Lara had to admit the Great Hall looked spectacular. The aim of the construction project had been to make the structure of the museum more logical, and to expand the library area which was used more and more by visitors. The trend in museum organization was slowly crawling from "look and don't touch" to a full hands-on-approach. Lara was glad of this. If it meant that interest towards archaeology was rising it also meant more funding.
She followed Evers up the entrance hall stairs. The banquet had been arranged in one of the conference halls. Approximately a hundred and fifty people were already gathered. Some were trying to find their placement card on the tables, but most had crowded the corridor and were chatting the hours away.
Evers lead Lara in the midst of a group who Lara recognized as the main funders. After a moment of awkwardness for Lara as her hands were kissed by at least half a dozen business tycoons, the conversation turned to some recent exhibitions.
"I won't be supportive of paying large sums for individual discoveries. Surely we could find some more loan deals from China? That gilded dragons thing was a success, I heard," one man in a armani suit declared, the cigar in his fingers bouncing up and down as he pointed at a framed exhibition poster on the wall.
Lara rolled her eyes. What the man had meant were package deals of loaning artefacts from other museums, usually from third-world countries who did not dare to ask for approprite sums but sold cheap. In Lara's opinion this sort of conduct drew attention away from the rightful owners of these artefacts to the richer museums in the western world.
"Still, they're a season thing, and many still come here to see the permanent collections," remarked a woman clad in a green blazer suit made of expensive-looking silk. Lara recognized her as the head of the Asian department. Lara was glad she didn't have to be the one to disagree for a change. "And the cost if an artefact is damaged could be destructive for our budget."
A female financier in a red velvet ensemble glared at her. "But the extra visitors these touring exhibitions gather surely will make up for that. And you're all professionals, right? You won't be damaging anything if your careers are at stake."
To Lara that sounded like a threat, but she did not speak up until a man who'd obviously already have a few shots of whisky addressed her. "Well, what does Miss Croft here think, then? Or maybe we won't have to ask, as she's the one whose name keeps popping up in the biggest bills for single artefacts acquired."
"Plane tickets and hotel rooms do not come cheap," Lara commented, not bothering to address him by name.
This inspired a laugh from the group. "And be it known that the British Museum's heroine always travels first class," a rake-thin man threw in, which accelerated their amusement. Lara tried not to turn red. Arthur had scuttled off somewhere.
So much for that smokescreen.
It wasn't true, far from it, that she always chose first class. If she did, she paid for it herself. The main moneyhole in her hunts were the equipment. She could not afford to spare in the price of weaponry or ropes, for instance. Not if she didn't wish to pay with her life. But whatever she could say would not change their opinion. She simply smiled, showing her teeth in a way she hoped would seem ever so slightly intimidating.
Lara retreated to the bar before finding her designated seat in the table. She swallowed down a whisky on the rocks and silently cursed the fact that she had left Arthur's whisky undrank. Some alcohol in the blood would surely have taken the edge off her irritation.
The dinner itself was uneventful. A local orchestra provided the background noise – the brasses were playing slightly too loud for Lara's taste. She did enjoy the food – sea bass in tangerine sauce accompanied by a selection of pleasantly fruity wines. Towards dessert she opted for mineral water. To her amusement not many others did so, and the volume of exhilarated laughter rose steadily in correlation with the number of empty wine bottles. All in all the atmosphere was pleasant, but Lara did not have much company. She had been placed in the same table as Arthur but in general the table was filled with a group of foreign investors. After dazzling them with her smalltalk in French she soon got tired of them.
As coffee was being poured, began the speeches. First Arthur spoke of his plans for the next year – much was familiar to Lara as most of them had been adopted straight from Garrett's intentions. Nothing earth-shattering as the tight budget did not allow any radical changes. After this a guest speaker from Lara's old place of schooling, Chicago University, gave a talk on archaeology's role in rescuing historical sites threatened by acid rainfall. After this free discussion was announced. Half an hour later the head of the board of financiers rose onto the podium.
"First of all, I would like to thank our new director for his visioned approach. However, it is my wonderful duty to inform you all of a new contruction project planned for next year. As you all know, the restaurant area has suffered from the raised number of visitors during the summer season. Thus we are announcing the expansion of the restaurant wing. Some of the exhibitions on the third floor will have to be moved to the basement to await for review, but I assure you, those will only include exhibitions that gathered the least visitors, for instance, the first three of the Roxie Walker galleries."
Lara nearly choked on her glass of water. What! They want to close down half of the museum's flagship, the Egyptian galleries? She'd participated in the keeping and expanding of the galleries quite a great deal. It wasn't really a pet project, but if the galleries were diminished, the museum would lose one of their best-known parts. True, they had attracted less and less visitors each year due to the fact that not much new had been discovered in Egypt in recent days, but still!
Lara stood up and walked to the other end of the banquet table to face Evers. "Did you know about this?" she inquired, her tone stern. He nodded, apologetically. She'd been lied to. This did affect her work – she'd been a major contributor to the galleries and if they were run down, her expertise would not be even as half as valuable as it used to.
This probably also meant the laying off of more than just a few people in the Egyptian Antiquities department.
Lara's own namely title was a curator of the Egyptian Antiquities. Perhaps they planned to change that as well.
Unacceptable.
She climbed on the podium and decided to make use of the free discussion annoucement. The head of the board passed her the microphone without a word. "Thank you. I would loveto say I'm representing the Department of the Egyptian Antiquities, but this is more of a personal matter, I'm afraid. I would like to know why it is so that you would jeopardize the museum rather than the fact that some tourists might not get an omelette when they wish to?"
The man shrugged. "We're a service to the public, Miss Croft. Not providing enough of these facilities would mean unacceptably bad service."
Something snapped in Lara's mind. She did not need this, and she could not battle this on her own. If Arthur Evers was as teethless and politically correct as it seemed, she would find no backup in his direction.
"Yes, we do serve the public. But we also serve history. The worst thing you can do for these artefacts is to stuff them into the basement where noone can appreciate them. Is that service to the public, I wonder?" she commented sharply.
"But surely, Miss Croft, you would not wish to see a diminishing in visitor numbers because the British Museum was claimed to be old-fashioned in its service policy?"
Lara'd had enough. It was the same every year. It had been a wise decision on her behalf to keep out of this banquet, but this time she would speak up. Perhaps for the last time.
"What I would actuallylike to see is archaeologists in charge of this museum, not businessmen whose intimate knowledge of archaeology could be written down on single a note from the thick wads they buy their seats with."
"Lara – don't you think you're being unreasonable –" Evers tried, standing up, but a well-built man in an expensive suit interrupted.
"No, no, Arthur please, by all means, let her speak. It's always nice to hear a bit of witty banter," he commented, seemingly amused. This aroused a snicker from the rest of the group.
Lara tried not to turn red. "I've grown weary with witty banter. Which is why you will be receiving my resignation in the mail in a matter of days."
Evers stood up looking like he'd suddenly realized nothing was under his control. "Lara – that might not be a good idea, really –"
Lara turned sharply to face him, a snarling smile no longer keeping itself at bay. No backing outnow. "You're absolutely right, dear. That is why I shall fax it. Tomorrow." With all eyes fixed on her, she rose slowly, feeling triumphant but suddenly very tired. "Do enjoy your evening and this marvelous sherry." She grabbed Evers' glass and gulped down the last drops of beverage as the man watched in unapproving astonishment.
Then she calmly walked to the double doors, nodded at the valet who opened them for her, and let out a weary breath as she trailed down the main staircase.
She reached home an hour later. With the streets empty, she dared a few short passages of speeding, not for the usual rush that came with it, but because the concept of a warm bed seemed unusually inviting. Even the strange innuendo that'd been playing in her mind had given space to exhaustion.
After leaving her Aston in the garage, Lara decided to go in via the front doors instead of the kitchen one. It wasn't particularly cold outside, just the usual chill of British autumn, but she hoped the semicrisp air would give her enough of a shake to energize her to drag herself upstairs to bed.
She wondered what had gotten into her. Speaking up had felt perfectly reasonable, but it wasn't exactly the first time they'd done something stupid like this.
On the whole, Lara felt strange, as though something was about to happen. Something different, like clouds gathering in the horizon. Something was certainly about to change. Whether in herself or in her life, she did not know. Maybe she just had to ride the flow. Not much else she could do, now that she truly had cut off all professional ties.
To her surprise, the doors were not locked and the alarm system would not accept her codes for the lights were green, indicating that the locks were open. She stepped in quietly, hoping not to wake Winston. She'd chide him gently in the morning about forgetting to turn on the alarms.
The hall lights were still on but dimmed. As Lara walked in and kicked off her shoes onto the hallway carpet a movement in her rear view alarmed her. She spun around, ready to snap the stud of her ankle holster, but relaxed as she spotted Winston retreating into the hall from the fireplace-lit trophy room.
Lara dropped the car keys into her coat pocket. "What on earth are you doing up at this ghastly hour?"
There was something wrong. Winston wrung his hands and looked down briefly. Lara accepted his silent offer to take her coat. Dim lights cast moving shadows as the thick woolly bundle was passed.
"It was unnecessary for you to wait up. I'm a big girl, I don't keep curfews," Lara joked mildly, testing his expression which did not change.
The ever-sensitive Winston only nodded, aware that Lara had sensed the gravity of the situation.
"Lady Lara, I took the liberty of waiting because a phone call was received while you were gone. How was the dinner? Shall I make some tea?"
Lara knew tea would keep her up but it shouldn't matter. If Winston had news that were better told after she'd been properly pampered with tea then she probably should not decline that offer.
"Eventful," Lara replied.
They retreated to the kitchen.
Winston was quick with the tea – years of experience. Lara seeted down at a baking table with a simple chair by the windows. The shutters were open and darkness poured in.
So her premonition had been correct. And in a strange way, as Winston said the words, Lara realized she did not feel as surprised as she probably should have, for some reason.
With the words, so much unspoken, so much hidden but unresolved, so much postponed hope was released. What should only have been a minor prick of a needle dug as deep as only a very few things could.
"Lady Lara –" the first time her first name ever had been used by him in this manner; "Lord Croft has died."
Lara gazed out into the dimming horizon, its geometricity a stark contrast to the tempest brewing in her mind. One that she could attempt to diminish in vain, but did not. She left her teacup, left the kitchens, walked back into the hall and seated herself onto the main staircase.
She sat there until dawn.