After the disappearance of her mother when she was nine, she could not perceive that life would be so cruel as to deal her another crippling blow. But it did, and in the blink of an eye, her father was taken from her. The loss was devastating; and she spent many a day in his room, holding his clothes…inhaling his scent, willing him to return to her. All her zeal and enthusiasm appeared to have vanished along with his presence. Whilst she struggled to come to terms with her loss, her relatives circled slowly above what would become of Abingdon Estate, each eager to get their hands on the valuable land. It was then that Winston had come to her, urging the young heiress to stand up amidst such troubles, and to claim the home that was rightfully hers.
He had told her that the bravest of hearts fight battles that are bleak; those that stand little chance of winning. It was all well and good to be bold when circumstances were in your favour – but to not bow to defeat when defeat was prominent – there lay true courage. In his own way, he carried with him a lot of wisdom and love. His was a presence she realized she would not be willing to part with any day.
After he had polished and straightened the entire row of cutlery, she could not help but smile. "Winston, we haven't had a formal gathering here since January. Must you put yourself through this painful ritual each week?"
Winston looked up from his work and spoke good-naturedly. "We all have our eccentricities, Lady Croft," he smiled knowingly at her, and she returned it, her cheeks reddening slightly. "This is mine. In addition to my whims, I thought it would be nice for your friends to come home to laid table and a warm meal."
Lara looked surprised. "Alistair and Zip? Home so soon? Has it already been a month?"
"Matter of fact, it has been more than a month. Their flight was delayed in Beirut – the next one out was leaving in a week."
"Goodness. Tempus fugit."
"Indeed." nodded Winston. "Especially when our minds are preoccupied. I am sorry the meeting did not go to your liking. Mr. Goethe, too, seemed particularly distressed upon leaving."
She strolled up to the table and began a cursory examination of the red carnations that had been laid beside each plate. "He wanted to see father's old relics. The ones that he used to put out on display."
"Whatever for?"
"His client is a little short of information, it seems. Perhaps all the papers and photographs father took are not enough for them to go on."
Winston looked confused. "Do forgive my misinterpretations, Lady Croft, but I was under the impression that all the artifacts under your father's care were documented."
"They are, Winston. But simple photographs and descriptions as such...are not enough. They wanted me to loan some of the pieces to them. When I refused, they were desperate enough to offer me a place on their research team in exchange for my cooperation." She put the red flower gently back in its place. "I said no."
The old man looked concerned. "I thought that was what you had wanted,"
Lara shook her head. "Apparently not."
"If you are happy in your decision, then that is all you can ask of yourself."
She looked away, troubled.
"Lady Croft?" he ventured softly. "This dig – it is very important to you, is it not?" She nodded slowly, not meeting his gaze. "And you had said to me, previously, that you wanted nothing more than to be part of the expedition. It seems to me, that you have reached a quandary." Lara let out a grim chuckle. "But no dilemma is devoid of a solution. If you cannot work with them, then go the site alone. That way, you will owe no one."
She looked at Winston curiously. "In terms of research, Winston, they are light years ahead of me. Who knows what other artifacts they've uncovered? What else they've learned?"
"Begging your pardon, Lady Croft, but since when have you let a mere head start discourage you?"
A slight smile crept across her face, but her words were tentative. "They're a well organized team. And while I'm one, they're many."
"Thirteen men driven by money cannot stand against one driven by passion."
"Such sayings would be considered foolhardy by many. Very impractical."
"And we know that all that you have accomplished has been done via sheer practicality...and your attentiveness to the manual," winked Winston.
She let out a laugh, and gave him a knowing smile. "Winston – I've got to hand it to you. You certainly do know how to bring out the best in me." She started walking away, and then paused briefly, calling back to him. "Please make the necessary arrangements for Delhi – I aim to leave two weeks from now. I'll be staying at my usual place. Oh, and Winston?"
"Yes, Lady Croft?"
"I wish to make a small detour in Shanghai – there are a few things I'll need to check up on before I head to Delhi."
FIVE HOURS LATER
"Say what?" piped up the young man after glancing up from his laptop.
Lara sighed; partially due to her own frustrations and partially due to her friend's disbelief. "It's just that...after going through a few of the papers...all the evidence my father has put together seems to be pointing in one direction. An all-too-obvious direction. It seems that he was aware of something he was not quite willing to share...or at least put into writing. But you must keep in mind, Zip, that this is only a cursory glance through some of his findings – there's plenty more to unearth – so I could quite possibly be wrong."
Zip leaned back in his chair – it was his turn to sigh. "Your thoughts are running faster than your words again, Lara. And if you words can't catch up, think of what it must be doing to the rest of us who hear 'em! I just don't see why you want me to pull up that woman's files again. I sent you all the information from Beirut." He shrugged his shoulders in a hopeless gesture. "What does her profile have to do with your dad's work anyhow?"
"Because, Zip, she is the daughter of an oil tycoon. The only schooling she'd received was at Bobby-Joe's school of etiquette – " she saw Zip wince and chuckle at the insult, but carried on, " – and she has plenty of money to see her and her grandchildren through life. Why on earth would she want to invest her time and money in archeological findings?"
"You do it – and you're both in a similar position in life." said Zip, a matter-of-factly.
Lara rolled her eyes. "You forget my heritage."
"Ah," recalled Zip in realization.
"Anyway," pressed Lara, "There is something that eludes us. There is no visible connection between her heritage, or even her own interests, and what my father uncovered."
"Maybe she's just a rich chick with fancy whims. You know how these millionaires can get."
Lara looked away, the gears still chugging away in her mind. "No. Not in this case. This is anything but a whim. It's a well thought-out plan."
"A plan which didn't initially include you. You still sore about it, huh?"
She pointed her finger at Zip and smiled. "That, Zip, is exactly what sets this dig apart from the others. If you had a genuine interest in something, you would want to get expert opinions – given that you could afford it, and she can – from all over the world to aid you in your quest for knowledge. But she didn't. All the co-authors on father's papers were not consulted. One would think that they would be the foremost people one would go to for this sort of thing. Instead, she hired a bunch of lawyers and businessmen to organize the research team."
Zip looked puzzled. "So, she's in cahoots with Wall Street...?" After getting no response from Lara, "Are these lawyers and money-men actually gonna do the digging? And how do you know who's on this team of hers anyhow?"
Lara shook her head. "I don't know for certain, Zip. But the list of names was in one of the files belonging to her lawyer. Winston and I did a small search and found out that they belonged to business firms – some banking, some real estate...and most interestingly – a tourist firm in Lima, Peru."
Zip looked tired. "Lara...so what?"
She held both her hands up and grinned. "Remember that I told you that father detailed the burial rituals of this tribe?" Zip nodded. "Each of the deceased was buried with a dagger. Incan daggers."
"I don't suppose there was a way to Fed Ex those knives from Peru to India back in the day, was there?" Then, after giving the matter a second thought, "Lara, couldn't the Incans have traveled to South Asia by boat?"
"Quite possibly, but highly unlikely at the time. And the tribe was far removed from the coastline."
Zip furrowed his brows and sighed. He glanced at the clock on his laptop screen. The small digits read 2:05 AM. "Okay. I'm convinced. There is some invisible link between our Miss Shadel intentions and this wacky tribe of yours that collects Peruvian trinkets. I'll go over her profile one more time. But the academic portion of the work falls into Alistair's lap – not mine."
Lara nodded, pleased. "Of course. Where is our hapless adventurer anyway?"
"He's holed up in his room rubbing some damned hydrocortisone cream over himself. He claims he's allergic to some leaves he brushed up against in the airport."
"Ah, the dangers of intercontinental travel. Good thing you two didn't follow my suggestion and go hiking. Alistair would have turned into a shining example for hypochondriacs everywhere."
Zip began to shut down his laptop, and let out a long audible yawn. He watched sleepily as Lara began to walk away. "Don't I know it. You heading for dreamland too?"
"Not if I can help it. I have two weeks to catch up on two months of work that that lot have done."
"Sounds like you're heading to Vegas with only a buck to spend. But hey, it's your dollar."
Lara smiled. "It is indeed."