:o Here's the new chapter as promised – complete with baddies! Guns! Blood! Yeah! Enjoy.

Chapter 8: Breaking and Entering

We set off for London immediately. I was cautious that we may run into more trouble while visiting Nikolajev. After our would-be assassin had failed to report back to his employers, his absence would almost certainly have been noticed. Thinking that we might have to split up at some point or make a speedy retreat, I suggested to Kurtis that we took a motorbike each. When he had finally contained his excitement, we were on our way.

The sky was dark with rainclouds, and by the time we got to London the heavens had opened and we were soaked through. We had decided to make our first port of call the university archaeology department where Nikolajev's office was situated. He may be working there over the weekend, and if not then we could check around to find his home address. I parked my bike in an alley close to the department building, while Kurtis parked his around the opposite side. If our escape route was compromised, it made sense to keep our getaway options open. I met him back at the front doors.

We peered through the glass. There was a porter's office inside, but no one behind the desk on a Saturday. The lights were off.

"If anyone's here, they will have used the keypad," I said, pointing to a panel beside the doors. "We'll have to look for another way in."

"Not necessarily," Kurtis muttered, still looking in towards the porter's office. "Do you think they'd have the number written down in there?"

"Maybe," I replied. "But why? We'd have to get inside to find out anyway."

He didn't reply, but looked around to see if anyone was nearby. We were alone. He put his arms out in front of him, palms facing upwards, and stood very still as though concentrating.

"Kurtis?" I walked around to face him. His eyelids started to flicker strangely, and his eyes seemed dead and distant. I felt very unnerved. "Kurtis? What are you doing?" I put a hand on his arm. Either he couldn't hear me or was unable to respond. He seemed to stay like that for an eternity, although it was probably only a minute or so. Eventually he seemed to come back to himself, blinking hard and sagging slightly as though exhausted. Without speaking he walked over to the keypad, tapped in a five-digit number, and pushed open the now unlocked door.

I followed, bemused. "What the hell was that?"

He looked around, and headed for a door that led to the stairs. "I call it farseeing. I can… extend my vision, outside of my body, and look round corners, into locked rooms, that sort of thing. The key code was taped to the wall in the office."

"Liar," I said. He looked at me questioningly. "You told me you didn't have any other powers."

He smiled slightly, and carried on up the stairs. "Must have slipped my mind." He hardly sounded convinving. Why hadn't he told me about this last night, when I'd asked him? What was he up to? I flushed as I realised that while he was in his bedroom, he could have been peering all around my house. At least he'd been out when I had my shower that morning. I wouldn't put it past him to have a peek without me knowing.

"Where are we going?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Fourth floor, room 4.11," he replied. "There was a list of office numbers for all the staff, too, downstairs." Although I was cross about his secretiveness, I had to admit it was a pretty impressive talent. He was even more intriguing than I'd thought.

We walked along the fourth floor corridor silently, but there didn't seem to be a soul around. Room 4.11 was locked, but we could see through the glass panel in the door that it was empty and the lights were switched off. We checked around again to make sure we were alone, then I kicked the door in.

Nikolajev's room was fascinating. Clearly he hadn't been visited by our pyromaniac because all his photographs, diagrams, maps and notes were still pinned up around the walls. Kurtis went over to the desk and started leafing through some files there. I took out the digital camera from my backpack, and started to move slowly around the room, analysing the documents and photographing anything that seemed useful. I was soon completely absorbed.

"This is fantastic," I said in awe. "These texts can make up for a lot of what was lost in the fire. Not all the files I had on my laptop though," I added with a sigh.

A moment later Kurtis cleared his throat. "I have a confession to make," he said awkwardly. "It should cheer you up a bit, but you're also gonna be really pissed off."

I looked at him through narrowed eyes. He was avoiding my stare. "Go on," I said.

"Last night. After we got back from the banquet and you'd gone to bed, I –" he rubbed the side of his face in embarassment. "I went downstairs, and I checked out the files on your computer."

I was shocked. "You hacked into my private files?"

"Well – yeah. And then I, uh, copied them all onto discs."

I stared at him, stunned. "So that means -"

"That we've still got copies of all those files, yeah. It's not all lost."

I scowled. "I was going to say, it means that you're even more of a weasel than I thought." He looked pained. "Why didn't you just wait until I showed you the research myself? Not that I could have done, I suppose, because it was burnt to a cinder, but still. Why did you sneak around like that?" I wasn't really angry; after all he'd saved data that would have otherwise been lost. I was just exasperated, and curious.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Habit, maybe? I'm used to sneaking around. And I wanted to be sure you weren't keeping anything back from me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Like you keeping back your 'farsight' from me, you mean?" He smiled sheepishly.

I shrugged. There was no point getting annoyed when we had work to do here. Plus, I could relate to his argument. "I suppose I would have done the same thing in your position," I said. Hiding a smile, I went on; "I went through your bag when you arrived."

"Is that so?" he replied. "I guess we're not safe turning our backs on each other." Amused, we returned our attention to Nikolajev's office.

"Hey," Kurtis said suddenly, breaking my concentration. I looked up reluctantly. He was holding up a sheaf of notes. "These are descriptions of some of the artifacts they brought back from Cappadocia. He mentions having them checked out by another guy, Professor –" he scanned the paper in his hand. "Caffrey. Martin Caffrey. Seems like he works in this department too. If I can find his office, the artifacts could still be there."

I nodded. "Good idea." He left the room, and I heard footsteps retreat along the corridor. I finished scouring the documents pinned up around the walls, then went over to the desk and started looking through drawers. After a while I heard a muffled crash from somewhere upstairs. Kurtis getting into Caffrey's office, no doubt. Nikolajev's desk drawers didn't hold anything interesting, but I decided it might be worth having a look on his computer. I switched on the machine and sat back in the office chair while it started up. I was just starting to browse through the files on the hard disk when I heard the door open behind me.

I spoke without looking up. "So, did you find anything?"

Cold metal pressed against the back of my neck, and a cold, Scandinavian voice replied: "Yes, Miss Croft, I would say I did."

* * *

The pain in my head was unbearable, but I managed out of pure obstinacy to stay conscious. I sprawled on the floor by the desk, trying to summon the strength to get to my hands and knees. Vaguely, I heard someone speak.

"Check the rest of the building. She's here with someone else." Several sets of heavy footsteps hurried off down the corridor. Shit. Why couldn't I have kept my mouth shut? It had been careless of me to assume we were alone. And now Kurtis could be in danger. Idiot.

"Nikolajev," I croaked.

"Wrong again, Croft," the voice said. I focused all my strength and clambered to my knees. The same gun that had struck me to the ground pointed straight at my face. But it wasn't Nikolajev holding it.

"I don't believe we've met," I said through teeth gritted against anger and pain. There was blood, hot and sticky, on the side of my head. I recognised the man in front of me from the banquet, although I hadn't paid him much attention then. He was dark-haired and, aside from the gun, rather unprepossessing. It was Nikolajev's assistant.

"Goran Nordqvist. Pleased to meet you. I already know who you are, although I didn't expect you to still be quite so alive. I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Trent the other evening, but he wasn't quite so charming."

I swayed on my knees, but didn't fall. "Where's Nikolajev?" I managed to say.

"Hmm. Do you think I'm working for him? Or do you think he's working for me? Interesting puzzle, no? Don't do that," he finished sharply as I moved a hand towards my holsters. His gun jabbed closer to me.

"Go on," I said, raising my hands above my head. "I'm sure you're dying to tell me all about it."

He smiled thinly. "Nikolajev is dead. I don't think I want to tell you any more than that. I'm here to take care of his paperwork. And now you, too, of course." I glared at him through the pounding of my head. "I assume Mr. Trent is around here somewhere, so when he's been found I can tie up all my loose ends at once."

A sudden roar of machine gun fire tore through the silence of the building, followed by another shorter burst. I screwed up my eyes at the sound, and breathed in a ragged gasp. No, please, not Kurtis.  Nordqvist laughed quietly, no doubt at the look on my face as much as the sound itself.

"Well, there goes one loose end," he said. If I could have done anything at all at that moment to hurt him, I would have. I wanted to rip his head from his shoulders with my bare hands, but I was trapped by the gun in my face. Nordqvist didn't seem ready to take his eyes off me until his men returned. How the hell was I going to get out of this?

Minutes ticked by, and then a noise began in the hallway outside like irregular, shuffling footsteps approaching. After a few moments the door swung open and a black-clad soldier stumbled into the room. At the sound my eyes flashed up towards the figure in the doorway, who was bleeding from a wide gash in his chest. Nordqvist also turned automatically towards the door, and I grabbed the opportunity. In a heartbeat I was on my feet, one hand snatching the gun from his hand while the other reached for the pistol in my right holster, which I levelled at Nordqvist's head. I pointed the barrel of his own gun at his gut. Behind him the soldier sank to his knees, moving his mouth but producing no sound. He fell forwards onto his stomach and stopped moving.

I glared into Nordqvist's face. "Now, what should I do with you?"

He suddenly lunged, grasping for my arm, and I fired the gun in my left hand. He staggered sideways, blood pumping from the hole in his torso, and I hurried past him to the door. I turned and shot him once more in the back with my pistol.

I dashed down the corridor and onto the stairway. Had Kurtis been upstairs or downstairs? Up, I thought. I turned to climb the stairs, but a figure was hurtling towards me. Another soldier, already dead, was thrown down the stairs and I had to leap aside to avoid being carried down with it. I looked up. Kurtis was standing at the top of the flight, Chirugai in hand, blood dripping from the five exposed blades. As our eyes met, we each breathed a visible sigh of relief that the other was – relatively – unhurt. He jogged down the stairs towards me.

"Are they all dead?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Now let's get the fuck out of here."

* * *

What do you think? Please let me know if you like/don't like how things are going. I'll post more VERY soon.

Next chapter: Fight! Fight! Fight! That tension is all getting a bit much for Lara and Kurtis ;)