Lara Croft and the Blade of Gwynnever Page 19

  It was petrifying.

  Its jaws stopped snapping, and its tail stopped curling and swinging freely.

  Then it stopped entirely.

  Lara had slowed, too. Her feet were still braced apart, but her hands had dropped to her sides. She had stopped striking with the sword. Her face was expressionless. She was no longer surfing the Sobek. She was almost entirely still.

  Gradually, the crocodilian began to slump into the sand. Its skin became less firm, less scaled. Its jaw and limbs were less defined. Its tail began to disappear. It was almost as if it was sinking into quicksand. Wind rose, blowing the sand up off the ground in little zephyrs of dust. Some of the billowing clouds were the structure of the Sobek, reducing to fine sand, vanishing into haze like a turning dune.

  Carter and Denny moved a little closer. Then they saw Lara’s chin drop.

  “Oh my God!” said Denny. They both moved, but Carter was closer. He caught Lara in his arms before she hit the ground. By the time she collapsed, there was no sign that the Sobek had ever been there at all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY:

  DELIRIOUS

  London

  “Crap!” said Lara, reaching a hand up to cradle her throbbing head.

  “You’re awake,” said Carter.

  “What are you talking like that for?” asked Lara.

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m dying or something. I’ve got the mother and father of all headaches, but really, Carter, the pity whisper?”

  Lara tried to sit up in bed, and then lay back down and closed her eyes.

  “Lie down, Lara.”

  “I think you’ll find I am lying down. Speak normally, for heaven’s sake. I’m not an invalid. Did I hit my head or something?”

  “What’s the last thing you remember, Lara?”

  “What?”

  “Maybe you should get some rest.”

  “Didn’t I just wake up?”

  “Ye-es,” said Carter, hesitating.

  “So, how long have I been asleep?” asked Lara.

  “On and off, three days,” said Carter.

  Lara sat up, groaned, and held her forehead in her hands.

  “Three days! How the hell have I been asleep for three days?” she asked.

  “I don’t know if you’d really call it asleep,” said Carter. “I think you’ve been delirious. What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “I remember...I remember...a lot of dreams. I was dreaming, Carter. I was leading Arabs in a battle against the Romans. I did battle twice against the Romans, once with the Arabs and once with... I dreamt I was Boudica. That’s...”

  “Okay, Lara, you’re fine now. What do you remember about Egypt?”

  “That’s where we are,” said Lara, relieved. “We’re in Egypt to find Denny. No...we went out to the Valley of the Kings to confront bloody Florence Race.” She looked around to reassure herself.

  “Lara—”

  Carter began to speak, but Lara cut him off.

  “How did I get home, Carter? Why are you in the manor?”

  “Calm down, Lara. Everything’s fine.”

  “Oh, no! The sword! Carter, where’s the sword?” yelled Lara.

  “It’s fine. We’ve got it,” said Carter. “It’s right here.” He reached under the duvet and retrieved the sword from where it had been lying next to Lara. “You wouldn’t let go of it, and when we were able to get it out of your hand, you wouldn’t let it out of your sight.”

  “Okay,” said Lara, breathing with relief, and lying back down, letting her eyes close. “Okay.”

  “Rest, Lara. You need to recover.”

  Lara sat up again, eyes wide.

  “Three days,” she said. “It’s been three days! There isn’t time to rest. Just get me some water and find me some painkillers. We need to work.”

  “You’re not going anywhere. At least not until you’ve eaten something,” said Carter.

  “There are takeout menus in the drawer next to the fridge,” said Lara. “Order whatever you want, as long as you get something with vegetables. But first, water and something for this damned headache.”

  Lara had showered and dressed by the time the takeout arrived. The painkillers had taken the edge off her headache, and she was beginning to remember.

  “Do we know what happened to Florence or Vata after we left them in the tomb?” asked Lara.

  “We thought it was best to get out of there,” said Carter. “Denny had his money, so he just wanted to get out and lie low for a while. I couldn’t do much without you.”

  “I was unconscious the whole time?” asked Lara.

  “Unconscious or delirious,” said Carter. “I still have no idea how we kept you conscious enough for long enough to get you on the plane without raising any suspicions.”

  “Okay,” said Lara, “so Florence could still be out there. She could still be after the sword.”

  “That’s possible,” said Carter. “Vata might be a problem, too.”

  “Okay,” said Lara. “Explain that to me.”

  “We think, Denny and I, that he was after the payload in the German bomber that was also found at the Candle Lane site. Whatever was in the duffel bag was destroyed when Vata’s man Dibra was killed.”

  “The canister,” said Lara. “I remember the canister in the consignment that Florence bought. Do we know what it contained?”

  “We have no idea,” said Carter. “It could have been anything. Speculation suggests some kind of nerve gas, which is why so many of the archaeological team at the dig ended up being affected.”

  “So we’re back to Division Eleven, the Ministry of Defence, and Theresa Johnson,” said Lara. “You told me that was all a lie. You said there was no nerve agent on the Dornier. What was it you said you found?”

  “I said it was carrying incendiary flares,” said Carter. “I said it checked out.”

  “So, who’s right?” asked Lara. “Because Division Eleven was damned keen to get me out of the Candle Lane site, and keep me out.”

  “I can’t explain it, Lara. I wish I could,” said Carter.

  “All we know about Vata is that he was associated with a Balkans paramilitary group as a young man, and that he’s bloody dangerous,” said Lara.

  “He’s also willing to go to great lengths to get his hands on this payload,” said Carter.

  “Great,” said Lara. “So you think the visual disturbances, hallucinations...the mayhem might have been caused by some kind of nerve agent in that canister,” said Lara. “At Candle Lane, and in the tomb.”

  “It seems possible,” said Carter.

  “And I had the highest susceptibility,” said Lara.

  “Smallest body mass,” said Carter. “There were some very big men in that tomb, including me and Denny, and Florence Race was out cold for most of the time.”

  “What about your theory of shared hallucinations, Carter?” asked Lara.

  “It’s true. We did all see the same things, shared the same experiences,” said Carter. “I don’t understand it, but what other explanation could there possibly be?”

  “Sometimes there are no explanations, Carter. Right now the best we can hope for is that Vata didn’t survive the Valley of the Kings,” said Lara. “My main interest is the sword. It belongs on the altar at Candle Lane, and I plan to return it.”

  “It’ll be lost forever,” said Carter.

  “Sometimes it’s better that way,” said Lara. “Some artefacts don’t belong in Perspex cases to be ogled by the general public, who don’t know any better. Some things have a rightful resting place. They belong to everyone, not just to the few who can afford to look at them. The sword belongs in that groove on that altar. I’m taking it home.”

  Lara pushed her plate away and got up to get her jacket.

  �
��Now?” asked Carter.

  “Why not?” said Lara. “There’s no time like the present.”

  Candle Lane was awash with lights. The city was never dark, but there were more lights in Candle Lane than anywhere else in London. There were also security guards everywhere. Lara recognised them as Division Eleven. They all had the buttoned-up, too-young, too-alert appearance of highly trained military personnel.

  Lara and Carter passed the end of the street but didn’t enter it. They passed again.

  “That’s enough for now,” said Lara. “If we pass again, someone’s going to get suspicious. Let’s find somewhere close by for a drink, and see how far I can get with surveillance in half an hour.”

  It was late afternoon. Offices were closing for the day, and there were a lot of people around. They wouldn’t attract much attention. They walked into a pub a couple of hundred metres away, bought drinks at the bar, found a table for two, and sat down.

  Lara took out her laptop and found some Wi-Fi signals. She quickly hacked a password to one of the corporate local offices and started work.

  “What do I do?” asked Carter.

  “Just chat to me,” said Lara. “We’re friends, and I can multitask. Just don’t draw attention to what I’m doing. Anyone even thinks about looking over my shoulder and you start talking about the weather.”

  “How does that help?” asked Carter.

  “It’s a signal, so I can switch to a dummy screen that should put anyone off if they happen to glance at it.”

  “Fine,” said Carter, taking a sip of his Coke. He fidgeted for several moments, moving the glass from one spot to another on the table between them.

  “Are you okay?” asked Lara, looking up from what she was doing.

  “I just can’t think of anything to say,” said Carter, sheepishly.

  Lara smiled.

  “Just tell me about the last dig you were on, the one before Candle Lane, obviously.”

  Carter started talking, and soon got into his stride. Lara asked a simple question once or twice, in case they were being observed, but she was only half-listening to him. Most of her attention was on her work.

  Lara cycled through a couple of search engines, and then went deeper. She found out where the CCTV cameras in Candle Lane had originated. Division Eleven was using them, but they belonged to the Council. Lara worked fast, finding a back door into the Council’s computer system, and hacking a password for the security department. She soon found the codes for all the CCTV cameras in the Candle Lane area.

  She looked up at Carter and beamed.

  “Can I ask how it’s going?” said Carter.

  “You can ask,” said Lara, “and I can tell you that it’s going very well. Now tell me more about the trench with the multiple human burials in it.”

  Carter continued to talk, and Lara continued to probe the Council’s computer system. In another minute, she was able to ascertain that the Council still had active feeds to the cameras on Candle Lane that Division Eleven had taken over.

  “Well, that saves me a lot of time and effort,” said Lara, under her breath.

  “What’s that?” asked Carter.

  “Nothing,” said Lara, “just someone not doing his job properly.” She turned back to her computer, hit a key, and the screen blacked out for a second before coming back to life. It was divided into four moving, black-and-white images from four of the cameras on Candle Lane.

  Lara zoomed in on the first screen and watched. Every so often, she hit a key. After two minutes she switched to the second screen and continued the process. Then she switched to the third screen.

  Thirty seconds into watching the feed, Lara’s eyes widened, and she began to hit a key on the keypad over and over again. She stayed on the screen for twice as long as she had on the first two screens, and hit the key dozens of times. Finally, she switched to the fourth screen.

  In a little over ten minutes, Lara had everything she needed. She’d watched the live footage, and she’d taken screen grabs of anything and everything that might be useful, particularly from the third camera. What’s more, Division Eleven had made it easy for her, or someone at the Council had. The Council’s CCTV live feed should have been cut when Division Eleven took over security at Candle Lane. Someone had made a very bad mistake, but it meant that Lara hadn’t had to spend hours trying to hack Division Eleven.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:

  BREAKING AND ENTERING

  Candle Lane

  Back at the manor, Lara collated the screen-grab photos from the CCTV footage and began to manipulate them. First, she concentrated on buildings close to the site. Then she turned to the photos from screen three. As she’d been watching, several security guards had come into view, surrounding two or three men. They’d spent the next couple of minutes talking together very seriously. There was no sound on the live feed, but it had been clear that the group of people was being detained.

  “What can we see?” asked Carter, peering over her shoulder at the screen as she made adjustments in Photoshop.

  “Look there,” said Lara, circling an area on the screen.

  “Is that what I think it is?” asked Carter.

  Lara isolated the area, resized and reset to amplify and sharpen the image. It resolved into a circle with the outline of a wolf on it.

  “It’s their badge,” said Carter.

  “Vata’s still in the game,” said Lara.

  “This time they didn’t get in,” said Carter.

  “So,” said Lara, “we need to move fast. Vata’s determined, resourceful, and ruthless. Division Eleven won’t be able to keep him out indefinitely. I managed to hook up to their CCTV surveillance, and even if it were a mistake by the Council, it still shows weaknesses at Division Eleven. Their security isn’t as impenetrable as they think it is.”

  “So, how do we get in?” asked Carter.

  Lara switched to the images of the buildings closest to the site.

  “We start here,” she said, pointing at the screen. “And if that fails, we look for another way in.”

  Lara identified the buildings adjacent to the site and set Carter to work on the architecture, to find out whether they had exits onto adjoining streets, and, if so, whether there was any possible access via them onto the site. He drew a blank.

  “No fire exits?” asked Lara. “No windows? No adjoining roof spaces or basements where we might break through?”

  “Nothing,” said Carter.

  “They’re Victorian buildings,” said Lara.

  “All renovated,” said Carter. “All business premises. All passed by buildings inspectors.”

  “Crap,” said Lara. “I’ve got to get into that site.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” said Carter, “if you can’t get in, Vata and his Wolf-Heads don’t stand a chance.”

  “It isn’t,” said Lara. “What else is there? What do we know about the area? What can we find out?”

  “What about the Underground?” asked Carter.

  “The M.O.D. will have that covered,” said Lara. “You know London better than anyone I know. You know the city’s history. There must be something.”

  Carter thought for a moment.

  “Okay,” he said. “It’s a long shot, but there’s just a possibility I might have an idea. Hand me your computer. I need access to my Dropbox.”

  “There’s a good chance someone out there is monitoring our computer traffic,” said Lara. “I’ve been able to mask a lot of what I’m doing here, but if you access your own Dropbox, it could be a giveaway. If Vata is monitoring us, somehow, and we find a way in, it’ll be a race.”

  “I don’t know of another way to get this information. It’s not in the public domain,” said Carter. “Do we risk it?”

  “We’ll have to be ready to move fast,” said Lara. “Let’s prep first. What d
o we need?”

  “Sensible clothes and boots, mostly,” said Carter.

  Lara looked down at herself and gestured, as if to say, “When aren’t I dressed for action?” and Carter grinned.

  “Right,” he said. “Some basic climbing equipment might be useful, too.”

  Lara stepped out to the utility closet in the hall, and came back opening a knapsack. She started showing Carter the contents: rope, carabiners, slings, head torches.

  “That’s more than we’ll need,” said Carter. “I think we’re good to go. You’ve got ink in your printer, right? I’ll need hard copies of my maps, just in case. If Vata is tech-savvy and has access to my Dropbox, then using it now will flag up my smartphone, too. Let’s not give him the chance to lock into any signals.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Lara. She ducked out again and came back with the sword and several of her own blade weapons. She sorted them until she found a sheath that fit the sword pretty well. While Carter was accessing and printing the data he needed, she put on a snug jacket, strapped the sword to her back, and fit the knapsack on top.

  Less than half an hour later, Lara Croft and Carter Bell were in Clerkenwell.

  “We’re not even close to Candle Lane,” said Lara.

  “Closer than you’d think,” said Carter. “In a straight line.”

  “This is London,” said Lara. “There are no straight lines.”

  They were sitting in the Horseshoe pub on the corner of Clerkenwell Close, and it was about ten o’clock.

  “We weren’t followed?” asked Carter.

  “No,” said Lara. “We’re good.” Carter drank the last of his Coke and stood.

  “Let’s make a move, then,” he said.

  They walked directly to the entrance marked “School Keeper,” which stood on the street, in a long expanse of brick wall. Nobody stopped them. They walked across an unlit courtyard, through a gate, and began to descend a flight of steps.

  It was only at the bottom that Lara allowed Carter to shine a light.

  “Everyone knows about the House of Detention catacombs,” said Carter. Lara glanced at him. “Well, maybe not everyone. There are things about them that people don’t know, though.”