Chapter Eight

Susan Oliver slipped the black jumpsuit back around her shoulders and pulled up the long zipper. The snug-fitting garment would help to hold the bandage in place. A moment later, after reloading her silver pistols, she moved quietly toward the front hall.

She had just reached the doorway when a movement caught her eye. It was Ned, coming down the staircase near Croft's office. Stepping back into the shadows a bit, Susan leaned against the wall and pressed her hand against the blood-soaked jumpsuit.

Hurry up, Ned, she thought. Finish her off and let's get on with it.

* * * * *

In her office, Lara Croft knelt next to the wall cabinet, frantically digging through boxes, trying to find the ammunition for her six-guns. The Uzi only had about ten rounds left in the magazine and then it was done.

Frustrated, she rocked back on her heels and tried to think. When she'd unpacked from her trip to America, the pictures had gone on the wall and she'd put the other small things in the….

…in the bottom desk drawer! Getting up, she hurried to the desk. It took only a few seconds to find the box she was looking for.

Standing up, she set the Uzi on the desk and upended the box of shells next to it. Too bad they were the wrong size for the automatic weapon. Opening the side port on the revolvers, she started loading.

"You might as well come outta there, Croft," said a voice from outside.

"I think not, Mr. Lewis. I'm quite content right here, thank you very much."

"You got a smart mouth, lady."

"Goes with my education, I suppose." She set the first gun down and picked up the second. "When you have a Doctorate you can't very go around saying things like 'come outta there.' It's uncivilized."

"Yeah? When I put a bullet in you, it ain't gonna matter one little bit whether it's civilized or not."

"Putting a bullet in me may be more difficult than you think, Mr. Lewis. Previous attempts have failed. You should know that better than anyone." She flipped the side port closed and returned the revolvers to her belt, picking up the Uzi.

"You got lucky last time, Croft. But tonight we're gonna end it, once and for all."

Moving around the desk, she approached the door. Just then doorknob made small sound.

* * * * *

A grim look on his face, Ian McPherson roared along the high stone wall adjacent to the Croft estate. There had been no further word from Jeeves and Ian forced himself to believe that the old butler was merely hiding. There couldn't be any other explanation.

With a cloud of dust and a screech of tires, the Land Rover swung off the road and up to the gate. Ian briefly pondered his next move. The big Iron gate was twelve feet high and the difficult to climb. It was strong, too, and ramming it with the Land Rover would merely destroy the vehicle's front end.

Quickly he pulled the Rover away, turned it around, and backed it against the gate. Jumping out of the cab, he slung the submachine gun over his shoulder and climbed onto the hood of the vehicle, then onto the roof. From there, he jumped up and caught the top of the gate.

* * * * *

Standing to the right of the office door Ned Lewis tried to turn the doorknob. Blast! It was locked. He have to think of …

A blast of gunfire crashed out and pieces of the oak door blew outward as bullets punched their way effortlessly through the wood. Startled, Ned jumped backward, away from the gunfire, his heart in his throat. Man, that was close. Croft had fired right through the door.

A sharp pain in his left hand demanded attention. Looking down, Ned was surprised a find a two inch splinter of wood protruding from his hand. That blasted female!

Angrily he yanked the sliver from his hand. "That's it, Croft!" he yelled. "I ain't playin' with you any more."

"Why, Mr. Lewis," replied the voice sweetly from the other side of the door. "I thought we were having such a good time."

Furious, Ned stepped away and lifted his weapon. The gun roared and fifteen 9mm slugs ripped into the wood. The whole area around the doorknob was shredded by the gunfire. Ned yanked the magazine from the gun and replaced it with a fresh one. After charging the weapon, he slung it over his shoulder and pulled a small object from his belt.

Oblivous to the potential threat from within, Ned stepped up to the door and kicked it hard with his foot. The door sprang open and flew back against the wall with a crash. He jumped to the side just in time to avoid a burst of gunfire from within.

Then he pulled the pin and threw the hand grenade into the room.

* * * * *

Lara had jumped away from the sudden gunfire that splintered the door. She had barely recovered from that when the door flew inward. Without conscious thought she lifted the Uzi, held it around the door frame and pulled the trigger.

Orange flame leaped from the barrel of the gun, but the firing stopped almost immediately as the Uzi clicked empty

Almost before she could move, a small object sailed through the doorway and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. She only needed one look to realize that death was three seconds away.

A guiding hand must have been on Lara Croft in that instant for what she did next was pure inspiration. Casting the empty gun away, she turned and dove with all her might through the doorway into the main hall. No sooner had she landed than the room behind her exploded with a tremendous roar.

A hand grenade is designed so that the outside casing shatters into a large number pieces, which are blown outward by the explosion…scrappnel that is lethal with ten meters. Although a number of pieces of metal followed Lara through the doorway, she had landed to the side and was not hit.

* * * * *

Ned had moved away from the door after lobbing the grenade inside. No point in taking chances. He was quite unprepared to see the figure in the blue nightgown dive through the doorway. He barely had time to register surprise when there was a bright flash of light and the office blew up.

Croft landed in a ball of blue cloth and long legs, apparently unhurt from the explosion. She was the luckiest woman he'd ever seen. How the heck did she move that? He didn't have time to wonder about it, because she rolled quickly and jumped to her feet, her hands darting to the holsters strapped to her legs.

Quickly he pulled the Uzi down off his shoulder, but Croft had a long head start. He'd barely unslung the weapon when he saw the twin revolvers level at him.

"That's enough, Mr. Lewis. Be so kind as the drop the gun. You've caused quite enough trouble for one night."

Ned weighed his chances. Not good. She could shoot before he could bring his gun around. Blast! Slowly he straightened, allowing the Uzi to hang loosely by the sling, before setting it on the floor.

She walked toward him, her guns pointed at his chest, and Ned got an eyeful.

"That has to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen," he remarked, noting the leather fastened around the skimpy nightgown. "I've heard of some weird things, but never a woman wearing her guns to bed."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "You don't' approve, Mr. Lewis? Well, if you give me more notice next time, I'll try to be more fashionably dressed." She gestured with her guns. "Now be so kind as to lie face down on the floor and spread your arms and legs. Surely a man like you will have more than one weapon."

Despite her banter, the sound of her voice brooked no argument. With a last glance at the Uzi, he did as she ordered, watching carefully for the slightest opening. It was far from over. All he needed was one second and the smug look on her face would change forever.

Keeping him covered with the gun in her right hand, she knelt and shoved the Uzi away into the darkness.

"Hands behind your head now, please."

In short order, she relieved him of the knife on his belt and a small pistol tucked in his waist band. Her hand was slow and through, missing nothing as she kept her gun pressed against the back of his neck.

She had just started on his left leg when there was loud pounding on the front door. Croft glanced around and Ned felt the pressure of the gun loosen against his head.

* * * * *

Who is that? Lara wondered. "My home seems to be a popular place, Mr. Lewis." She rocked back onto her heels. "More of your friends, perhaps?"

"Why don't you go and find out," he replied sullenly.

"Miss Lara!" boomed a familiar voice from outside. "Are you all right? Open the door!"

Ian! Thank God! She sprang to her feet and turned toward the noise. Somehow he must have…

She had gotten but two steps when arms grabbed her around the legs. Thrown completely off balance, she fell forward, barely managing to break her fall with her hands, but loosing her grip on the revolver in the process. No sooner had she hit the floor than she felt a tug at the holster at her left side.

Frantically, she grabbed for the gun, her hand touching it just as Ned was pulling it free of the leather. It was a loosing battle, for he was strong and she was lying on her stomach. Lara rolled onto her side just as he pulled the weapon from her grasp.

"Now you're dead, Croft," he snarled, lifting the gun. "And I'm gonna enjoy every …"

He got no further, because Lara Croft's bare foot smashed into his face. It was not as powerful a blow as it might have been if she'd been wearing her boots, but it was enough to send him stumbling backward, tears streaming down his face and blood running from his shattered nose.

* * * * *

From the shadows on the other side of the hall, Susan Oliver watched the struggle with great interest. Croft was putting up a real fight, no doubt about it. Her escape from the grenade was nothing short of miraculous.

Still, she was weak. She should have shot Ned at once. He certainly would have done the same to her.

Holding his nose with one hand, Lewis tried to bring the gun around, but Croft stepped inside his reach and hit him in the stomach with her fist. The blow doubled him over and she grabbed his shoulders and brought up her knee under his chin. The man's head and whole body snapped upward and Ned Lewis fell onto his back and lay still.

As she watched, Susan frowned in irritation. She'd never expected the woman to survive. Susan's hands were grasping the silver pistols, but she did not pull them. She couldn't very well kill Croft with her own guns. Not if her story to the police were to hold up. She'd have think of something else.

* * * * *

"Lara! Are you there, lass?" repeated Ian's voice from outside. "Open the door!"

With a glance at the motionless form nearby, Lara picked up her guns and headed for the front door. Hopefully Ned could be persuaded to tell the authorities who was responsible for this outrage against her home. He'd said he never worked without a contract. Well, whoever had hired him could expect a visit very soon.

Reaching the heavy wooden door, she disengaged the lock and pulled it open. There stood Ian, his fist poised to knock on the door again. Her eyes flicked automatically to the MP-5 in his hand and the pistol in his belt, but what stopped her was the look of stunned surprise on his face.

"LARA! Oh, Lass!"

Instantly, Lara was crushed in a bear hug. Startled at the intensity of his reaction, she was a bit slow to react. His body was hard, just as she knew it would be. His strong arms held her in a tight embrace and Ian's hand pressed her head against his shoulder.

"Oh, Lara, girl," he murmured and she was surprised at the slight quiver in his normally gruff voice. "I thought I'd lost you. Thank God you're all right."

His reaction was totally out of character and Lara could only marvel at the sudden change. Recovering her wits, she slipped her arms around his back. "Easy, good friend. I'm fine. A little shaken perhaps, but otherwise good to go."

He released her suddenly and held her at arm's length. "Shaken? What…" His eyes widened at the blood on her forehead. "You're hurt!"

She shook her head. "Not badly. But what are you doing here? Whatever brought you back here tonight?"

Ian told her of the frantic call from the butler. "But I couldn't reach him after that," he concluded. "Have you seen him?"

"No. I hope he found a good place to hide. Come to think of it, I haven't seen Susan, either."

"Susan? Here?"

"Yes, she had some car trouble last night and I invited her to stay over. Thank goodness she did. When Ned and his men broke into the house, Susan got my pistols from downstairs and tried to help. She's killed at least two of Ned's men."

"She has?"

* * * * *

Susan's mind was racing as she listened to the conversation. McPherson's arrival was an unexpected complication. Her carefully planned event was starting to come apart.

Apparently Lara believed her to be a heroine. Well, why not? She'd done all the work; Croft had just played hide and seek until the last few minutes. Hmmm. If she played her cards right, she could work her way further into Lara's confidence. That might work to Ham's advantage in his future efforts to outsmart his rival.

He wouldn't like it that Croft survived. He wouldn't like it at all. He'd wanted her dead ever since that fiasco with the Scroll. But having inside information on her future expeditions might have a large financial benefit. Ham would like that part of it. And he would enjoy beating Croft at her own game, too. And if he really wanted her dead, then better in some far off place where there were no police to ask awkward questions.

The more she thought about it, the better it sounded. And it would certainly avoid a messy murder investigation where it might come out that Southby was involved.

The word investigation brought her up short. There was only one problem: Ned Lewis. What if spilled his guts to the police? Susan's heart jumped up in her throat when she realized the investigation would lead to Southby…and back to her.

She had never been arrested and she sure didn't intend to start now. Ned Lewis had to die. But she couldn't just shoot the man. Not with witnesses present. There had to be some way. And she had to do it quickly, before the authorities arrived.

* * * * *

Lara took a deep breath. "Really, that's all I know, Ian. The power went out suddenly and I was going to bed when the shooting started."

McPherson got up from examining the body next Lara's office door. "You think Susan shot this man?"

"It sure sounded like my pistols. It had to be her."

"Is anyone else in the house?"

"I have no idea." She thought about it. "Well, probably not. They would have come when they heard the explosion."

"All right. I'm going to get the power back on and I'll take a look around. Then we'll wait for the police to arrive. Don't touch anything until they have a look."

"Can I see what's left of my office? My whole life is in my computer."

"Sure, but don't move anything."

"Well," she said sarcastically, "can't I even sit in my own chair?"

"Aye," he replied with a grin.

"Thank you," she declared, and turned away. She needed to check her email once the power….

"Check the telephone system, too," she said, turning back to him. "It's…"

Lara stopped abruptly, for Ian was staring at her. At her bare legs to be exact. And in her short nightgown, there was a lot of leg to look at.

"Ah…uh." He cleared his throat noisily. "The phone system?"

Ian staring at her legs? The impervious sergeant-major?

"Yes," she replied, walking slowly toward him, a slow smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "It, uh, seems to be out of commission."

Ian McPherson looked exactly like a small child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Well," he said somewhat nervously. "I'll have someone come to look at it first thing."

So Ian had noticed after all. In spite of his gruff manner, Ian McPherson was still a man. And a handsome one at that.

"So, sergeant-major," she said, adding just a touch of sway to her hips as she came up to him. The gunbelt strapped around her only heightened the effect. "Did you like what you saw a moment ago?"

"Like?" he stammered. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She was not about to let him off the hook. Chances for payback with Ian were few and far between. "You were staring at my legs," she declared with a scowl. "Did you like what you saw?"

She couldn't tell for sure in the dim light, but it certainly looked like a blush on his face. "Well, ah…"

She poked him in the chest with her index finger. "Admit it, Ian. You were looking at my legs."

"Uh, well…" He shrugged. "Oh, all right, I guess I was. I'm sorry, Miss Croft. It won't happen again." He turned away, but she grabbed him by the arm and spun him around.

"You haven't answered my question."

"Your question?"

"Don't you play dumb solider with me, Ian McPherson." They stood toe to toe, her chin thrust forward belligerently. "You know what question."

For a moment he stared at her. "You're determined to have your pound of flesh aren't you?"

Her face broke into a broad smile. "I certainly am, Mister McPherson."

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Oh, very well then. Your legs are satisfactory."

"WHAT?" Her smile disappeared in a hurry. "Satisfactory? Is that what they are? Satisfactory?" Lara Croft took great pride in her long legs, and it was one reason she liked to wear shorts whenever she could. To have them called satisfactory was the ultimate insult.

He shrugged. "Well, Miss Croft, I wouldn't have said anything about it, but you demanded an answer. In fact…" Ian McPherson's eyes dropped deliberately below Lara's chin for the first time since she had known him. Dumbfounded, she stood silently as he gave her a long, slow look.

His gaze returned to her face perhaps ten seconds later. "Yes…well….in fact, the rest of you of quite adequate as well." He sighed. "Though your choice of wardrobe for close combat seems a little…shall we say skimpy?"

Later Lara would discover the imprints of her fingernails in the palms of her hands, her fists were balled up so tight. She was so indignant she could hardly speak.

"You….You…"

"Yes?" he asked helpfully.

"Just get out of my sight this instant, Ian McPherson!" She pointed angrily toward the back of the house. "Go turn on the power and then soak your head in the meat grinder or something."

He grinned and turned away. "Yes, ma'am. Anything you say, Miss Croft."

She watched him head toward the back of the house. Blast! How did he do that?

A moment later she stood next to the shattered oak door to her office, surveying the damage. The place was a shambles; it would have to be completely redone. The window had been blown out and the cold, damp wind cause her to shiver. She would have to hurry and get dressed before Ian returned. If he saw her in the nightgown again, she'd never hear the end of it. She had to check on Ned and his men, too. And look for Susan and Jeeves.

But first things first. She picked her way carefully through the debris, trying not to step on anything sharp in her bare feet. The destroyed computer monitor lay on the floor behind her desk, the broken glass of the picture tube reflecting the moonlight now coming through the broken window. It was hard to tell much from where she was standing, but the computer case appeared to be intact. The heavy oak desk had apparently protected it from the grenade fragments. If the hard drive, at least, was intact, then life would go on. Thank God for small miracles.

* * * * *

Ian McPherson was still chuckling when he reached the utility room at the back of the house. Satisfactory? Adequate? What else could he have said? He hadn't dared to say what he really thought. Doing so would certainly have gotten him in real trouble.

How do you describe a woman so lovely it takes your breath away? And whose courageous heart matches her physical beauty? How do you talk about those things to her without babbling like a lovesick fool? Ian shook his head.

If he was going to continue working for someone young enough to be his daughter, he would have to clamp a lid on his feelings. Working with her, just being around her, it was hard ignore her graceful, slender figure. Her voice, whether soft or excited had a beautiful, musical quality to it, too. And it was easy to get caught up in …

"McPherson," he said aloud as if he were talking to a recruit, "get a grip, man! Yer actin' like a bloody schoolboy."

Crossing to the power panel, he saw right away that the main breaker lever had been pulled down. That was an easy fix. Pushing the lever back to the 'on' position, he was rewarded as lights came on in the room. That done, he turned to examine the alarm and phone systems. It took him only a short time to discover that the plugs of both power cables had been cut off. He'd have to get some tools in order to repair them.

He got to his feet and slung the MP-5 over his shoulder. There was a lot to do. He wanted to make sure there was no one else in the house. The police would be here soon, too and there were bound to be endless questions. He turned off the lights and stepped into the hallway.

He never saw the dark figure standing just outside the door. No did his see the pistol that hit him on the back on the head.

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