Please visit our sponsors.

Lara Croft and the Surprise Party
Tomb Raider Fan Fiction
By Chuck Brite Copyright 1998

Chapter Three

"Come on, Mr. McPherson," Lara grabbed the big man by the arm and pushed him toward the door. "I'm hungry."

Susan Oliver's smile vanished as she watched them walk out the door, laughing like a couple of hyenas. Disgusting how they carried on like that, each trying to outdo the other. She shook her head. Well, that would end soon enough.

She walked to the door and glanced up the corridor to make sure they were really gone, then pulled the soundproof door closed. At last. She'd been wanting to practice some serious shooting with no one watching and this looked like a good time. They'd be gone at least twenty minutes. Time enough.

The shooting range also had one conventional target arrangement, with a motorized target mount on a wire that could travel the length of the room. Susan picked up a cardboard target and attached it to the wire, then pressed the button to send it downrange. But instead of stopping at the five meter point where she'd been 'training,' she let the target run the full length of the wire, almost twenty five meters. The target was designed for five meter shooting and looked very small at the longer distance.

Susan returned to the table and picked up one of Lara's pistols and in short order had it reloaded. She pulled back the slide to chamber the first round and stepped up to the shooting position.

Susan paused, took a deep breath…and faster than the blink of an eye the pistol came up, Susan's left hand joining her right hand on the weapon. Five rapid shots rang out. For a moment, she stood frozen to the spot, savoring the moment.

She took another deep breath and quickly dropped to a squatting position. Again the gun came up and the sound of the shots merged together. Twenty seconds later the motorized mount returned the target to her.

The target had ten holes in it and you could cover all the holes with a tennis ball.

* * * * *

"What's the matter, lass?" asked Ian. "I thought you were hungry. But you've eaten almost nothing."

Lara pushed away her plate and leaned back in her chair. "I don't know Ian. I…I just don't feel much like eating."

The two of them were seated across from each other at a small table just off the kitchen. The February day was unusually warm and, for once, the sun was peeking through the holes in the cloudy sky.

Ian McPherson looked at his young employer with concern. It was not like her to be so down. Indeed, she was one of the most outgoing people he knew. When he had first obtained his current position, he was unsure how to react to her. Outwardly, to the world, she was the professional adventurer, the brilliant archeologist, an independent woman who went when and where she pleased. After many years of being in a position of authority himself, he had not been sure he could work for a strong-willed woman, especially one young enough to be his daughter.

It had turned out to be easy. For although Lara Croft was everything he expected, she was more. Much more. She could be forceful when necessary, but Ian had learned that she was also sensitive to others. Unlike many well bred people he had dealt with over the years, she treated those who worked for her with courtesy and listened attentively when they had something to say. A great believer that the officer in charge of troops was also responsible for them, Lara's treatment of her staff had earned her Ian's respect.

Nor was he immune to her physical beauty. Ian McPherson had encountering many beautiful women during his military career, but having a close working relationship with one was another matter entirely. Watching her work out and running with her around the estate when his other duties permitted, he was intensely aware of her as an attractive woman. But Ian had lived his life as a man of discipline and he held his personal feelings tightly in check. In fact, when she had offered to let him live in her home, he had politely refused, knowing that it was not a good idea.

Seeing her unusually down therefore brought him up short. It called for drastic action.

He took her plate and shoved it back in front of her. "Eat, Miss Lara. I'm not having you use this as an excuse for losing to me downstairs."

She glanced up and he saw a hint of a smile. "You wouldn't be trying to cheer me up, now would you Sergeant-Major?"

"Aye, lass. Seems ta me ya need a bit of cheerin' up."

The smile on her face faded. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Ian. I'm pushing as hard as I can, but can't seem to concentrate on what I'm doing. I'm slow on my feet and I can't seem to hit what I'm shooting at. Not only that, my birthday's next week and…."

Ian leaned back in his chair. "Lass, everyone comes face to face with time. It's a fact of life." He pointed his finger at her. "You've have two choices, Miss Lara. You can spend a lot of time worrying about it. Or you can adapt. Go with the flow, as the young people say."

"Adapt? You mean make adjustments in my routine or something like that?"

"Aye." He leaned forward again. "Like the shooting. Yer tryin' too hard, lass. Back off a bit. How fast you shoot is not important as hitting what you shoot at. That's what will save your life."

"But the assault course…"

"…is just fine, lass," he interrupted. "You're too hard on yourself, Miss Lara. You are one of the best athletes I've ever seen. You can do physical things I don't believe. Just watching you makes me…." Ian paused. "Well, let's just say that you are in excellent physical condition."

* * * * *

Susan Oliver had emptied the pistol several times at the target twenty-five meters away, and each time the result was the same. A good sign she hadn't lost her edge, but boring just the same.

Returning to the table to reload, she had an idea. She'd watched Lara practice with the computer. Hmm. Now that would be more fun than shooting at stationary targets. Did she have time before Ian returned?

She took off her jacket and laid it carefully aside. With a chuckle she picked up Lara's gunbelt and fastened it around her, clipping the buckle in front. It only took a moment to fasten the holsters to her legs and load both pistols, just as she'd seen her employer do so many times before. The weight hanging at her sides felt comfortable, like it belonged there. Maybe after Croft was dead she'd keep the belt and hang it on the wall as a memento.

With that thought, Susan stepped up to the computer terminal. The screen prompt read:

User Login: LC <Type initials or press ENTER to accept>

With a grin, Susan pressed ENTER and the screen changed.

Number of targets? 10 <type # or press ENTER to accept>

Susan pressed ENTER. The screen changed again.

Target speed? (SLOW, MEDIUM, FAST)

Susan typed FAST and hit ENTER.

Target Order? (S)equential or (R)andom

Susan typed R, followed by ENTER.

Assume firing position. 10 Seconds.

Walking to the edge of the mat, Susan faced downrange. And waited.

A growl erupted somewhere to her left and just as she faced in that direction, the silhouette of a snow leopard became visible. Pulling her right hand pistol, Susan fired two rounds and was pleased when the target went down. Take that Lara Croft. Susan had always felt Lara wasted bullets shooting with both hands. How the heck could you be accurate trying to aim two guns at the same time?

She had no time to rest because two seconds later another target came up off to her right, an ugly looking Yeti. With equal skill Susan dispatched it as well. In less than a minute she had knocked down all the targets, switching pistols halfway through.

The lights came up and she stood there for a moment, the floor around her littered with empty shell cases, her ears ringing slightly from the noise. Then a slow smile crossed her face. Man, what a rush, she thought. No wonder Lara is good, with a training tool like this. It would be fun to shoot against her some time, if only to see the surprise on her face. But it wouldn't do to give herself away…at least not until it was time for Croft to die.

Holstering her pistol, she returned to the computer and checked the screen.

Targets attempted: 10

Targets killed: 10

Elasped time: 37 seconds

Save score? (Y)es or (N)o

Susan was sorely tempted to save it and let her employer wonder where the score came from. Instead she typed an N and pressed ENTER.

Stepping away from the computer, she returned to her firing position. How much had Lara paid for this facility? It must have cost her a fortune. It would be great to be loaded like that. Southby paid her well and she would get more once Croft was dead, but it wasn't like being rich.

She saw her last paper target hanging from the movable track and went to take it down. She would have to destroy it before anyone saw it. She had just put her hand on the clip holding the target when the door opened behind her.

Susan froze, realizing suddenly that she had dallied too long and had been caught. What if it was Lara?

Slowly, her heart pounding, Susan forced herself to finish taking down the target. It was only then that she turned and saw Ian coming toward her.

"Oh, hello, Ian," she said, hoping he would notice the slight quiver in her voice.

"Hello, Miss Susan," he replied and her heart sank when his gaze dropped to the gunbelt around her waist.

"I…I was just practicing. Ms. Croft is…ah…so good at it. I just wanted to try and be like her."

"Is that so?" he replied, coming up to her. "Let me see that target."

Susan handed him the sheet of heavy cardboard and watched as Ian held it up to the light.

He glanced sharply at her, a surprised look on his face. "You did this, Susan?" he asked, pointing the tightly-spaced group of bullet holes.

"Well, yes," she replied, thinking fast. "But I…I cheated a little. I brought the target in to only three meters. I wanted Ms. Croft to think my aim was improving. She's been really patient with me."

He handed the target back to her. "Don't cheat, Miss Susan. It's undignified. Miss Lara can see that you're improving every day. So can I. Let that be sufficient."

She hastily unbuckled the gunbelt, only half pretending to be embarrassed. "I'll remember, Ian."

He glanced at the spent shell casings scattered around the floor. "How did you do against the computer?"

"Oh, uh, that. Not too well, I guess. I hit some of them, but I'm glad it's only pretend."

"You'll get better, just be patient." He turned and headed for the door. "You'd better clean up here and get back upstairs. Miss Lara needs you to help with some correspondence."

She placed the gunbelt back on the table. "Ian, don't tell her I was using the computer just yet. I want it to be a surprise." She smiled. "Please?"

He stopped and turned, and Susan was surprised at the grin on his face. "Aye, Miss Susan. Sure'an I like a nice surprise myself." Still chuckling, he headed on the hall.

Susan raged at herself for being so careless. Carelessness was what got you killed. And against Lara Croft there was no margin for error.

None at all.

* * * * *

"Good night, Ms. Croft," said Susan from the doorway.

Lara glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "Good night, Susan. Thanks for your help today."

Fastening her coat about her, Susan Oliver walked down the front steps and got in her car. But instead of driving home, she made her way to a small pub about ten kilometers from Lara's home. Once inside, she walked to a small table in the back of the room.

Ned Lewis looked up irritably. "You're late."

"I had to work over a bit," she replied coldly. "Do you want to talk or not? I don't need you, Mr. Lewis. I can handle this job myself."

Lewis grinned and kicked out the chair opposite him, gesturing for her to sit down. "Listen, lady," he said. "I'm here. It's a fact of life. Get used to it."

"You're a leech, mister," she hissed. "This was my assignment until you blackmailed your way into it."

He shrugged. "You were stupid, talking with Southby using Croft's telephone like that. Stupid can get a girl killed, if you know what I mean."

She eyed him silently for a moment. "What's your problem, Lewis? You've been picking at me from the first moment I saw you."

"Let's just say I don't like a pushy woman, Miss Oliver. When I meet one with a big mouth, something just makes me want to shut it for her. I almost shut Lara Croft's mouth for good a few months ago. Now it's time to finish the job." He leaned forward. "Stay out of my way, lady. Understand?"

"Shutting my mouth might be more difficult than you think," she said flatly. "You got the guts to try it? Or are you all talk?"

He smiled, but it went no further than his lips. "Shutting your mouth will be a pleasure, lady. When this job is over, we'll see about it."

"Anytime, Mr. Macho," she replied. "Now, why did you drag me all the way out here?"

"I need to know about the house."

Go to Chapter 4