:o Hello! Happy New Year everybody. Yes, I'm still alive, and yes, I'm
really really really really really sorry for not updating in such a long
time. You may poke me with sharp pointy sticks as a punishment.
Thankyou everyone for the reviews, e-mails, death threats etc :D It means a lot to me that you enjoy what I write. There will be more very soon on both my stories, so keep posted. Anyway, without further ado, here's the new chapter. Hope it was worth waiting for :/
Chapter 4: The Majestic
I wasn't alone for too long. After around half an hour, Kurtis returned, and took a knife from the sports bag.
He walked towards me, and held the knife out so the tip almost touched my throat.
"Don't try anything, okay?" he said coldly. I nodded.
He crouched down and cut the tape from around my legs, peeling it free of my jeans. He stood up and gestured for me to do the same. I stretched each leg slowly, and got tentatively to my feet. My spine creaked and ached terribly as I straightened it. Kurtis picked up the sports bag from the floor and put the roll of duct tape and his newspaper back inside, then scooped up his coat from where it had fallen on the floor.
He took hold my one of my arms, which he had chosen not to untie, and steered me towards the door. We made our way back through the dingy warehouse to the wide bay doors. The van was still standing there, the two Russians leaning against it, smoking cigarettes. From outside I could hear the screech of gulls and realised we must already be near the sea. Vadim went round to the back of the van and opened the doors. I was cold, and Kurtis saw me shivering. He put down the sports bag and draped his long coat around my shoulders. Then I was bundled into the back of the van once more, and we set off for the harbour.
* * *
After what seemed like an eternity of being jolted around in the back of the van as it stopped and started, I felt the vehicle drive slowly up an incline, presumably the ship's ramp. I wondered what kind of stinking hulk I was to be traveling on, and prayed that it didn't have anything to do with fish. I didn't think I could stand the smell.
After some time I heard the great vibrating groan of engines start up. I had the horrible thought that maybe Kurtis was going to leave me in the van for the whole journey, bringing me food and water every now and then. Had the promise of a private cabin been his idea of a joke? I prayed that at least he would have the decency to untie my aching arms and take the tape from my mouth. Despite my mental and physical discomfort, I found myself starting to be lulled to sleep by the steady hum of the ship's engines, surprisingly warm with Kurtis' coat wrapped around me. I was grateful for it, even though it smelled of him and his cigarette smoke.
The sound of the rear doors opening snapped me back to reality, and I looked up at the square of light at the back of the van. Kurtis and another man I hadn't seen before stood there, framed by the open doors. Kurtis reached in to help me out, but I avoided his touch and clambered out on my own. He took hold of my shoulders and turned me around so I faced away from him, pulled off the coat, and started to cut through the bonds at my wrists. My hands free at long last, I reached up and pulled the tape away from my mouth.
As Kurtis and his companion led me wordlessly away from the van, I looked around, trying to gather an impression of what kind of vessel we were traveling on. There were no other vehicles parked nearby other than a small white truck that looked as though it was used to transport refrigerated food. We headed for a narrow metal staircase, spots of rust showing through the white paint on the steps and handrail. We ascended several flights until we reached a wide door with a circular pane of glass in its centre. Kurtis pushed the door open and I followed him through it into a square room containing cleaning equipment and metal lockers. From there we passed though into a large kitchen, where several members of staff bustled about with bowls and trays.
"What the hell?" I wondered aloud, as I passed a large tray of chilled desserts set on the worktop. Kurtis said nothing in reply, but cast me another look of secretive amusement over his shoulder.
Bewildered, I followed him through another door leading from the kitchens into a tiled corridor. We crossed to a service elevator and the other man pressed the 'up' button. To our right, double doors led into another room which I could glimpse through the glass panels. Although it was poorly lit I could tell from the flashy décor that it was some kind of huge, grand dining hall. My eyes widened. The lift door slid open in front of us, and I was helped inside with a shove from Kurtis.
I turned to him. "What's going on?" I demanded. "What the hell is this? Some kind of cruise liner?"
"That's exactly what it is," he replied, jabbing a button to take us several floors further up. "The Majestic. Only the best for our Ms. Croft," he added, raising an eyebrow at me.
I sighed. This situation was becoming more bizarre by the minute. "Are you going to explain why you're taking me to Egypt on a cruise ship instead of by plane?"
Kurtis shrugged. "Well, we're not in a great hurry. And we get to travel for free because we have an. arrangement with the owner of the ship. Plus we can do a little sightseeing on our way." As usual, he wasn't telling me anywhere near everything. I wanted to ask more, but the lift opened again and I was led off along another corridor.
This level seemed to be mostly made up of cabins, with gilt numbers on the polished doors that lined each thick-carpeted hallway. The man with Kurtis seemed to know where he was going, and finally we stopped at the end of one of the corridors. He knocked four times on the door, which had no number, but rather a brass plaque reading 'Benchley Suite'. A moment later the door was opened and another man came into view. He let our guide through with a nod, then turned his attention to Kurtis.
"Kurtis," he said cheerfully, and held out his hand. He spoke in a slight French accent.
"Good to see you, Paul," Kurtis replied, shaking the other man's hand. We were beckoned through into another, wider corridor. Paul looked at me appreciatively as I passed him.
Ahead of us a few carpeted steps led up to a large lounge area furnished with fat leather couches and mahogany tables. The Russians from the warehouse were up there with two other men, adding their own charmless personality to the room as they slouched on the sofas, smoking and drinking brandy. Doors led off from the corridor to my left and right, all closed but one. I could hear voices coming from the open door, and longed to see who was inside. Kurtis must have noticed my intrigued expression, because he caught me by the elbow and steered me away towards one of the other doors.
"Didn't I promise you your own cabin?" he said as he swung the door open.
The room was spacious and beautifully appointed. A double bed stood against the opposite wall, laid with perfect white sheets and pillows. A suitcase sat on the floor beside the bed. I wandered through the room, taking in the fine ocean views through the large windows, and peered through an open door into the en-suite bathroom.
"So, what do you think?" he asked.
I turned back towards him. He was over by the bed, unzipping the suitcase. I stared at his back silently, still barely able to believe this was the same man whom I had met in Prague. I had thought we could trust each other, that we had something in common. He had seemed. good, no matter how corny that sounded.
"What the hell happened to you, Kurtis?" I asked quietly.
He turned to face me. "What do you mean?"
"In Prague, you told me you wanted justice. I must have mistaken that for meaning that we were on the same side."
"I went after Eckhardt to settle the score. I did. End of story."
"Bullshit!" I snapped. "I settled the score. I don't recall you being anywhere in sight when I was finding the last Periapt shard, or fighting Eckhardt, or destroying the Sleeper. You'd be dead if it weren't for me."
"Is that so? I seem to remember you putting me in mortal danger more than a couple of times."
I lowered my voice again. "You're pathetic, Kurtis. And a coward. You know I'm right. You owe me one, isn't that what you said once? What kind of repayment is this?"
He turned his face away, and continued pulling things out of the suitcase. "Sorry, babe," he said. "The business with Eckhardt was personal. This isn't. A man has to make a living."
I glared at him long and hard. So it was money that motivated him. Cold, hard cash for a cold, hard bastard. If I had ever thought I saw a similarity between us, I must have been insane. Alongside my disappointment and disgust at Kurtis, I also felt horribly betrayed by someone I had once put my trust in. While his murdered father had been worthy of justice, I clearly wasn't. In Prague I thought we had had a spark between us, gained one another's respect as well as that nagging physical attraction. But now I was just a price tag.
"Your father would have been so proud of you," I said icily.
I saw his shoulders tense. He stood still and silent for a moment.
"You don't know anything about me, Lara," he said eventually. "So don't try to understand what I do, or why I do it." His voice, though calm, carried a hint of threat, and I realised with no little satisfaction that I had hit a nerve.
"What is there to understand?" I replied. "You commit crimes for people, they pay you. It sounds fairly simple to me."
"Wow. Looks like you have me all figured out." He glanced at me over his shoulder and I saw the amusement in his eyes. I tried to ignore it.
"So what's all this?" I asked, gesturing towards the case and its contents.
"Some more of your clothes. They were sent down this morning." He picked up a pair of black knickers between his forefinger and thumb. They had to be among the skimpiest I owned. "Pretty," he said, smirking.
I snatched them from his hand, fuming. "Is there anything else? Or can I please be left alone for a while?"
"There's nothing else for now," he replied, loving every second of my discomfort. "But I'll come back and get you in a little while. The boss wants to meet you."
With that he turned and left the room, pulling it closed quietly behind him. I was left standing there, lacy knickers still in hand, wondering why such a pig-headed bastard managed to get under my skin so easily. I sank down onto the bed, the soft duvet terribly welcoming after spending the previous night trussed up in a cold warehouse. Any minute now, I told myself, I'll get up and have a shower. But my aching body protested, and before long I was asleep, dreaming fitfully of Egypt and darkness.
* * *
There should be more soon as the next chapter is nearly done too. Let me know what you think! Review.. Review.. REVIEW!
Thankyou everyone for the reviews, e-mails, death threats etc :D It means a lot to me that you enjoy what I write. There will be more very soon on both my stories, so keep posted. Anyway, without further ado, here's the new chapter. Hope it was worth waiting for :/
Chapter 4: The Majestic
I wasn't alone for too long. After around half an hour, Kurtis returned, and took a knife from the sports bag.
He walked towards me, and held the knife out so the tip almost touched my throat.
"Don't try anything, okay?" he said coldly. I nodded.
He crouched down and cut the tape from around my legs, peeling it free of my jeans. He stood up and gestured for me to do the same. I stretched each leg slowly, and got tentatively to my feet. My spine creaked and ached terribly as I straightened it. Kurtis picked up the sports bag from the floor and put the roll of duct tape and his newspaper back inside, then scooped up his coat from where it had fallen on the floor.
He took hold my one of my arms, which he had chosen not to untie, and steered me towards the door. We made our way back through the dingy warehouse to the wide bay doors. The van was still standing there, the two Russians leaning against it, smoking cigarettes. From outside I could hear the screech of gulls and realised we must already be near the sea. Vadim went round to the back of the van and opened the doors. I was cold, and Kurtis saw me shivering. He put down the sports bag and draped his long coat around my shoulders. Then I was bundled into the back of the van once more, and we set off for the harbour.
* * *
After what seemed like an eternity of being jolted around in the back of the van as it stopped and started, I felt the vehicle drive slowly up an incline, presumably the ship's ramp. I wondered what kind of stinking hulk I was to be traveling on, and prayed that it didn't have anything to do with fish. I didn't think I could stand the smell.
After some time I heard the great vibrating groan of engines start up. I had the horrible thought that maybe Kurtis was going to leave me in the van for the whole journey, bringing me food and water every now and then. Had the promise of a private cabin been his idea of a joke? I prayed that at least he would have the decency to untie my aching arms and take the tape from my mouth. Despite my mental and physical discomfort, I found myself starting to be lulled to sleep by the steady hum of the ship's engines, surprisingly warm with Kurtis' coat wrapped around me. I was grateful for it, even though it smelled of him and his cigarette smoke.
The sound of the rear doors opening snapped me back to reality, and I looked up at the square of light at the back of the van. Kurtis and another man I hadn't seen before stood there, framed by the open doors. Kurtis reached in to help me out, but I avoided his touch and clambered out on my own. He took hold of my shoulders and turned me around so I faced away from him, pulled off the coat, and started to cut through the bonds at my wrists. My hands free at long last, I reached up and pulled the tape away from my mouth.
As Kurtis and his companion led me wordlessly away from the van, I looked around, trying to gather an impression of what kind of vessel we were traveling on. There were no other vehicles parked nearby other than a small white truck that looked as though it was used to transport refrigerated food. We headed for a narrow metal staircase, spots of rust showing through the white paint on the steps and handrail. We ascended several flights until we reached a wide door with a circular pane of glass in its centre. Kurtis pushed the door open and I followed him through it into a square room containing cleaning equipment and metal lockers. From there we passed though into a large kitchen, where several members of staff bustled about with bowls and trays.
"What the hell?" I wondered aloud, as I passed a large tray of chilled desserts set on the worktop. Kurtis said nothing in reply, but cast me another look of secretive amusement over his shoulder.
Bewildered, I followed him through another door leading from the kitchens into a tiled corridor. We crossed to a service elevator and the other man pressed the 'up' button. To our right, double doors led into another room which I could glimpse through the glass panels. Although it was poorly lit I could tell from the flashy décor that it was some kind of huge, grand dining hall. My eyes widened. The lift door slid open in front of us, and I was helped inside with a shove from Kurtis.
I turned to him. "What's going on?" I demanded. "What the hell is this? Some kind of cruise liner?"
"That's exactly what it is," he replied, jabbing a button to take us several floors further up. "The Majestic. Only the best for our Ms. Croft," he added, raising an eyebrow at me.
I sighed. This situation was becoming more bizarre by the minute. "Are you going to explain why you're taking me to Egypt on a cruise ship instead of by plane?"
Kurtis shrugged. "Well, we're not in a great hurry. And we get to travel for free because we have an. arrangement with the owner of the ship. Plus we can do a little sightseeing on our way." As usual, he wasn't telling me anywhere near everything. I wanted to ask more, but the lift opened again and I was led off along another corridor.
This level seemed to be mostly made up of cabins, with gilt numbers on the polished doors that lined each thick-carpeted hallway. The man with Kurtis seemed to know where he was going, and finally we stopped at the end of one of the corridors. He knocked four times on the door, which had no number, but rather a brass plaque reading 'Benchley Suite'. A moment later the door was opened and another man came into view. He let our guide through with a nod, then turned his attention to Kurtis.
"Kurtis," he said cheerfully, and held out his hand. He spoke in a slight French accent.
"Good to see you, Paul," Kurtis replied, shaking the other man's hand. We were beckoned through into another, wider corridor. Paul looked at me appreciatively as I passed him.
Ahead of us a few carpeted steps led up to a large lounge area furnished with fat leather couches and mahogany tables. The Russians from the warehouse were up there with two other men, adding their own charmless personality to the room as they slouched on the sofas, smoking and drinking brandy. Doors led off from the corridor to my left and right, all closed but one. I could hear voices coming from the open door, and longed to see who was inside. Kurtis must have noticed my intrigued expression, because he caught me by the elbow and steered me away towards one of the other doors.
"Didn't I promise you your own cabin?" he said as he swung the door open.
The room was spacious and beautifully appointed. A double bed stood against the opposite wall, laid with perfect white sheets and pillows. A suitcase sat on the floor beside the bed. I wandered through the room, taking in the fine ocean views through the large windows, and peered through an open door into the en-suite bathroom.
"So, what do you think?" he asked.
I turned back towards him. He was over by the bed, unzipping the suitcase. I stared at his back silently, still barely able to believe this was the same man whom I had met in Prague. I had thought we could trust each other, that we had something in common. He had seemed. good, no matter how corny that sounded.
"What the hell happened to you, Kurtis?" I asked quietly.
He turned to face me. "What do you mean?"
"In Prague, you told me you wanted justice. I must have mistaken that for meaning that we were on the same side."
"I went after Eckhardt to settle the score. I did. End of story."
"Bullshit!" I snapped. "I settled the score. I don't recall you being anywhere in sight when I was finding the last Periapt shard, or fighting Eckhardt, or destroying the Sleeper. You'd be dead if it weren't for me."
"Is that so? I seem to remember you putting me in mortal danger more than a couple of times."
I lowered my voice again. "You're pathetic, Kurtis. And a coward. You know I'm right. You owe me one, isn't that what you said once? What kind of repayment is this?"
He turned his face away, and continued pulling things out of the suitcase. "Sorry, babe," he said. "The business with Eckhardt was personal. This isn't. A man has to make a living."
I glared at him long and hard. So it was money that motivated him. Cold, hard cash for a cold, hard bastard. If I had ever thought I saw a similarity between us, I must have been insane. Alongside my disappointment and disgust at Kurtis, I also felt horribly betrayed by someone I had once put my trust in. While his murdered father had been worthy of justice, I clearly wasn't. In Prague I thought we had had a spark between us, gained one another's respect as well as that nagging physical attraction. But now I was just a price tag.
"Your father would have been so proud of you," I said icily.
I saw his shoulders tense. He stood still and silent for a moment.
"You don't know anything about me, Lara," he said eventually. "So don't try to understand what I do, or why I do it." His voice, though calm, carried a hint of threat, and I realised with no little satisfaction that I had hit a nerve.
"What is there to understand?" I replied. "You commit crimes for people, they pay you. It sounds fairly simple to me."
"Wow. Looks like you have me all figured out." He glanced at me over his shoulder and I saw the amusement in his eyes. I tried to ignore it.
"So what's all this?" I asked, gesturing towards the case and its contents.
"Some more of your clothes. They were sent down this morning." He picked up a pair of black knickers between his forefinger and thumb. They had to be among the skimpiest I owned. "Pretty," he said, smirking.
I snatched them from his hand, fuming. "Is there anything else? Or can I please be left alone for a while?"
"There's nothing else for now," he replied, loving every second of my discomfort. "But I'll come back and get you in a little while. The boss wants to meet you."
With that he turned and left the room, pulling it closed quietly behind him. I was left standing there, lacy knickers still in hand, wondering why such a pig-headed bastard managed to get under my skin so easily. I sank down onto the bed, the soft duvet terribly welcoming after spending the previous night trussed up in a cold warehouse. Any minute now, I told myself, I'll get up and have a shower. But my aching body protested, and before long I was asleep, dreaming fitfully of Egypt and darkness.
* * *
There should be more soon as the next chapter is nearly done too. Let me know what you think! Review.. Review.. REVIEW!