchestrated for a single person only - not for two.

The previous night, she could scarcely remember why she had allowed Max to come along. With his wounds, his presence would make for even more of a diversion - a diversion that could cost Lara dearly. However, she had given him her consent to come along, though things has changed considerably since she had made that decision.

Just after the two had split up to hunt down the intruder, but before Elder's employee had dropped the crates on Lara, she had honestly missed Max. While she found it difficult to trust him on the long walk around the foyer, she noticed that there was something different with him not at her side.

She was not scared when he was with her.

Fear was not something that Lara often dealt with. She was always prudent, cautious, apprehensive, and occasionally even a little jumpy - but she was rarely scared. It happened, Lara was still human, but fear was certainly not the norm for her. Her anger she directed at him by the Impreza wreckage was originally pointed at herself for letting that woman get the drop on her.

She attributed the appearance of that emotion in the situation to her heightened emotional state of late. While she knew she was just going through a phase, she also knew that it was a potential weakness in the field - something that was unacceptable.

So, there was Max. For whatever reason, his presence helped to stabilize her and, wounded or not, he would be an asset to her. He was also better equipped for a two person party. The thought of Max, in his full camera gear, white-knuckling Lara's waist on the back of her Norton amused her for a moment.

Max and Jon had freed the crate and placed it on the floor of the aircraft. Max let out a relieved sigh and took out his pack of cigarettes. Jon held up a hand.

"Sorry mate, the smoking lamp is out."

Max's hand twitched slightly and he put the cigarette away.

Lara put her hands on her hip. Fear or no fear, it was going to be a very long flight.