Lara was never one to back down from a confrontation and tonight was no exception. She was already sliding back her compartment door, gun in her hand, moments after she heard the first gunshot. Now she cautiously glanced out into the corridor of the train, snatching a look in both directions before ducking inside once again. And she was not the only one: other passengers were peering into the corridor as well, searching for the origin of the noise. They seemed completely oblivious to the danger that they were putting themselves in.
"Civilians," she muttered darkly.
Lara had barely spoken the words when another gunshot cut through the air. This time it was frighteningly close. A series of screams followed, and Lara heard the sound of compartment doors being hurriedly closed. She only hoped that nobody had paid the price for their curiosity.
Clicking the safety off her gun, Lara dropped to one knee and carefully peered around the door to her right. Two black-clad figures were making their way down the train towards her. Both were carrying sub-machine guns. Lara quickly ducked back into her compartment with a soft curse.
Perhaps these men were simply hijackers; after all, the Orient Express was famed for its ostentation and luxury, but Lara knew that this could not be a mere coincidence. Somebody knew that she had boarded this train and had sent these men after her. In any other situation Lara would have gone out there, guns blazing, and hoped to eliminate these men before they had even registered her presence. This time, however, she was surrounded by civilians. She would have to subdue these men as cleanly as possible. She needed answers.
Lara set herself firmly in the corner next to the doorway, crouching out of view of the corridor outside with her gun firmly trained on the open door. The gunshots had ceased but she could hear sounds of distress from neighbouring compartments. Obviously these men were checking each compartment in turn. They did not seem to be making much headway, for Lara heard a few muted screams and then the sound of each compartment door being slammed shut again. Soon she heard footsteps approaching her position.
Lara steeled herself and tried to calm her breathing, willing her heart not to beat so loudly. She would have a split second to act before these men registered her presence, and she did not have much room to manoeuvre. Any mistake could easily prove fatal.
The door of her neighbour's compartment was suddenly thrown open. Lara heard a loud curse, more footsteps, and then the edge of a bulky silhouette as it flashed across the wall of the train corridor. This was it.
Lara leapt out of her hiding place and smashed her elbow into the first man's face. There was a sickening crack as the force of the blow fractured his jaw. His gun went skidding down the corridor. Before he even fell to the floor Lara had thrown up her gun and thrust the barrel between the eyes of the second man; his face registered total shock as Lara seized his throat and hissed threateningly: "Come with me."
He was in no position to argue. Behind Lara his companion lay writhing upon the floor in agony, blood pooling from his ruined face and staining the rich carpeting red. His eyes flickered towards this sight and then back, meeting the steely gaze of Lara once more. He gave her a barely perceptible nod.
Without loosening her grip upon his throat Lara forced her attacker into her compartment. Once they were both inside she ordered him to drop his gun. When the man hesitated Lara tightened her grip, threatening to choke him.
"Drop it," she snarled. "Trust me, it's not going to be of any further use."
She saw fear flicker across the man's face for a moment. Obviously he was torn between his sense of duty and the thought of preserving his own hide. Eventually, however, common sense prevailed. He let his sub-machine gun slip from his fingers. It clattered uselessly to the floor. Lara kicked it aside into the corner of the compartment. Then she released the man's throat, keeping her gun trained upon him as she reached back and slid the compartment door closed behind them. There was now no means of escape.
"Who sent you?" Lara asked him, steadying her gun again. "They must be paying you well if you're willing to make such a scene."
Her attacker stood with his feet planted, hands hovering awkwardly at his side. In the light of her desk lamp Lara studied his face. The man had dark closely-shaven hair and a swarthy complexion; he was dressed all in black. Lara could tell from a glance that he was wearing a flack jacket beneath his clothes. From the corridor outside the agonised moans of his companion could be heard. Despite the seriousness of the situation the man before her gave a hoarse laugh.
"We didn't set out to make a scene," he told her. He had a heavy accent. "Damned security guard got in our way, son-of-a-bitch…" He trailed off and began to mumble a string of expletives which she did not understand.
Lara raised an eyebrow.
"And you took him out for free, did you? Out of the goodness of your heart?"
The man gave a grunt and said: "I'm not telling you anything."
Lara approached him with slow steps. She did not lower her gun.
"I beg to differ. I think that you will tell me everything that I want know." Lara smiled. "I just need to make you reconsider."
And she struck out and caught him in the back with her boot, forcing the man roughly into the wall. Then she firmly pressed her gun to the back of his head as she checked him over for other weapons. When she was satisfied that the man was unarmed she drew back and asked again: "Who sent you?"
When there was no immediate answer Lara pressed her gun a little harder against his head. Her attacker gave a soft cry of pain.
"Who sent you?" she snarled. "And please do elaborate. I'm feeling a tad confused about the whole situation."
The man flinched from the pressure of the gun; weakly he attempted to turn his head and face his assailant. Lara grabbed his arm and twisted it violently behind his back. The man cried out again, this time much more loudly.
"Don't make me angry," Lara hissed through clenched teeth. "Or would you rather I break your arm instead? Bet that would eat into your next paycheque…"
And she wrenched the man's arm even higher, threatening to shatter the bones there. Her attacker stifled a scream of agony.
"Alright, alright," he conceded. His voice was tinged with panic and he was breathing heavily. "I'll tell you if you stop trying to rip my fucking arm off!"
Lara released the pressure upon the man's arm, albeit slightly. She continued, however, to keep a firm grip upon her gun as she held it against the back of his head. She was not going to take any chances.
"Well?" she said. "Enlighten me."
"We were sent to kill you."
Lara rolled her eyes.
"Yes, I sort of guessed that already."
The man gave a snort of derisive laughter.
"We were meant to get rid of you so that our work would not be disturbed," he told her. "You were just a loose end that needed tidying up."
Lara remembered hearing those words before and felt a surge of anger. The sight of Werner's lifeless body flashed before her eyes again; she saw his glasses lying shattered upon the blood-stained carpet. Lightning flashed in her memory. Angrily Lara wrenched the man's arm behind his back. He cried out with renewed pain.
"My patience is starting to wear thin," she growled, "so either tell me something useful or those might as well be your last words." She drove her gun harder into the man's head to illustrate her point. "And I dare you to test my sincerity."
This threat seemed to have the desired effect, for the man suddenly blurted out: "Master Karel. H-he is the one who hired us."
Lara felt as though the bottom of her stomach had dropped out.
"Karel?"
"Yes." The man smiled at the fear now tingeing her voice. "We lured you here with a phone call. We had to get you out of the way - Master Karel is conducting other business as we speak."
"What business?" Lara asked. She did not like the way this conversation was heading at all. When the man did not immediately answer she growled and said again: "What business?"
"Business in Prague. He never actually left." The man laughed a little. "I'm surprised you didn't see this coming."
Lara ignored this jibe.
"Just tell me what this business is," she said angrily. "And why Karel had to get me out of the way to accomplish it. Last time we spoke he seemed quite keen to enlist me to his psychotic cause."
"Isn't it obvious? Master Karel is going to the hospital to pay your friend a little visit."
Lara's heart skipped a beat. How could she have been so blind? Only a few days ago she and Kurtis had discussed the very real possibility that Karel might have survived the ruin of the Strahov. It had been nearly two weeks since the incineration of Eckhardt's lab had destroyed the Sleeper. Obviously Karel had not been idle.
For a moment all Lara felt was sheer panic, but then anger began to cloud her senses.
"If Karel wanted me dead then why did he lead me away from Prague?" she asked. "And what does he want with Kurtis?"
Her attacker shrugged his shoulders. The gesture was rendered rather useless due to the pressure was Lara was exerting against his back. As if in realisation of this the man gave a curt laugh and said: "I don't know what he wants exactly, but he needs this guy alive. He was quite specific about that. Your friend will probably wish he was dead after Master Karel is through with him."
Lara had heard enough. Without a word she lowered her gun and released the man's arm from her iron grip. He turned to face her in surprise as Lara returned her weapon to the holster hidden at her ankle.
"Any other time," Lara said as she straightened again. "I would have put a bullet through your brain without a second thought. But on a train full of witnesses that would probably not be the best idea." Lara smiled ironically. "Especially after that pesky murder conviction was just lifted." She shrugged. "Never mind. I guess we'll just have to do this in a more painful way."
And before the man could react Lara struck out and booted him squarely in the crotch. Her attacker gave a strangled cry, his face going rigid with pain. Lara simply drew back with a satisfied smirk, then turned and slowly walked over to the spot where the man's gun lay forgotten in the corner of the compartment. She disengaged the barrel and tipped all of the bullets onto the floor. Then she tossed the gun aside and approached the man again. He had collapsed onto his knees.
"For all of your precautions," she said, "perhaps you should have worn a cup."
And Lara punched him across the jaw. The man fell like a dead weight to the floor, unconscious. She looked down at him without emotion.
Further down the train Lara could hear other passengers moving around; several compartment doors slid open as they emerged to check if the coast was clear. With a heavy sigh she approached her own door, opened it and ducked her head into the corridor. Several anxious faces stared back at her. The other man was still lying upon the floor, clutching his hands to his ruined face.
"It's safe now," Lara called out. She dearly wished that someone here spoke English. "You can come out. Somebody tell the driver that we were hijacked by robbers. I stopped them." Lara looked without pity at the man moaning at her feet. "And bring something to restrain them with."
Several people broke off down the corridor to carry out her wishes. Obviously there were some English-speaking passengers on board, or perhaps violence was a universal language. Lara took the opportunity to step back inside her compartment and study the unconscious form of the man she had interrogated. Bending down she rummaged through his pockets. In the front pocket of his jeans she found a familiar black business card. It was the same one she had found upon one of the guards in Le Serpent Rouge. Lara knew what words it would bear before she even turned it over:
The Agency.
XXX
After answering the questions of the police waiting at the next station all Lara wanted to do was collapse. It seemed as though she had done nothing but deal with the machinations of Interpol over the last few weeks, and it was all she could do to bite her lip and prevent herself from screaming in frustration at their endless line of questioning. She stuck resolutely to her story that these men were nothing more than robbers, and kept the business card she had found on her attacker's person well hidden in her back pocket. It was perfectly clear to Lara that Karel had hired the mercenary services of Marten Gunderson to take her out, just as Eckhardt had done before him. This was thus personal business that she wished to deal with herself. Getting Interpol involved would only complicate matters; besides, they had no idea of the magnitude of events which were now unfolding.
When she was finally released from questioning Lara realised that she was stranded in a tiny village somewhere near the Czech-German border. Due to the circumstances the Orient Express had ground to a halt for the night; Lara could not afford to wait until the next day to reach another station and catch an eastward bound train. In the end she found a payphone and begrudgingly ordered a taxi. It took half an hour to arrive from a neighbouring town.
Soon Lara was sitting in its rather tattered backseat, anxiously staring out of the window and drumming her fingers in agitation upon her knee. A darkened landscape blurred past her window, punctuated here and there by the twinkling lights of distant towns. Her driver may have not spoken much English, but all Lara had needed to do was shove a large wad of notes into his hand and her request had swiftly overcome the language barrier.
A beaded cross rattled back and forth where it hung from the driver's rear-view mirror. Lara wondered idly whether he was indeed a man of devout faith, or whether such a decoration was there to merely to keep up appearances; perhaps it was a mixture of both. With a sigh she leant back in her seat and tried to get lost in the rhythm of the song currently playing upon the radio. It was no use. She could not get the thought of Kurtis out of her head. What if she was already too late? Karel would reach the hospital long before she even stepped inside the city limits of Prague. And what had The Agency soldier on the train meant when he said that Kurtis would soon wish that he was dead?
A million questions swirled through her mind as Lara was carried on towards Prague, and eventually the monotonous rhythm of the taxi's jarring suspension and her own exhaustion carried her off into a restless sleep. Her dreams were filled with flashes of lightning and her own bloodied hands. She jolted awake with a start when she realised just how long she had been sleeping.
Outside the window showed a snow-covered landscape veiled beneath the blanket of night. With a groan Lara rubbed at her eyes and straightened up again. The radio was still playing and her driver silent as he concentrated on the road; snow was falling and causing treacherous conditions. She was unsure how long she had been asleep.
Lara reached forwards and tapped on the glass partition to get the driver's attention. He started a little at the noise.
"Prague?" she asked. "Have we reached Prague yet?" She felt stupid asking such a question in English, and hastily tried to recall some of her dated German. "Ist es weit vin heir? Prag?"
The driver shook his head. He gestured to the road ahead with a wave of his hand.
"Nearly there," he said in clipped English.
And he was right. Lara looked out of the window and suddenly recognised the road that they were now driving down. It was the same one she had travelled down in the Cleaner's jeep on her way to Prague two weeks ago. They were not far from the city limits. Lara got the driver's attention again and said: "Folgen Sie dieser Straße, bitte."
As soon as the looming building of Motol Hospital came into view Lara directed her driver to pull off the main road. With a nod he turned into the hospital grounds and came to a jarring stop outside Accident and Emergency. Lara soon missed the sickening warmth of the taxi as she paid her extortionate fare and stepped out into the biting cold of Prague.
The snow was falling thickly that night; visibility was bleak and the chill wind raised goosebumps along Lara's bare arms. As the taxi turned and sped off behind her, however, the cold was no longer the sole cause of those goosebumps. Through the eddying flurries of snow Lara saw that the hospital entrance before her was barricaded by squad cars; the doors were cordoned off with a ream of yellow police tape.
She had arrived at a crime scene.
XXX
I thought I'd put another chapter up whilst my sister is at work and I can sneak onto her laptop :) I'd only printed off the first eight chapters of this story, so I've got some serious typing to do... Hopefully it won't take too long for me to rewrite the rest, and besides, it will help me to improve it. Right? :s Thank you to Lady Lara Croft and Acid-Rush once again! Your reviews always make me smile. :D
Translations:
Ist es weit vin heir? Prag? = Is it far? Prague?
Folgen Sie dieser Straße, bitte. = Follow this road, please.