:o Wahey! I finally finished the new chapter! Sorry it took so long, been busy. And so many other great fics to read! What a talented lot. I'm glad people are still enjoying my story, thanks for reading and reviewing.

Jewell and Mystiqueela: I welcome you into the Order! We worship Kurtis the God of Chocolate nightly at the Sanitarium. Heehee :)

Will: thankyou for lovely review! Get writing! It's very rewarding to get your ideas down, and once you start you realise you can't stop.

Anyway, on to Turkey.

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Chapter 11: Derinkuyu

The day after I got Kurtis' letter, I was on a plane flying across the Mediterranean. I had printed out all of the files and photographs from my computer the night before, and I flicked through them now as we sailed above the clouds. I also had a sheaf of newspapers that I'd picked up at Heathrow. Events at the archaeology department had made it to the inside pages of most of the papers. Nordqvist's body had been found, as had those of the mercenaries, and what had aroused even more curiosity was the fact that Dr. Nikolajev, Nordqvist's boss, was now missing. The police seemed to have decided that Nordqvist was just an innocent victim, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, I thought; he didn't have a gun when he was found because I'd taken it from him. No one had any clear idea of a motive for the raid, or who had slaughtered the armed men, but some suspected that it may be linked to some strange Turkish artefacts that were now missing from the department. Professor Caffrey was quoted in one or two of the articles confirming that a particularly interesting item had been taken from his office. The police were currently approaching people who had seen Nikolajev in the last few days. I felt a twinge of anxiety, knowing I had probably been seen at the banquet with him, and hoped that if the police paid a visit to Croft Manor it would be after the bullet-riddled hallway had been redecorated.

We landed in Istanbul shortly before four in the afternoon, and three hours later I was on a smaller plane to Kayseri in Cappadocia. I would stay in Kayseri for the night, and in the morning take a rented car to the town of Nevsehir some twenty miles north of the Derinkuyu site. The second flight was thankfully only a short hour and a half, and it felt good to be on my feet again and breathe in fresh air as I walked down the steps from the plane. I generally don't like travelling unless I'm in the driving seat. The sunset was stunning as I disembarked, and by the time I picked up my luggage and got in a taxi there was still an amber glaze across the horizon.

Kayseri was beautiful, the windows of the old buildings shining with freshly lit lamps as we drove along the narrow streets to my hotel. I paid the taxi driver, and carried my case into the small reception. The man who checked me in and gave me my key was the owner of the hotel, and very friendly. It was a long shot, but I asked him if an American man had checked into the hotel in the last day or so. He shook his head. I said goodnight and went up to my room. The hotel was quite modest, and my room small, but still charming. I had hoped to go for a walk around the pretty town before bed, but as soon as I sat down on the bed the prospect of sleep became far more tempting. I was surprisingly tired after the day's traveling, and so I turned in for the night.

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It was a shame not to have time to explore Kayseri, but my priority was to get to Nevsehir and then to the underground cities. After a large breakfast - I was ravenous - I set off to hire a car, and was on my way.

The scenery of Cappadocia was breathtaking. The blue sky was vast above me, and prehistoric volcanic activity had created impossible landscapes of rock all around. In one valley, rocks jutted from the ground in extraordinary pointed formations which the locals called 'fairy chimneys'.  In other areas the hillsides looked more like crumpled silk, deeply scored but also smoothed by millennia of wind and rain. Several times on the journey I was unable to resist pulling over to have a look around, so I didn't reach Nevsehir until the afternoon. 

The town was arranged around a sloping hillside, and I found a room in a hotel at the top of the town with a gorgeous view from the balcony. After dumping my case in the room, I set off around Nevsehir on foot to see if I could find Kurtis in any of the hotels or inns. After two hours in the hot sun I'd had no luck, and started to fell fed up. I wished I didn't care so much where he was. It would be far more useful to me to drive down to Derinkuyu and scout around the archaeological site than to waste valuable time looking for a man who only made my life more complicated. I looked up at the sky. There should still be a few hours of daylight left. I trekked back to the hotel and picked up my backpack and local maps, then as an afterthought strapped on my holsters. I didn't want to take any chances if there were enemies at the site. Back outside, I climbed into the open-top jeep and set off along the road to Derinkuyu.

After about half an hour I passed through Derinkuyu town, and then headed towards the site of the underground settlement. I parked the jeep about half a mile away, and continued on foot. There was a tourist entrance to the caverns, but I steered clear of it. The public could only visit a very limited area of the city, and that wasn't the section I was interested in. A cluster of large tents and trailers was set up some distance away from the tourist centre, and I could make out a number of figures moving around between the tents. Nikolajev may not be around any more, but someone was certainly still investigating the site. I approached cautiously, and crept through undergrowth until I was behind one of the white tents. I could hear voices inside, and although I couldn't hear much, the language didn't sound like Turkish. I crept further along the edge of the tent, and peered around the corner. At the centre of the camp were several men and women standing by a smaller, makeshift tent covered in green tarpaulin. Perhaps the entrance to the underground site was inside. I noticed with some trepidation that some of the men around the tent were armed with machine guns; not your typical digging equipment. Could they be part of the same private army that we had encountered at the archaeology department in London? As I watched, a flap in the tarpaulin was pulled aside and a man emerged into the sunlight. I gasped and pulled my head back behind the tent.

"Nikolajev," I whispered. Nordqvist had told me he was dead. True, the assistant hadn't been the most trustworthy of people, but he'd seemed certain of that fact. I was confused. Could I trust Nikolajev or not? If Nordqvist had turned out to be his enemy, maybe he and I were still on the same side. Maybe the armed men were for protection against whoever Nordqvist had been working with. But I didn't want to take any chances. I had a gut feeling that things weren't quite right at this camp. So how was I going to get past all these people to have a look around for myself? I found myself wishing that I knew where Kurtis was, wishing he was here so we could come up with some kind of a plan together. This annoyed me somewhat. When did I start needing anyone else around? I shook my head. There was no use letting my pride get in the way; we did work well together, and I may not have made it through the Strahov if it hadn't been for him. Plus that intriguing gold medallion was still in his possession.

I crept away from the camp again, and made my way back to the car. As I drove back towards Derinkuyu town my stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Evening was approaching now and the sky was starting to turn gold. I spotted a lovely looking restaurant in the town as I drove through, and decided that I may as well stop and eat here instead of waiting until I got back to Nevsehir.

I ordered a huge lamb kebab, which I washed down with a bottle of cold beer. The food was delicious. I was just thinking about how I had to spend more time in Turkey, when I was distracted by a scrap of conversation at the end of the room. I speak very little Turkish, but I had just heard the word Amerikalý. American. I looked around to see the waiter chatting to the barman. I gulped down the rest of my beer and walked over to them. The barman wandered off into the back room.

The waiter looked up and addressed me in English. "Your food was okay?" I smiled.

"Delicious, thankyou. I'd like to pay the bill now, please." I took out my wallet and pulled out a few notes. While the waiter was working out my bill, I said casually, "I'm looking for someone around here. An American man, tall, dark hair, about thirty? I don't suppose you've seen anyone like that, have you?"

He turned and flashed me a grin. "No, no, you don't want American man. Turkish men, much better." He looked me over slowly, then stopped suddenly as he saw the pistols strapped against my thighs. I smiled.

"Believe me, I really do want to find this person. I overheard you talking about an American a moment ago. Now, can you help me or not?" I ran a forefinger over the barrel of my left pistol.

The waiter's expression had changed. The poor boy looked quite nervous. "Okay, I think so. Maybe. A man was in here last night, American, like you say. Left a big tip. That's why I remember him. And he had a gun, like you," he added quietly.

"Do you have any idea where he's staying?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No. Maybe in Derinkuyu. But not many hotels here."

I smiled at him warmly, and handed him another couple of notes. "Thankyou," I said. "Give my compliments to the chef."

Outside I got back into the jeep and set off up the street. Could Kurtis be staying right here in Derinkuyu? I called in at the few hotels and guesthouses I passed, and asked after Kurtis, but no one seemed to have any idea. The last place I called at was an inn on the outskirts of the town, where a rather dingy little row of rooms were set alongside a courtyard behind the bar. I had just been told once again that there were no American visitors, and was heading back to the car when I spotted something in the shadows. A motorcycle was leaning against the wall of the inn by the courtyard. It was the same model that Kurtis had been riding in Paris the first time I saw him, although this one had Turkish number plates. It wasn't much of a lead, but I decided to go back into the inn and ask if anyone knew whose bike it was. As I approached the bar, the woman I had spoken to a minute earlier was busy talking on the phone. It sounded as if she was speaking English. When she looked up and saw me, she broke off and quickly slammed down the phone.

"Can I help?" she asked, trying to seem calm. I leaned forward over the bar.

"There's a bike outside," I said. "Do you know who it belongs to?" The bar was practically empty.

She shook her head, too abruptly, and spoke. "No. I told you, we don't have any guests."

My eyes narrowed. "No you didn't. You told me you didn't have any American guests." She looked worried.

"Yes, that's what I mean to say."

I sighed. "Okay", I said, removing one of my pistols and laying it on casually on the bar, my hand still holding it loosely. I hated to be so blunt, but I was getting impatient. "Which room is he in?"

"No," she said again. "I don't know who you mean." She was starting to look panicked. I held up my other hand to calm her.

"Please. Look, it's fine. He's a friend of mine. Nothing's going to happen to you. I promise."

She paused, but knew she couldn't keep up the pretence. "Room four," she whispered finally.

I smiled as kindly as I could. "Thankyou."

I knocked on the door of room four and waited. There was no sound from within. I knocked again, louder and for longer, and thought I heard footsteps inside. But still no reply. I knocked for a third and final time, and was about to turn away and have a look through the window when I heard a voice from behind the door.

"Who is it?" My heart leapt. It was Kurtis. His voice sounded oddly cautious. I put my face close to the door.

"Kurtis, it's Lara," I replied, hoping that wouldn't put him off. We hadn't parted on the best terms. No reply, but after a moment the sound of a key being turned and bolts being drawn back. I waited for the door to open, and tried to compose myself.

After several seconds the door hadn't opened, so I called again. "Kurtis? Are you there?"

"Come in," came the reply. "Slowly." He sounded further away. And what was that tone in his voice? Warning? Feeling confused and uneasy, I reached for the door handle and went inside.

The room was dark. In the middle of the room there was a small folding table with a laptop computer set up on its surface, and a mess of papers and drawings. The dim computer screen was the only source of light in the room. A wooden chair stood by the table. A curtain was drawn across the window, and the fading daylight from the open doorway made little impression on the dark. I closed the door behind me and scanned around the room. I could just about make out the end of a small bed beyond the makeshift desk, and a door led off over to my right, to a bathroom I guessed. I couldn't see much else in the gloom, including Kurtis.

Suddenly there was a flash of orange light and a rush of movement. Kurtis' Chirugai flew out of the shadows towards me, stopping inches from my face and hovering dangerously close. I let out a yell of surprise, and looked towards the back of the room. In the new light from the weapon I could make out Kurtis' figure as he stepped forward slightly. As if the Chirugai hadn't made enough of an impression, his Boran X was pointed straight at my head.

"Kurtis? What the hell is going on?"

"Stay where you are," he said, voice full of cold menace, "Or I'll take your goddamn head off."

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:o Cliffhanger! Oooooh bad Ms. Croft! Hehe. So, what do you think? Good? Bad? Well, hopefully I won't be too long with the next chapter, I have some of it written already. And it's weekend so I can get stuck in :)