"Any ideas?" Lara shouted to Jack over the din. She tried to look blasé, but she was a bit concerned at their position. In response, Jack stuck the barrel of his MP-5 toward the back seat, hooking a strap on the gym bag. He yanked hard, and the bag plopped right between the front bucket seats. Wincing from the flying debris, he rooted through the bag until he found what he wanted.

"Here," he said as he tossed an object to Lara. She caught it and examined it. It looked like a smoke grenade but a label on the side read "Type 25 Distraction Device".  Lara looked at Jack quizzically. A flashbang? He pulled the pin on his grenade and nodded back.

*********************************

"Cease fire!" Rimoux ordered. "Check out the car. They must be dead." He doubted that anyone could survive that barrage but had to be certain.

Two men nearer the Audi moved up carefully. The rest covered the car with their weapons. As the two men came within about fifteen meters of the car, two small objects sailed out through the car's shattered windscreen.

"Grenades!" someone shouted and everyone dove for cover. The flashbangs clanged and bounced on the concrete and rolled to a stop. A split second later, they detonated. The twin explosions were blinding and deafening even out in the open. The two men near the car became totally disoriented.

*********************************

Jack kicked open the door and sprang out. Lara followed his cue and exited the other side. They both knew their only hope would be to get out of that deathtrap and get some solid cover and room to maneuver. The precious seconds bought for them by the flashbangs would make the critical difference.

Lara ran like a bandit for the rear corner of the hangar, rounding it just as a few rounds slammed into the dirt at her feet. She worked her way down the wall and came to a door. Figuring she would have a better chance inside than out, she kicked it and leapt inside.  She found herself in the short leg of an L-shaped room that extended around an interior corner to her left. There were some rough wooden desks and a dusty calendar on the far wall. The MP-5 firmly seated in her shoulder, Lara crept along the inside wall listening for any sounds that didn't belong. As she came to the corner, she heard a door open at the other end of the room. It sounded like a door to the outside. The sound was followed by heavy footfalls coming straight at her. She crouched, concentrating on her front sight, her finger feeling the trigger. Into her view came one of Rimoux's men, a weapon in his hands. Lara's weapon fired almost instinctually. Three 9mm rounds punctured the man's thorax, kicking him backward to the floor. He didn't get up. 

Lara finally exhaled, reminding herself that she needed to remember to breathe. Carefully "slicing the pie" around the corner, Lara backed against the right wall and slid through a doorway into the next room.

Jack managed to get behind a large fuel truck next to the Learjet before anyone started firing again. He crossed onto a patch of grass and found a drainage ditch. He somersaulted in, coming up with his weapon trained in the direction he ran from. He fired a burst, forcing three pursuing men to dive for cover. He dropped to his back, taking a moment to think. With Lara headed back toward the hangar, these men would have to split up. What was his count? Twelve? Jack figured there must be five to seven men after him. He needed to take them out while causing mass confusion at the same time. Cutting Rimoux's escape route would be nice as well. How could he do that?

"Yes!" he said aloud. He sat up again and trained his sights on the fuel truck. He traced it to the left and saw what he needed. The rubber fuel line that ran from the truck to the Learjet's starboard wing. Hoping to God the valve was open he fired. The fuel line was shredded and fell to the tarmac, jet fuel spilling and splashing everywhere. Jack heard someone shout a warning from behind the truck. His plan was having the desired effect. Now he needed to ignite the fuel. Figuring the simplest plan was the best, he shot at the puddle on the concrete.

It worked. Sparks from the ricocheting bullets set off the highly flammable liquid. A sheet of flame spread and seemed to dart along the hose to the truck itself. Jack ducked in time to avoid being scorched as the truck disappeared in the explosion. A white-yellow fireball consumed the fuel truck and the three men behind it. The force of the blast picked the Learjet up and slammed it down hard, blackening its aluminum skin. The windows in all the cars smashed. Shards of metal and glass became missiles and the air was nearly sucked out of Jack's lungs. For a moment he feared he would be killed by his own plan. An ugly black mushroom of smoke rose into the air as flaming debris fell all around. Fighting every instinct to take cover, Jack jumped and ran down the ditch in an effort to flank Rimoux's position and catch them all from behind.

Lara found herself in a workshop of some kind. A plywood workbench ran the length of the opposite wall, littered with grimy engine parts. Shelves of tools and a pile of aircraft tires filled up the rest of the room. The smell of motor oil and dirt was everywhere.  She crept across the room, her weapon swinging in low arcs as she scanned for threats.  A door leading to the main hangar was to her left.  Holding her MP-5 out away from her as she rounded the corner, Lara stole a quick peek through the door.

In the main hangar sat two more aircraft, another Learjet and an aging twin-engine Cessna 421. The tail of a third aircraft could be seen in the far corner. Tires, acetylene canisters, hoses and tool stands were all over the concrete floor. Steel girders supported the tin roof. The hangar didn't appear to be occupied.

Just as Lara prepared to enter the room she heard a sound behind her. She ducked and whirled just in time to avoid being shot in the head. The doorjamb shattered from the fire of the goon's AK. Splinters peppered Lara's face and eyes, but she managed to return fire. Her shots went a little wild but one bullet hit the gunman in the right shoulder, cracking his scapula and severing his brachial plexus. His arm went limp, letting his weapon fall to the floor. Lara recovered in the next second and planted two rounds in the man's forehead. 

She ran her fingers over her face to check for injuries. Her right eye was stinging mightily, and flecks of blood on her fingers told her the side of her face was lacerated.  At least it didn't seem serious. Lara wiped the blood on her shorts, dropped her magazine, checked it and, satisfied that there were enough rounds left, slammed it home and continued into the hangar.

Jack low-crawled up the length of the ditch. It appeared Rimoux and the remaining men were still concentrating on the fiercely burning fuel truck. Maybe they were checking for survivors.  Jack came to a deeper depression in the ditch that allowed him to almost stand up and still stay below ground level. This was a good defensive position with at least thirty yards of unobstructed terrain in all directions.

Jack took a moment to size up the opposition. Hiding behind the Mercedes was the man he traded shots with earlier. He looked fit, but not in a military way. He looked more like the product of ritzy health clubs, deeply tanned with close-cropped silver hair. Jack saw a pistol in his hand. That had to be the Frenchman. Next to him was a tall black man dressed in British camo fatigues and carrying a 5.56mm FNC carbine. From his focus and alertness, Jack guessed he was the Frenchman's bodyguard. He looked like a pro. He'd have to be taken out first. That wasn't a problem. Jack was in a killing mood. 

Lara entered the main hangar, sweeping left-right-left as she walked. Beads of sweat covered her forehead and slid down into her eyes, further stinging the cuts on her face. Her arm was throbbing from Harris' knife wound. The thought of a nice hot Jacuzzi ran across her mind as she came around a pile of engine parts. The area was clear. Pushing away thoughts of comfort, Lara concentrated on the hangar. Something wasn't right here. She had killed two men and knew at least four or five were still out there, but couldn't sense that anyone was in the hangar. That didn't make sense. They should have come in here to cut her off or set up an ambush.  Although Lara had learned never to assume in a combat situation, she sensed that no one was here. It didn't matter. She would have to clear this hangar anyway, then link up with Jack and go after Rimoux.

Jack kept the Frenchman and the bodyguard in his sights. The Frenchman was talking into a cell phone but was too far away for Jack to hear. The bodyguard kept his vigil, weapon at the ready. It seemed strange to Jack that none of the other men were moving. Just as Jack began to sense something was wrong a rifle butt swung into view and knocked his lights out.

********************************

"Lara? Lara, come out. Please, mon petit. Come join us."

Lara's head snapped around at the sound of his voice. What's going on? She crossed to the outside door of the hangar and peered out. What she saw chilled her to the bone.

Rimoux was standing in the open, smiling like the Devil himself. His bodyguard stood nearby, holding his rifle to the head of…

…Jack, who was on his knees, hands on his head. There were the rest of Rimoux's men and a half dozen Kenyan Army troopers standing behind them. Lara's heart sank. They had walked right into a trap.

"Lara, my darling. Please don't make us wait. I wouldn't want to hurt your gentleman friend here." 

Rimoux's voice coiled like a snake and gave Lara the shivers. She was nearly vibrating with rage at what she saw, but realized her position was hopeless. Jack would certainly be killed if she didn't comply.

"All right. I'm coming out," Lara announced. She carefully opened the door and exited. Rimoux's gunmen tensed upon seeing her. Slowly, ever so slowly, Lara unslung her MP-5 and gripped it by the muzzle. She made a show of delicately placing it on the tarmac.

"Excellent," Rimoux observed. "Now your pistols, please."

Lara wordlessly unbuckled her gunbelt and let it slide to her feet. Her eyes locked with Jack's. For the first time in many years, Lara Croft felt absolutely helpless. Not for herself, for she had gotten out of worse fixes than this. She felt that she had led Jack into this situation and now his life was in immediate peril. The sorrow and shame she felt was evident in her eyes. Jack gazed back at her steadily. A faint trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Everything's all right, he seemed to say. Lara allowed the barest hint of a smile in return, although she didn't feel like it.

"Ah, there you are, cherí. So nice to see you again. Oh, but you have been injured," Rimoux prattled on, noticing Lara's face and arm. "Please, come sit with me."

Lara must not have noticed it before. Next to Rimoux stood a small table and two chairs. The table was covered by a spotless white linen tablecloth. On it sat a bottle of wine and two glasses. Was this man trying to charm her? The thought made Lara sick. 

Rimoux must have noticed her reluctance, because he snapped his fingers at his bodyguard. "Jamba, if you please..."

The tall African violently jammed the muzzle of his rifle in Jack's ear. Jack winced but did not make a sound. Lara gasped, her eyes going wide. Rimoux's smile grew even colder in response. Lara got the message and stepped carefully to the table. Finally she took a seat, assuming the stiffest, most British posture she could. 

"Ah, Lara," Rimoux crooned as he took his seat opposite hers. "Ever ze proper lady. You know, even though I never forgave you for Burma, I have always admired your…" He paused to pour Lara a glass of wine, then himself, then place the bottle back on the table. "…Form."

"Yes, cherí, I never forgot what happened in ze jungle. You cost me a lot of money." His tone of voice was that of a parent scolding a naughty child. It made Lara furious, but she didn't show it.

"Please, my dear, try ze wine. It is a very nice Bordeaux." Noticing Lara's reluctance, Rimoux added, "I inseest."

Lara took an obligatory sip. It was excellent. The man did know his wine.

"Those artifacts meant a great deal to me. I had a client in Saudi Arabia who was prepared to pay more zan ten million dollars for zem. But zen, you became involved. You took from me what was rightfully mine. And killed many of my best men. And so, mon petit," Rimoux paused to take a sip. "I must now exact my revenge.

"I should give you my compliments. You handled yourself expertly in Burma. And here as well. I have not heard from Harris, so I must assume zat you have disposed of him. Alerting ze American commandos to attack ze embassy was also inspired. But of course, I was prepared for that. Yes, Lara, your reputation is well deserved. And your friend here," - Rimoux waved toward Jack - "seems to be quite ze professional. Ah, but that is all for naught, yes? Neither of you knew of my other--" Rimoux indicated the Kenyan soldiers,  "-- employees". What this all means, my dear, is that you weel both die today."

Rimoux threw his head back and laughed. It was guttural, evil. Lara looked at him through narrow, hate-filled eyes. She wasn't so much afraid as disgusted. This filth was going to kill her and Jack and get away scot-free. After all this work. After losing D.C. It was too much to believe. Lara stole a glance at Jack. He looked back with a stony expression American soldiers call a "war face". Brave warrior to the end, Lara mused bitterly. Oh, Jack. If only we had more time…

"Etienne!" Rimoux called to one of the men. "Allez!"  The goon jogged over to the shot-up Audi and looked inside.  He rooted around in the back seat, opened the trunk and searched there too. Finally, he looked at Rimoux and shook his head.

"What?" Rimoux exclaimed. He rose from his seat and pushed his face near to Lara's. "Ze stone is missing. It is not here!"

"C'est dommage," Lara replied coolly, a confident grin slowly appearing. "What a pity."

"Yaaahhhh!" Rimoux screamed like and animal, kicking the table away. His breathing became rapid and coarse, as though he was hyperventilating. He spat and cursed in vulgar street French. Finally, he composed himself and looked Lara right in the eye.

"Kill zem both."

Jamba flicked off the safety and aimed at the back of Jack's head. Two more goons came up to Lara and leveled their weapons at her. Rimoux turned his back on them. 

Lara could hear a bird singing…

The sun felt good on her neck…

She closed her eyes.

 The shooting started. Lara flinched. Something was wrong. Lara opened her eyes. What she saw was not what she expected. Rimoux's men and the Kenyan soldiers were diving for cover. Geysers of earth erupted everywhere. Some men were cut to ribbons. The heavy chattering sound of a machine gun was coming from somewhere.

Lara snapped into action.  She jumped the two confused gunmen. One tried to shoot her, but she knocked his weapon away and delivered a Jiu Jistu backhand chop into his Adam's apple. The other man got a shot off, narrowly missing Lara's head. Lara whirled and roundhouse kicked the weapon out of his hands, then jammed the heel of her hand into his nose. The force of the blow drove a bone into his brain and killed him instantly. 

Taking advantage of the confusion, Jack spun around and pushed Jamba's rifle away. The two struggled for a moment, then Jack twisted it out of the African's hands. The two men stood facing each other, unarmed.

Jamba el-Sayeed was a committed terrorist. He was trained in Libya, Syria and Iran. He had operated in Beirut, Belfast, Athens, and a score of other cities. He had killed many people over the years. Car bombs, boobytraps, it didn't matter. Jamba was a killer. And he enjoyed it. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a large combat knife and smiled wickedly at Jack. Time for another kill.

Jack pulled his Gerber Mark I from his jacket and assumed a fighting stance. It was about time he'd gotten a chance to get up close and personal.

The carnage around them grew. Men ran for cover only to be shot to pieces.  The sound of heavy gunfire filled the air. Lara looked around frantically to see where it was coming from. Suddenly, she saw it. Out from behind the hangar rose a shape. It blocked the sun and slid into view. The scorpion-like shape told Lara it was some kind of aircraft. Then it turned…

The shape became a pale gray SH-60 Seahawk helicopter. On the tail, in bold black letters, were the words "U.S. NAVY." Behind the side-mounted M-60 machine gun was Terrell, blazing away, shell casings falling everywhere.

Lara was elated. But there was no time to gloat. She had to get Rimoux. Looking around, she didn't see him anywhere.  She ran toward the hangar.

The Seahawk settled to the tarmac. Terrell grabbed his CAR-15 and hopped out. He ran toward Jack, seeing the fight that was taking place. He was fully prepared to shoot the guy, but Jack seemed like he wanted this one himself.

Jack and the African traded feints and parries here and there, feeling each other out. Jamba moved with savagery and speed. Jack possessed the focus and technique of a trained professional. The two circled each other like feral cats, each waiting for the other to misstep. Suddenly, Jamba lashed out. His blade cut Jack's coat inches from his belly. Jack dodged the blow and countered with a slash to Jamba's knife arm. It connected, and since Jamba didn't wear a long-sleeved shirt the cut went deep, severing a tendon and dousing the front of Jack's sportcoat with blood. The African flinched, his concentration momentarily blinded by the sudden pain. Jack took advantage of the moment and moved in for the kill. He knocked Jamba's knife hand away with his left and, stepping inside, drove his Gerber deep into the African's neck. He twisted the knife for good measure, and the African went down. Seconds later he was dead. 

"Not bad. You even got wet this time," Terrell observed laconically.

"I ordered you to get out of here," Jack spat.

"Yeah, well I don't hear so good. Besides, looked like you needed some backup."

"Yeah," Jack admitted. He looked down at the dead African, then around for Lara. "C'mon, T. We gotta find her!"

********************************

Lara found Rimoux in the cockpit of the other Learjet, frantically trying to power up the aircraft. So focused on his task was he that he didn't notice Lara coming up behind him. She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back into the cabin. She threw him to the deck, jumped on top of him and began beating him savagely. He tried to block the blows but she was too fast. She hit him about the face and body, raining blow after blow. Rimoux grabbed and flailed, and finally got hold of Lara's long ponytail. He pulled hard, jerking her head back. His other hand came around fast, catching Lara squarely in the jaw. She fell back into the cockpit.

Rimoux leapt to his feet and lunged at her. Before Lara could react, he was on her, his hands to her throat. Lara tried desperately to get him off her, but he was strong, squeezing her throat for all he was worth, driven by rage and vengeance. Lara clawed and kicked, unable to get a grip on him, her limbs blocked by the close confines of the cockpit. She looked around for something; some weapon or object she could use. Her vision began graying around the edges. Her head began throbbing. If she didn't move quickly it would be lights out.

"I will have my revenge," Rimoux growled. "You took the stone from me. I have nothing left but to kill you. Die, Lara Croft!" His eyes bulged with fury.

Lara's right hand found something. It felt solid. She grabbed it and swung it as hard as she could. It connected with Rimoux's head, knocking him back. Lara made it to her knees and swung again. The pilot's flashlight smacked Rimoux across the face, knocking out a couple of teeth. Rimoux fell back into the cabin stunned and disoriented. Lara tossed the flashlight and descended on him. She roughly turned him over on his stomach and wrapped her right arm around his throat. She wrenched his head back and applied all the pressure she could.

"For the villagers in Burma… for D.C. … for…" She pulled harder, gritting her teeth, fighting his attempts to free himself.

"…Me!" 

It was both audible and palpable when Rimoux's neck cracked. He went limp. His head slumped. Lara let Rimoux's body drop to the deck. She slid against the bulkhead and closed her eyes, letting out a long, labored breath. After a moment she drew herself up in a ball and buried her face in her knees.

Minutes later, Jack and Terrell burst into the aircraft. Jack saw Rimoux's corpse lying there, his head at an unnatural angle. And there was Lara. Jack rushed to her and sat down right next to her.

"Hey."

She looked up to him. Her face was bruised, her arm was bloody and her eyes were wet. He touched her cheek gingerly, smiling at her.

"It's over. Time to go," Jack whispered. Without saying a word, Lara stretched her arms around Jack's neck and held him tight.  Jack was genuinely surprised at her reaction. But it felt right.

It felt so right.

"Yeah," Jack said softly, taking her in his arms. "We're getting out of here."

Epilogue