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Against My Better Judgement
Chapter 1
Being a precog was really rewarding some days...and a pain in the ass the other 99.9% of the time. The invaluable information about what punch an enemy might throw or the ability to outguess someone before they were able to speak made me arrogantly happy sometimes.
This was not one of those times.
I was standing in an elevator with three very chatty American ladies-one of which kept shooting me admiring glances, glances I certainly did not return, two teenage boys who stank of cigarette smoke and whose only vocabulary seemed to be "dude," and Nagi, the source of my current irritation.
"Guess which number I'm thinking of," he kept asking. Yeah, like I didn't know. Twenty-seven, eighty-four, sixty-nine (I narrowed my eyes at that one); the frustration was mounting.
I checked the floor number. Golly gee whiz, only forty-nine more floors to go. I checked the immediate future. Forty-nine floors, a conversation about a male supermodel with supremely nice abdominal muscles, more cigarette stink, and the numbers twelve, ninety-nine, and one hundred twenty eight. I wished I could check myself into a mental institution. If I were lucky, the Ark of the Covenant would crash through the elevator's ceiling, bounce open, and melt me into a disgusting glob of goop.
"Ok, ok," Nagi put one hand behind his back. "How many fingers?" I sighed. We'd gone only eight floors since I had last checked.
"Crawford," Nagi whined, giving me a "I'm a pathetic puppy" look. One of the ladies glared at me, but not the one who had earlier been staring unashamedly at my butt.
"Fine. Five, then two, and after that, three." I crossed my arms and leaned against the railing that ran along the elevator's inner wall, presumably so a handicapped individual wouldn't fall down. I closed my eyes, attempting to just quiet the ambient around me. Maybe I could just have one moment without seeing what Nagi would do next. Normally I didn't have so much trouble not seeing the future, but Nagi was a very active boy. Something about his telekinesis made him even louder mentally than Schuldich. It had been that way ever since Estet's defeat.
"I'd play with my son if he wanted attention," the glarer hissed loudly; it was her pathetic attempt at a subtle message to me. I opened my eyes so I was staring at her. She met my gaze openly. Ah, so she was more than a normal sheep.
"Ma'am," I said in clipped tones, "he's not my son. He's a hyperactive sixteen-year-old who just happens to earn more money in a month than you do in a year, and he's also my business associate. Please keep your snitty comments to yourself until you're aware of the situation."
The elevator binged at the 68th floor.
We stepped out to a chorus of awed "Duuuudes" from the teenagers.
The doors slammed shut on the woman's outraged face. I smiled cruelly. Now, that had been fun.
Nagi took his turn to sound disgusted at me. "You didn't have to do that, you know." He was embarrassed for me.
"No," I agreed, "I didn't. Come, we've got a meeting to attend." I took Nagi's shoulders and steered him to the right down an expansive hallway.
"Why did I have to come with you anyway?" he asked, tugging at his shirt collar. I had put him in a red polo shirt for this trip to England. He wasn't used to wearing anything but his various array of school uniforms.
"You came because Schuldich and Farfarello have already been to England and you needed the experience. Also, Schuldich is away on a mission for Schwarz and I didn't feel like explaining Farfarello to the British police."
"Oh." He actually stayed silent for a moment, working the logic out in his mind. For as bright a kid as Nagi was, he tended to skip to conclusions that he was being punished or hated before he thought that someone may be doing him some good. That kind of attitude had helped Schwarz in the past, which was why I hadn't worked harder at fixing it. A paranoid Nagi was a dangerous Nagi.
As Nagi thought, I took the chance to straighten my own shirt collar around my black jacket – the shirt was long sleeved and olive green – and opened the glass door in front of us.
A lofty office in the coveted space at the end of the hall, L.C. Enterprises was everything I had expected. Plush beige carpet lined the floor wall to wall, a subtle invitation to slip your shoes off and feel the soft fabric between your toes. To our immediate left, a small waiting area comprised of a Baroque style coffee table and three antique chairs made an exquisite impression to the trained eye. Ahead of us stood an equally old (read between the lines: expensive) reception desk that subtly blocked customers from freely exploring the rest of the office. Behind the desk were several wooden filing cabinets and two arched windows. The sun coming through them streamed down to reach our feet. To sum the office in a word, it was money. The only thing missing from making it a complete scene was a richly dressed secretary.
Speak of the devil. A moment after I even thought it (what price precognition?) a woman rounded the corner from a hallway to our left. I was surprised at her dress, as it directly clashed with the mental image I'd already gathered. Khaki shorts and a skintight blue shirt were not appropriate office wear, nor were the big brown hiking boots she wore. Everything about her read "sunny day safari."
"You must be Crawford." Her British accent was melodious, a low, cultured voice. No matter the clothing, the way she spoke let me know her birthright. She had been raised a rich little girl.
"Yes."
"This way." She turned, long braid that reached her waist bouncing fluidly across her back. We followed her through the hallway from which she had come. I spared a glance to make sure Nagi followed. He was staring avidly at her behind. There was quite a lot of that going around today. I was glad I had been spared the necessity to do that to other people.
A dash of color attracted my eye. Following my interest, I found myself looking at a personally taken photograph, not a store bought print, that figuratively took my breath away. My precog sometimes worked in curious ways. The picture was of a very realistic Ark of the Covenant.
I next saw another fantastic replica in a picture of what could only be a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Incredibly, all down the hallway hung a line of deadly accurate photos of long lost mysteries and wonders.
"Where did you find these exquisite prints?" I asked. Schwarz's headquarters could use some art like this.
The secretary laughed. "A few collections were raided for these. Do you like them?"
"Quite a lot." Why did her face hint at a wide smile?
"We're here." The door she opened was the plainest in the hall. The make was simple oak. I hoped this wasn't a trap. Real businessmen usually tried to impress potential associates by placing their offices behind fancy, carved behemoth doors.
I unobtrusively placed my hand on my gun where it hung in my inner-jacket holster.
As we stepped into the room, I noticed an inscription on the door: L. Croft. Well, we were at the right office. I was rather curious as to who L. Croft was. Due to the extremely short notice we had received, we had only found out the Mr. Croft was an archaeologist of some note who had quite a wide collection of rare artifacts that he refused to sell to museums. He was also richer than many third world nations. What he wanted with Schwarz was a mystery, but an e-mail had arrived yesterday morning with this message:
If you can trace this to the sender's location, please meet L. Croft tomorrow in London. The place and time will be provided if you can find the main network server.
Nagi had snorted and gone to work. He labored over Schwarz's two keyboards for more than three hours, his usual finesse with all things computer seemingly erased. Whoever Croft was, he had excellent programmers at his aid. Not many people stumped Nagi for that long. Even Omi, Weiss' computer bitch, never gave us much trouble for long, and he was a self-proclaimed computer whiz. As Schwarz, we had cracked the code, but not before Schuldich had thrown a hissy fit and left on his mission and Farfarello had attempted to skin a courier. Literally.
Now we were finally here in Croft's office. His furniture was mild, but again very old, belaying the money he wanted to present. Plants stood in all four corners (cameras behind them, perhaps?) while yet more unique photos adorned the dark brown paneled walls.
The only problem was that Croft wasn't there.
I rounded on the secretary, who was pouring us some delicious smelling coffee.
"Where is Croft?"
She raised a shaped eyebrow as her lips quirked up in that half smile that was directed at me more than I liked. "Oh, I thought you had that one figured out. I'm Croft." She stuck out her hand. "Lara Croft. Thank you for responding so efficiently to my e-mail, Mr. Crawford."
I think my eyebrows pushed my hairline back a few inches, but I regained my composure in time to take her hand in mine.
"I must say, I'm surprised. I was expecting someone like-"
"Indiana Jones?"
I chuckled, already impressed despite the clothing and her femininity. "Well, yes."
"Good, that means you'll be prepared for any other shocks I throw your way, such as the shock that I hold an artifact in my possession that can block your prophetic powers."
I was struck by her brisqueness and the truth of her words. Now that I thought about it, the future was not in the slightest bit clear to me. I understood her caution, but resented that she had a weapon against me already. Whatever she was going to say had better be worth it, or I would make sure she realized she had been wasting my time. Now that I knew she was the one in charge, I gave her a closer inspection.
Full lips to compliment lovely brown eyes and an air of composure those Schrient bitches couldn't touch. She moved gracefully, like a cat ready to pounce, or, as I knew from experience, a woman well versed in fighting. Her slimness didn't come from plain physical fitness workouts; she was a trained lethal weapon with a figure only hard work can achieve. I intended to watch my step around her.
"I'm sure you're quite curious as to the reason I sent you that encrypted e-mail." There was a moment of silence, but she went on, seeing I wasn't about to jump in with questions. Those could come after she finished speaking. "I heard about Estet half a year ago when I was traveling in Japan on the hunt for a rare Shinto mask. I may even have had a tiny scuffle with an Estet operative."
That impressed me. Estet weren't your ordinary thugs. Normal people didn't survive a mere "scuffle" with them.
"And, as I am a curious soul, I decided to check into the nature of your organization.
"About that time, Estet collapsed for reasons I have not yet learned." She peered at me, apparently hoping I'd volunteer the information. I stayed quiet. Schwarz protected its own.
She handed Nagi and me coffee and motioned for us to sit in some fancy leather chairs, then continued her tale.
"As my research progressed, I began to notice that there were several Estet members who had special status, even in the now defunct organization. They were, in fact, you and your three companions. You all appeared to possess some unbelievable powers, but, as I have discovered, the unbelievable many times can be true.
"Then one of my more trustworthy sources in Egypt gave me a call, tipping me off to the possible existence of an artifact that until now had been assumed was a total myth. It's a rod of sorts, one that was used by an ancient Egyptian goddess. The rod's powers reportedly gave the user the ability to answer any of her desires. The only problem was that the rod would work only once for anyone who wasn't a god.
"The information left me unsure as to whether or not I really wanted to spend the time finding the rod. Then, about two months ago I came across a passage in an ancient Egyptian text that indicated the rod would work an unlimited amount of times if it was combined with an old seal."
Ms. Croft slid open a desk drawer and pulled out a circular golden object. She held it upright so Nagi and I could see the picture on it. Etched into the surface was a picture of the sun. There was nothing mystical or ornate about it. She turned the piece over. On the other side of the disc was a representation of the moon. I reached out to take the disc from her, but Croft pulled the seal away from me.
"Sorry, Mr. Crawford, but the instructions in the text also revealed that only a woman could handle the seal and hope to survive, as my assistant and I discovered when we found it." She grimaced, obviously reliving the memory.
"What does it do to men?" Nagi put in, eyes wide in interest.
Lara smiled, albeit bitterly. "When touched by a man, the seal separates into two moon shaped discs and decapitates him. Then it forms its normal shape once again and seeks the hands of the nearest woman. It's rather nasty, but before you ask more questions, let me continue.
"I decided to go after the rod. Luckily, the day before I planned to leave, my butler Jeeves was cleaning out my attic when he came upon another text that corroborated what I had learned as well as giving me new information." She paused to sip at her coffee.
"What I learned concerned me, for around the seal's edge used to be the inscription, the future seals the destiny of woman. This seal I held was worn at the edges, corroded by time.
"It took me a while to figure it out, but I finally realized what the clue meant. To place the seal on the rod's tip, the future must be known, else both seal and rod will be destroyed. Why the future is necessary, I don't yet know.
"Also, I realized that only a man could hold the rod. Once combined, the two people – one man and one woman – would be the only ones with unlimited uses with the staff. For all others, it was still only one use. The most amazing property, or, perhaps, the most annoying property of the staff, is that even joined, its two users still don't have godlike powers."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there are certain restrictions that mean you cannot have some things you wish for. As an example, I could not wish you back to life, were you to die. Nor could I wish for an infinite number of wishes were I to just have the rod, and circumvent the power of the combined artifacts. Only gods have the power to raise the dead and change the nature of their creations. Other stuff too, like not being able to teleport or cover long distances in a single bound. Superman kind of stuff."
"The limits aren't that bad," I said, wondering how I could use this fantastic device. "Everyone dies eventually. How is this thing combined?"
The woman holds the seal while the man holds the rod and they are simply joined together."
"How phallic," I dryly remarked.
"Yes, isn't it?
"So I was stuck with the problem of finding a man who could see the future. I knew I needed a man because though he is not directly named in the inscription, he is actually 'the future' that is mentioned. And, as you could expect, I'm not about to give up this rod to a woman who can see the future, even if I knew one.
"I turned the problem over in my mind, still researching you, Schwarz, until it hit me. You can see brief glimpses of the future, Mr. Crawford, and you would share half the power to a very valuable object. I e-mailed you and decided to make the message encrypted because I wanted to test you a bit. It's in my nature to want to work with people who are competent. You understand, I'm sure.
"The point is, I want you to come with me to find the rod and join the two artifacts."
I pushed up my glasses. The prospect was indeed enticing.
"And if I accepted but killed you after we performed the ritual?" She wouldn't be shocked by my words if she knew so much about Schwarz already. It was a valid point.
Apparently she did know Schwarz well from her research, for she grinned widely now. "It only works with both partners alive and with each other's blessing. Every time I would ask for something, you would have to agree and vice versa. That is the restriction for having so much power. Cooperation. Any person with one use doesn't need the blessing. It makes a lot of sense when you consider it."
"What if I don't accept?"
"I'll search until I find another male precog."
"And if I simply choose to look for the rod on my own, enlisting the help of a women who I know will assist my ambitions completely?"
"Only I know how to find the rod, Mr. Crawford. My informant was the last in a line that knew where it was. Besides, I have the seal."
"I could just find him and get the information after stealing the seal."
She eyeballed me. "He was the man who touched the seal. He's dead."
The room was silent. Lara Croft really was quite remarkable. She had managed to safeguard her own life and ambition. Most people didn't earn my respect this quickly. They were generally dead before they had the chance.
"One more condition," Lara said. "Only you come. Not the telekinetic, not the empath, and not the killing machine."
"Deal." I stuck out my hand. I was excited and intrigued, two feelings that did not normally cross my repertoire. I could use a vacation from Schwarz.
"Before you shake," Lara cautioned, holding out her manicured hand, "there is one more condition that must be met."
"Which is?" Nothing she said could be that bad.
"Aya Fujimiya must safely come along too."
