30- An Unlikely Ally
She glanced suspiciously at the small lamp nearby as its shade was covered with a thick layer of dust, before looking up at the man who had turned his back on them to grab one of the keys hanging behind him. Next to her, Roman also seemed to be on the defensive, scanning the tiny lobby from the corner of his eye. Behind the counter, the manager of the small hotel finally turned around and abruptly put down the key to which a large, crude metal key ring was attached. A large moustache covered part of his mouth, and a thick beard thickened the bottom of his already square and hostile face.
His small black eyes stayed fixed for a long time on the Englishwoman, before observing with insistance the Russian next to her. His attitude, his posture and his charisma reminded her of Fred, the hotel/ barman guy she had met near Montsegur Castle, Kurtis' former comrade-in-arms, and potentially the one who had allowed her to continue her investigations at Kriegler Castle. But she realised that in their situation, she would certainly not get as much information from the man who was standing in front of them.
"You didn't tell me how long you wanted the room for?", he asked in a neutral voice as Roman reached for the key.
The two friends exchanged a look and shrugged.
"Several days, no doubt. We'll confirm as soon as possible. We wanted to enjoy the area, to have a walk around... and to take our time," Lara answered as naturally as possible, crossing her fingers inwardly so that her lie would sound credible.
"Honeymoon?"
Roman smiled, unable to hold it in, but the young woman wasn't really in the mood for jokes.
"Not really," Lara replied in an icy voice.
The man's moustache twitched as a slight smile played on his lips. After a few seconds of silence staring at them both, he finally shrugged.
"You do what you want after all."
Lara gave him an offended look, and turned her heels on him. She headed for the staircase that led up to the rooms, her chin proudly raised in annoyance. If the situation had not required them to remain as discreet as possible, the aventuress would not have failed to put this man in his place. Roman himself was surprised by her strange passivity, but did not prefer to linger either. He followed her without a word, bag on his shoulder.
They went up the two floors of the tiny building, before entering a small corridor. They found their room, just to the right. Lara entered first, followed by Roman, who took one last look back before closing the door behind them. It was quite simple and functional, with two single beds next to each other, a desk, and a small bathroom with white tiles. It wasn't luxurious, but it had a discreet charm. The young woman was relieved to find that the place was not as dusty as she had feared, although such details were of little importance to her.
Roman put his bag on one of the beds and took a quick look around the room. He glanced warily out of the window, which looked out onto a dark but visibly quiet courtyard. When he turned around, Lara was already taking out their things and the equipment they had brought with them. She took out her own laptop and put it next to her on the bed.
Roman's eyes looked carefully at the desk in the corner of the room. Then he suddenly reached over and grabbed it with both hands and swung it around. It took the adventuress a few seconds to realise what he was doing: she stood up in turn, and with the help of the young man, moved the two beds one after the other to make room. Roman then pulled the heavy piece of furniture and moved it a few centimetres, before turning it again. The desk's feet crunched loudly against the brand new parquet floor, Lara crossed her fingers that this did not alert the hotel manager, whose reproachful look she could already imagine when he saw they had moved everything in the room.
They exchanged a satisfied look. Then, together, they set up Roman's computers on the desk, plugged in the cables that formed a thick tangled mass. They also took out all the documents the adventuress had prepared before leaving: maps, plans, but also Kurtis' journal and its dark leather cover, which she had taken care to leaf through during their journey here, just in case.
When everything was settled, it was already late and night had now fallen. The two small bedside lamps they had turned on gave off a slightly orange, soothing light, but made the room feel more cramped and stuffy. For a second, the adventuress thought she was in a vintage detective movie, where the lead detectives were on a stakeout in a candlelit office with their old-fashioned phones and cigar smoke filling the room. And maybe that was what she and Roman were themselves at that very moment: two investigators who had to find a way to confirm their lead, stuck in their little hotel room now converted into a makeshift headquarters.
Lara suddenly felt all the fatigue and the effect of the painkillers fall on her at once. Her gaze stared blankly at the bandage on her arm, and the wound on her thigh reminded her it was there too. Her fingers played with Kurtis' chirugai, which she had kept carefully with her also. Roman, who had his back to her, focused on the surprisingly modern internet outlets for a hotel of this type, chuckled, then sighed with fatigue too.
"I'll go and see if I can find something to eat," he said simply, suddenly sitting up.
Lara snapped out of her reverie, and nodded her head in agreement. But when she tried to get up from the bed, the young Russian man stopped her.
"I'll go by myself, don't worry."
"Are you sure?"
"I should be able to manage on my own, yes. I guess I can find a grocery shop at least. In the worst case, I'll ask our dear friend downstairs. And it won't hurt you to stay warm, you need it, whatever you say," he cut her off when he saw that the young woman opened her mouth to protest.
The aventuress sat back down on the bed.
"Okay, but don't hang around too long."
"Yes, ma'am," the young man replied with an exaggerated bow.
Under the Englishwoman's amused yet reproving gaze, he grabbed his jacket to put it on and left without a word. The silence suddenly fell in the small room, only interrupted by the ventilation's hum of one of the computers.
She took the opportunity to make a quick call to Croft Manor. Father Dunstan had moved in for a while, and she was feeling way better knowing that Winston's condition had stabilised. He was still weak, but she knew he was in good hands. She did not took too much time on the call, for she feared the father's questions and indiscretion. When she hung up, she promised herself she would tell him everything once it was all over.
The adventuress put the cellphone away, and began to undress. When she had removed her trousers, she considered the thick bandage around her leg. Then she grabbed the knot in the bandage and untied it. With great care, she undid it, which revealed the two bullet holes in her skin. She ran her fingers over them, and winced as she felt an electric shock shoot through her flesh, as if to call her to order. But to her astonishment, the holes that had been gaping and deep a few hours before now looked much cleaner, and seemed to have subsided a little. When she leaned forward, she noticed that the two wounds seemed much shallower, and almost less painful. But she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know how it was possible.
Slowly, the young woman finally stood up, before limping towards the bathroom. After all, a hot shower while waiting for Roman to return could only do her good.
—
He was surprised by the bitter cold that penetrated under his jacket. He shivered and pulled up his collar, even though he realised that it would not help him to warm up. A few feet away, a group of older men came out of a small, smoky bar and laughed loudly at each other without paying him any attention. He stopped for a short time in front of the partly empty pub before resuming his walk.
He had already been walking for a few minutes and had reached the town centre with its small streets and colourful houses. He went by a large square, at the end of which stood an imposing tower with its bell tower. He assumed that the large building next to it was the town hall, and next to it again was a building that looked like a passing pub restaurant.
There was hardly anyone in town, except for a man in leather jacket sitting on a bench nearby, who seemed to be checking his mobile phone. Roman hurried on, past an elegant fountain carved in the same baroque detail. He crossed the road and went straight into the restaurant, whose dimmed lights were shining through old, faded windows. After a quick glance at the sign displaying the menu in front of the door, which he was unable to decipher clearly because of the so rough English version, he entered and went to the counter to order two hot dishes, hoping that he would not normally take too much risk if they were basic ones.
When he finally got out a few minutes later under the insistent gaze of the young woman who had served him, it was raining heavily outside. He pulled up his coat collar a little more and started to run at a slow pace. In a few minutes he had reached the hotel back, whose sign shone brightly in the dark night. But before he got through the door, he suddenly had a strange feeling. He stopped abruptly in his tracks and turned his head to one side, then the other, as if he had suddenly felt himself being watched.
The village of Sedlec and its ossuary were only a few kilometres from Caslav, so the risk of Miranda's men hanging around was not zero, but relatively moderate. He and Lara hadn't noticed anything strange when they arrived at Prague airport, but he preferred to remain on his guard. That was why he and Lara had chosen to stop here, in a small village in the countryside, it was safer and they would draw much less attention to themselves, while keeping an eye on the surroundings. He had been careful and hadn't noticed anything strange on his way, though. However, the young Russian couldn't help but feel defensive. After all, anything was possible.
He took one last look around and, noticing nothing, decided to get back inside.
—
When she finally turned off the water, she realised the entire small room was filled with steam. She grabbed a towel and wrapped herself in it, savouring the last few seconds in which she would still feel the heat of the shower on her skin. She dried her hair vigorously, before tying the towel around herself. When she got out, she walked over to the marble sink and stood in front of it. She wiped the small, foggy mirror with the back of her hand. She met her tired eyes and reflection in the mirror. For the first time, she saw the number of bruises and scratches on her face, and how weary she looked, and she suddenly understood all the suspicious looks the hotel manager had given her.
It was then that something caught her eye. When she looked up, she noticed the wallpaper lining the wall behind the mirror, with its floral and spring-like patterns, which contrasted with the plain white tiles of the rest of the room. The adventuress observed for a moment the small drawings of these bouquets of pink flowers.
In the silence of the small room, an idea suddenly occurred to her. She suddenly remembered Kurtis' words and vision.
A tree with colourful flowers
A powerful flash went through her mind. The sensation was so strong she thought she would stagger backwards. She shook her head to regain her composure, she felt her heart pounding against her rib cage. She turned away abruptly, and hobbled out of the bathroom. She rushed to her bag, from which she took out her laptop. She sat down on one of the beds and turned on the device.
The ideas were racing through her head quite violently, but the feeling was far too strong to be ignored. Although the leads to the Nephilim magic source had been dwindling lately, she couldn't pass up any possible clues. She and Kurtis might have missed something without realising it, when the answers might just have been there, in front of them all along.
She went to the internet search bar, and started to do some research, based on several keywords: desert, plants, trees, flowers. Her heartbeat quickened a little more as she looked at the results that had just come up. For several long minutes, she scanned dozens of internet pages, photo banks, articles, before her heart suddenly leapt in her chest.
Her eyes fell on one image in particular: a tree with a thick, twisted trunk and strange little dark pink flowers. The adventuress felt her eyes widen in spite of herself, caught in a revelation.
Of course!
She didn't know how long she stood there staring at the picture on the screen. Everything was racing through her mind, everything was falling into place in a logical way. It was so obvious she had a disorienting feeling of vertigo. She had found something, and this time it wasn't just a guess. It was all consistent with what Kurtis had seen in his visions.
But she was suddenly interrupted in her reasoning by knocks on the door. She stood still for a second, and lent an ear. The computer on her lap was still humming, but apart from that, there was a dead silence in the small room. The young woman closed the computer, put it on the bed, and slowly sat up. There were shadows under the door, someone was waiting behind it.
Lara frowned. Roman might have been modest and respectful - he would probably have waited until she had finished her shower, being the good gentleman he was - but he wouldn't have stupidly waited for her to open the door. In any case, she imagined that he would have come forward, or that he would have sent her a message, even as a precaution. Maybe it was the manager then? Or maybe it was just a mistake?
However, none of these hypotheses convinced the adventuress, and a terrible doubt seized her. She crouched down next to her bag, which she rummaged through as quietly as possible. Her eyes still fixed on the door, she grabbed the first weapon she could find and slowly stood up. She moved at a snail's pace into the room, walking along the walls to the door. She positioned herself strategically so as not to be taken by surprise if it was a bad one, her weapon hidden behind her back, her other hand already on the handle. She reached out one last time, but the person on the other side did not seem to move. Nor did she detect any movement as she unlocked the lock and turned the handle. The door opened with an ominous creak and Lara discovered a man. It wasn't the hotel manager with the big moustache, but a man in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a few days' beard. His thick leather jacket thickened his already imposing build, but he was more the athletic type than the gruff one. He didn't look like a henchman either, although his facial features seemed harsh and hostile. His deep, dark eyes fell almost instantly on the young woman, who watched him with frowns, her fingers still firmly gripping the weapon she was concealing behind her back.
"I was sure we would meet eventually," he said in the hoarse, raspy voice of a man who had smoked too much in the past.
The young woman recoiled, her eyebrows raised in surprise this time.
"I beg your pardon?", she replied aggressively, her finger already on the trigger.
"In view of recent events, it was bound to happen we'd see you around in the area."
"You must be mistaken," she cut him off abruptly, trying to close the door.
With an almost unreal calm, the man pushed the door open forcefully, and blocked it with one hand. Not a muscle in his face moved. As Lara gripped her gun and prepared to aim it at him, the man reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and waved something in front of her. He unfolded a sort of worn leather wallet, into which was slipped a round metal badge with an eight-pointed star at its centre. Lara stopped dead in her tracks, stunned.
"I don't think so, Miss Croft."
The aventuress stood still for a second. She looked at the metal plate before her eyes, then looked back at the man, her lips pursed. No matter how hard she focused on him, he didn't look familiar, she had never seen him before. What was a policeman doing here? How could he know her, and what's more, know what she was doing here given what he had implied a few seconds earlier?
"I think I have some information that might interest you, and I think you have some for me," he said in a cold but calm voice.
"Who are you?", she whispered, staring him straight in the eye.
She kept the pressure on the door, and felt the man do the same on the other side.
"Someone who might be able to help you. I know you're on the trail of Pieter Van Eckhardt's glove."
The young woman felt her pulse suddenly quicken. She looked at him one last time, then finally released the pressure on the door, which opened slowly. Without taking her eyes off him, she stepped aside and invited him into the small room. She closed the door behind him. With his hands on his hips, the man glanced from one side to the other, looked quickly at the computers Roman had installed, and then at the chirugai on the side table, but did not paid too much attention. Lara watched him warily, ready to react if necessary.
"I know this is kind of an... awkward and, impromptu situation, but you have nothing to fear from me," he said suddenly, turning back to her and looking down.
At first she thought he was looking at the towel she was wearing, but she realised he was actually referring to the gun hidden behind her back.
"You seem to know me, so you won't be surprised if I tell you that I don't trust strangers until proven otherwise. So I'll keep that gun with me as long as I decide to."
"I understand," said the man, nodding slowly.
He took a few steps and stopped in front of the window. With his fingertips he pushed back the light muslin curtain and leaned out to look around.
"What exactly are you looking for? Where do you know my name from?"
The man finally turned around.
"No offense here, but I think it's hard not to know you, Miss Croft. You perfectly know your name is well known in the world of archaeology. And the international papers have reported enough on your misfortunes in Paris that you are known all over Europe now."
"If you're talking about the Monstrum affair, it's ancient history," Lara replied, implacably. "My name has been cleared, and my innocence has been officially proven. I have nothing more to say to you about it, whatever you may be looking for."
"Of course, your innocence has been proven. But the man who was accused of the Paris murders is certainly not the real culprit. He was a decoy, we both know that."
"And what exactly do you think you know?"
"I've been investigating the events in Prague for almost four years. I managed to make the connection between what happened in Paris and what happened here. I know who the Cabal was and what their activities were."
"A policeman working alone on this kind of case? I find that hard to believe...", the Englishwoman answered cynically.
"I know that Pieter Van Eckhardt and his right-hand man, Joachim Karel, were planning to resurrect an ancestral race of super-powered monsters. Thanks to the information a contact gave me before his death, I knew where their main base was located in Prague. He was also very well informed about the Lux Veritatis, which, you will correct me if I am wrong, had the mission to stop Eckhardt. He also gave me the name of a certain adventuress who had gone in search of him..."
"And how did your contact get these information?"
"Actually he got it directly from you."
Lara recoiled. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"What are you talking about? Who are you exactly?", she hissed.
The man, who had remained motionless until now, suddenly moved his arm to grab something behind his back. Lara immediately pointed her gun at him. He stopped his movement.
"I am not armed."
"Who are you?", the young woman repeated a little more firmly, her finger on the 9mm's trigger.
With a nod, the man asked her permission to take something from his back pocket. After a few seconds during which neither of them moved, he finally took out another wallet, in which was a laminated card. He handed it to the young woman. It was an ID card with holographic highlights. Although much younger at the time, she easily recognised his face in the photo. But what really caught her eye was his name. She felt her heart leap slightly in her chest.
Matēj Luddick
Lara's mouth opened to answer him, when she was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Lara, it's me!"
Still holding the man at gunpoint, she backed up a few steps to the door, which she opened. Roman entered, but stopped dead in his tracks when he discovered with astonishment the scene that was unfolding in the room. The Englishwoman hurriedly closed the door behind him.
"What is it?", stammered the young man who found himself face to face with the man in the leather jacket.
His gaze went from the man to the young woman without understanding. He sensed that Lara was nervous.
"This man is Luddick's family," she explained. "Or at least that's what he's trying to make me think."
"Luddick? The reporter who helped you locate the Strahov and infiltrate it?"
"Himself," the man answered in a voice as strangely calm as ever. "I am his brother."
He also handed her his police badge. Lara glanced again at the man's ID card, turning it one way and then the other. She took a closer look at the metal badge and its chiselled branches. She had serious doubts about what this man claimed to know, and who he claimed to be, and yet it didn't look like fake papers.
"I don't understand, what do you want from me?"
"As I told you earlier, it's not you I'm after directly," Matēj explained quietly.
The fifty-year-old pointed to the chair in the corner of the room. Under the still dumbfounded gaze of Roman, who couldn't take his eyes off him, the policeman sat down opposite them, in a surprisingly relaxed position. Lara took a seat on the opposite bed, and finally deigned to lower her weapon. After several long seconds, the young Russian finally sat down not far from the adventuress, his eyebrows furrowed, visibly trying to put the puzzle together in his head.
"So you're a policeman?", he asked.
Matēj nodded, slowly.
"I used to be, yes. I worked for almost twenty years for the Czech Military Police, in Section 601 SKSS. Special Forces and Sensitive Event Response Team. Disappearances, hostage taking, drug trafficking, that kind of things. Sometimes I worked with my brother on certain cases."
"As a reporter, he must have been an interesting source of information for you," commented Lara, who was listening carefully.
"Our jobs, though clearly different, have often proved complementary in some way."
"And did you know he was on the trail of the Cabal?"
Matēj nodded again in confirmation, bending to this impromptu interrogation without resistance.
"Well, he didn't know actually. He thought it was simply a matter of the Mafia's doings in Prague. We talked about it for quite a long time, I myself was not very available at that time because I was away for a mission. But a few days before he died, he called me, to explain that he had come across you not far from the last Monstrum crime scene."
"Vasiley's flat, yes," the young woman confirmed. "Did your brother know him?"
"Yes. Thomas had worked with him regularly for several years, and followed his activities. They had become friends somehow. So when the art dealer was murdered, he was the one who covered the event. He told me he had found a lot of evidence against this group of lunatics who had attacked Vasiley, but most of all, he explained he had talked to you. I remember he was overexcited, because he thought he had found a connection with what had happened in Paris."
"He had no idea he had just uncovered the Cabal's command base at the time. It's thanks to him that I was able to get in," said Lara.
Matēj's dark eyes stopped on her for a moment, then on Roman.
"That's about all he told me about the events in Prague. He knew I was busy, so he didn't linger, and hung up quickly, although he didn't sound very reassured. I didn't think it would be the last time I would talk to him," said the Czech in a dark, dull voice.
Matēj took a deep breath, and looked away, but the aventuress felt mostly anger in him.
"His body was found butchered on the outskirts of the Strahov," he said quietly. "But I suppose you already knew that?"
Lara merely looked at him in reply, and then there was a short silence between them.
"The police colleagues who investigated Thomas' death came to some rather hasty conclusions. Knowing that he had been investigating the Mafia for some time, they had concluded he had been the victim of a simple settlement of accounts."
"Eckhardt, Karel and all the others were all there, however. Didn't they try to question what had happened in the Strahov? No one went to search it?"
The Czech shook his head sharply.
"Not at all. It's as if these morons had more important things to do than to conduct this investigation properly. Again, nothing against you, Miss Croft, but the case quickly fizzled out, especially after the conclusion of your trial. But Wthere were missing answers everywhere."
"And so," Roman said then, watching the exchange with his hands folded in front of him, "you took over the investigation to find out what really happened?"
Matēj waved his hand in approval of what the young man had just said.
"All these elements about the Cabal, didn't Thomas have them though? How did you know about Eckhardt?", asked the adventuress.
The young woman stared at him with her large brown eyes, waiting for an explanation. The Czech man sat up slightly in the chair, before falling backwards.
"There were too many missing elements, too many inconsistencies, the chronology of events... something was clearly wrong. It's basically my job to investigate, I know how procedures work, I know the ropes... and I know how to put aside certain elements when it helps concluding an investigation. When I saw the investigation had been completed in just a few weeks, I knew something was wrong. The murder of my brother, the way it was done, was not the usual Mafia way. It didn't look like their way of doing things. So I went back to the findings of the investigation, and I started to look through some of the archives and police reports. I went back to Vasiley's flat, which had been left under seal. And that's where I started to find some interesting leads. In particular, I found a number of notebooks."
"Notebooks?", the Englishwoman said in surprise.
"Personal notebooks, all sorts of notes on his art-dealing activities, but also on everything else."
Lara frowned.
"I went into Vasiley's flat myself, and I didn't find anything like that."
"They were in his office, the one under the big bookcase, which you obviously managed to open. Maybe it's because of you that I found them, then."
The aventuress detected a slight ironic smile on the lips of the man facing her.
"I didn't have time to search the flat from top to bottom, I was pressed for time," she said, a little annoyed. "I don't suppose you have any of those notebooks with you?"
The man shook his head apologetically.
"Unfortunately, no, it was too risky to take them out undetected. I had taken too much risks already. But I managed to take a few pictures to keep copies."
Matēj pulled out his mobile phone, and as if to back up his words, showed them some pictures of the notebooks in question.
"It took me a while, but after several trips back and forth and several consultations of these notes, I was able to piece together the timeline of events, and understand what Thomas was involved in. I had to do quite a bit of research in parallel and also read up on alchemy, on the mathematics of the Middle Ages and other occult sciences. Vasiley himself had done a lot of research on the subject, in particular with the aim of understanding the functioning of Eckhardt's glove, a super-powerful weapon..."
He paused, and ran a hand over his tired face.
"The condition of my brother's body was exactly what Vasiley described as the glove's effect on humans, as the burns and injuries it could inflict. And that's when it all clicked into place in my head, as if it was obvious," he says, snapping his fingers. "It all fit. It all made perfect sense."
"But you didn't tell anyone about this, not even your colleagues? You had enough evidence against the Cabal though," Roman said, surprised.
Matēj shook his head again.
"No one wanted to know anything. Some of my superiors took pity on me, thought I just couldn't grieve... but they were mostly afraid I'd dig up things they obviously didn't want dug up."
"I guess that's why they kicked you off the investigation, and removed you from your position," Lara asked gently.
"They might as well not bother with someone who's a little too interested in sensitive subjects," the man replied in a bitter voice. "It was the easy way out for them, so that I wouldn't ask too many questions, and above all, so that it wouldn't make waves. The notebooks clearly made the link with the Paris murders, with references to the deal Vasiley made with Werner Von Croy..."
"About the Obscura paintings, yes," confirmed the young woman.
"That's how I discovered the existence of the Lux Veritatis, and that Vasiley belonged to this order. I also discovered he had a daughter. I thought she might have some information for me. But when I tried to track her down to find out more, I could never reach her or find her. There was no trace of her anywhere."
As the images continued to scroll through the phone, Matēj suddenly stopped on one in particular: that of Mathias Vasiley posing with a young girl with almost white hair, a thin, emaciated face, and extremely light eyes, already almost translucent at the time even before she underwent Eckhardt's and Karel's torture. Roman and Lara exchanged a very serious and full of undertones look.
"Morgau," murmured the Russian.
"Did you know her?", the Czech asked in astonishement, sitting up in his chair.
"Our paths crossed, indeed," Lara explained. "But it didn't end well... It's a long story."
"It seems that as soon as you meet someone or set foot somewhere, things happen."
Lara glared at him, Matēj just shrugged with a detached look.
"What exactly are you implying?", she said icily.
"I'm not implying anything. I'm just saying that over the last few years I've watched my investigation die down, and one lead after another die out. I had come to the conclusion Eckhardt and his glove had disappeared for good. Until one of my former colleagues told me about suspicious activity in the area. Strangely enough, your arrival here coincides with the arrival of a group of strangers in Sedlec's village, not far from here. One of its notable monuments is a baroque church, which, according to what I found in Vasiley's notebooks, is where the black alchemist established his first laboratory."
Lara looked at him for a long time, before turning to Roman. A glimmer of hope suddenly lit up in the young woman's heart. Matēj gave them a slight smile.
"Now, I'm not really one to believe in coincidences. And, from what I understand, neither are you," said the man, his tone as calm as ever.
"What exactly do you know about what's going on out there? What did you see?", Roman suddenly asked, struggling to hide his excitement.
"As I said, I knew the information I have would interest you."
Lara leaned forward, her hands tightly folded in front of her, her eyes more focused than ever.
"We are interested, indeed."
—
A few hours later, the dark night had definitely settled in the small hotel room, which had become a real headquarters. The three of them were now sitting on the beds, Lara and Roman sharing the now cold meal the young man had brought back. Lara had put her clothes back on, and was pulling her hair back into a tight braid, while the Czech ex policeman was looking at the plans of the Sedlec church between bites of a meat dish he had ordered.
Lara still had some questions about him, but had detected a real sincerity in his search for justice for his brother. He was aware of certain things, and had crucial information for her and Roman. It was now clear to her he could help them. Any support was welcome to take on Svendsen's mercenaries, only God knew what was really going on in the ossuary and what they had done to Kurtis.
Matēj straightened up with a sigh. His head was seriously starting to buzz after everything the adventuress and the ex-soldier had just told him about the events that had followed Thomas' death to the most recent ones at Croft Manor.
"That would explain all the commotion in Sedlec," he said.
"Were you able to get close to Kutna Hora and find out exactly what was going on there?", Roman asked.
The Czech gobbled up another spoonful of his sauce dish and shook his head sharply.
"I have only become aware of strange goings-on in the area recently. My contact told me a group of outsiders had cordoned off the area and condemned the church. No one has access to it anymore. An unusual spike in activity like this attracts attention, especially with all the Mafia stuff going on in the country."
"We need to know what's out there," Lara said. "There's not much doubt about it now, but we need to know if Miranda Svendsen and her team are there."
"What exactly do you have planned? An infiltration?"
"That's the idea, yes," confirmed Roman.
"And how do we proceed?", asked the ex-policeman, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Do you have any equipment?"
"It's not about the equipment," Lara cut him off. "We need to know what we're getting into and where we're going. First we have to get to know the place, and the buildings. We need to know how many of them there are. If we're not prepared, we won't stand a chance."
"It's the first time you're being so reasonable," the young Russian said as he gave her a knowing glance.
"I quite agree with that," Matēj added. "Do you have any idea how to proceed?"
Lara took a deep breath, ignoring the fatigue and pain that was returning to her leg and arm.
"Having plans and maps is good, but it won't be enough. We need to get closer to the church to at least see the layout of the building. There must be galleries and underground rooms, I imagine that's where they're holed up."
"We need to find a way to get into the perimeter they've secured, but it might be complicated, and there's a chance we'll get spotted," Matēj commented.
"If no one has access to the buildings anymore, we'll get spotted right away, yes," said Roman. "We need to be as discreet as possible, or find an unstoppable way out."
They paused, all three thinking.
"That's why only Luddick and I can go," said Roman suddenly.
The aventuress gave him an offended look. The young man replied with a reproachful look, under the watchful eye of the Czech who was observing their exchange.
"I mean, Miranda Svendsen knows you. Her men know you. If they see you there, we're dead, clearly."
"I need to see the place by myself, Roman," the Englishwoman retorted coldly. "There's no way I'm going to infiltrate a place I don't know, I need a minimum of preparation."
"Lara, you have to be realistic. If you show up there and they recognize you, we're all dead. It's far too risky, you know I'm right. And Kurtis would tell you exactly the same thing."
He didn't think it was possible, but the young woman's eyes, already reduced to a menacing slit like a sniper's scope, narrowed a little more, betraying her displeasure. Luddick, a little suspicious, tried to approach her in turn.
"Roman may have a point there, Miss Croft. It's best not to take any risk. If they spot you, I guess they won't hesitate to shoot you down, and this time they'll make sure to eliminate you properly."
"What are you proposing, then?", asked the young woman, clearly offended that the policeman had taken sides against her.
Roman turned to the man and shrugged.
"The two of us can take a first look around and see what's going on," he explained.
"And what exactly are you going to tell them? I'm not sure Miranda's men will believe you if you try to pass yourselves off as mere tourists lost in the area..."
The policeman's gaze wandered for a moment. He stroked his day-old beard, which twitched slightly as he seemed to think.
"Why not," he said in a low voice."It's a pretty solid cover actually."
"A father and son on a road trip, visiting a well-known baroque church in the country, that's not unlikely either," the Russian added.
Lara watched them, her arms tightly folded against her. Suddenly she stood up and walked a few steps. She breathed loudly, resigned.
"If this is the only solution...", they heard her grumbling angrily.
Roman gave Matēj a knowing smile. He couldn't really tell why, but this man inspired confidence in him. Perhaps it was simply because he reminded him of his father somehow, and the thought pinched his heart for a moment. The Czech man stood up slowly.
"Okay, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, but not too early. We mustn't look as if we've fallen out of bed, that wouldn't be very credible."
The Russian smiled.
"It would be weird if tourists showed up to visit the church at eight in the morning, yes. Who does that in real life anyway?"
"I do," Lara answered a little further on.
Both men turned to her, unable to hold back their mocking smiles. On this light atmosphere, Luddick handed Roman a piece of paper on which he had just written his phone number, and headed for the door. He greeted them briefly, then, after a last look, left without another word. Lara and her companion waited until the sound of his footsteps had faded into the hallway before tidying up the room and considering getting some rest.
—
When Roman had showered and settled comfortably into bed, he and the adventuress discussed for a moment what had just happened, both still a little shocked by the improbability of the situation.
"I think we can trust him. His story holds up," said the young man in a low voice.
"He sounded sincere, yes," said the Englishwoman, sighing, still a little pensive. "Everything seemed true. All the photos, the story of the notebooks. He even made the connection with Von Croy..."
Roman nodded softly, lying quietly on his back.
"We don't have much choice anyway, do we?"
"You know me. If there's any doubt, I won't hesitate to shoot," she replied, turning her gaze straight into his.
They exchanged a smile.
"Do you think Kurtis is all right?"
The young woman's smile slowly faded, and was replaced by a much more serious expression.
"I don't know."
Unable to answer him anything else, she simply raised her arm and turned off the light from the small lamp hanging above their heads. After muttering what sounded like a good night, she turned on her side, and pulled the covers over her, almost burying herself under them.
She stared at the window for a moment, deep in thought. Despite the doubts that were building up, somewhere in the corner of her mind persisted the idea she might have discovered the location of the nephilim source. And this idea gave her real hope. Maybe she and Kurtis would finally come up with something concrete. But for now, she had to stay focused on what was going on here, and what was ahead of them. First, she had to get Kurtis out of there and get the glove back.
One thing at a time
She could feel the adrenaline and excitement returning to her body and boosting it at the thought the confrontation with Svendsen and her men was coming. But she also felt an indescribable rage boiling in her blood at the thought of what they had done to the demon hunter. She was not afraid, but she knew that time was running out from now on.
She finally closed her eyes. For the first time in a long time she was aware it was important to rest to gain strength.