Wolves & Black Sheep

Family Matters, Part I: Wolves & Black Sheep

By C. Mage

The wind blew hot over the African Congo, ruffling the hairs of a group of natives and missionaries from America. They were kneeling, their faces down as the village behind them burned, the crackle of the flames audible a hundred feet away. Ten men armed with machine-guns stood around the group, ready to bash in the head of anyone bold or stupid enough to try and get to their feet.

A jeep sat nearby as the employer of the men looked on, not at the group, but at the medical supplies and equipment taken from the village before it had been burned. He turned to one of the men. "Jacob? Come here for a minute."

Jacob, one of the few white men in the group of mercenaries, came forward at the behest of the well-dressed man in the jeep. "Yes, sir?"

"I want you and two men to load everything on the jeep. They'll fetch quite a few quid on the black market." He got out of the car, his Italian loafers kicking up dust as he walked towards the group. As he approached, his trained eyes picked out three American women, all young and attractive. The fact that two of them couldn't have been older than sixteen was not lost on him; young girls often sold for higher prices than those over the age of twenty. "Lucas, take those three women away. I can sell them at Tangiers. The rest...kill them. They are of no use to me."

"Sir!" came Jacob's voice from the jeep and the leader turned back as his men tore the women away from their loved ones, crying and pleading for mercy. As the leader walked back, the remorseless guns silenced all voices forever.

"What is it?"

"Just got a message from base command." He handed the paper to the manicured fingers of the leader, who read the note and smiled. "Good news, sir?"

"Important news. I have to return to England immediately. It seems that my cousin is coming in for a visit and I have been invited to attend. Can't miss that." The man looked out through the dusty windshield at the slaves being loaded on another truck. "If I don't get back soon, I'll lose all hint of the respectability I've worked so hard to create. After all, it wouldn't do for me to be revealed as...well, as someone less than respectable."

"If I may ask, sir, what's the occasion?" Jacob got into the driver's seat as his boss got in on the passenger's side.

"Apparently, it's her birthday and she's bringing in a very special guest. Some man from the States, someone dear old Uncle holds in rather high esteem. Might prove profitable to attend. Jacob, to the airport, with all speed."

"Yes, Mr. Croft," Jacob said and hit the gas.

"Welcome home, Ms. Croft," said Alfred pleasantly, a smile hinting at his delight to see Lara coming home. "It's so good to see you again." He closed the door.

"It's good to be back, Alfred. However, I'm afraid you've made a slight error."

"Error, Miss Lara?"

She pointed to the door. Uncomprehending, Alfred opened the door to see David standing there rubbing his nose. He looked at Lara. "See? I TOLD you this was going to happen...!"

"I'm sure it was an honest mistake, Dave. Alfred, this is David Connors."

Light dawned. "Oh, dear me, sir, I'm so sorry, I thought you were the driver." He went outside and took David's bags, two fresh, brand-new black and red suitcases. "My deepest apologies."

"That's okay...people think I'm a low-life anyways," David said sardonically, then turned to Lara. "I told you this was a bad idea."

"Now come on, Dave...you know that I wouldn't let my birthday go by without you being here. It wouldn't be any fun." Nor would it feel right. "Now, come on."

"Lara has told us a great deal about you, Master Connors. I apologize deeply for my faux pas." Alfred helped David into the foyer and closed the great oak doors. David resisted a little, looking around the grand building, a little daunted.

"That's okay...and, Alfred? Just call me Dave, ok?"

"Yes, Master David."

David sighed. "Lara...I gotta tell you, I'm a little nervous. I don't know anything about what to do in these kinds of situations."

"Look, the other guests will be arriving in the next few hours. We'll just get you a room and let you get settled, then we'll let the party begin. They're just people, Dave."

"Yeah, people...rich, British, family people."

Lara thought about this. "Just be yourself, David."

"The place will be filled with Bobbies inside an hour."

"You know well what I mean, David. Just be the kind, sweet, noble man you are. You'll win them over, trust me." Lara guided him to one of the guest rooms and brought him inside. "Now get showered and changed, and meet me in the Library. I've got to go to see Father and some of the other cousins."

"Yeah, warn them in advance."

"Now, David, I'm not going to argue with you. Just relax." Lara smiled. "You're not going to get out of this easily, you know."

"Why not?"

"Because you feel the same way about me that I feel about you, I suspect." Lara said, thinking, No suspicion about it, David. I know you feel that way.

David paused, then allowed a smile to touch his lips. "Good point."

"See you in a few." Lara closed the door, then walked to the Library.

David turned around and looked at the room. Four-poster bed, expensive carpet, furniture from the fifteenth century...this isn't a guest room this is a museum exhibit! He went to the bed and felt it, afraid that it might collapse. When the bed succeeded in supporting the weight of his suitcases, David relaxed. I can see it, now...some old lady is going to knock on the door and warn me not to touch anything.

A knock on the door startled him. He went to the door carefully and opened it a crack. Standing outside the room was an attractive woman in her late forties, tall and statuesque, wearing a modest dress. The Croft family is SCARY...!! he thought, his heart accelerating. "Look, Madame, I didn't touch anything, I swear."

"Never thought you had. Mind if I come in?"

"Uhm...sure." He opened the door and she walked in with a smooth stride. "I'm..."

"I know who you are, Mr. Connors," she said icily, all business and formality. "I'm Lara's Aunt Cordelia."

"Oh. Nice to meet you. Call me Dave." This is her AUNT? Boy, Croft women sure age well. He held out a hand, which Cordelia regarded as if it were a decaying rat.

"I'd rather not."

David's cordial smile vanished.

"You see, MR. Connors, Lara is my favorite niece, the daughter of my sister, Beatrice, God rest her soul." She walked over to the bed, looking at the loud colors of David's suitcases. "Why ARE your bags such ugly colors??"

"I, er, had some problems with my old bag...it got mistaken for someone else's."

"And that was reason enough to get these things?"

"Trust me, I didn't want it happening again."

"Very well." She turned to look at him. "Lara is quite special to me, not to mention the rest of this family, and I don't like the idea of her rambling around with some AMERICAN getting into who-knows-what kind of trouble. She's been through this before and I don't want her getting hurt again."

Been through this before...? "Listen, MS. Croft," David said, re-asserting himself, "I've got a newsflash for you. Lara is her own woman, not your little niece anymore. If she wants to hang around with me, or do anything else for that matter, that's HER decision. Not yours. So if you've got a problem with my character, you take that up with me. Don't use Lara as an excuse to try and get rid of me."

They glared at each other for a few long moments, then Cordelia smiled. "Well, David...Lara was right. You certainly are a scrapper, aren't you?"

David relaxed a little. "If that means a fighter, yeah...I guess so."

"I've heard some rather incredible things about you, David. I had to see for myself if you were going to back down, make excuses for yourself. I run into so many who do just that...and, thankfully, you don't seem the sort. Time will tell, but what I've seen so far is quite promising." She gave David a friendlier smile. "Relax, David. I was curious to see what kind of man you were."

"And your decision?"

She smiled. "I wish I'd met someone like you twenty years ago, David."

"Well, not too much like me, I hope. Twenty years ago, I was in the fifth grade."

Cordelia laughed softly. "You might have even been interesting then, David. By the by, I also wanted to give you a little advance warning. Not all of the family are as accepting as myself...in fact, some of them might be a little hostile towards you."

"That's okay. I'm used to it."

"I imagine you are." She walked to the door. "See you at dinner." Cordelia closed the door behind her and David listened as she walked away. He shrugged and went to take a long hot shower.

When he left the room, he was dressed quite differently. David had put on a button-down black shirt, gray slacks and a brown leather belt. His favorite shoes, black alligator-skin boots, adorned his feet and completed the ensemble. His hair was brushed and combed, and on the whole, David felt ready to meet the rest of the Croft clan.

As he reached the foyer, Alfred was waiting there to guide him to the Library. "Right this way, sir."

"Lead the way, Alfred."

As the butler led David through the house, he added, "Many of the family have already arrived and are conversing in the Library. The rest will be in this evening, before dinner. Also, Lord Henshingly Croft is looking forward to meeting you."

"Sounds like he's in the minority..."

"Don't worry, sir. You do have some allies." He stopped at the double doors of the Library. "Here you are. Would you like anything to drink?"

"Yeah...got any draft beer?"

"Pardon, sir, but no."

"Can you make a Virgin Strawberry Daiquiri?"

"Yes, sir."

"Please do."

"Yes, sir." Alfred turned and strolled away. David turned towards the main doors, took a DEEP breath and let it out. And to think I was only afraid of monsters and gangsters... he thought as he opened one of the doors and walked in.

The Library was not just a testament to literature; it was a feat of architecture as well. The Library was laden with books on all subjects, reaching fully three floors high. There were no walls, only shelves and shelves and shelves of books. The room was the size of a banquet hall, with stairs leading up to the next levels at each corner. The floors themselves were strong shelves of wood, allowing a person to look down from the third floor all the way to the first. Dominating the middle of the room was a long table, easily able to seat twenty. At the moment, only seven people populated it now.

Lara was near the head of the table, speaking to an old man of small stature. He was somber, but managed to quirk a smile at something Lara had just said. Lara herself was animated, excited as she related the tale of the Eyes of Shiva to them all, the old man in particular. Also seated at the table was a bookish young man, horn-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose. Unkempt brown hair fell over his eyes as he watched Lara as if to detect some point of falsehood in her story. Across from him sat Cordelia, obviously enjoying the adventure unfolding in Lara's story. To Cordelia's left sat a middle-aged gentleman with strong features and a hawk-nose, holding Cordelia's hand. Across from him sat an attractive blond girl, barely out of her teens, wearing a frilled dress. Her eyes were wide and bright as she listened to Lara's tale. Lastly, a young boy who looked no older than eleven sat next to the blond, equally rapt.

As David walked in, everyone looked in his direction. David suddenly believed he knew what it felt like to be under a microscope. Lara got up and smiled. "David!" she said happily, rushing over and embracing him briefly, then took his arm and led him to the table. "Let me introduce you to the family. This is my father, Lord Henshingly Croft."

David smiled a bit awkwardly, then bowed slightly. "A pleasure to meet you, sir."

The old man got up and looked at David critically...then a smile lit up his features and he took David's hand. "The pleasure's mine, my boy," he said in a rich, strong voice. "From what my daughter's been telling me, I have much to thank you for, David."

"Uh, well, it was nothing really...um, just call me Dave."

"Dave, Dave it is, then. Right, come sit down and join us. Lara was telling us about your recent trip to Nepal." He sat down and David found a chair next to Lara.

"Well, sir...if you don't mind my saying, sir, but I thought you didn't approve of Lara's line-of-work."

Lord Henshingly Croft looked at David squarely. "I don't, Dave...but I realized some time ago that I would have better luck trying to command the tides than to dissuade Lara from doing what she wanted to do. I learned to accept her choice, and I realized that through her profession, she has helped the world a great deal, both in knowledge and in deed. To be a benefit to the world in such a way is something that men dream of, aspire to, but never achieve." He smiled. "I couldn't be prouder of my daughter."

Lara beamed.

"By the same token, David...I like a man who isn't afraid to say what's on his mind. I deal with men every day who have little or no integrity." Lord Henshingly Croft looked at David, who felt the older man's gaze bore into his own like lasers. "I hope that this is a regular occasion. Now then, I believe you've already met Cordelia."

"I have."

"Nice to see that you haven't run off, David," Cordelia said with a smile. "This is my husband, Lord James Braddock."

David nodded to Lord James, who smiled. "I hear you're quite the sportsman, Dave, if I may call you that. I hear that you regularly frequent some pretty wild locales."

"Yeah...but few wilder than New York."

A voice from David's right interrupted. "Hmph. Lawless, barbaric place, I hear." David turned to the speaker, the spectacled young man.

"Dave, this is Johnathan Croft. He's a barrister."

"He sits on the sides of staircases all day?" David asked with a smile.

Johnathan frowned. "That's a BANISTER. A BARRISTER is another name..."

"For a lawyer," David finished. "Only kidding."

"Being a barrister is no laughing matter, Mr. David Connors. Unlike Lara's lifestyle, laughably referred to as a 'profession,' I make sure that the Croft matters are properly managed."

"Don't mind Johnathan, Dave. He doesn't get out much. He keeps to himself in London, going through books, research, things like that." Lara craned her head around to look at her cousin. "Behave, Johnathan."

"That's alright," David said, facing Johnathan. "Forgive the joke...just trying to break the ice."

Johnathan regarded David a few moments longer, then relaxed. "Well, then, David...I apologize for my brusque manner."

"No problem."

"And these little hellions..." Lara said with a grin, "are Alexis and little Brian."

David turned to see Brian jumping up into his lap. "Hullo!!" he fairly yelled, David wincing at the loud greeting.

Alexis walked up shyly, curtseying with a smile. "How do you do?"

"I do fine," David said, wrestling with Brian. He looked down at the ten-year-old. "Geez, kid, doesn't anyone adjust your sugar intake?"

Lara laughed. "Don't worry, they'll be calling you 'Uncle Dave' before long."

"I hope not!" came a voice from the door. The people in the room turned to see a prim couple in their early forties come in. "Brian, Alexis, get over here this instant!"

The children glumly complied. Lara noted that David looked very disappointed. I wonder if he likes children...

"Hey, what was that all about? I was just playing around with the kids...!"

"Don't talk back to me, you ruffian!" The woman looked down at Brian. "Look at you! Your hair's a sight and your clothes are ghastly!"

"Lorian, PLEASE," Cordelia said, but the man next to her gave Cordelia a dirty look.

"I'll thank you not to tell us how to raise our children." The man brushed down Brian's clothes while Lara and the rest of the family looked on with mixed expressions of embarrassment and exasperation. Only Lord Henshingly Croft betrayed no emotion.

Lara sighed. "David, meet Alexis and Brian's parents...Arthur and Lorian Croft."

"SIR Arthur Croft," Arthur corrected. "And who are you?"

"David Connors."

"Oh, yes, the...what do you call them? The gumshoe." Lorian wrinkled her nose. "I wonder why they call you that?"

"Have no clue," David said good-naturedly.

"Now there's a show," Lorian quipped, "A private dick who hasn't a clue." Arthur and Lorian went to the table and sat down, the children going to their own seats with tortured looks. "How do you ever earn enough money to eat?"

Lara shot Lorian a foul look, but David seemed a bit more relaxed. "I do well. So must you, to earn all those face-lifts."

Cordelia let a bark of laughter escape. James straightened in his chair with a sudden look of surprise. Lara looked at David as if he'd gone mad. Lorian and Arthur's mouths opened in a stereo expression of shock. "Wh...what are you talking about? I've never had a face-lift in my life!"

"Nice try. So, Arthur, what do you say? Is she right?"

"Well, um, of course...."

"Oh...well, then, I'd like to know where you got your stiff neck, not to mention the red marks on your neck and face. The makeup hides it real well, but I can still see it. Also, I can tell by the way you move your lips and the way you breathe. The slight stiff twitches...yep, from the look of it, not only have you had more than one, but you've had some work done recently. The permanent eyeliner?"

"Why, you....you....you....!!!!" Lorian gasped. "You're a ruddy liar!"

"Fine." David turned to Brian. "Has Mother taken a long trip recently?"

"Don't you answer him," Lorian said quickly, then stopped as she realized that she had spoken too quickly. Silence reigned along the table as most of the family tried not to laugh.

Lord Henshingly turned to David. "That was quite rude, David. A person has a right to her vanity. Surely you could've used a bit more tact."

David looked right back at Lara's father. "I didn't come here to get grilled like a row of baby back ribs. I came here because I was invited here by Lara."

"Nonetheless, you were quite rude to Lorian."

David sighed. "Alright...Lorian, I'm sorry I acted the way I did."

"As well you should, Mr. Connors! I've never been so embarrassed in all my days!" She sniffed, then noticed that Lord Henshingly was looking at her now.

"Now, dear sister-in-law, it is your turn. You acted no less disrespectfully to David and he is a guest in my home. Apologize."

"What??"

"APOLOGIZE!!" Lord Henshingly thundered, slamming his fist down on the table. That ended all muffled conversations passing around the table. David got the distinct feeling that this "old man" was not quite as old as he let on.

Lorian turned to Arthur, but he was looking back at her in reproach. She sighed and said softly, "I'm sorry."

"What was that, dear sister?" Lord Henshingly asked.

"I heard it," David said quietly.

Lord Henshingly nodded, then addressed the table again. "There will be no such disrespect in my home. If you cannot act in a civilized manner, you can always leave." David looked around the table at the expressions that statement brought and figured that being asked to leave was a permanent request. "Now, then, I propose that you get a drink, Arthur. Or at the very least, take your wife for a walk."

Arthur nodded, then helped Lorian to her feet. She looked blankly at David for a moment, then accompanied her husband out the door. As they left, Alfred came in with a tray of drinks, assorted ales, glasses of champagne and wine...and one bright red concoction in a bowl-like goblet. Alfred went to David and handed him the drink, then served the others.

The party went uphill from there...after a few more bumps.

The rest of the Croft family showed by nightfall. Loud Uncle Benedict, a seaman who'd spent a great deal of time boating up and down the Amazon River and wasn't shy about relating his own adventures, entertaining and edifying Lara. She always listened to his stories, since they were told with little exaggeration and Lara never knew when she might need to head down in that direction. Gentle Great-Aunt Jessalyn, very proper and polite, seemed more indifferent towards David than anything else, but spared him a smile when she thought that nobody was looking. David noticed it, however, and smiled in return.

And then there was Lara's half-brother...Charles.

As Alfred was serving a tray of hors-d'oeuvres, a well-muscled blonde man opened the door and walked in. He was more built than David, a powerhouse, and he had the kind of superstar looks that never failed to attract the attention of every single female around him...and more than a few married ones. He saw the assembly and smiled broadly, showing perfect teeth. "Well! I'm sorry I'm late, dear ones, but work intruded and I had to struggle to get away. What a world, wot?" His eyes rested on David and narrowed ever-so-slightly. "And who, might I ask, is THIS chap?"

David stood up. "David Connors."

"Connors...Connors...that name rings a bell...oh, yes!" Charles grinned. "You're Lara's latest, what is it you Americans call it? Squeeze?" Lara's eyes turned to thin angry slits as Charles continued. "I can hardly keep up with all of them...I hope you're a capable gent, David...you'd have to be, to be able to keep up with her antics."

"I do okay...so tell me, Chuckers, what's your line of work?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that. I do a great deal of investing in different commodities...and kindly do not call me 'Chuckers,' David. A fellow might construe it as insulting," Charles added warningly. He straightened himself and said with a prepared hint of pride, "I also market exercise and athletic equipment...many products, I might add, which I use myself."

"Dew tell," David said dryly. "I'd NEVER have noticed if you hadn't told me."

"Well, David, you should come down to one of my stores. I'm SURE we could find something that could help you a great deal."

David stood up, a tempest brewing behind a calm expression that was slowly dissolving. "If you'll excuse me, everyone, I'm going to go out and grab some air." He looked at Charles and gave him a predator's smile. "See you around...Chuckers." David turned on his heel and left while the others watched, all conversation temporarily stopped. When the door closed behind him, Lara got up and walked after him, shooting a venomous look at Charles as she left.

"That was uncalled for, Charles," Benedict Croft said critically.

"What? I just made a mention about some of my products to him. Can I help it if he is so insecure?"

"That's not what it was and you know it, Charles." Johnathan said disapprovingly.

"I'm entitled to my own opinion, Johnathan. I think that Yank is only after cousin Lara because of what he can get out of her. He's from New York, after all...used to be a policeman. They're all corrupt over there, and he's most likely the worst of the lot. Mark my words, David Connors is going to be nothing but trouble."

Lara looked around for David, thinking, He sure knows how to disappear when he wants to be invisible.... After tracking him through the halls, she found him outside the main doors, leaning against one of the columns and smoking a cigarette. "Dave?"

"Oh, yeah...THIS was a mistake." He took a long drag on the cigarette, and blew out a cloud of smoke. It hung there in the night air before a breeze dissipated it.

"Charles is nothing more than a big bully. Father only tolerates it because he's holding up the family name in the business sector. You shouldn't let him get to you." She touched his arm and he pulled away.

"I had to get out here before I pinned his nose to the back of his thick skull. I don't belong with these people, Lara. Not this house, not this family..."

"Not me?"

"Don't put words in my mouth." David dropped the smoked-out butt on the stone and ground it underneath his heel. He caught the look on her face and softened. "I'm sorry, Lara. But I just don't fit in. I didn't fit in with the police department, I didn't fit in with being a husband and I sure as hell don't fit in with your relatives. And don't go on about how most of them like me. Liking me is different than fitting in with them."

"Give it time, David. Did you really think they'd just take you in and accept you as part of the family the second you walked in the room? Really, now." Lara walked to David's side.

David sighed. "I just wish...I just wish I didn't screw up so much. Seems like everything I touch lately comes apart." He sat down on the marble steps. "All I ever wanted to be was a good cop, Lara. When that went belly-up, I tried being a stand-up detective, but the only cases that came to me were suicide jobs. And then I met you...the only good thing in my life. And I feel like I'm going to wake up and realize that it was all just some dream I had after eating too much pizza late at night."

"Well, for a figment of your imagination, I feel pretty real." Lara sat next to David, snuggling up to him and holding him. "Do you think I'm real?" she asked playfully.

Before David could answer, he heard the doors open behind him and he turned to see Johnathan coming outside. "Whew! It's a bit chill out here." He looked down at Lara and David. "Oh, dear. Did I come at a bad time?"

"What is it, Johnathan?" Lara asked with great restraint.

"It's Charles. He's leaving, thanks to the little talk Father had with him...however, despite his earlier comments, he wanted to give something to Lara, something he'd found while going through an old trunk he bought at an auction." He held up a scrollcase and handed it to Lara. "Lara, he thought you might make better use of it than he could."

"What is it?"

"He heard you mentioning once how you'd picked up a map that would lead to the fabled mines of King Solomon."

"Yes, but the map was worthless. A large part of it was missing and I haven't been able to find the other piece."

"Maybe this will help." Johnathan handed her the scrollcase and looked to David. "Good luck to you both," he added, pushing the spectacles up on his nose again and going back inside. David watched him leave.

"Dave....!!" Lara said in a hushed whisper. "Look!"

David turned back to see a rolled up cloth and an uncut diamond the size of an egg.

"David...it's a...!"

"I know what it is...the question is, why didn't cousin Chuckers keep the diamond?"

"David!"

"Chalk it up to my suspicious nature, ok?"

"The scrollcase was sealed when Johnathan gave it to me, Dave. Therefore, he must not have looked inside." Lara opened up the cloth while David pondered this. "Look, if this is correct, it details explicit instructions on how to find Solomon's diamond mines!"

"Yeah, but the question is, can we trust it? What if it's a forgery?"

"How many forgeries come with a real diamond?"

"What if the diamond's a fake?"

Lara stared at David, who shrugged. Then she sighed. "You're right, of course, David. I'm sorry, but the thought of finding Solomon's mines...it's a find most archaeologists can only dream about. We're only a few steps away."

"To paraphrase a late colleague of yours, isn't that usually when the ground opens up under your feet?"

Lara looked at David in disbelief. "Dave, what's the matter? I've never heard you so reluctant before."

David answered, after a long pause, "Lara...I've got a bad feeling about this. I mean it, this whole deal gives me the screaming whim-whams. Something is just not right about all this."

"Do come on, Dave. You know what a careful person I am."

"Sounds like a good idea."

"What?"

"Coming. I'm going with you on this little expedition. I know, I know, I'm not exactly a 'real' archaeologist, I don't know the area real well..."

Lara placed a finger on his lips. "I'm having a great deal of trouble thinking of someone, ANYONE else I know whom I'd rather have with me. Now do be quiet. I've got to think of what to pack for Morocco." She pulled out a small pad and a pencil and began to write. As she did, David noticed a car pulling up, a bright-cherry-hello-officer-was-I-speeding? red Lotus GT1. The chauffeur got out and walked up to David.

"Are you Charles Croft?"

"Not on a bet, pal. Why?"

"Dastard wanted me to tune up his car while he was eating...dirty rotter. Here. You can give him the keys. I'd rather chew nettles than see his arrogant face again." The chauffeur left in a huff while David looked thoughtfully at the car.

"Lara?" David asked as he went up the steps.

"Hmm?" she asked, not looking up.

"I'll be right back."

Hmph. He'll get over it. He always does. Charles packed his suitcase and strode out past Alfred to the main doors. What right does he have to dictate to ME about what I should say about any so-called "guests" that invade our home? He walked outside to see Lara leaning against a lamppost and David tossing a set of keys in the air. David caught the keys one last time and smiled winningly at Charles.

"Hello, Charlie. Leaving so soon?"

"Don't you talk to ME, you ruffian. You haven't earned the right to talk to me." He narrowed his eyes. "Are those my keys?"

David shrugged, saying nothing.

"Give them to me, you reprobate. I'm lucky I got out here when I did...I might have had my car stolen."

David gave him a foul look, but tossed him the keys. Charles caught them and walked to the car, getting in and closing the driver's side door. After a brief look to make sure that the radio wasn't missing, he started up the car and drove off. David watched him drive down the long cobblestone road. "Hey, Lara?"

"Yes, Dave?" she answered.

"How long does it take for somebody to drive off the property?"

"About five minutes, why?"

"Where will Chuckers be in ten minutes?"

Lara looked up. "Probably on his way to the airport, why?"

David waited, then drew out a small box with two switches and an extendible antenna on top. He pulled out the telescoping rod and flipped the switch marked "ARM".

"David, why do you want to know where he is??" Lara asked, suddenly alarmed.

"I wouldn't want to leave without saying good-bye to him." He moved his thumb over the switch marked, "FIRE".

Charles stopped at the light and tapped his fingers. I hope I never meet that impertinent cretin again....

Then his entire world went hot pink.

David put the box away. "I feel much better now."

"David...WHAT DID YOU DO?" Lara asked, her curiosity beginning to approach horror. She knew that David was a practical joker and suddenly recalled that he had run to his room a few minutes before and placed something in Charles' car. At the time, she had been so distracted that the significance of what he had done was only just now occurring to her.

"I put a bomb in his car."

"David, TELL ME THAT YOU'RE JOKING!!"

"Not that kind of bomb, Lara, what kind of a psycho do you think I am? Lara, don't answer that!!" he added as he saw the look on her face.

"Only if you tell me what kind of bomb you put in his car."

"I'll show you on the way to the airport. Trust me, the only thing that got injured was Charles' pride." He walked back to the house and Lara followed, intrigued to see what kind of mayhem David had wrought.

Lara looked out the window. "I don't see him yet."

"Don't worry...you will." David snickered.

Lara spared David a sidelong glance, then looked to the side of the road. And there it was, sitting on the side of the road...Charles' red Lotus GT1, now with a new look: hot pink tinting for the windows and hot pink interior. Standing on the side of the road, wiping himself, was a hot pink Charles.

Lara was speechless. David honked as he passed, watching the recognition on Charles' face. As she watched, Charles started hopping up and down, screaming something that couldn't be heard over the hum of the motor but Lara understood anyway. She looked at David. "What happened?"
"Remote-detonated paint bomb."

"PAINT-BOMB??? I can't believe it!"

"You can't believe that I'd do something like that?"

"I can't believe you even HAVE something like that!"

"Don't worry, it's water-soluble...at least, I think it was. I slipped it under his seat..."

The rest of his words were drowned out by the hysterical laughter of the woman sitting next to him. Lara didn't stop laughing until they reached the airport.

Security was abnormally high at Heathrow Airport. "Whaddya suppose the fuss is all about?" David asked Lara.

"I dunno. Let's find out, shall we?" She went to a phone and dialed up Security. After identifying herself, she was put through to the commander's desk. David looked around, watching the crowds come through and noting that the security booths and stations held not only standard airport security, but uniformed police officers. Lara hung up the phone. "Guess what, Dave?"

"We have to take a charter flight because the commercial flights are backed up due to somebody passing bomb threats around like they were Halloween candy."

Lara stopped and stared at David. "I just had to pry that out of the commander. How did YOU pick it up?"

"Simple. There are heavier guards at the security stations, which means that they sent in some specialists to look for bombs and weapons inside the carry-ons...so you can bet that they're checking the normal baggage, too. They're also armed, which makes them part of the British Army, meaning that, in case they do find a bomb, they'll corral the perp and evacuate the airport, if necessary. Only they would be so interested. Not to mention the fact that they're using the latest in identification verification gear, straight from MI-6, I imagine, since they're much more advanced than anything I've ever seen. Add it all up, and that means that we'll have to grab a charter flight if we want to bring our toys with us."

Lara shook her head. "You never cease to amaze me sometimes."

"Hey, I've got depths even I haven't plumbed yet."

"Oh, no doubt," Lara said with amusement. "But you are right, we have to charter a flight. Not too difficult; I know a couple of reliable people. And no, David, THIS time I will make sure of our pilot."

"Good."

Lara grinned mentally as she recalled David's trip with Krokov. "Come on...I need to get to a phone."

"Well, THIS is more like it!" David smiled, getting quite comfortable. "A Learjet is definitely an improvement. How long until we get there?"

"We've got a scheduled refueling stop at Lisbon, but from there, we're going to have to rough it for a bit. A contact at Casablanca will give us the supplies we need and, from then on, we'll be on our own."

"Just the way I like it. So, what's the map say?" David leaned over to look at the map in Lara's lap.

"According to this map, we'll have to travel east from Casablanca to Bou Arfa...there's a friend down there I want to get in touch with, get our bearings...some of the items on this map are too difficult to read and I want his advice. But if I'm right, the mines are in the base of the southern tip of the Atlas Mountains...south of Beni Abbes and east of Timimoun. That may explain why the mines were so hard to find."

"Why?"

"Most believe that the mines were much further south, down near the African Congo. It's a logical assumption, considering the route and the less-hazardous surroundings down there. But if this map is right...King Solomon's mines are in a more barren area, and much closer to civilization."

"Well, this brings up a rather interesting situation. What do we do when we find the mine?"

"Oh, we could take a few souvenirs, start an archaeological dig..."

"Let's make sure we keep this REAL quiet. I kinda like my privacy."

"Done."

"Good...maybe then I'll have enough money to become respectable." David smiled.

"I'm not sure there are that many diamonds on the PLANET, Dave."

He turned to Lara, who was grinning. "HEY!"

"Only teasing, Dave."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. I have laughed."

"Welcome to Casablanca, Lara. Your passports, please?" said the wiry man dressed in a straw hat and wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Lara and David handed over the small booklets and the man pulled out a stamp and an inkpad, marking both passports. "There. Now, wasn't that easier than going through Customs?"

"Always a pleasure, Rico," said Lara. "Rico, this is my good friend, David Connors."

"A pleasure," Rico said with an infectious grin. "Is he your cover this time, Lara?"

"No...I have other plans."

"Good. All aboard," he said as he walked towards the jeep. David tossed the bags into the back and climbed in, mildly disappointed that Lara was sitting up front and he was left in the back seat. "So, Lara, I get the usual ten percent of the take, right?" Rico asked playfully.

"You get the usual FIVE percent of the take, Rico."

"Just checking. So, David, you an archaeologist like Lara?"

"There is no archaeologist like Lara," David said from the back.

"Granted."

"I'm a private detective."

"Oh, that'll come in handy out here. You better listen to Lara, David. A city boy like you wouldn't last three days out in the desert."

"Thanks for the tip," David said sourly.

"Don't mention it." Rico drove up to a truck. "Alright, you've got food and water for the next two weeks, longer if you're careful, climbing gear, some gelignite, extra ammunition, vitamin supplements, salt tablets, the works. You also got all the electronic toys you'll need, GPS, satlink, high-range radio...this thing's practically a command center. Also, for emergencies..." Rico went to a trailer hitched to the rear and pulled up a corner of the tarpaulin. "Dirt bikes with sand tires." He grinned. "Are we impressed yet?"

"Bravo, Rico." Lara smiled. "I'm glad we share the same tastes in motorcycles. Dave, are you ready? Dave?" She turned to see David looking in the back. "Dave?"

David poked his head out. "I don't suppose there's a chemical toilet in here somewhere...?"

Lara looked back at Rico, who looked heavenwards. "Allah help this man." He looked down at Lara again as he went back to his jeep. "Don't worry, there's plenty of toilet paper in there. Good luck, Sam Spade," he called back as he took off.

David frowned. Lara sighed. "I did say we were going to be roughing it."

"Okay, okay, I'll adapt." He sat in the shotgun seat and waited for Lara to get into the driver's seat. As she did, David quipped, "At least we'll be stopping somewhere for the night, right?"

"Certainly. It's a place called the Sand Dune Hotel. PLENTY of vacancies." Lara laughed. David didn't like that laugh.

David was unprepared for the Sahara Desert. Pictures and stories never compensated for the brutal truth of the cold facts that faced him now...or rather, HOT facts. He remembered going to Arizona a couple of times on business, but there was no comparison. David had prepared himself for hot, but this was beyond hot, this was oh-my-GOD-it's-hot. David was reminded of the sensation he got when he opened an oven to check on the food inside.

That first night was an eye-opener, too. With no appreciable atmosphere to hold in the heat, the temperature dropped like a brick, and turned agonizingly hot to witheringly cold astonishingly fast. Even inside the truck, Lara and David had to sleep very close together to stay warm. So it wasn't all bad.

The next morning, David got up to refreshing warmth. He smiled as he looked down at Lara, then brushed a wisp of hair away from her face. As he looked down at her, she opened one eye and regarded David lazily. "Good morning, sunshine," David said gently.

Lara smiled and closed her eyes, yawning. "G'morning, Dave."

"So, what's the plan for today?"

A red light suddenly began rotating in the ceiling. "Survival!" she said quickly, unrolling herself from David's grasp and getting to her feet. She had slept in her bodysuit, so dressing was a short hop into her shorts and she was done.

"What's that?"

"Motion sensors mounted on the truck. We've got company." She looked through one of the tinted windows. "We've got some visitors...they look like Tuaregs, but they're a fair piece away from their usual grounds."

"Meaning?"

"They're nomads. I don't recall them being this far west, though." She got down from the window and sighed. "I was afraid of this, but there's no getting around it. You're going to have to go out there."

"ME??" David glared at Lara. "There'd better be a BRILLIANT explanation coming...!"

"David, in this part of the world, women do not have a great deal of presence. They're second-class citizens at best, slaves at worst. Now, I'd like to be able to go through this without having to kill unnecessarily, but if you're afraid to go out there..."

"ME? Afraid?? I'm..." David cleared his throat. "I just didn't know if they spoke English or not."

"Of course," Lara said with a smile. "Please forgive my presumptions."

"You're forgiven."

"Now go out there and speak to them."

David turned, took a deep breath and walked outside. The heat hit him hard and he stepped down to the sand as the three men raised Kalishnikov assault rifles. David squinted in the bright daylight and held up his hands to show that he was unarmed. "Hey...uh, hi. Listen...do any of you guys speak English?"

One of them lowered his weapon. "Who are you?"

"Oh, good. I'm David Connors. What can I do for you?"

"I am Amin Khotufu, and these are my brothers." He waved a hand to them and they lowered their weapons. "Are you American movie crew?"

"MOVIE CREW? No, no, we're just photographers for a magazine," David said quickly.

"What magazine?"

David pulled the name from one of the magazines he'd seen in the truck. "The Face. It's a British magazine."

"Pah!" said one of Amin's brothers, "I told you these were not the ones."

Amin nodded. "A thousand pardons, Effendi," he said to David. "There were some crewmen who were working on an American film, but I think they may have had some trouble getting here."

"Well...not to offend, but what do you three have to do with all this?"

"We are extras in the movie. They were looking for help and our family could use the extra money."

"What movie?"

"It's an action movie called OPERATION CONDOR. If you are not committed, perhaps we can show it to you. The movie location site is to the east of us. Do you wish to come?"

"Let me ask my partner. Hold on." David went back into the truck. "Hey, Lara."

"What?"

"Remember what you said about being in show biz? Well, I think now's your chance..."