FORWARD

ADDITIONAL NOTE: If you start reading this work and it seems to make little or no sense, let me make a humble suggestion – READ PART 1 FIRST!!! – ‘nuff said.

This is a work of fiction (blah-blah-blah) it is not real, do not try this at home kids. Lara Croftª and Tomb Raiderª are the property of EDIOS and CORE. Guys, I'm using the names, but I ain't makin' squat offa' it - so there! However, Max Reynolds originated in the twisted confines of my little noggin, so I guess he's © 1999 Mike Riegel.

WARNING - This story is pretty much PG-13 the whole way through. There is some (mildly) strong language, nudity (woo-hoo!) and a whole crap-load of violence. If you have even been offended by anything in your life, you'd better play it safe and not read this thing. Or, better yet, why not try to show a little responsibility for your actions so that I don't have to ever write another disclaimer again... Sorry about that, I can get a little carried away at times. Anyway...

On to the show... ZOOM RAIDER PART 2

Chapter Eleven

It was over sixteen days before Lara was to enter her library again. When she did finally ascend the music room steps she was limping noticeably, wore her right arm in a sling, and carried her backpack with her left. She was wearing a comfortable, yet frumpy, set of sweat clothes which did little to hide the ugly bruise that spread from her right shoulder up to her ear. Pulling the book to open her desk area, Lara sat with a grunt and eased her backpack up onto the surface. She was as careful as she could be with one hand, but soon placed the glass case from her knapsack next to its twin on the desk. Inside of the cases rested similar stone artifacts - the only difference being the markings on the sides and variations in the coloring. Lara grinned slightly as she examined the piece that she should have gotten in Germany, snatched from Elder's henchpersons - but at a price. A lucky shot on the part of one particularly unthreatening-looking thug had shattered Lara's shoulder. She was not going to be doing any field work for a month at least. In addition to the bullet wound, a Doberman had taken a chunk out of her thigh. The wound was dressed at the moment, but the plastic surgeon swore that it would be almost impossible to notice once it had healed - and only minimal numbness due to nerve damage. Compared to her current feeling of discomfort "minimal numbness" sounded like a dream to her. Of course, the doctors had given her pain medication, but she was not ready for that quite yet - she had some work to do first, and she needed all of her mind with her. After Windows had finished booting, Lara opened her translation suite and carefully removed her new piece from its container and opened a side drawer of her desk, one that had a scanner seamlessly wired into it. She scanned the engravings on one side of the object and set about finding where Elder had hidden the next piece. As she stared at the Scandanavian piece some two weeks earlier, Lara had realized that the coordinate symbols on the piece had changed since she had first taken posession of it. From there, she had surmised that the engravings fluctuated to provide the current location of the corresponding piece - not just where it was hidden. Lara had spent a few worried moments wondering whether Elder had figured this secret out as well, but then realized that the information would just lead Elder to Lara's home, which was where she was likely to keep them anyway. ...and just let them try to get in here... She had gone to considerable lengths to make her home as secure as possible, an invasion a few years ago made these precautions all but a necessity. The program's status bar told Lara that it would be quite a while before the translation was accomplished, so she launched her internet browser to catch up on a few things. She had quite a few messages, and began working down the list, scanning names and subject headers for any reason to delete the message, and quite a few of them were never even opened before meeting their demise. One of the messages caught her attention. Lara did not recognize the sender's address off-hand, but the subject line read: WHERE IN THE HELL ARE MY CIGARETTES??? Lara instantly knew the message was from Max, but she wondered how he could have gotten her private E-mail. Apparently, this man was more resourceful than Lara gave him credit. Feeling almost giddy, she quickly opened his electronic letter, which had been sent over a week before.

Laura, Hey, what's happening? Yes, I am just joking about the smokes, but I didn't wanna get this thing deleted as I have no other way of getting hold of you. Yes, I made it back in one piece - thought I swear I saw Jesus trying to hitch a ride on a deserted Mexican highway. So, how are you? I wanted to thank you for signing off on that release, I am making money hand-over-fist just in the pre-orders of the tape - I appreciate it. And that brings me to the other reason I had to get in touch with you - that tape has opened a whole kettle of worms up for me. Everyone is breathing down my neck to get more action stuff with you - don't worry, I already told them 'no,' but there was another offer that I thought was much more intriguing - and just might give me a snowball's chance of getting out of this business. I have included my home number in the footer of this message, please call me whenever you can - even if it's just to tell me to go screw myself, I miss you a little. Please call me...

Max

Below his name was a mishmash of routers and stops that this message had made in it's journey to Lara, and also included Max's home phone number - not the business number that was on his card. In a moment, it was as if the past two weeks had not happened, Lara felt a surge of emotion shoot from the deep recesses of her stomach and vent out of her ears - they were getting awfully hot. Before she knew what she was doing, the phone was in her hand and she was calling across the ocean. It took several moments for the call to process through, but she soon heard the distinctive long rings of an American telephone. On the fourth ring, Lara started wondering where Max was, then she thought about the time difference... "Hello?" came the voice of a very young girl. "Yes, is Max there." "Yes." There was no sound of the phone being placed down, or of Max being summoned. Lara acted on a hunch. "May I speak with him?" At that point there was a jostling sound on the other end, and then a deafening, "DAD-EEEEEE!!!" Then came a bang! as the phone was dropped and the sound of little footsteps bounding down a hall, several more muted "Daddy!"s followed, and finally the crack of another line picking up. A low-pitched, gravely voice answered. "Hello?" "Max?" "You're on the air..." "Greetings from England." Max's voice immediately perked up. "Lara?" "Correct." "Hell, I thought you fell off of the face of the earth." "I did." "Think you're so Goddam funny..." Suddenly, the young voice was back with threatening tone. "Umm...you'd better pay the jar or I'm tellin' Mom!" "Melissa, please hang up the phone." "I'll tell mom," the little girl replied. "Your Mother is right next to me, and I promise to pay up, okay?" "Okay." "Now hang up, sweetie." "Your friend talks funny, she sounds like the girl on the game..." "She sure does, now hang up the phone, honey." Max's words were followed by a series of bangs and crashes as the receiver was finally placed back in its cradle. "Sorry about that." "Accepted." "So, how are you? What have you been up to?" "I've made some progress in the matter we discussed before, but I'm afraid that my most recent trip did not agree with me..." "Are you all right?" "I won't be taking on any helicopters for a little while, but none the worse. So, what is this proposition you have, can we discuss it over the phone?" "Oh sure, it's totally up-and-up." "So?" "Aw, man, I'm not ready for this. I've got all kinds of crap down in my office." "I don't want your 'crap,' just tell me what you want with me." "Well, you ever watch History Central?" "Pardon?" "It's a cable network, pretty big, and they want me to do a series of documentaries on you." "I really don't want to be any more of an American action hero..." "No, ya see, that's just it, they aren't interested in the gun stuff, they want to do an educational series about archaeology- but that kind of stuff is seen as boring by the average person." "And you want me to make in interesting?" "Exactly. Basically, I'd just be following you around with the camera, going through you daily routines. Really, it's more of a biographical segment..." "I really don't do such things..." "Come on, for me?" "And just what is it that you are getting out of it?" "Credibility." "Pardon?" "Did you even see, Lands of Turpin?" "Wait a moment - that's your little Native American movie."

"Yeah - it bombed. Know why?" "It wasn't any good?" "Thought I told you to lay off the sarcasm. Anyway...no! It bombed because everyone knew me as the combat guy. A simple documentary about a long-forgotten tribe was not what my general fan likes, and those who might like the film were not fans of my earlier work and it was dismissed. I spent more money than I could count on that flick, and nobody cared." "So, if you get me in you next movie, there is something to take the focus off of you - you're own reputation having hurt the other project." "Damn, that's good. I was just gonna say that you sell. I bet if I taped you reading the dictionary it would sell - and Webster's would be backordered for the next year." "I doubt that..." "Hey, prove me wrong. Let me come and tape you for a while - it'll be fun." "I don't think so." "Please." "I'm just not that comfortable being filmed." "Don't worry about that, I've got it taken care of." "How?" "I'll show you when I get there - so we have a deal?" "I really don't..." "C'mon, do it." "Max..." "Just do it." "Please..." "C'mon, do it." "All right, just stop pestering me." "Then you'll do it?" "Yes." "Great!" Max's voice became very rushed and excited like a small dog, "you won't even know I'm there, and you can have approval over the final thing, so I won't take advantage, and..." "Max, I said yes. Why don't you go back to sleep. I'll be in touch to make the arrangements." "Hell, I'm not gonna be able to get back to sleep, I've got a million things to do here. I'll talk to you soon - oh! Can I get your number." Lara gave Max her home, cellular, and her message service numbers, and then they hung up. As Lara sat back in her chair, Winston entered, informing her that her physical therapist had arrived and was waiting in (he always murmured something under his breath before saying it) the ball room.

Chapter Twelve

Another two weeks passed, and Lara once-again found herself outside the customs area in Heathrow. She stood amidst bustling travelers, but still was not one of them. However, this time she was not lost in the crowd of strangers, she was merely waiting for a friend. Her outfit was fairly low-key, as she was not one for attracting the attention of various fans and photographers that were sure to be prowling the airport. She wore tan slacks and a billowing white blouse that left plenty to the imagination. She had found that simply covering her cleavage more than enough to remain incommunicado when forced to deal with public areas. Lara scanned the emerging crowd, searching for a particular face, and all at once he was there, dressed in his khaki slacks, a different loud button-down, and over that an ancient brown leather biker jacket and the same back nylon satchel. Upon seeing her, Max smiled and waved and moved quickly to her location - he had gotten a hair cut since their last meeting and was also sporting new spectacles. Lara walked causally towards him, not in nearly the rush that Max had gotten himself into. When they met, Max shocked Lara by wrapping his arms around her. Somewhat startled by his public display of affection, she returned the embrace, only to find that she was no longer on the ground. Her feet instinctively kicked out as Max lifted her high into the air. While his original hug may have been inappropriate by English standards, lifting Lara in the air was way over the top. Teachings from her earliest childhood told her that this type of display was wrong - and people were watching. As Max set her down, he whispered quietly in her ear, "Nearest exit - now." When Lara broke their embrace, one look at Max's face told her that they were in trouble. She immediately regretted meeting Max unarmed - not that she could have smuggled a weapon past the tight security of Heathrow. "This way," she said as she turned and started off, Max right behind her. She turned her head to see her friend, but he cut her off. "Eyes straight ahead - you're gonna get us both killed." Lara made a concerted effort to look inconspicuous, but the more she tried not to be seen, the more people seemed to be looking at her. Lara had never been a fan of large groups of people, and trying to weave silently through one - with lives on the line - was her idea of hell. She would be much more comfortable in the deepest, darkest jungle than trying to navigate a living arena of potential innocent bystanders if violence was called for. She kept up a brisk pace for about a minute, but then something dawned on her. Whatever trouble was bearing down on them, Max did not help matters by making a display outside of the customs area - what was going on? Lara tried to relax and trust Max, but there was part of her that just would not go along with it all... The doors opened to an automobile pick-up-drop-off area and Lara kept walking towards the parking structure where her car waited. "That's far enough." Lara turned as the clack of Max's Zippo was heard. He was lighting a cigarette and smiling. Lara was incensed, he had frightened the life out of her so that he could have a fag - she began to question ever agreeing to Max's request. Could she have made a mistake? Was the time that they had shared in Central America a fluke, and now Lara had to deal with this man for an unspecified amount of time? Max had barely inhaled his first drag from the cigarette before it was snatched from his mouth, dropped to the ground and crushed under Lara's shoe. "Don't ever do that again," she ordered. Max stared at her for a moment, then produced another cigarette and lit it. He finally replied through the smoke of his exhale, like a character in a film noir. "Tobacco abuse is a crime, and you looked like you could use a little excitement - I'm sorry." "Accepted." "Great. Well..hello, you're looking well." "Yes, hello." "Healing well?" "Yes, I stopped with the sling a few days ago," she rotated her arm as if to remove some stiffness. "See, you need me with you. An extra set of eyes are always great to have - especially if the eyes have a one-to-one-thousand zoom on them." "Well, you're here now." "Did my car make it?" "Yes, it's waiting in my garage." "Any problems?" "Heavens yes, but I made some calls..." "Some calls?" "You're little Impreza has been granted diplomatic status - it was just easier that way." "Hey, thanks." "My pleasure," she noticed that Max was about done with his cigarette, "shall we get your bags?" "Don't got none. Really, everything's in the car. You weren't nosy, were you?" "Not at all. I never actually got in your car, Winston drove it from the dock, said that driving on that side reminded him of a Packard he once owned." "My little baby is not a Packard!" "I'll let the two of you discuss it." They chatted about this and that as they walked through the parking structure. Lara got out her keys and de-actived the alarm in her car - Max stopped dead in his tracks. "Is that what I think it is?" "Yes, you could say that your car made a little bit of an impression." Before the two of them sat a brand new Subaru Impreza WRX STi 22B - it's deep blue body shimmering even on the cloudy day. It bore more than a passing resemblance to Max's station wagon, save the fact that it possessed only two doors and had the traditional trunk of a coupe. Deep fender flares covered extra-wide tires, encasing the trade-mark gold wheels. Those items and a high wing on the trunk were all the clues that betrayed the beast that was under blue sheet metal. Max turned to Lara in astonishment. "They only made four hundred of these things this year." "So I've been told. It really is something to drive." "Christ, I'd give my left arm for one of these. You can't even bring one of these to America - well, you can't drive it on a public road." "Why not move?" Lara suggested as she opened the door and sat. As Max sat next to her, she knew that it was going to be a terribly long fifty kilometers to her home. Max spent half his time drooling all over the car, and the other half giving Lara a history lesson on it, and a list of the modifications Max had made on his own Impreza. Lara wanted the car because the performance and versatility of Max's wagon seemed like it might suit her well in her line of work - sometimes she needed more equipment than could be carried on her Norton. She had simply asked for the best car that the dealership could get. The salesperson told her that it would not be cheap, at which point Lara phoned her bank and the salesperson smiled broadly. She did like to drive the car, but did not realize that a history lecture came with the list of standard equipment. Also, Lara could see that Max was insanely jealous of her and her new car. Finally, Lara had had enough. "Do you plan to carry on like this for the entire time you're here?" Max looked pensive for a moment, and then a look of embarrassment actually crossed his face - though just for a moment. "Naw, I was gonna give you five more minutes of hell before I stopped - is that okay, or would you like me to stop right now?" "Now would be appreciated." "As you wish." Max silenced himself and looked out of the window in mock-indulgence. Lara, unwilling to play Max's game, changed the subject. "So, how is this going to work? Do you follow me every moment of every day?" "I guess. I haven't really done anything like this since college - I guess we'll make it up as we go along. I'll just pull a Frederick Wiseman and have no tape in the camera for the first few days and we'll all be set." "Indulge me, I don't know who that person is. Why are you not going to tape me in the beginning?" "Actually, it's a favor for you. I really wanted to wait until that zit clears up." Lara almost looked at herself in the rear-view, but caught a glimpse of Max's smirk. "I almost made you look." "Quite." "The theory is, you don't run any tape, or film, until the subject is used to being taped, therefore getting a true view of them." "I understand, but how can you get an honest view? As relaxed as I get, I will still know that you're there." "Butt-scratch factor." "Pardon?" "When no one is around, you might scratch you butt - okay, maybe only scum-bag Yanks like me do it. Point is, there are things that we do when we perceive ourselves to be alone that we would never do in front of people." "Like picking you nose?" "Yeah, that's a good one. What's so funny?" "Nothing." "Anyway, with the camera there, you won't pick your nose, but when you relax enough, then you will do something else - but it equates the same." "So you want me to scratch my bum for your camera?" "No, my whole point of being here is to make something that stands no chance of ending up on Fox. 'When Asses are Scratched - Part Seven.' No, that's not what I want, just for the camera to get a good look at the person Lara Croft - not the cardboard cutout." "Since you put it that way..." Lara pressed a small transmitter on the sun visor as they were passing a long brick wall. Up ahead, a black, wrought iron gate began to swing inwards. "You live here?" "Yes, it is more than I need, but it serves well." "I've been here before!" "Deja Vu?" "No, RAC rally 1997." "Really." "No, rally - God, I crack myself up. I got a part time gig to tape parts of the rally while I was working with the SAS. The rally crew sent me here to tape stage...I think it was stage seven. I'm surprised I didn't see you here, you must have a great place to spectate." "I hate those bloody cars." "Blasphemy!" "No, they are loud as anything I can imagine, they completely shatter and kind of peace for that time, there are people trodding all over the grounds, and I can't even pull out of my own driveway - can you imagine?" "It's great fun..." "Are you a rallyist?" "Well, sorta." "I should think that with the money you make from your motoring, you shouldn't have to make those videos." "Well, that'd be true if I drove a NASCAR, but in America, rally is about as popular as dwarf throwing." Lara was proceeding past the house to a large door nestled in one of the many brick walls that made up much of her property. Another button made it raise and Lara headed towards the opening. "I'm sorry, I really don't keep up on such things." "Aw, rally is great - just imaging our little adventure in the jungle, but you were calling out route instructions instead of shooting." "I'd rather be shooting." Max was about to respond but was stopped short as he got a look inside Lara's 'garage.' The door was deceptively small, as there was a small warehouse's worth of space in which to house Lara's various vehicles. Near the front, Max noticed his own Subaru - recently washed and shining under the fluorescent lighting. "Okay, now I really am jealous." Lara pulled into a space between Max's wagon and the Range Rover. Some other vehicles that Max noticed were: a late-model Astin-Martin DB7, a vintage Jaguar convertible, a brand-new SEAT Cordoba and an aging Bentley. One whole side of the garage was dominated by more than a few motorcycles, most of the street variety. Max lingered on one that looked as though it had been caught up in a fire and then painted in mud. "Hope you got a helluva deal on that one..." "No actually, I had it pulled out of the Med. I can be very sentimental at times." "That why you use those obsolete pistols?" "They may be obsolete, but they are still effective." "Getting defensive, eh?" Max's attention turned to dusty old hatchback nestled in the rear of the area. "Is that a Mini Cooper?" "Of course." "That doesn't seem very Lara Croft." "As the advertisment says, 'You never forget your first Mini.'" "I guess not. You know, they were great rally cars in their day..." Lara walked from the garage, vowing never to be in there with Max again.

Chapter Thirteen

Max had just about finished relaying the Mini-Powered exploits of Timo Makinen when he realized that he was alone in the garage. He reminded himself (as he had to do frequently) that the rest of the world was not as much of a rally fan as he was, and strode out onto the grounds. At a walking pace with cigarette in hand, Max took his time to drink in the rich shrubbery, immaculately maintained, that dotted the forward area of Lara's estate. The gates had been closed, giving Max mixed feelings of anxiety and security. When he reached the front door, Max paused. He was unsure of what to do - was he officially cleared to just walk in to her home? True, she had implied just that when she had allowed him access to the grounds - but there was part of him that was honestly afraid of offending Lara - and who knew what sort of traps the Tomb Raider had planted in her own home turf. He crushed his cigarette out on his boot and carefully placed the butt in his shirt pocket. Opting for the safe way out, Max reached for the large brass knocker set into the door. It made a deep, hollow sound as he struck the pieces together. He could feel more than hear the footfalls against marble flooring as someone was coming to answer the door. To his surprise, it was not Lara who opened the door, but a man who Max thought should have been in a wheelchair - not standing on his own two feet. This man was old, and had lived through his share of experiences - maybe even more than his share. "You are expected..." could barely be deciphered through a thick aristocratic accent. The door was opened wide so that Max could enter. "Thanks Jeeves..." Max replied with a smirk as he entered Lara's enormous foyer. "Begging sir's pardon, my name is Winston," the butler corrected. "...and my car is not a Packard - but we can discuss that later. Where is Lara?" "Ms. Croft is in the Library." "Good thing I brought along a lead pipe." Winston made some kind of noise that Max was not able to identify - though it did not sound good. Max wondered how many more minutes of life were left in this man. "If you please..." Winston started up the stairs at a pace snails were laughing at as they shot by like bullets. As he ascended the stairs, he was very deliberate about placing each foot on a stair before getting both of them to the next step. By the time they had reached the landing, Max was ready for another cigarette.

Later that same year, Max and Winston emerged at the top of the Music Room stairs and entered the library. Lara had already opened up her desk area and was busy comparing information from her computer screen and a legal pad on the desk.. Winston made another unidentifiable noise before announcing, "a Mr. Reynolds to see you - he was expected." "Thank you," she replied. "Yeah, thanks a million Jeeves." Winston gave a quick look back at Max before starting the arduous trip back down the stairs. "Did you finish your motor sports lecture?" "Sorry, I get away from myself now and then..." "So, what do we do now?" "I dunno - hey...is the Madonna's Sex?" Max withdrew the book and started flipping through the pages. Lara was unsure of how to proceed with this man. She had never been the subject of a documentary before, did he honestly expect her to tell him how to proceed. She also knew that his attention would be otherwise diverted while looking through the book, so she returned to her own work until Max was finished. "Are those it?" "Pardon?" Max was suddenly behind Lara, looking over her shoulder and pointing at her pieces of the acient device, each in their clear protective cases. "Your bits of the doo-dad, is that what those guys are?" "Oh, yes. Have a look?" She offered one of the cases to Max, who took in gingerly, not wanting to damage the contents. There was no doubt in Max's mind that this thing was old, new rock just didn't look like this. It had a triangular main body that more a symbol that appeared to be an ornate "V" - though Max thought it very unlikely. This piece was around long before Latin and the various dialects had even existed. There were smaller "wings" on either side, one sloping up, the other down. On these smaller areas were many smaller symbols that Max had little idea about. "Looks like a little space fighter..." "What?" "I know it's not, but there, the wings, and here is the nose. I guess they all make kind of a thick, flat ring when they are all together?" "I presume." "It's warm..." "Yes, they seem to have some sort of energy within them, but all of the x-ray and iamging tests I had done turned up nothing." "Interesting..." There was a moment of silence as Max regarded the item for a few more seconds, then returned it to Lara. "So, what's next?" he asked. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you want a tour of the grounds? Check in at your hotel? I am at your service" "Well, I don't really have a hotel - so that one's out." "Where were you planning on sleeping?" "I'll just crash in the Soobie - no big deal..." "I'd put you up in here, but I have no guest accommodations." "Hey, that's fine." "We'll find you a hotel." "Really, that's okay - do you stay in a hotel when you're working?" "A suite, usually. If I'm not wandering through some burial chamber, I do enjoy first class." "Interesting. No, if I could just stay in my car in the garage - I need to be close to you if this thing is going to work. I can't have you wandering out to some secret night-life without having me along..." "There is a couch there in the music room..." Lara offered. "I thought you' never ask..." "It's settled, then," Lara announced as she rose from her work area, flipping the switch to retract the desk, "now, about that tour..." "Cool desk. I have one just like it - well, it's actually a book that has a little safe inside. It's still pretty cool, though..." "I'm sure it is." Lara gestured for Max to lead the way from the room so that their tour could commence.

They walked all through the house and grounds. Max seemed the most excited about the indoor pool and the fact that Lara had, and used, a bidet (which Max unfailingly referred to as a 'Hoe-dee-doh'). After their tour was complete, they were near the garage. "Can I bring some of my junk up there, roomy?" Lara began to get frightened again. "Can I assist?" "My stuff is heavy, can you handle it?" Lara's eyes narrowed. "Or you can carry it all yourself..." Her eyes were now slits. "Or I can just get it all." In the end, Lara did help move Max in - for he had brought with him quite an assortment of cases, boxes, and more cabling than Lara had ever seen in her life. When all of the items were moved, then Lara excused herself to start on some dinner. Winston had left for the day during the tour and was unsure of what to feed Max. She decided that if beans on toast were good enough for her, then they were good enough for her 'roomy.' Upon preparing the food she proceeded up to the music room to announce the meal, finding that Max had gotten his editing suite all set up in the corner by the piano. "You got yourself up and running quickly." "You kinda have to in my line of work." "I suppose. Dinner's ready, if you'd like." "Sure, I haven't eaten since that plane - give me MREs any day of the week." "Shall we?" Max followed Lara down the stairs and into the formal dining room. Two places were set; one at the far end of the room, and another just next to the head of the table. "Hell, you ever just snarf something over the sink with a paper towel handy?" "Not tonight. Something to drink?" "Ah, I have to see if it's ready..." Max headed through the doors and into the kitchen. Lara followed him dreading whatever else he had done this time. "I borrowed a little space in your meat-locker - if you don't mind." "By all means..." Max opened the door, and they both were hit with a blast of cold air. Max walked into the room and pulled a diet cola can from a case on the floor. "Sorry, I can't deal with that English room-temperature crap. This time, I came prepared." "Very good." They both retired to the dining room and ate. As they were finishing up, Max got down to business. "So, when's your next trip into the field?" "About two weeks off." "What's the prize?" "I am going after the final piece of the device." "Where to now?" "It's located on the Kamchatka Peninsula in eastern Russia - both Elder and I know where it is." "So, go grab the thing and then worry about how to get Elder's, right?" "It's not that simple." "Yeah, things never are..." "The area where the last piece is supposed to rest is under...a dispute of ownership." "Great...gotta love the two-bit, petty warlords..." "More than that, satellite photos of the region place the artifact down the recesses of a dormant volcano." "You said 'dormant' right, not 'extinct?'" "I said dormant." "Well, hell, I can't see where this is leading...what's the plan when the thing erupts?" "If it erupts, I plan not to be there." "Sounds wise. Why wait?" "We can't just go there, preparations have to be made. You don't think that I just wander into an area and stumble blindly until I find some crypt, and then blunder about some more until I get an ancient treasure, do you?" "When you put it that way..." "At the moment, I have people researching the area for potential threats - both natural and human. I am getting a report from a volcano specialist about Mount Koryaksky and full maps of the area - and some basic instruction about handling yourself inside one of those things. Also, I still have another week, at least, before I am fully recovered. Do you just pick up a camera and start following people around, or do you prepare for the situation?" "I like to be able to just go wherever, but I know what you mean. I have toys that could have knocked down the Huey in Central America, but I opted for added fuel and the satellite phone - and we know what happened to those..." "Yes, so you understand?" "Sure, what about Elder, how long will it take her to get things under way?" "I can't say for sure, but I know that she does not have the contacts and influence in the former Soviet Union that she had in Central America - there won't be any government escort waiting for her at the wharf. Also, with that remote a location, it will take her quite a while to get there." "They do have airports there, don't they?" "Oh yes, we'll be coming in to the main landing area in Petropavlovsk. The field is far enough out of town to the north that we can get going wthout too much undue attention." "You've been there?" "I was in the area a couple of years ago..." "So, if they've got an airport, why will it take Elder so long to get there - and who in the hell is this character?" "Elder is a competitor, and she refuses to fly - so I have some time to prepare." "Good, and that will give me some time to get the car set up for us - I might need to use that diplomatic thing again when the next group of stuff arrives - we won't get caught with our pants down twice..." "Of course, far be it from me to separate a boy and his toys." Max hesitated over his next words. "Lara, not to sound ungrateful, but I was trying to get away from my usual trademark crap here. Anything else on the horizon? Something with a little less...gunplay potential. Maybe just your basic dig?" "What, get my fingers in the dirt?" "That was the idea." "Heavens no, I don't do that kind of work any more - that's what graduate students are for. I've moved more than my share of earth, my dues have been paid." "Well, I guess I can edit around the stuff where you're giving some poor Russian a lead enema - stuff like that." At that moment, Lara realized Max's intentions... "Max...I work alone - I thought that you knew that. I thought that all you wanted was to spend a holiday here making your little movie and then go home. I'm not sure about taking you into the field, I can't be responsible..." "Hey now, don't worry about it. First off, once we really get started with this thing here, I'll be as far away as you want, and second - I think I've proved to you that I can take care of myself in the field. I might even be able to help." Max's words of comfort had the opposite effect. "I never said I wanted any of your help - and I certainly don't need you following me all over Russia," Lara said quietly, desperately trying to keep her composure as she walked from the room. Chapter Fourteen

It did not take long for Max to locate Lara. He had heard the kitchen door open and close, and as he went outdoors, he saw that Lara was moving gracefully along her jungle gym (as Max had called her assault course). As good as Lara was, Max was able to jog along the pavement next to the course and easily beat Lara to the end. As she stopped at the finish flags, Max was trying to determine if the water hazard from the course was the only liquid dripping from Lara's face. Lara would not look at Max, she placed her hands on her hips and gazed back at the course, regaining her breath control. "I'll go, just say the word..." "I think it would..." "...and give me a decent reason why." "What?" "I want to know what I did to you. I mean, I know what an butt-head I am - that's no surprise. But most people, if they are going to get pissed at me, do it pretty quick, not wait until we are having our second dinner together." Max withdrew a cigarette and lit it. "Lara, I'm your friend - whether or not you are mine is another matter and not important at the moment. To be honest, I really don't have that many friends. People are either scared of me, or hate me, or are just groupies who don't give a rat's ass about me - they just wanna be buddies with 'The Man.' "But, you are none of those, so I guess that makes you a friend by default, I don't know. All I do know is that I want to help my friend, 'cause it looks like she's hurtin' here. Am I wrong, or is this normal for you?" "Never," she replied quietly, her back still towards him. "Okay then, what is it?" "I don't know." "You can do better than that..." "You." "Me?" "You're making me like this." "I'm not following. Tell me what I'm doing, and I'll stop." At this moment, Lara turned around, her face was a twisted mask of angst - though there were no tears. "When you are around, this is how I am. When I think about you and our little adventure, this is how I get. I don't know what to make of these feeling and I sure as hell don't know how to stop them - except for you not to be around. I'm sorry." If it were still part of her psyche to cry, Lara would have. For a moment, Max looked not into the eyes of the Tomb Raider, but those of a young, wide-eyed girl who had died on the side of a mountain. To this girl, the death of a family pet was the worst trauma she had ever known, the world of the Tomb Raider was just too much to deal with. Max did not know all of the variables that were in play, but there was a kind of connection that the two shared, and Max was able to somewhat localize her source of pain. "Hey, let's take a walk." Lara did not respond, began to move along with Max. "Not long after we first met, I said something about our lives being a little bit similar, and you didn't seem to think so then. I hope that you have changed your opinion a little bit since then." The look on Lara's face said that she had. "When I first got into this line of work, I worked alone - well, there were always subjects around, but I had to both stay out of their way and watch my own ass. Well, trying to do all of that stuff at once made sure that something was going to suffer, and it was audio. You couldn't hear a damn thing in my early stuff, so I hired a sound guy to come along with me. "Michael was his name, and the guy was no idiot - a former SEAL - but everywhere we went, the footage was terrible, even though he was doing his job - know why?" "You weren't working alone any more." "Exactly, but even more than that. See, the people who I tape are going to be in that situation whether I am there to document it or not, but if it were not for me, Michael would not have been there. You're right, I was scared of him getting hurt, and that kept us from getting into the kind of situations that I was famous for. I was not able to function with that responsibility hanging over my head." "So what did you do about it?" "Well, I turned out complete crap for about six months, then talked to some guys at Sony who set me up with a smart sound mixer and I could just set and forget." "And Michael?" "He's a buyer a very successful military mail-order company." "So you never truly solved the problem." "Well, I haven't gotten that way with you..." "But I am a subject, not a partner." "Yeah, I guess you're right. Well, I'm just here to diagnose the problem, your results may vary." "Of course." "So, can I stay?" "I've never really been one to back away from a challenge - you may stay." The walked for a while longer, chatting about this and that - keeping the tone light. Lara was still having difficulty keeping her emotions in check, the image of Max hitting the ground after her 9mm slugs had found their mark was replaying in her head. It soon dawned on her that then was the moment that this surge of feeling had started, it had just taken her a while to actually deal with it. Max was comforting, but was out of answers to truly help Lara. As annoying as the emotions were, she also accepted the fact that they were a part of her. Lara Croft, as inconvenient as it was, was not a robot and at the moment she was hurt - as sure as if she had a broken bone that required healing. She tried to look at this as any other challenge that she had to overcome - like maintaining her high level of physical fitness - the reward of which would be her ability to honestly work with a partner. True, Lara had worked alone in the past (with a few short-term exceptions), her adventure with Max had shown her that the two of them were capable of things that neither of them could do alone - but that meant that she had to trust. Lara had seen in films and on the tele where on character would say, "I've got your back," and the two would survive the battle. In reality, Lara had only known one thing that would effectively "get her back" and that was a nice, solid rock wall. Being able to let go and allow someone else to protect you was bad enough, but also having to look out for them was almost intolerable. Much of Lara's survival over the years had more than a little bit to do with her agility and maneuverability. Max could move through the jungle well, but could he climb up a stone wall while razor-spikes were bearing down on him? Lara had managed that feat, and if she could not then it would be no fault but her own. As their stroll was coming to an end, Lara chose to not worry about Max for a while, and even felt a little good about herself for realizing the problem, and beginning to deal with it.

Chapter Fifteen

It was the middle of the night, and Lara slept soundly. Her dreams were hopeful, fantasies of a possible future. She, with graying hair, but looking much the same, was dedicating a wing of the Royal Museum of... There was someone banging during her speech. In a moment, Lara was noiselessly awake and a moment later was completely aware of her surroundings. The banging was on her bedroom door and was not part of her dream. She reached for the shotgun that waited patiently next to her bed and rose, wearing only an oversized T-shirt.. The knocking was getting more and more frantic. Lara opted not to put a round through the door, as she had a guest and intruders rarely knocked. Opening the door a bit revealed Max wearing nothing but his boxers and carrying a motorsports magazine. "Please, let me in," he pleaded. Lara opened the door, training the shotgun on whatever creature was pursuing Max. There was none. Max was already heading across the room towards Lara's balcony and... ...bathroom. "Sorry," Max said quickly, "but even my first apartment had more than one can. Could you excuse me?" Lara shouldered the shotgun and left the room. This was a situation that she had not planned for. Lara stood at the railing for several minutes, until she heard Max yell. "Woo-hoo! I'm using a Hoe-Dee-Doh...and I'm lovin' it!" Less than a minute later, Max opened the door, "Sorry about that..." "All part of being the good host." "Can I ask you a question?" "Yes." "Where the hell does your butler take care of business? That dude sounds like he needs to go like twenty times a day." "I really don't know," she replied through a yawn. "Okay, I can take a hint..." Max started back towards the music room and Lara returned to her bed, but a completely grotesque scent blocked her way. "Max!" "What? Oh...yeah. You know, you really shouldn't have fed me beans..."

Unable to sleep because of jet lag, Max went over to his editing suite and started everything up. He quickly checked through and new E-mail, only responding to the messages from his wife and daughters. With that complete, Max withdrew a digital video cassette from a hidden compartment in one of his cases. He inserted it into one of the decks and, after looking around to see if he was being watched, played the tape. The image was somewhat fuzzy, that fact and the high, unmoving angle gave the footage a look similar to that of a surveillance camera. Nothing happened for a for moments, then Max shuttled the tape forward until a figure entered the frame. It was Lara Croft, and the room was the bathroom of Max's hotel room. Lara quickly undressed in front of the camera that surreptitiously taped her. She then stared into the mirror for a moment, her finger tracing what appeared to be a tan line, then got into the shower. Even though she had closed the door, her blurry silhouette could be plainly seen as she washed herself. As Max had this tape playing, he seemed more lost in thought than interested in looking at Lara's nude form. Going back to his Powerbook, Max opened his financially software and looked at the large numbers of red that stared him in the face.

The following morning, Max and Lara stood at the start of her assault course. She wore her normal outfit of Shorts and leotard, and Max wore his camera vest and pads over his khakis and Hawaiian shirt. Max was still a little winded from their 10K run - but he was never going to let Lara know about it. She had insisted that he train with her so that they could learn each others' limits and anticipate each others' actions. Lara waited a moment before starting the course. Truth was, she was a little winded from the run as well - but she was never going to let Max know about it. She looked about slowly, for any diversion that would allow her heart to slow down twenty beats a minute - then she saw it. "So, Max, what all of your little toys there?" Max lowered the camera, and regarded her with a little bit of annoyance. He had been pointing that thing at her all day long, but Lara could plainly see that the red RECORD light never came on - he was just holding the thing and pointing it at her. He must be hoping that she would scratch her bum. "Well, the camera here is digital, fitted with a 10-100x optical zoom infrared lens. I can go up to 1000x with digital zoom, but the quality goes to hell if I do. There are on-board batteries for the camera, good for most of the day - depending on what I'm doing and the temperature and all that. There are extras here in the vest that about double the time from the on-boards. "Here on my wrist is my Newton. It's got an on-board GPS receiver combined with topos of most of the world and street maps of the major cities - I also use the thing to take notes and such on shoots - I can shoot a lot of footage over a short period of time - most of that is crap, so I log when the good stuff happens so that I don't have to go hunting all over for it later. "In my vest I keep the batteries I mentioned earlier, extra tapes, my smokes, extra clips for the Glocks, and whatever else I think I might need - I'm a firm believer in the 'ounce of prevention' cliche." Max withdrew his sidearm from its holster. He wore his weapons because he saw Lara strapping on her own - when in Rome... "Ten millimeter Glock 20. Little more punch that your Brownings, but a little harder to use. I have a infrared sight mounted within the spring mechanism - I used to use those clamp-on jobbies, but they just look to tacky and get knocked out of alignment if you breath on 'em wrong. "When the fit really hits the shan, I have a hold-out Glock 29 - also ten millimeter." His hand disappeared behind his back and out with the little brother to his standard piece. "That you're lucky number or something?" "Naw, I had a Bureau friend of mine that swore by the caliber, and my Baretta was getting more than a little long in the tooth." Lara effortlessly drew her own sidearms. "These have always worked fine for myself." "Yeah, I meant to ask you about that..." "I'm not replacing my guns for you. Have you already got sponsors lined up for this movie?" "Nothing like that - but I'm surprised that you don't get a check from Browning every month. You did for that gun what the Postal Carriers did for the AK-47." "Another good weapon." "Kolishnikov's finest. I'm terrible with a rifle - bad eye dominancy thing. Give me a shotgun with a laser, then there is no screwing around." "I've used my share, but the slow reload always makes me little nervous." "Not with my scatter-gun, sister. Anyway, I was a little curious about your left-hand gun - who did the work?" Lara held aloft her weapon that ejected spent casings to the left as opposed to the right. "A little shop downtown did it for me." "Cool. See, when I'm both shooting and shooting at the same time, the shells from the Glock smack against side of the camera - I was just wondering what you did to get them to eject the other way." "I'll get you the number." "Thanks," he replied, noticing that Lara's eyes were still upon him, "Oh, I see." "What?" "You don't care about the junk I wear, you just wanted to check out the merchandise." "Pardon?" Max started a slow circle, waggling his rear end the whole way around - all for Lara's benefit. "You can lookie, but no touchie!" Lara fought the smile that came to her lips, barely winning out against Max's gyrating behind. "You know you want it..." "I haven't any notes to stick in you trousers." "Sure, treat me like a piece of meat - you women are all alike." "Excuse me?" "Okay...I like it here. At home, it's nothing but women - what with the wife and the two daughters. Hell, even the dogs are bitches. I have to wade hip-deep through the estrogen there - no worries here." "I'm a girl too..." "Aw, save that crapola Lara. I bet your ying-yang is bigger than mine..." Lara was speechless, she wanted to give this man a vulgar retort, but there were no words coming, and the more she fought to say something amusing, the farther away the words went. Then a single word came to her, one that would give her an escape, however brief. "Go!" She caught Max off guard and leapt to the first row of crates before he had even moved. Lara's jumped deftly from one obstacle to another, quickly outdistancing her companion. Upon reaching the set of wooden columns, she paused just long enough to look over her shoulder. Max was no longer behind her. This was the moment that Lara was dreading - the decision. Even though it was merely her practice course, Lara's mental list of top ten times was something that she took great pride in - but Max may have fallen and injured himself. What should she do. Lara then decided that she would make a lesson out of the experience for Max. If he was to travel with her (and remain out of the way - as he had promised) then he might want to reconsider the trip if he was not able to make it through her relatively simple obstacle course. She pressed on through the course. The doubt that her decision had brought out from within her was smoothed out as she navigated the rest of the course, muscles working over obstacles that were commonplace in the field diminishing the feelings... Lara crawled on all fours through the final portion of the course before the targets were to spring to life, but there was something else out there before her. A pair of boots. Completing the portion of the course, Lara stood and saw Max, who was taping her every move. Not wanting to speak to him at that current moment, she drew her pistols and and started in on the closest target, half a dozen rounds tearing it to shreds. She proceeded through the remainder of the range, and sprinted for the flags that marked the end of the course. As she was catching her wind, she noticed that Max was approaching with camera glued to her. Lara's mood was quite evident on her face and tone of voice. "The whole point of this is to see if you can keep up with me, not to see of you can walk faster than I can climb..." "I was just taping you, thought I would get a better angle from down here - what's up." "Why don't we try again - but this time you make it through proper." "What's the problem?" "I want to be sure that you can make it through the course." "Where you go, I go. C'mon, I've done this before..." "Now I want you to do it for me." "I could take that on a few different levels..." "I'm not joking." "Lara, I don't know how to tell you this, but there are things in the world that your Jungle Gym here doesn't exactly cover. I mean, how many zip lines have you actually come across in the field?" "You might be surprised." "I'll be able to keep up with you out there, I've been doing that kind of thing for a few years now..." "Then you'll have no problem negotiating my 'Jungle Gym.'" "All right..." Max headed back towards the start of Lara's training aid. She followed him there, and he took his place on the first crate. Lara had a stopwatch in her hand and instructed, "whenever you're ready..." "I thought I was following you." "No. I'll return the favor and watch from down here." Max turned to her, but saw that there was no arguing this time. Lara, in turn, was enjoying the moment. On the one hand, she felt a sense of poetic justice rise in her - Max was not going to have things his way (for once). However, she was feeling something else, something deeper than her amusement. There were few people in the world who could have completed her assault course on the first try - there were just too many things that had to be dealt with, too many disciplines that needed to be mastered. She was relieved that Max would fail her test. It all stemmed from the softness that had been dredged up by Max's arrival in her life. Lara did enjoy the time that they had spent together - in a masochistic sort of way - but she had an absolute revulsion to going back into the field with him. She had no real reason for him to accompany her - this man was obviously capable of taking care of himself. But, if he was not able to keep up with her over her chosen route, then he should not be allowed to join her. "Waiting for a special invitation?" "No." Reluctantly, Max clipped his camera rig to his back and surveyed the first leg of the course. Satisfied that he had as much information as he was going to get, Max took a step back and vaulted himself into the air. Lara was initially impressed. She had to get a running start to clear the first gap in her course, but Max leapt with the grace of a dancer. And landed with the balance of a two-year-old. He had almost overshot the far edge of the crate, then backpedaled his arms for balance. After recovering, he shot Lara a look that could have toasted bread, then continued. Lara actually saw the moment when Max stopped thinking and worrying and gave himself over, as Lara had done so many times. His next jumps and climbs were much more controlled - especially the landings. Lara was beginning to get worried. That worry stopped when Max reached the series of tall columns, designed to teach ultimate control of leaps - something that Max did not possess. He arrived atop the first spire too fast, and plummeted off of the far edge. The sand that surrounded much of the assault course was, in fact, over a foot thick, a fact that Max was pleased about as he impacted - though the fall had knocked the breath from him,. He looked to his right, and Lara was there, looking to him and then to her stopwatch. Trying desperately to relax, Max let inhaled the tiniest bit of air - but was soon breathing again and rose to his feet. Lara looked to him as a drill sergeant regards a recruit. 'Do you want to quit yet?' the look on her face implied. Max ran down to the end of the columns and pulled himself up onto the low crate, his shirt tail rising a little too much, and his waistband hanging a little too low for Lara's taste. And Max pressed on.

It was roughly seven minutes later when Max rose from the bunker-like area he had to crawl through. Three rows of targets suddenly sprang to life before him. Despite the blood flowing from his temple and the ribs he was sure were cracked (or at least bruised) Max drew his Glock and fired a single round at the nearest of the targets. The slug hit its mark and the targets returned to the ground. Lara was impressed, not necessarily with Max's accuracy, but with the stopping power of his weapons. It typically took Lara half a dozen rounds from her Brownings to knock over her targets. Max finished off the first row, then dropped to one knee and braced himself for the second. For the third row, he brought his camera into the actions, using it as a reference for the final shots fired. When the last target was downed, Max holstered his sidearm and ran as fast as he was able - Lara kept up with a light jog - to the finish flags and promptly collapsed on the platform. "How...did I do?" Max managed to ask between wheezes. "I seriously doubt my personal record is in any jeopardy." "I mean...do I pass?" "For the moment, yes." "Cool," Max gestured to one of Lara's Brownings and then to his own temple. "Now, would you mind putting me out of my misery?"

Chapter Sixteen

The sun was setting as Lara's Subaru retuned to her home. After the auto was safely tucked away, Lara and Max made their way back to the house. Max was still limping from his adventure through the assault course three days earlier, but tried to hide the fact. Lara held the front door open for Max and he ambled inside and up the stairs to his temporary room. Lara remained on the lower level of the foyer, watching Max leave. It had not been a good day. Lara had never been a fan of tending to her professional life outside of the field, but she had honestly thought that her time with Max was going to be different. While she dreaded going her publisher to pick up her rewrites (did he not know of the postal service?) the thought of taking care of these necessary evils was much more palatable with her friend coming along with her - but Max was no longer her friend once that camera of his was turned on. He had barely spoken with her over the past few days, just kept that damn lens of his thrust into her face. When he did speak, it was to ask her some damn fool question while she was in the middle of something terribly important. He explained that it was an old tactic to get someone to answer a question honestly, but Lara really didn't appreciate being ambushed by him. Then, when the days were done, Max would return to him room and log the day's footage - which Lara was not allowed to view, lest she become 'self-conscious.' Lara and Max were strangers living in the same house. After the publisher, they stopped by her office at Oxford (a ceremonial title - she only gave the odd lecture there from time to time) and a stop at a studio to rerecord some lines for her third game that was due out in the fall. All the time, there was no Max with her, only a lens staring her in the eye. She had honestly expected something different to happen while Max was visiting. Perhaps he should simply go home.

Max entered his temporary room and placed his camera on its charger, removing the tape that was inside. He placed the small storage device with the five others he had gotten that day and stared at them. Nothing. Another wasted day. Not one decent frame for the whole week. True, the stuff with her jumping all over the assault course was pure gold - Max could envision a slow-motion close-up of Lara's breasts being a special on Thursday night Fox. However, he did not come over the Atlantic for "gold." He made the trip to gain credibility. Sure, he could sell the material - the tabloids would have climbed over each other to get the footage of Lara Croft being berated by her publisher. He was big - at least three hundred pounds - and was possibly the most effeminate man Max had ever met. His large frame had jiggled as his high-pitched voice screamed over lapses in grammar and word choices that he felt were poor. Max expected Lara to haul off and hit this obese monstrosity at any moment, but she never did. She jotted notes in the margins of her manuscript and actually thanked him at the end. If Max were her, he would have gotten a new publisher...a decade ago... After Lara's publisher had completed his reaming of her posterior, they were off the recording booth. Of course, Max was not allowed in the room with her, so he hid in a dark corner of the control room and was treated to quite a surprise. First off, the sound engineers had lied to Lara about something having "happened to the footage." In reality, some of her lines were just not good. They had the material that they needed fifteen minuted after they began, but kept Lara there another hour making her grunt and moan for their own satisfaction. They kept telling her that it was part of the game, that this noise was when she pulled herself up to a ledge, and this noise was when she got shot. Whenever they were not speaking to Lara through the headphones she wore, they were snickering and ogling her. One of them commented that, if not for her heaving breasts, she would not be able to get a job as a lab assistant. When it was all over, they rose to find Max taping them. The look on their faces was priceless - they both knew that they would not have jobs after Lara found out. But she never did. Max said nothing, and Lara knew nothing of what the engineers were saying. Max was there to report, not to get involved in and change the course of Lara's life - he had done that too many times. For this project, Max was going to keep his distance. And, right or wrong, he thought that she was better off not knowing how those infantile men had stripped her dignity. Not that Lara was helping him keep that distance. She had tried, on more occasions than Max could count, to get him to start chatting with her about this and that. Not that Max really minded - who in their right mind would pass up the chance to chew the fat with Lara Croft? It was just the simple fact that he was trying to work. Did he bug her about stuff when she was going over ancient ruins? No. For the remainder of the day, Lara dodged his questions and seemed genuinely irritated about something. Max hoped that Lara understood that his livelihood depended on her cooperation in this video. In short, there was no way that Max was going to ever show anyone the footage that he had shot. He was a personal friend of Lara, and by the end of the day he honestly felt pity for her - he was going to be sure that she never say anything that he had shot. Max quickly erased the tapes that he had shot that day - just as Lara entered the room. She did not appear to notice what he was doing, the look on her face said that there was something big on her mind. "Hey," Max greeted, "what's up?" "We need to have a little talk..." "I thought so...have a seat." Max offered Lara a second chair near his editing suite, he straddled his own seat as she took hers. Lara was actually having a little trouble looking Max in the eye, something he looked upon more with amusement than anything else. "I don't think our...arrangement...is working out." "Yeah, it's been a tough start." "No, I mean that it's not working at all." "Ah, I take it you want me out of your house and out of your life, is that it?" "No, not at all. I just feel that I may not be the best subject for your film..." "Video." "...Video...you might be better served to just find someone else to immortalize." "What did I do?" "Pardon?" "I mean, you've been acting goofy all day here - did I do something?" "Of course not." "Then what's the problem?" "I want you to go home." Max had not expected that level of directness from Lara. There was a awkward moment between the two of them, then Max broke their silence. "May I ask why?" "I am having...trouble...making my way with you following me all about." "Is that all? Hell, you'll get used to that. First few days anyone follows them around, taping everything, it's bound to be rough. Remember what I said about scratching your butt?" "Max, you haven't even been taping, your little red RECORD light hasn't been on all week." "Aw hell, I pulled the plug on that thing the second I got the camera - that light'll get me killed. As for the rest, I promise that you'll get used to it." "I don't want to get used to it." "Please, Lara, I know this must be driving you nuts, but we're sorta committed to this thing here. I have to complete this project or..." "Or what?" "Suffice to say that my butt won't be worth a hill o' beans if I crap out on this thing." "But why - there have to be other ways for you to make a living. Why not try writing, you seem to have stories every bit as exciting as mine." "Oh, I've been published all right..." "I never knew." "Yeah, I think only the ten people who bought my book knew - I just don't think prose is the right venue for me. I'm a film geek, always have been, always will be - and you're gonna have to shoot me to make me go away." Lara fought against a smile, and lost. "Do you have to follow me about all of the time?" "No, I don't - but the second I'm not taping you, something cool will happen and I won't get it." "It was almost better when there were people shooting at us..." "Tell me about it. How long 'till you're back in the field?" "I need at least another week." "Okay, tell you what, how about I leave you alone tomorrow. There are a couple of places I need to check up on while I'm over here and you can go and take care of all that crap you don't want me along for - deal?" "Agreed." "And maybe I can still tag along to Russia with you next week?" "Maybe." Chapter Seventeen

Max thumbed through the pages of Lara's copy of Sex while he sat upon her toilet. Once again, he had interrupted her sleep to use her facilities. When she greeted him at her bedroom door (sans shotgun - this time) he had explained to her, again, that his bowels were still on Eastern Standard Time. Lara didn't seem to care about his reasons - she could be such a grouchy-bear. Max wondered how she would contend with being married with two daughters and some dogs. His house was never truly quiet and interruptions in sleep were par for the course. Max concluded his 'meeting' and was cleaning up when he heard the bedroom door open. Quickly replacing his boxers, Max turned towards the noise. Lara Croft was walking quickly towards him, her face a mask of pure business. Max was about to ask her what was going on when she placed her hand over his mouth, pushed him against her wall, and leaned her head in. "We have intruders," she whispered. Max let out a sigh of relief at this news - the other alternative was just too much for him to deal with. "How many?" he whispered into her own ear. "Unknown, but I think that Elder has made her play for my pieces." "How did you find out?" "I noticed that the security panel by the front door was off, and I am sure to set that each evening before I sleep." Lara removed the shotgun from her bedside and handed it to Max. "Can you use that?" Max checked the weapon and trained it on the bedroom door. "I'm more of a Mossberg man, but I guess it'll do." Lara seemed unamused as she removed a key that she wore about her neck and inserted it in the door next to her bed.

"Maybe there's something more to your liking in here..." Lara opened the door and Max's eyes went wide. Her gun closet was Christmas to Max. He gawked, trying to make up his mind as Lara tied on her thigh holsters, making her t-shirt into more of a dress. Into the holsters, Lara deposited a set of Ingram MAC-11 machine pistols. These small weapons had a very fast rate of fire and had served her well in all of her adventures. "Guess we're doing the close quarters thing," Max remarked as he returned Lara's shotgun. "is calling the cops is a dumb idea?" "We've got far more weapons than they do." "Hoakie religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side." "What?" "Been waitin' years for the chance to say that..." "I don't understand." "I've got it on DVD, we'll check it out if we live through this." "Agreed." As Max had been talking, he had donned a kevlar vest (why had she never used this before?) and an MP-5 submachine gun with several attachments. "Christ Lara, have enough mail-order crap all over this?" "They were there when I found it." "Whatever."

Lara's bedroom door opened as she rolled out of it and came to a crouch, scanning the area with her weapons. Simultaneously, Max appeared in the doorway, his underpants and bullet-proof vest making for an odd combination. He covered the other side of the room with his own weapon, the laser sight picking up dust particles in the air. A big, dark, empty room. Nothing. "Where to next?" Max asked. "We start from the library and work our way down." "You take point, I cover your ass?" "Agreed." Lara crept to the other side of the foyer, weapons trained in front of her. Less than a foot behind her, Max side-stepped so that he could stay with Lara and still watch out for any surprises from the rear. They walked slowly, the journey to the music room took them just over two minutes. Max was growing weary, Lara kept looking back at the area he was covering - and ignoring the area that was hers when she did so. Was he not trustworthy? The next time she turned, he finally reacted. "I've got you." Meeting his eyes, Lara's went to the floor for a moment. She concentrated on the music room doorway, but she just could not shake the apprehension that there was something going on behind her. Even with Max covering her, it was still a blind spot. She was no fan of blind spots. All things being equal, she should have been thrilled at the concept of component backup, but she was just too used to working alone... ...And what if something happened to Max? The thought was something that she could not even begin to deal with at that moment, too many other things were happening. She pushed at the emotions and felt her face firm up as she composed herself. As they reached the doorway, Lara took position on the far side and mouthed a countdown to Max. When she reached 'zero' they went through the doorway, Lara slightly in the lead, but Max there a split second later. Again, nothing except what should have been there. Lara pointed up at the library as Max went over to the mussed blankets on the couch that served as his bed and retrieved his hold-out Glock. He was about to head over to his clothing and camera gear when Lara holstered one of her weapons held a warning hand up, then waved Max over to her without taking her eyes off of the stairs to the library. "What is it?" Max whispered when he reached her. Lara drew her second pistol and motioned in the direction of the library, "the fire is out." At that moment, Max realized that the fire had been burning constantly since his arrival - that thing had to be gas-fed. A sickening thought occurred to him. "Will it blow?" "No, but whomever is here went that way." "Into the fireplace?" "Yes." "What the hell is up there?" "What they came for..." "Hell, that fire was out when I grabbed the book. God, I'm sorry." "Don't be. Your sleepy eyes might have saved your life." "Wow, never thought I'd be glad to be clueless." They took a moment to compose themselves. There was no noise at all from the house. Whoever they were, they were very good. Lara and Max started up the stairs to the library. The perpetually burning fire usually lit the room reasonably well, but the room was filled with deep pockets of darkness in which anything could be hiding itself. Max almost retreated down the stairs to get his camera, as its infrared capabilities would not allow anyone to hide. However, it took his over five minutes to suit up with his gear - time that would leave him a proverbial sitting duck. No, better to stay here and not tape this incredibly tense sequence. When you put the camera down, that's when something cool happens... He and Lara cleared the room carefully, then she went over to the fireplace and looked up the chimney. "As I feared," Lara commented, "go down and cover the foyer." "We should stay together..." "I know, but I am going to drive them towards you - just get down there and be ready..." With that, Lara disappeared a la St. Nick. Max headed down the stairs and onto the foyer balcony. At that moment, he realized that he had failed to ask from where Lara was going to drive the intruders. Because they headed up the chimney, they must be going outside - maybe the front door? They also might reenter through Lara's balcony. Max shuttered at the thought that they might have been on the balcony when he was having his "meeting" in Lara's bath. He decided to orient himself at the balcony corner nearest the music room, just next to the door to the attic. The area offered him the greatest amount of options in covering the area. Extending the shoulder stock on his weapon, Max double-checked that he was set to single-fire - full auto was good only for desperate situations when accuracy did not count. A quick scan of the room revealed that all was quiet, Max quickly adjusted his glasses, very glad that he had brought them to the bathroom with him. As he was enjoying the feeling of Lara's rich carpeting beneath his bare feet, muffled gunshots shattered the moment They were quick bursts, hopefully Lara's Ingrams. Sadly, Max could not tell what direction the sounds had come from... So Max waited. Several agonizing moments later, Max heard a odd Pop! From the foyer below him. This noice was followed by that of hinges squeaking. The noise was coming from directly below him, which was strange becasue there were no doors below him. Taking his time so as to remain completely silent, Max approached the railing and leaned over, his weapon ready to fire at any intruders. Due to his attention focused on the mysterious noise below him, Max was taken totally by surprise when he heard the attic door open behind him. He whirled about and came face-to-face with a female form dressed completely in black. One moment, Max was leveling his weapon at this person, a split-second later he was empty-handed. The moment after that his world filled with stars as a foot connected firmly with his nose. Through the tears that instantly formed, Max barely made out his attacker leap to the tile below, roughly the same time as he heard the clatter as his MP-5 did the same. The figure looked up at him briefly, giving Max the chance to draw his hold-out and cap off a round. The thing in black dodged the round and headed down the hallway to the ball room. Max shook his head to clear it, then wiped at the large quantities of blood that were flowing freely from his nose. He could not tell if it was broken - it did not matter. He was going to get the intruder. His cotton-poly boxers made for surprisingly little friction as he slid down the railing to the lower level. When he had arrived, Max saw the source of the squeak, secret door built just under the bannister. Just as Max was retrieving his weapon, he heard another pop, and saw that the door was cycling shut in front of him. He dove at the door and just managed to stick the butt of his rifle in the crack. He then forced the door back open. Inside, more darkness awaited him. The worst part of the situation were Max's feet. He did not know what he was about to step in - and that was just not right. He had boots for a reason. Big boots...the kind of boots that a bear-trap would have trouble getting through. He really had to stop being such a wuss. There was some flickering light coming from the far end of the hallway - and what the hell was this place? Then again, what other kind of basement would the Tomb Raider have? This intruder was fast, really fast, and that made Max feel a little desperate. Max carefully approached the light, taking a moment to flip the selector from single-fire to automatic. Turning the corner, Max was floored. The entire room appeared to be a giant aquarium, there was more water space than there was space for people there. Brilliantly colored fish swam to and fro, the lighting (all coming from inside of the water) making them shimmer. But the fish were the only residents of the area. There were a couple of bookcases, a couch similar to the one on which Max slept, and a large crate. There was no sign of the intruder. Max was thinking about other hidden passages along the hallway when something in the tank caught his eye. This was no fish. The black-clad intruder was swimming in the aquarium. To make matters worse, she was now carrying a sealed box, presumably from the bottom of the tank. Max trained his weapon on her, but there was little he could do. If those clear panels could support then tens of thousands of gallons of water, then his 9mm MP-5 rounds would do little more than cursing at them. He watched the figure swim about the pool to an opening in the roof that he had not noticed before. Tensing up, Max tried to ready himself for anything. Drip...drip....drip. Max turned to find the source of the noise, but there was nothing there... Then the flickering light played across the room just right, and Max saw the small puddle that was forming on top of the crate. Max raised his weapon in that direction. "I've got you, give it up," he ordered. "I could have killed you," a cold, feminine voice responded. "I could have shoved your nose into your brain and ended it." "Well, hell...tell you what...to say 'thank you' how's about I just give you my car keys and open the front door, would that be all right?" "Sarcasm." "I'd appreciate it if you'd just drop dead from laughter right now." "Not tonight." With that, the figure dropped to the top of the crate and crouched, motionless. Max placed the laser dot on her back the moment she appeared and wavered just short of pulling the trigger. "Don't even think about moving," he warned. "If you were going to shoot me, you already would have." "Don't test me tootz. You interrupted a borderline mythical B.M. and I am not the mood." With that, she scooted off of the crate and down the hall. Max ran after her, his annoyance turning to rage as he hefted his weapon and tried to draw a bead on her fleeing form. While it was impossible to miss if the laser was on it's target, the target needed to at least be visible. Max thought that he had her and pulled the trigger, the weapon spitting round after round down the hall. After several shots, the recoil was too great and Max was slapping slugs into the ceiling.. His second burst was much more controlled, but too late, as he put a neat series of holes in Lara's secret door. After inserting a fresh magazine in his weapon, Max burst from the secret passage to find that the foyer was again empty - but the front door was open. He ran to the open portal, chastising himself for letting the intruder get away. Had that been Elder, and who the hell was Elder anyway? And why had she been able to call his bluff so easily. Obviously, Max was not a killer. He had taken lives, of course, but there was something inside of him that stopped him from gunning down an unarmed opponent who posed no immediate threat to him. The front courtyard was empty and unremarkable - except for the front gate that stood wide open. Instinctively, Max thought that too obvious a trap from his crafty prey, but then he heard a motorcycle staring up from close by. Max ran full force at to the gate, the stones that made up part of the driveway were like knives against the bottoms of his feet, but he did not care - his only concern was that this woman did not get away. As he reached the gate, there was the blur of a tail light streaking off into the night. Max raised his weapon and emptied an entire magazine at the fleeing bike, with no appreciable effect. Max was just about to give up when he was bathed in light from behind. Lara's Subaru screeched to a halt next to him. "Get in," she ordered. Chapter Eighteen

With Max's rear-end barely in the car, she dropped the clutch and all four wheels spat the stones that had assaulted Max's feet moments before. The wheels found purchase and the 22B was launched into the night. "I told you to watch the bloody foyer!" Lara scolded as she shifted into second. "You could have told Mr. Green about the secret passage from the conservatory!" Max shot back at her with equal malice. "Conservatory?" "Never mind. I doubt we're gonna catch her, not even in this - looked like she had a Katana or Ninja or something like that." "We'll get her..." "How in hell are..." Max was not able to finish as Lara whipped the car into a tight right-hander onto a gravel road that seemed to appear from nowhere. The back end of the car started to break loose, but a Lara gave the throttle a little jab and the rear came back into line as the weight transferred back there. Lara hit her high-beams, which penetrated quite far in the dark, revealing a twisting gravel path that led into the woods. "I trust you know where you're going..." Max commented as he reloaded the MP-5 and fiddled with the night vision scope. "I do live here." Lara blasted through another tight corner, snatching the emergency brake to slide the car around the nearly one hundred eighty degree curve. "For someone who claims to hate rally, you aren't too shabby at it..." Max stated as centripetal force shoved him towards his door. Lara did not respond, her focus more on her driving than the ramblings of her passenger. "So, what happened up there? I heard the shots." "Bloody bitch got the drop on me." "Don't feel so bad. Usually, these jerk-off bad guys send in a dozen people making more noise than the circus - you don't find too many who deal in their own dirty-work any more." "I know, the house's security was designed around more than a single intruder." "Ah, problems in the past?" "You could say that..." Lara trailed off as the gentle left she was take became much less gentle, she let off the throttle and cut the wheel, but that only succeeded in inducing more oversteer and breaking the rear end loose. Max felt butterflies in his stomach as the car got more yaw than it was designed for and began to spin out of control. Applying throttle quickly, Lara tried to bring the rear end back in line. Her effort was partially successful, and the car started to line back up, but not before the driver's side rear quarter-panel slapped against a tree. The two were jostled, but continued down the road. Max opted not to bother Lara with any more questions and concentrated on their next meeting with Elder. She was a slippery one, that was sure, but Max was ready for her next tricks. They would be facing her on an open road, with few places for her to hide. She would be his. Without warning, the gravel path that they had been traveling on came to an abrupt end. Lara mashed the brake pedal under her bare foot, but did not turn the wheel. The Subaru came to rest in the middle of the road, blocking it. "Are we ahead of her?" Max asked in disbelief. "At least a quarter of a kilometer," Lara replied as she got out of the car and took cover behind the front fender. Max was just rounding the rear of a car when a single light appeared on the horizon. It was headed in their direction at a very high rate of speed. "Either that's Elder or the fastest damn pa-diddle I've even seen." Lara did not respond, instead, she extended shoulder stock on both of her weapons, laying one on the hood of her car in reserve. They both raised their weapons towards the light in unison. Just as it went out. The noise from the motorcycle's engine let Max and Lara know that it was still bearing down on them, but the dark road would not tell them when or where it would attempt to pass. Lara began to sweep the road with fire from her machine pistol, eventually expending the magazine and swapping the weapon for its twin on the hood and continued her blind firing. Max held back, trying to get an identifiable image in the green mess of the scope. He was also shooting left-handed this time - but there was no chance of him scoring a hit on that bike shooting from the hip - laser sight or no. He caught a glimpse of something heading for him and managed to cap off four shots before realizing that the bike was neither going to swerve nor stop. He dove away from the car an instant before the cycle hit it. While Lara's Impreza out-weighed the bike by more than seven times, the motorcycle had been traveling at over a hundred miles an hour when the two had collided The impact was enough to spin the rear of the Subaru ninety degrees in Lara's direction. Max was concerned for a moment, then saw that Lara too had opted to dive out of the way and was safe on the opposite side of the road. He began to stand, but found that his right leg was numb. He examined the area and saw that something had made a clean cut through his calf, and was only now starting to bleed. He applied direct pressure as Lara approached. "Are you all right?" "I'm gonna need some stitches, but I'll live," Max then looked about, "Where is she?" "She took the high road," Lara replied glibly and pointed down the street. At least a hundred yards away, Max could see a lump in the middle of the road and was quickly reminded of films he had seen in driver's education more than a decade earlier. "No way she could have lived through that." "I'm not in the business of taking chances..." Lara replied as she checked her shotgun. Max stumbled to his feet, "got your back." "You're a bloody mess, sit down," Lara gently pushed him onto the mangled trunk of her car and stated to approach the body in the road. As her feet padded along the smooth asphalt, Lara started to sense that something was wrong. She was no stranger to those feelings, she had been party to a huge premonition upon her long approach to the Dagger of Xian, and somehow knew that there would be no friends waiting for her upon her arrival in the Antarctic. Her approach to the fallen rider was another one of those moments. She looked back to the car, Max sat there, butt of his weapon resting on his thigh, eyes scanning to and fro. For the first time, having him around had made Lara feel better. After seeing him covering her, the doom that her stomach was transmitting to her subsided quite a bit. About twenty meters shy of the body, Lara's worries became even less and she started to see traces that things were not well up ahead. When her grizzly trail to the body finally ended, Lara saw that her caution was unwarranted - this person was obviously dead before the collision had occurred. Though the deceased female form wore a helmet, there was a hole, roughly nine millimeters in diameter, through the visor. A spider-web pattern spread out from the point of impact. Both the cracks in the surface and good amount of blood made it impossible to positively identify the corpse. It was this slight doubt that made Lara undertake the nasty proposition of removing the figure's helmet. With the headgear free, thick black hair streamed over the shoulders of the body and onto the tarmac. The young woman's undamaged eye had a decidedly Asian look to it. This woman was not Elder. Lara jerked open the deceased woman's backpack and retrieved the strongbox from her aquarium, then gave an angry yell and hurled the box to the side of the road. She turned and started sprinting back to where Max was waiting. "What's wrong?" Max asked as he tightened his grip on his weapon. "She was a bloody diversion!" Lara hissed as she spun and delivered a back pivot kick to an undamaged quarter panel on the Subaru, her bare foot denting the sheet metal. "But you got the box back, right?" "That box was my diversion!" "But the secret basement..." "Max, you idiot - my house has to be the best known secret in the Kingdom! Everyone knows about it - didn'y you ever play that stupid buggering game?" Lara punched at the single unbroken window, shattering it and bloodying her knuckles. "No, I didn't want to come here with preconconcieved notions. Sorry, I didn't know..." "Well, now the pieces that I did have are now with Elder - thank you so very much!" Lara's rage was going about unchecked, Max was not sure what to do about it as she still held a shotgun in her hands. She started to raise the weapon with the intention of shooting the car, but seemed to regain her composure. "We'd better get back home, I might be wrong..."

Chapter Nineteen

The three kilometer walk back to Lara's estate took them over half an hour to complete - largely due to Max's injured leg. He had implored Lara to run on ahead, to stop any other intruders and because of the fact that she was scaring the hell out of him. She remained with him, stating that anything that might have been done to her home had already happened - but there was more, Max thought, as his arm was wrapped around Lara for their walk, he thought that she was honestly concerned about him. Lara's near-new Impreza was totaled, even if they could have gotten the engine started one of the rear wheels was now facing the sky and the fuel tank had ruptured - it would have not moved an inch. Destroyed also was the cars cellular phone, so they could not call for help. Max usually wore one on his belt, but there had been precious little time to prepare for their latest adventure. Max swore to himself to sleep in his clothing until his time with Lara was up. Several cars had passed them in the early morning hours. Each time, the story was the same. A car, seeing pedestrians where there should be none, slowed to see if they could be of service. Upon seeing a bloodied, heavily-armed couple in their undergarments, they sped away quickly, probably to phone the Police. As much as Lara would have welcomed the ride home, she much preferred the walk to explaining herself to the local Constabulatory. They tended to have less of a sense of humor than Lara, and were charged by the township that employed them to keep their upper-class community quiet and safe - two adjectives that rarely applied to Lara Croft. In addition to the blinding anger at herself for falling for Edler's little trap, she felt somewhat ashamed for her display in front of Max. Typically, anyone who saw Lara that livid was not around to remember it - thoughts of Natla's goons filled her head. Max was starting to get some color back in his cheeks as his body replaced the blood that spilled next to Lara's Sixty-Thousand-Pound-Paper-Weight. Her trunk-mounted first-aid kit was nowhere to be found after the impact, so some of her large T-shirt had been donated for a tourniquet and dressing. Once they got home, she would use a little more advanced measures on Max. "So, what do we do?" "Don't try to talk, just keep walking." "Nah, gotta keep from going into shock." "Sounds like we're writing a positively dreadful poem." They both got a little smile from that. "Hey, I've got two little pieces of info that might make a littler silver lining out of this night." "What?" "Well, first I'm glad that we took your car, not mine; and I think all are glad that I wasn't wearing my boxers that say 'If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home Now' on the front." "Be careful, I might laugh so much that I drop you..." "Okay. What's out next move?" "Assuming Elder got the other pieces?" "I think that would be safe." "Then we push our time-table forward and leave for Russia in the morning." "As in a few hours from now?" "Correct." "I guess you've finally got a good excuse to leave the gimp behind and go the rest alone." "No." "No what?" "No, you're coming with me." "Why the change of heart, am I growing on you?" "Like a tumor." "Hey, speaking of...you don't happen to have a smokey-treat hidden away in those holsters, do you?" "Afraid not." "I hate my life..." With arms around each other, the motley couple continued their march into the night.

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