by Dan Abnett
She ate the sandwich and drank the coffee as she watched passengers get on and off the train between Paddington and Oxford. There were four stops before Oxford. The young couple got off the train at Slough, and Lara was alone until the guard came to check her ticket. She asked how long until the next stop, but it was only a ten-minute wait, so she decided to stay where she was until she knew who was getting on at the next station. A large group of young people got on the train at Maidenhead, so she remained where she was. When she left the train at Oxford, they were still in the carriage.
Lara was first off the train, and into a taxi at the station, and minutes later, she was walking into the Turf Tavern where Willow was sitting at a table with Ben and Imran. The pub was half-full of students, and Lara was happy to be in a crowd again, and to be around familiar people, particularly Willow.
“So, what have you been up to?” asked Willow.
Lara smiled.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said. “But I’m back now.”
“Sounds intriguing,” said Ben. “And I always thought archaeology was dull.”
“Haven’t you seen the Indiana Jones movies?” asked Willow. “Archaeologists are adventurers, aren’t they Lara?”
“Not in the slightest,” said Lara. “Mostly, we sit in dirty holes in the middle of fields in the cold and damp, digging through odds and sods the size of your fingernails.”
“Are you staying for long?” asked Willow.
“I’ve got a meeting in the morning,” said Lara. “So just tonight, I think.”
“Oh,” said Willow, disappointed. “You’re not going back to Merton for some more lectures.”
“I think I’ve found out what I needed to know,” said Lara.
“Let’s have another drink,” said Ben, “and you can at least tell us something about what you’ve been doing.”
So, Lara told them that she’d been on holiday to a Greek island. She didn’t tell them anything about her quest for the Golden Fleece, but she did tell them about Rebekah and about finding her maps and how valuable they might be. It wasn’t the whole story, but it was a good one, and her friends loved the idea of her finding some real treasure.
Chapter 27
Lara was up early and walked over to Merton College shortly after eight o’clock. She thought she’d have to wait for Professor Babbington to get to his office, but if she had to wait, so be it.
She knocked purposefully on his door, and was surprised when she heard his voice on the other side.
“Come,” he said.
Lara entered the room to find him sitting with a student, apparently taking a tutorial.
“Miss Croft,” he said. “We don’t have an appointment. Perhaps you’d like to wait.”
“I’m sorry, Professor Babbington,” said Lara. “This is a rather urgent matter.”
“Leave your essay, Sarah,” Babbington said to the girl, who was sitting in the low chair that Lara had occupied during her last visit. “It would appear you have earned a reprieve. Come back at half past two, and we’ll recommence then. Re-read the section on establishing provenance.”
Sarah looked blankly at Lara, picked up her bag, and scurried out of the room without a word, closing the door behind her.
“Well, Miss Croft, to what do I owe this dubious pleasure?”
Lara had cast her eyes around the room. It was exactly as she remembered it. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. She knew exactly where to look for the ram statuette, and it was where she expected it to be, tucked away, high up in the far corner of the room.
Now that she was in Babbington’s study, now that she was confronting him, she wasn’t entirely sure where to begin or what to say.
“Come along, Miss Croft,” said Babbington. “What is so very urgent that you burst into my office and turn out my student? The Golden Fleece has been a mythical artifact for two millennia, and suddenly it is a matter of urgency? I assume it is the Golden Fleece to which you refer?”
“It is,” said Lara. “You misled me.”
“I did no such thing,” said Professor Babbington. “I imparted to you the same information that I would impart to any student on the subject. I referred you to historic findings. I deconstructed the myth. I informed you.”
“And yet, you don’t believe a word of it,” said Lara.
“Empirical fact and belief are two entirely different things, Miss Croft,” said Babbington. “That which we can verify and that which we believe to be true are often at odds, one with the other. If we could verify the presence of God, there would be no need for faith.”
Lara could hardly believe what she was hearing. Babbington was arrogant, pompous even. He talked as if he was superior to the students he taught, as if they deserved to know nothing of the mysteries that surrounded the objects they studied. In that moment, Lara felt nothing but contempt for Babbington. He reminded her of another collector.
He’s no better than Ares, she thought.
“I know about the Golden Fleece,” said Lara. “I know about the gold from the fleece.”
Babbington’s expression did not change.
Lara wasn’t sure what she expected, but it was not his total lack of any reaction. There was a moment’s pause while she considered her next words.
There was a heavy double knock on Babbington’s study door.
Babbington was facing the door, and Lara turned to see who was there as the professor said, “Come.”
The door opened, and two men entered, closing the door behind them. Mr. Peasley and Mr. Frink strode across the room, drawing pistols from holsters under their jackets as they approached Lara and Babbington.
Lara ducked as she saw the barrel of Frink’s gun emerging. She turned to look in Babbington’s direction. Peasley had the professor in an armlock, with a gun pointed at his head.
Lara looked back at Frink and the gun he was pointing at her.
“You left Anafi without our permission,” said Frink. “Mr. Fife is not a happy man.”
“What are you doing in my study?” asked Babbington, defiant. “Why are you hounding this poor girl? You can’t just come in here—”
Peasley cuffed Babbington on the side of the head with the butt of his pistol. A trickle of blood ran down his face from a wound in his temple.
Lara was surprised and impressed that Babbington didn’t cry out.
“Our boss is very angry. You betrayed him,” said Mr. Peasley. “That isn’t going to happen again.”
“You’ll tell us what we want to know,” said Frink, “or we’ll kill your friend.”
“She doesn’t know anything,” said Professor Babbington. “Can’t you see? She’s just a girl, a student, and not a very good one.”
“Stand up,” Frink said to Lara. She had got as low as she could against the back of the desk when Fife’s henchman had pulled his gun, but there was no way for her to get away from it, and she didn’t have a weapon. Lara stood.
“Where is the Golden Fleece? Do you have it?” asked Frink.
“There’s no such thing,” said Babbington.
Peasley cuffed the professor again, opening up the wound in his temple so that it began to bleed more profusely.
“She can speak for herself,” he said. “You’re a dead man.”
Lara looked into Frink’s face, and saw the cold, hard stare that had frightened her before. He was obviously determined to complete his mission. Nothing would stand in his way. She held his gaze for a moment. She thought about the statuette standing in its cabinet only a few feet away, and she thought about the Queen Mary tin in her rucksack with the little piece of fleece inside it that she’d taken from Menelaou’s room in Paris. She knew that Frink and Peasley would kill for the Golden Fleece. She also knew that she didn’t want to give up either artifact. Her only concern
was Sam. She would do anything to help her friend recover from the horrors of Yamatai.
She looked from Peasley to Frink. Time seemed to stand still. She could see Peasley’s firm grip on the gun he was holding to Babbington’s head. She could see the tension in his trigger finger. She knew that the gun could go off at any moment, and that Professor Babbington would die instantly if Peasley pulled that trigger.
Then, she thought she heard the sound of feet running upstairs. Suddenly, the study door burst open. Peasley and Frink turned to face the door, guns still raised, but there was confusion on their faces. Professor Babbington fell to the floor, and Lara tried to duck.
She heard shots, but they were not what she expected. She didn’t hear the hard bangs of pistols firing. Frink and Peasley didn’t get any shots off. She heard the soft spit of silenced weapons. She felt the weight of a body falling into her. Then nothing.
Hydarnes, Xerxes, and Lydia unholstered their guns as they ran up the stairs to Professor Babbington’s office. They were through the door, and fired without warning as soon as they identified the targets. The bullets from their silenced Sig Sauers hit the body masses of their victims, and they went down hard.
Xerxes and Hydarnes began to search the study. Xerxes worked his way around the furniture, emptying the desk drawers and opening cabinets, and Hydarnes began to rummage through the shelves. Lydia bent over Lara’s still body and tugged at the strap of her rucksack to pull it free. Lara was still wearing the bag, and Professor Babbington’s body was lying half on top of her, so it was impossible to remove it. Lydia took a switchblade out of her boot and cut the straps holding the rucksack tight to Lara’s body.
Lara awoke to a strange dragging sensation and to the sound of breaking glass. She could feel someone moving close by. She listened and tried to remember.
There was shooting, she thought. They stormed in with guns and started firing. Am I dead? Why aren’t I dead? She felt pain and weight and a warm, wet sensation. She located the pain in her back and ribs. Had she been shot? Was the wet sensation her blood. The seconds were ticking slowly by. She needed to know more.
Lara heard a moan among the clatter of objects being dislodged and the shuffle of feet. The figure close to her got up and strode away. Lara dared to open her eyes. She could see Babbington’s arm and head over her shoulder. He was lying across her back. That explained the weight. She could also see her rucksack with some of its contents spilled out. Someone had been going through her things. She rolled her eyes to take in as much of the room as possible. She could see the lower half of a woman in tight slacks and boots a few feet away, standing over a body that was slumped over the low chair.
No one was watching her, so Lara tipped her head up a couple of inches. The woman was Lydia, and she was pointing a gun at Peasley. He was twitching and groaning. His left hand was clutched over a wound in his chest, and his shirt was covered in blood.
Lara turned her head as she heard glass breaking again.
“I’ve got it!” said Hydarnes. “Finish him off, Lydia, and let’s get out of here.”
Lara saw the ram statuette in Hydarnes’s gloved hand at the same time she heard the Sig Sauer spit a shot into Peasley’s head.
Then, she heard another shot, and another. She dropped her head. She was next. She had to be next. But the shots weren’t from the Sig Sauer. The shots were hard bangs from weapons that weren’t silenced.
The Immortals moved fast, covering each other as they exited Babbington’s study and made their way into a hail of fire from the stairwell.
“What’s going on?” asked Lydia. “Armed response can’t be here already.”
“It’s got to be something else,” said Hydarnes. “No visual on hostiles. We’re taking fire from multiple directions.”
They returned fire, shooting into the corners and turns of the staircase from which they were being attacked. Hydarnes and Xerxes covered Lydia, who stormed the room below Babbington’s where two students were sharing a tutorial. She ushered them and their professor into the bathroom beyond and told them to lock themselves in. Then, she began to look for targets from the window down onto the quad. The Immortals were under attack.
“Hydarnes to Ares,” said Hydarnes. “Send in reinforcements. Now!”
They left a dead student in the stairwell, presumably caught in cross fire. There was no sign of the hostiles. Xerxes took a flesh wound to the thigh, which made him stagger down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he wedged himself behind the door and hurriedly wrapped the leg so that he could continue.
“Entering the quad. Cover us,” said Hydarnes.
“Copy that,” said Lydia from her position at the window above.
Chapter 28
Lara breathed hard for a moment.
This is my chance, she thought.
The Ten Thousand Immortals had left the study, and everyone else was dead. She opened her eyes and cast a glance around as much of the room as she could see from her position on the floor. It was chaos, and she knew that Hydarnes had the ram statuette, the second half of the Golden Fleece puzzle. But she was safe, for now.
She took another deep breath to assess her pain. It hurt to breathe. She guessed that she’d cracked a rib, maybe two, but her back felt OK, and she was confident that she hadn’t been shot. Professor Babbington must have blocked her body. Had he died to save her? She couldn’t be sure. She was bruised, and her left elbow was sore, but otherwise she thought she was fine.
Lara lifted herself onto her right elbow and shouldered Babbington’s weight. Then, she rolled hard to dislodge the man from her back. He was small, but dead weight was always heavy. Finally, Lara was on her knees on the floor. The cold, wet patch on her back was Babbington’s blood. He’d taken two shots, one to the gut and one to the chest, and he’d bled out onto the floor and onto her. His skin was ashen. Lara didn’t need to examine Frink to know that he, too, was dead.
Lara stuffed her belongings back into the rucksack, and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised that Lydia hadn’t taken the Queen Mary tin with the piece of Menelaou’s fleece inside.
Now all I’ve got to do is retrieve that statue, she thought. She stood up and began to tie the straps of her rucksack together so that she’d be able to carry it on her back. She could still hear shots being fired, and shouts and screams from the quad.
Lara went to the window and looked out. It was chaos. She watched for a moment as an older woman came out of one of the staircase doors to try to help one hysterical student who was standing screaming in the quad. The girl had to be manhandled out of harm’s way. Lara saw faces appear at windows, while some students and members of staff were trying to escape from the college, risking their lives to get away. One elderly man was red-faced and gasping as he ran around the perimeter of the quad, keeping close to the building. Another opted for the chapel, looking for sanctuary from the madness.
Lara didn’t hear Frink come up behind her.
Suddenly she felt an arm around her neck, pulling tight and squeezing her throat. She grabbed at the arm and pulled down, hard. At the same time, she drove the heel of her boot into what she hoped was her assailant’s instep. Her aim was good. The grip on her throat loosened. Still holding the arm, Lara twisted out from under the stranglehold and pushed, trying to turn her attacker and get him in an armlock.
It was only then that she saw the pale skin and bright blue eyes that identified her assailant as Mr. Frink.
Why wasn’t he dead?
Lara was caught by surprise, and despite the big man being weakened by a gunshot wound, she was unable to complete her move. Frink threw a left-handed punch, but Lara ducked, and he hit her shoulder instead of her head. The blow smarted, but she punched back with her good right arm, attacking him low, close to his injury. Frink doubled over and coughed, clutching at his stomach for a moment.
Then, he drove his head fo
rward, butting into Lara, and knocking her sprawling to the floor before falling on top of her.
Lara had the advantage. She grabbed Frink’s head by the ears and rolled. He could not resist, and in the next moment she was straddling his torso. She got one good punch in to his jaw, before he lifted her off his chest and thrust her away from him.
Lara marvelled at his strength. He should have been dying, but he was coming after her, relentlessly. Lara pushed to her knees and reached behind her as she glanced at the desk. There was something on it. She grabbed it and swung. The object felt cold and hard in her hand, like marble. Frink saw it coming and ducked. It glanced off his face as he turned, connecting with Frink’s cheekbone hard enough to knock the object out of Lara’s hand, but not hard enough to knock him out.
Lara sprang to her feet. Frink lunged for her from his position, staggering to his knees. His arms found her waist, and she was on the floor once more. She fell hard on her back, the wind knocked out of her. Her ribs ached, and sweat began to bead on her forehead from the effort of fighting Frink off.
She kicked out, her boots connecting with Frink’s ribs. He coughed again and groaned, and his hold on her loosened. She kicked again, and her foot connected with something hard. Lara leant back on her arms and winced at the pain in her left elbow. She favoured her right arm to drag herself away from Frink’s hold.
The gun, she thought. His gun is still holstered. If I can just reach his gun.
Whatever injury Frink had sustained, he was coming after her, and he wasn’t going to stop. He was a born killer, and he was determined to kill Lara. She had to take him out first.
