Chapter Seven

Ned Lewis pushed the door of the upstairs room open slowly and slipped silently inside. Hearing no sound after a few seconds, he turned on the flashlight. It was a sitting room, with several comfortable chairs, a sofa and a writing desk scattered about. In the corner by the window was a television set.

His gun at the ready, he moved quietly to the adjacent room, which proved to be a bedroom. The bed was neatly made and it appeared that no one was using the room after all.

Satisfied for the moment, Ned hurried back to the balcony outside. There was only one more place to look: The attic. It had only one entrance, and if Croft was hiding up there that's where they would find her body.

* * * * *

The gunshots were deafening in the confined space of the freezer. Her face a mask of stone, Susan Oliver lowered her still-smoking pistols, her ears ringing. Two down.

Working with practiced skill, she deftly removed the half-empty magazines from her guns and replaced them with full ones. The tight-fitting surgical gloves were no hindrance and guaranteed that no telltale fingerprints would be left behind.

Two men were dead, both killed by Lara Croft in her heroic, but doomed effort to defend her home. That's what the police would discover later.

The fan magazines all thought Croft was invincible, but Susan knew the truth. It would be interesting to see how they reported her death. Lara Croft, the great adventuress, killed by thugs in her own home. What a joke.

Susan pulled open the heavy freezer door and stepped outside, shivering a little from the cold. The body behind her already forgotten, the lioness began the hunt for her next victim.

* * * * *

Simon Maher took a deep breath. Man, that was close. If the woman's gun hadn't misfired, he'd be dead now. He had badly underestimated how fast she was. Still, she was a fool. She should have killed him when she had the chance. Now she was the one who was going to die.

A low groan escaped from the body lying on the floor in front of him. She was barely conscious. He'd hit her pretty good both times. Hard to tell how bad she was hurt in the dim light coming in the window, but it really didn't matter, she was dead anyway. Ned would see to it personally. The man was almost paranoid where Croft was concerned and it would be good to finally put the thing to rest.

Walking to the body, Simon nudged her in the ribs with his boot. Another low groan escaped from her lips. Shoving his toe under the body, he lifted quickly and rolled her over. He remembered how beautiful she had looked earlier in the beam of the flashlight. A shame to kill a looker like her, but there was no help for it.

A faint metallic gleam caught his eye. Oh, yes. Unfinished business. Kneeling down, he tugged the second revolver from the holster at her left side. No point in taking chances. The sixguns were a matched pair, real showpieces. They must've cost a small fortune.

He got up and crossed the room, tucking the pistols in his waistband. He should be able to get a good price for them. Now only one more thing left to do. He pulled open the door and stepped out into the main hall.

* * * * *

Lara Croft opened her eyes as she heard the footsteps heading for the door. Tears streaked her cheeks from the pain in her stomach and her jaw felt like it was on fire. Her head throbbed and something wet ran from her hair downward past her left ear.

Slowly, her body protesting every millimeter of movement, she rolled onto her side.

"Hey, Ned!"

The shout from out in the main hall hit her like a bucket of ice water. She had, at most, thirty seconds left to live. And with a renewed sense of urgency, Lara struggled painfully to get up.

* * * * *

Susan was almost to the door leading from the kitchen to the ballroom when she heard the shout. It could only be Simon, Ned's third man. He must have found Lara.

Susan quickened her pace. Not good. Lara had to be killed by Ned, not one of his hirelings. She pulled down the hammers on her pistols. One more to go.

* * * * *

"Hey, Ned!" Simon called again, louder this time.

Five seconds passed. No answer. Where the heck did he go?

"HEY, NED!" he shouted.

"Yeah?" replied a faint voice from somewhere upstairs.

"I got Croft," he yelled back. "She's down here."

"All right. I'm coming."

Simon turned back into the office. He probably outtta tie the woman up, so that…

He froze at the sight of the shadowy figure across the room. Quick as a flash he yanked the two sixguns from his waistband and leveled them at the woman.

"Freeze, Lady. Or I ain't gonna wait for Ned to get here."

To his surprise, she kept moving. He pulled back hammers on the revolvers and the front sights of the guns tracked the woman as she moved painfully toward her desk.

"Last chance, Croft. I ain't gonna say it again."

She stopped in front of the desk and her head turned toward him. "You can't shoot me, mister."

"Yeah? And why not?"

"Because those guns aren't loaded. I couldn't find the shells for them."

Dumbfounded, Simon glanced down at the fancy sixguns in his hands. "You're lying!"

"Oh, I think not."

She knelt down and Simon's eyebrows shot up when he saw the Uzi at her feet. He yanked hard on the the triggers on the guns, afraid of what would happen. The sound of the hammers striking empty chambers mocked him, suddenly loud in the quiet of the night.

The distance was too great, no way he could jump her like before. Instead he threw the pistol in his right hand at her and darted out the door.

* * * * *

Lara saw the movement and dodged the gun, which crashed into the wall behind her. She picked up the Uzi, but when she turned toward the doorway, he was gone.

What should she do? What if the man had another gun? And that shout was sure to bring Ned in a hurry.

The only solid thing in the room was the big oak desk and she quickly moved behind it. Wincing at the pain in her stomach, she knelt down and used her left hand to wipe away the sticky liquid running down her forehead.

* * * * *

Just outside the office door, Simon threw the empty revolver behind him and yanked up his pantleg. In his boot was his backup piece, a .45 automatic pistol. Pulling it out, he chambered the first round and moved to the doorway. Hoping to catch Croft in the middle of the floor, he opened fire.

The .45 fires a larger bullet than the nine millimetre, and so Simon's weapon only held seven shots. Unable to see much, he simply panned the gun left to right and emptied the magazine into the room. The deep-throated roar of the powerful handgun shattered the quiet of the night.

In the office, debris flew everywhere as bullets struck the walls, a big vase on a stand and the teapot on the desk. The last round struck the computer monitor. The picture tube imploded in a shower of flying glass and the monitor was flung from the desk and landed on the floor with a crash.

The slide of the gun locked in the rear position and Simon jumped away from the door, just as a short burst of gunfire from inside the office cut through the air where he'd been an instant before. Breathing hard, he stood with his back to the wall and pressed the magazine release. The empty clip landed at his feet, but Simon ignored it as he slammed a fresh one into the gun.

It was too dangerous to go in after her. Besides, all he had to do was wait and keep her pinned down. Ned would have some ideas of his own about what to do next.

* * * * *

As she moved through the darkness of the ballroom, Susan was startled by the sudden bursts of gunfire. Lara must have somehow gotten a gun.

She had to deal with Simon quickly before Ned arrived. Moving faster than caution dictated, she turned the corner from the ballroom into the left side of the main hall. At first she couldn't see at thing, but then she caught a hint movement outside of Lara's office door. There he was.

She was less than six meters behind him when her foot kicked the Colt revolver Simon had thrown aside.

* * * * *

His heart had just started to slow down when Simon heard something skidding across the floor behind him. He was not the most intelligent man in the world, but Simon Maher had survived being a mercenary because he had sharp instincts and fast reflexes.

Lighting-fast, he spun around and dropped into a crouch, lifting his gun at the same time. The figure in the dim light was vague but there was no denying the glint of metal from the guns pointed in his direction. He was still bringing his gun up when there were twin flashes of gunfire from the dark figure. His gun leveled and his finger tightened on the trigger. He was somewhat blinded by the second flashes from the guns pointed him. The big .45 bucked upward in his hand and the sound of the shots merged together.

He was bringing the pistol back down for another shot when the twin pistols flashed a third time. Instantly something kicked him hard in left shoulder, spinning him partially around. Simon had been shot before and reacted quickly. He let the spinning motion continue and rolled onto the floor as if he had been mortally wounded.

* * * * *

Susan watched him fall, swearing softy at her rotten luck. Whatever she had kicked had made enough noise to wake the dead. She had been just about to fire when Simon had jumped aside. Unable to correct her aim quickly enough, the first two shots from each of her pistols had passed above him, the second pair closer than the first as she attempted to follow his movement.

Her third pair of shots were on target and she had seen him go down. But she was wary of easy kills and her guns continued to track the man as he rolled on the floor. Sure enough, he sprang back up into a crouch and she saw the metallic gleam in his hand.

The twin silver-chrome pistols roared a fourth time and the man lurched from the impact and dropped his gun. Her killing rage now firmly in control, Susan Oliver shot him again. And again.

With the last shots, Simon Maher flipped over backward and lay still.

"Susan?"

It was Lara's voice, coming from the office.

"Susan? Is that you? Are you all right?"

"What the heck's goin' on?" Ned's voice boomed from somewhere close by.

Nothing wanting to get caught in a gun battle between Ned and Lara, Susan slipped back into the ballroom. A moment later she reached the kitchen, where she stopped and leaned against the wall. The silver pistol in her left hand fell from her fingers and landed on the floor at her feet with a dull thud. With an effort, she returned her other pistol to the holster, before reaching over to touch the sticky, wet place just under her ribs.

Susan Oliver had killed more than twenty men in her short career as an assassin and this was the first time she had ever been shot. Her left side burned fiercely and she knew she needed a doctor.

But not just yet. She had come to do a job and she wasn't leaving until it was complete. Definitely hurting, but nevertheless determined, she unzipped the black jumpsuit down to her gunbelt and struggled out of it. Her white shoulders were a stark contrast to her dim surroundings as the top hung loosely around her waist.

She felt around in the darkness, trying to determine the extent of her injuries. The ragged tear seemed just above her waist and very close to her side, bleeding profusely. She had been very lucky. The bullet must have gotten just a piece of her, for a single, solid hit from a .45 slug would have killed her. The weapon had been designed for precisely that purpose, a one-shot kill.

She saw a large towel hanging by the sink. Holding it under the faucet, she wet one end and wiped herself as best she could. Then she folded the cloth into a makeshift bandage and pressed it hard against her side. Hopefully it would last long enough for her to kill Ned Lewis.

After he had blown away Lara Croft, of course.

* * * * *

Lara had been momentarily stunned by the brief exchange of gunfire just outside her office. Instantly recognizing the sound of her pistols, she realized that Susan must have been trying to come to her aid. Her admiration for the woman, already higher this evening, went up still another notch.

But she had heard no reply to her call. Was Susan all right? Cautiously, she got to her feet and approached the doorway, keeping well to the side. Risking a quick peek around the frame, she was startled to see a black-suited figure lying on the floor just outside. Keeping the Uzi in front of her, she knelt by the body.

It was the man who had attacked her earlier and he was obviously dead, for he had been hit repeatedly by gunfire. Lara turned her head away. As many times as she had seen death, it still sickened her and the riddled jumpsuit was not a pretty sight.

Quickly she searched his pockets for another magazine for the Uzi. No luck, so she struggled to her feet, her head throbbing. Something caught her eye and a few seconds later she picked up her Colt revolver. If she could find the ammunition for the cowboy guns she would feel better, because the more-powerful Uzi only had half a mag…

"I still think you're an amateur, lady."

Lara Croft's head snapped upward at the sound, just in time to see Ned Lewis on the balcony above, his gun pointed right at her.

* * * * *

Ned Lewis smiled with satisfaction. At last. The moment he'd waiting for so long. He held the Uzi tightly, his knuckles white from the unconscious pressure. Croft was below him, about twenty meters away.

"Good evening, Mr. Lewis," she said. "It's been a long time. I wanted to thank you for your Christmas present." It sounded like she was greeting an old friend.

Ned smiled and turned toward the steps, keeping his weapon trained on the woman below. "I thought that might have gotten your attention."

"And now you've come back to pay me a personal visit. Isn't that nice?"

"Just you keep making with the small talk, lady. You ain't got much time left for it."

"You even brought a friend with you." She pointed at the body on the floor.

He started down the long staircase. "That's something else I owe you for, lady."

She glanced quickly behind her. "You give me credit for too much, Mr. Lewis. I didn't shoot him."

Ned paused, his foot on the third step. "Whatdya mean you didn't kill him? He's dead, ain't he? And say, you better drop them guns. Like right now."

She took a step backward. "I don't think so, Mr. Lewis. You'll have to come and take them. I heard the gunfire and when I looked out here, he was dead."

If she hadn't killed him, then who? There was no one else here but…

The realization shook him. Susan? Could she have been the one?

"And now," she said, "I have to be going." Effortlessly, she did a backflip that landed her just outside the office door. Her feet had barely touched the carpet when she flipped sideways into the office. Seconds later Ned heard the slam of the heavy oak door.

Ned walked slowly down the steps, his mind whirling as he considered the possibilities. Had Susan turned against him? If Croft was in her office, then how else did Scott get shoved into the pool with a lot of holes in him? And where the heck was Arnie? Why didn't…

Arnie was dead. He had to be, or else he would have come running at the sound of the gunfire. Susan must have ambushed them somehow.

Well, it was going to come to that anyway, wasn't it? Just the two of them. From her first smart remark in Southby's office, it was clear that he was going to have to kill her. Blowing her away would be almost as good as doing Croft.

At least he knew where Croft was. He'd take of that first, keeping an eye over his shoulder for his other problem.

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