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Lara Croft had just stepped down from the podium of the lecture hall in
New York's Museum of Natural History. She was there to give a lecture to
the National Archaeological Society about her discoveries on her last
exhibition - the one that took her to Atlantis. She wisely left out the part
about the aliens. She was still being debriefed by MI-6 and the CIA about
their presence and possible intentions and they asked her to refrain from
discussing it; to which she agreed. But what a book it will make one day, she
thought to herself. As she left the lecture hall she was accompanied by Dr.
Lilith Starks, the Museum's curator, and Sgt. Jonas Wilder, NYPD, assigned
as her temporary security escort. Not that she needed any. Not with a
Walther PPK tucked in the small of her back, neatly covered by her tailored
Burberry suit jacket. She once dated a captain in the SAS who taught her the
fine art of smuggling firearms through airport metal detectors. It had proven
to be a most valuable skill. "Your lecture was most fascinating, Miss Croft," Dr. Starks said, smiling. "It's quite exciting to have such a well known archaeological figure as yourself here at the Museum." "You're too kind," Lara replied. "I appreciate the chance to share stories of my travels. And I'll use any excuse to come to New York." Lara loved Manhattan. In fact, all her Western Hemisphere expeditions were based here. She maintained a small office and apartment in the Upper West Side, along with a respectable collection of classic Harleys. The trio walked out through the Museum's main lobby, past a crowd of onlookers, students and assorted fans, all hoping for Lara to autograph their copies of her latest book. Lara smiled and waved, while Dr. Starks apologized to the crowd, explaining that Miss Croft's visit was to be as low-key as possible this time. Sorry, everyone. Maybe next time. Sgt. Wilder noticed several TV news crews out in the street, likely waiting to catch a glimpse of the famous adventuress, and remembering his orders to keep Lara from the eyes of the press, recommended another exit. "Ma'am, we had better take the side door. I got an unmarked car waitin' and we can go out through the back gate." He motioned to a nondescript door next to an Italian sculpture of some long forgotten pope. "Thank you no, Sergeant," Lara said. "I appreciate your concern, but I don't think there will be a problem with the front entrance." "But ma'am, there're some TV crews out there and I have orders that you not be harassed by the media." "Nothing of it. We'll just pop past them and that will be that. Dr. Starks," she said, turning to the curator, "Thank you ever so much for your hospitality. It was great fun speaking to your society. Promise me that you'll invite me back." Lilith Starks, Ph.D., was charmed by the delightful and interesting young woman. "Of course, Miss Croft. You are most welcome whenever you wish." Lara smiled at her host, and turned for the main doors with Wilder in the lead. He held the glass door open for her as she breezed through into the beautiful early autumn afternoon. Immediately, cameras and microphones pointed in her direction as she descended the marble steps to 5th Avenue. Several overly dressed reporters started yelling questions in her direction. "Miss Croft! What about reports you discovered extraterrestrials on an island in the... "Do you really carry twin pistols on your expeditions... "Could you respond to reports that you were recently seen with Prince Charles... Hah, she thought. As if she would answer that last one. It was just a benefit appearance at the British Museum. The tabloids had her in a passionate affair with the Prince of Wales within days of the event. She continued with Sgt. Wilder down to the street smiling and shaking her head no, as if she had nothing to say. The NYPD detective, for his part, didn't like having all those reporters and cameras bothering his protectee, and the look on his face showed it. Lara noticed. "Oh Sergeant. You mustn't be bothered by all the fuss. I'm followed in London loads of times by the paparazzi these days. I simply ignore them and go my way." "Yes ma'am," the 20 year veteran growled in reply. "I just don't like the security risk. There's no barrier over there. One of those guys could be a maniac with a gun or something..." "Well, it won't be the first time for me." Lara chuckled to herself. "Maybe not, but this is New York, not some cave in Peru. You can't carry a machine gun on the street here." Just as they reached the sidewalk, a black BMW 720 rolled up to the curb. The front passenger door opened and out stepped an athletic looking man in his mid 20s sporting a short GI haircut and an expensive gray pinstripe suit. Wilder noticed the man's coat was open. He was probably carrying. The man opened the rear door for Lara, and she began to step in. "No you can't. Too bad, that. Take care of yourself, Sergeant." Lara smiled to the detective as her door was closed. The bodyguard got back in the car and it quickly moved into traffic down Central Park West. Wilder, a veteran of countless drug busts and street shootouts, watched the black car as it sped away. That gal, he thought, is definitely one in a million... Copyright (c) 1997 Bob Patterson. All rights reserved. |