DISCLAIMER: I do not own Lara Croft or Tomb Raider. I am not making money
with this work of fiction.
Only to be archived at Fanfiction.net and "Lara Croft's Tales of Beauty and Power". All other sites please email me first at siirma6@surfeu.fi to gain permission.
Tomb Raider: Prevail by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi)
Chapter 10
It was only late afternoon, so they took the jeep and drove to the nearest town with the airport. A quick check at the airport office ensured that no planes had taken off that day. Their findings were still in the area. Then they parked the jeep in front of a local bar. They hadn't bothered to change away from their sandy wetsuits, just pulled on their shoes - Josephine her sneakers and Lara her Pathforgers.. Besides, the suprise factor would be on their side. Before they entered, Lara pulled her other pistol from the holster and threw it to Josephine. Lara was still keeping her other arm slightly raised to support her ribcage.
"Just for the looks of it," she said, and Josephine swore she saw Lara wink at her.
They entered the crummy little bar. Old men were sitting at the counter, and the bartender was a young black man with a bandanna wrapped around his head. Josephine and Lara sat down to the bar stools.
"How can I help you, ladies?" he asked and seemed amused as he noticed their outfits.
Josephine spoke. "We're looking for Manis who hires his fishing boat around the bay."
"He's in the corner table behind the palm tree," the bartender said and started polishing a glass with a dirty rag in a way only bartenders do.
Josephine and Lara thanked, got up, and walked to the corner table. Their captain was smoking and enjoying a glass of whisky from an uncivilizedly full glass. Lara coughed to her fist. Josephine leaned on the table. The man turned, and his eyes widened.
"You --- you ---"
"If you are implying that we are a pair of ghosts then you've received the wrong piece of information. But we are haunting you alright," Lara replied with an icy voice.
"Where's the stuff we recovered today?" Josephine asked sternly, noticing Lara unclipping her holster press-stud.
"I no have it. I sell it."
"You have two choices, " Lara spat out like a snake, "Either you give back to me and my lady friend here what you sailed away in your little sardine can or I give you an extra mouth to feed. Understood?"
"I no have it!" The man yelled.
Josephine smiled secretly under the hand she used to cover her mouth with. She could only guess what a furious Lara might do.
Lara jumped on the table, sending the man's glass of whisky crashing on the floor. She grabbed him by his shirt collar, and pulled him up, pressing her pistol stedy under his chin.
"I don't appreciate repeating things."
The man suddenly seemed to remember something. "In my car."
Lara put down her pistols, and dragged the man out of the bar, blowing a quick, playful kiss to the bartender, who waved after them.
Outside, the man walked like a servant dog to his car, pulled out a sack, and dropped it to Lara's feet.
"And now - start running," Lara hissed theatrically. The man needed not hear it again. He was gone soon, only leaving a trail of sand in his wake.
Lara opened the sack. The deathmask and the small wooden box.
"What about our gear?" Josephine asked.
Lara walked up to the man's blue, much-suffered Sedan. "It's all here. He wasn't smart enough to sell it. Not that there are many people willing to buy this kind of stuff around here. They always try to steal everything," Lara was musing to herself, "Always. Simple people."
Josephine stood a foot away from the car. Lara found her backpack and started dragging the rest of their gear out.
"If I didn't know better I'd say that man got pretty near to getting himself shot."
"Not at all."
"What do you mean? Are you saying the great archaeologist Lara Croft is becoming a soft sod these days?"
"No. I'm saying he got very near to getting himself shot," Lara replied, smiling.
"Why didn't you shoot me, really?" Josephine asked matter-of-factly.
Lara stopped her fussing with the gear to look at Josephine. "You'll get the answer by answering my question."
"Yes?"
"Josephine, what's the meaning of life?"
"How the hell should I know?"
"There you have it."
~ - ~ - ~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ -
A week later The British Museum's new Great Hall roof was getting raised. Garret Graham stood in what used to be the entrance to the ethnographic wing, and admired the glass structure. Two weeks more, and they could open the Hall. He walked down the stairs and to the entrance hall, dodging workmen on the way. Digging out his keycard required upon entering the staff wing from his pocket he greeted the ticket sellers on the way. It was sleeting outside, so only a few people were wandering around in the exhibitions. A quiet day to finish some paperwork. Garret rode the elevator up and used his keycard again to retrieve his mail from the box near the door. Then he walked to his office, leafing through envelopes and piles of paper someone had decided to fill his mailbox with again. He put on his reading glasses, and got ready to insert the keycard once again to access the office.
The door was open. He forgot about the mail and peeked in. To an archaeologist a riddle is a riddle is a riddle. You have to devote to every one of them fully, otherwise they usually won't crack. Like with that Greek amphora piece two years earlier.
He couldn't see anything from outside. It was his office after all. Holding his mail in his left hand, he stepped in.
Dr. Lara Croft was sitting in his guest chair, one arm immobilized against her chest with a supporting strap, and Dr. Josephine Ross of Chicago University sat on his desk, feet raised onto the handcushions of the chair Lara was sitting in. Josephine was holding something with her both hands - it was large and round, wrapped in plastic and fabric. Lara had a small wooden box in her lap. They both smiled at him.
"Ladies," he greeted politely, "How was your trip?"
Lara put the wooden box on the table and together with Josephine, ripped the fabric and plastic off the object, uncovering a golden funeral mask inlaid with valuable stones.
"Eventful," Lara replied, and shared a knowing look with Josephine.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I would like to express my humblest gratitude to the following people who never fail to amaze me and truly make my day:
Tim Radley. Dear, dear friend, fellow author, editing help and kind Internet spirit. Where would I (and Lara) be without you?
Jeppe. One of the most inspiring people I've ever met. Your sharpest wit and your wonderful and constructive criticism (and praise, if I'm having a good day ;=) keep me down to Earth and raise me to the skies.
SilverRope. For setting yet another standard of quality in TR writing with your works and being a great person to talk to.
Percy Balemans and William Pelser, my guides in scuba diving, who tirelessly answered my questions and supported my attempt at describing a wonderful sport I only have limited experience in. I admire and envy what you have experienced.
Feedback? That's what makes us authors write. All feedback is welcomed at Siirma6@surfeu.fi
Only to be archived at Fanfiction.net and "Lara Croft's Tales of Beauty and Power". All other sites please email me first at siirma6@surfeu.fi to gain permission.
Tomb Raider: Prevail by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi)
Chapter 10
It was only late afternoon, so they took the jeep and drove to the nearest town with the airport. A quick check at the airport office ensured that no planes had taken off that day. Their findings were still in the area. Then they parked the jeep in front of a local bar. They hadn't bothered to change away from their sandy wetsuits, just pulled on their shoes - Josephine her sneakers and Lara her Pathforgers.. Besides, the suprise factor would be on their side. Before they entered, Lara pulled her other pistol from the holster and threw it to Josephine. Lara was still keeping her other arm slightly raised to support her ribcage.
"Just for the looks of it," she said, and Josephine swore she saw Lara wink at her.
They entered the crummy little bar. Old men were sitting at the counter, and the bartender was a young black man with a bandanna wrapped around his head. Josephine and Lara sat down to the bar stools.
"How can I help you, ladies?" he asked and seemed amused as he noticed their outfits.
Josephine spoke. "We're looking for Manis who hires his fishing boat around the bay."
"He's in the corner table behind the palm tree," the bartender said and started polishing a glass with a dirty rag in a way only bartenders do.
Josephine and Lara thanked, got up, and walked to the corner table. Their captain was smoking and enjoying a glass of whisky from an uncivilizedly full glass. Lara coughed to her fist. Josephine leaned on the table. The man turned, and his eyes widened.
"You --- you ---"
"If you are implying that we are a pair of ghosts then you've received the wrong piece of information. But we are haunting you alright," Lara replied with an icy voice.
"Where's the stuff we recovered today?" Josephine asked sternly, noticing Lara unclipping her holster press-stud.
"I no have it. I sell it."
"You have two choices, " Lara spat out like a snake, "Either you give back to me and my lady friend here what you sailed away in your little sardine can or I give you an extra mouth to feed. Understood?"
"I no have it!" The man yelled.
Josephine smiled secretly under the hand she used to cover her mouth with. She could only guess what a furious Lara might do.
Lara jumped on the table, sending the man's glass of whisky crashing on the floor. She grabbed him by his shirt collar, and pulled him up, pressing her pistol stedy under his chin.
"I don't appreciate repeating things."
The man suddenly seemed to remember something. "In my car."
Lara put down her pistols, and dragged the man out of the bar, blowing a quick, playful kiss to the bartender, who waved after them.
Outside, the man walked like a servant dog to his car, pulled out a sack, and dropped it to Lara's feet.
"And now - start running," Lara hissed theatrically. The man needed not hear it again. He was gone soon, only leaving a trail of sand in his wake.
Lara opened the sack. The deathmask and the small wooden box.
"What about our gear?" Josephine asked.
Lara walked up to the man's blue, much-suffered Sedan. "It's all here. He wasn't smart enough to sell it. Not that there are many people willing to buy this kind of stuff around here. They always try to steal everything," Lara was musing to herself, "Always. Simple people."
Josephine stood a foot away from the car. Lara found her backpack and started dragging the rest of their gear out.
"If I didn't know better I'd say that man got pretty near to getting himself shot."
"Not at all."
"What do you mean? Are you saying the great archaeologist Lara Croft is becoming a soft sod these days?"
"No. I'm saying he got very near to getting himself shot," Lara replied, smiling.
"Why didn't you shoot me, really?" Josephine asked matter-of-factly.
Lara stopped her fussing with the gear to look at Josephine. "You'll get the answer by answering my question."
"Yes?"
"Josephine, what's the meaning of life?"
"How the hell should I know?"
"There you have it."
~ - ~ - ~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ - ~ -~ -
A week later The British Museum's new Great Hall roof was getting raised. Garret Graham stood in what used to be the entrance to the ethnographic wing, and admired the glass structure. Two weeks more, and they could open the Hall. He walked down the stairs and to the entrance hall, dodging workmen on the way. Digging out his keycard required upon entering the staff wing from his pocket he greeted the ticket sellers on the way. It was sleeting outside, so only a few people were wandering around in the exhibitions. A quiet day to finish some paperwork. Garret rode the elevator up and used his keycard again to retrieve his mail from the box near the door. Then he walked to his office, leafing through envelopes and piles of paper someone had decided to fill his mailbox with again. He put on his reading glasses, and got ready to insert the keycard once again to access the office.
The door was open. He forgot about the mail and peeked in. To an archaeologist a riddle is a riddle is a riddle. You have to devote to every one of them fully, otherwise they usually won't crack. Like with that Greek amphora piece two years earlier.
He couldn't see anything from outside. It was his office after all. Holding his mail in his left hand, he stepped in.
Dr. Lara Croft was sitting in his guest chair, one arm immobilized against her chest with a supporting strap, and Dr. Josephine Ross of Chicago University sat on his desk, feet raised onto the handcushions of the chair Lara was sitting in. Josephine was holding something with her both hands - it was large and round, wrapped in plastic and fabric. Lara had a small wooden box in her lap. They both smiled at him.
"Ladies," he greeted politely, "How was your trip?"
Lara put the wooden box on the table and together with Josephine, ripped the fabric and plastic off the object, uncovering a golden funeral mask inlaid with valuable stones.
"Eventful," Lara replied, and shared a knowing look with Josephine.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I would like to express my humblest gratitude to the following people who never fail to amaze me and truly make my day:
Tim Radley. Dear, dear friend, fellow author, editing help and kind Internet spirit. Where would I (and Lara) be without you?
Jeppe. One of the most inspiring people I've ever met. Your sharpest wit and your wonderful and constructive criticism (and praise, if I'm having a good day ;=) keep me down to Earth and raise me to the skies.
SilverRope. For setting yet another standard of quality in TR writing with your works and being a great person to talk to.
Percy Balemans and William Pelser, my guides in scuba diving, who tirelessly answered my questions and supported my attempt at describing a wonderful sport I only have limited experience in. I admire and envy what you have experienced.
Feedback? That's what makes us authors write. All feedback is welcomed at Siirma6@surfeu.fi