Thanks, Froline el-Vasper! Hopefully, you'll be suprised by how it turns out. :-) Someone pointed out that the first chapter makes very little sense, especially as it's called 'Epilogue'. Unclear, I know, but it acts an epilogue for parts 1 and 2, outlining the sort of character that Kurtis has become, and thus also being a prologue for part 3. Maybe I should change it to 'Epilogue/Prologue' or something equally mysterious and arty. ;-)

Deceptive Confidence

Bryce and Hillary stood in the reception area of Nixon's Auction House, leaning against the walls and cursing to themselves silently. The Dagger of Xian had been sold that day, they'd been told, by a buyer for a Nottingham-based antiques chain. They could have the contact details, but other than that, it was out of the auction house's hands, and their cut of the profits would be in the post, and could they please leave because the evening auction aimed at international buyers in other time zones was almost over, and they were about to close.

"Lara is going to kill us. You do realise that?" Bryce rubbed his temples tiredly and swore under his breath.

Hillary didn't answer straight away. He stood, looking thoughtful. "Not if she doesn't find out she won't."

Bryce looked up, the thought not having occurred to him. "Are you suggesting we somehow, without Lara's help or knowledge, get the dagger back before she returns in..." - he looked at his watch – forty eight hours?"

"Yes."

"Despite the fact that the buyers might have shipped it anywhere in the country or indeed the world, and despite the fact that we'll have to use Lara's expense account to do it."

"Yes."

"And how are we going to do that?" Bryce folded his arms and fixed Hillary with a stare.

"We replace the money we take from her expense account with the profit from the dagger's sale, act quickly, and you re-route all her calls to the house to our mobile phones without her realising."

"That easily, eh?"

"Do you like your job, Bryce? Your over salaried, under worked, accommodation in historic sprawling upper class estate and board included, job?"

Bryce looked at Hillary, considering. "Good point. Bloody good point."

Both men turned and headed for the exit, returning to the manor to rest for an early start the next morning.

Closing the door behind him, Kurtis smiled weakly at the guards posted outside Lara's quarters and took the few steps down the corridor to his room next door. He quickly stepped inside, slamming the door behind him and leaning against it, exhaling long and heavily. He closed his eyes and banged his head back against the door.

"Fuck."

"You know, this is actually really fun!" Bryce yelled to Hillary over the roar of the road and the speeding wind that carried his voice away. "I can see why Lara does this!"

Hillary spared his new working partner a glance from the motorway. "It is rather exciting!"

They were breaking the speed limit on the M1 motorway, heading North to Nottingham, on the trail of the Dagger of Xian that had been accidentally auctioned off the day before. The top was down on Bryce's Ford StreetKa, it was warm and sunny, and they had forgotten all about the severity of the situation in the adrenaline of the chase. They were on a mission to get the dagger back before Lara ever found out it was gone, and all thoughts that there was a good possibility that they could fail were quashed under the joy of having a legitimate reason to swan off around Britain in a sports car with fully justified access to Lara's funds to pay for it all.

"Our exit," Bryce remarked, pointing to the approaching slip road. Hillary obediently manoeuvred the car off the motorway, and they slowed towards the exit roundabout.

"Which way?" asked Hillary, stopping at the line in the right hand lane. Bryce examined the route planner.

"First exit."

"We're in the wrong lane, then?"

"Yep."

"We really should have brought Lara's Avensis, at least that has satellite navigation."

"No sunroof, though."

Hillary shrugged. "We'll just go right round the roundabout."

"Ok."

A knock sounded at Mr Cheney's door, interrupting him from his breakfast perusal of the daily reports coming in from The Company's various operations across the globe. Calmly relegating them to his desk, he leant back in his chair and looked to the door. "Come in."

Kurtis entered, shutting the door behind him. "The guards outside Lara's room last night were asleep, y'know."

"Cane and Glew? The latest in a long line of unsatisfactory references for them, I'm afraid. They're due on a suicide mission tomorrow. I'll see you get someone more capable next time. Lady Croft's been no trouble, has she?"

"No, no, just thought you'd like to know. Lara's on our side now, she won't be causing any problems for us."

"You're sure?" Cheney looked to Kurtis, his chin casually resting in his hand, betrayed only by the challenging stare in his eyes.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Mr Cheney. She's ours now." Kurtis spoke softly and evenly, staring right back. His eyes conveyed a certain air of authority of his own, one that dared Mr Cheney to stand up to it.

Mr Cheney laughed. "I like you, Mr Trent. You have a certain quality. One that inspires people to give you the respect that you demand, even if you don't deserve it." He paused. "To be clear – where exactly do you stand with her?"

Kurtis blinked slowly, considering his answer but retaining full command of the interview. "We were friends. But I made a mistake and it nearly got her killed."

"And now you're no longer friends."

"She didn't know it was my fault, but I walked out on her soon after, and the next time she saw me I had a gun to her. So no, we're no longer friends."

"I'm expecting you to work together."

"I'll win her back."

"Just as long as she doesn't win you back. You're contracted to me, Mr Trent. Don't disappoint me."

"I'm prepared to do what you've asked me to. Don't worry." Kurtis smiled encouragingly and turned to leave. As he reached the door, Mr Cheney spoke, stopping him. Kurtis stared towards the door as Mr Cheney kept his own eyes on his desk.

"Do not let her get to you, Trent." Cheney looked up, catching Kurtis' eye as he looked over his shoulder. "I'd hate for you to feel that you'd have to grieve her at the conclusion of this particular...operation."

Kurtis simply walked out.

Hillary and Bryce, having eventually found Brownsword's, the upmarket antiques shop in Nottingham, strolled in. Hillary made for the counter whilst Bryce started poking around, browsing through the trinkets.

"We were told you bought a piece from Nixon's yesterday, a dagger."

The assistant at the counter was a young man, possibly an apprentice into the business. "I'm not really sure, let me get the manager." He disappeared into the back to find help from someone in a more senior position. Hillary, bouncing on his toes patiently, looked over to Bryce.

"Hey!" said Bryce, "Look, it's a replica of the Atlantean Scion! Does Lara know they're making these?" He picked it up and examined it, scrutinising the detail against the real thing.

Hillary's eyes darted around, as if checking for Lara's presence. "They haven't got a Dagger of Xian, have they?"

Bryce poked through the irreverently displayed fakes. "No. Shame."

The manager and assistant reappeared. "You're looking for a dagger?"

"The Dagger of Xian, yes, Nixon's told us you purchased it yesterday."

"Yes, Sir, we did. It's on its way to one of our shops, but it won't be coming here, we don't take extremely rare pieces at this branch. No market."

"Do you know where it's going?"

"Not exactly, but I would think Glasgow."

"Could you give us the address of the shop, please?"

"Glasgow then?" said Bryce, as the manager searched for the address and scribbled it down.

"If you give me your phone number, I can let you know if I find out where it's going," the manager smiled as he passed the address to Hillary.

"You've been talking to Mr Cheney," said Lara matter of fact-ly yet accusatory, appearing behind Kurtis as he was checking the progress of their expedition on a public computer terminal, making him jump.

Turning around after his initial shock, he folded his arms and leant back against the shelf that the keyboard was placed on, it's accompanying monitor set into the wall. "You been looking for me?"

"Yes. And I'm thinking that maybe, you don't trust me." The two stared at each other for a second, gauging reactions.

Kurtis' eyes flicked to the guard that was accompanying Lara out of her room. "You can leave her with me." The guard nodded and quietly left.

"I don't think Mr Cheney trusts me either. An escort at all times?" Lara's tone was light, but it was clear that she wanted answers.

Kurtis put a hand on her shoulder, steering her away down the corridor back towards their rooms. "I'm doing business with him, you were brought here under duress. How would you treat us?"

"Oh, but I'm a business partner now as well."

"Nevertheless, an initially unwilling one. You aren't being left out of anything important, ok? I was just informing Cheney that you're on our side now."

"Except I'm not."

They stopped and turned to look at each other. "He doesn't know that."

After a moment Lara changed the subject. "When do we leave?"

"Tonight. Eight o clock. We should be there by ten, ready to start under cover of darkness."

"And until then?"

"We're free." A suggestive smile appeared on Kurtis' lips. "To do whatever we want." A looked Lara up and down appreciatively. She sniggered, looking to the floor and shaking her head in a show of disbelief.

"Do you honestly think that I'd want to spend one second with you for anything other than business?"

"Oh come on, Croft, you can't deny we had something."

"We had something." With that, Lara turned and strode down the corridor back to her room, unescorted.

Bryce and Hillary were on their way to Glasgow. Frustratingly, the dagger was not.

"Damn," Hillary muttered as he hung up his cell phone. "Glasgow refused it, they've had a lot of attempted break-ins lately," he complained to Bryce, who was driving. "It's being sent down to Newcastle under Lyme." Bryce sighed, getting in lane for the next exit.

A mile passed and then, "Hey!" said Hillary, twisting round in the passenger seat to look after a storage truck travelling in the opposite direction. "That's a Brownsword's van!"

"They've got our dagger!" Bryce cried, eyes darting from the road to the southbound carriage and back again, wanting to swing the car round but knowing it was impossible.

"Come back!"