Tomb Raider: The Ten Thousand Immortals (10 page)

Lara could think of no adequate answer, and the kindness she was being shown was too warm to be ignored.

Lydia dropped to one knee on the rooftop above.

“Subject sighted,” she said, “accompanied by a woman and a protection officer.”

“Stay on her. Do not approach,” said Hydarnes.

Lydia matched Lara’s progress through the buildings, moving from one roof to another, vaulting, climbing, and even making one almighty leap to bridge the gap between two roofs, to cross the block. She went unseen and unheard.

Lara emerged a few minutes later on Rue Chateaubriand. She shook hands with the Asian woman and thanked her once more.

“Are you sure you’re quite well?” she asked.

“Quite sure, thank you,” said Lara. “I’m so sorry to have put you to so much trouble.”

“It was the nicest adventure I’ve had for a long time,” said the woman, smiling at Lara for the last time before turning back down the narrow alley between the buildings.

Lara was on her guard immediately. The street was narrow, and there was no sign of the big BMW. Then, she saw him. There was a man down the street. He turned. There was something… He’d seen her.

He had an earpiece… He was one of them.

Lara’s heart beat a little faster.

Then, she heard the high-pitched rattle of a moped engine firing up. There were several parked on the street. They were a common sight in Paris. She didn’t think twice. She strode up to the moped and climbed on the back. The man on the front was startled. Lara put her hands firmly on his shoulders and said, “Allez!” in his ear, in the most commanding tone she could muster. She didn’t shout. She didn’t want to scare him. She just wanted him to move and to move fast.

Xerxes was right on top of them. The moped bucked and swerved. The rider was trying to do as he was told, but suddenly there was a man right in front of him.

“Allez!” said Lara again.

The rider turned the handlebars of the moped and revved the engine. The bike bucked again just as Lara reached out to shove Earpiece, who was grabbing for her. Lara braced herself with two feet still on the ground. The front wheel spun and turned, tearing into Earpiece’s legs. He went down hard.

Lara had a fistful of his jacket, which tore away in her hand, scattering something on the ground.

Earpiece recoiled, grabbing his bleeding leg.

As the rider righted the moped, Lara scooped up the photos that had fallen from Earpiece’s jacket, and then the two of them were riding along Chateaubriand towards Avenue de Friedland.

Chapter 13

T
he fire appliance finally skirted past the BMW, and Darius managed to pull out behind it and reverse out of Rue Lord Byron. He spun at the end of the street and joined the traffic in Rue Arsène Houssaye, following Hydarnes’s directions.

Lydia landed on Chateaubriand moments after Lara’s departure.

“The subject?” she asked Xerxes.

“Moped,” he said between gasps of pain. Lydia left Xerxes where he was. He was useless to her now. She also ignored the streets. She was faster through and over the buildings. Her parkour skills meant she could cut across city blocks as the crow flies, covering greater distances on foot. The traffic in Paris was notoriously slow. She could still track the subject. She didn’t have to stop to scan territory looking for Croft; she only had to follow the directions Hydarnes gave her.

The moped turned right into Avenue de Friedland. It was the commercial district, and the street was wide and busy with traffic moving in both directions.

Lara didn’t want to put her saviour in unnecessary danger, so when he had to stop at a pedestrian crossing, she hopped off the back of the bike.

“Thanks,” she said. “You saved my life.”

“You crazy English,” he said. “It was fun. Something to tell my friends.” He grinned.

Lara grinned back.

“Run!” he said, revving his engine.

Lara took him at his word and ran, casting a last smile over her shoulder. He was right; it was exhilarating.

Lara jogged up the street until she found a café and ducked into it. She didn’t like being in the open for too long. She couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t still being followed. She needed to get her bearings. She also needed to find Menelaou as soon as possible. She needed to head for the Left Bank.

Lara sat at a table in the back of the café so she couldn’t be seen from the street. She sat with her back to the wall, and quickly glanced around the room. There was no one suspicious. She opened her rucksack to check that everything was still there. She felt in the bottom of the bag to make sure the Book hadn’t been found. The rucksack still had its hard base. It hadn’t been disturbed. The Book was under it, sewn into the lining.

As she pulled her hand out of the bag, the back of it brushed against something. Lara reached back in and felt around. There was definitely something there. She pushed her belongings to one side and turned the bag partly inside out so that she could examine what she had found. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought it was some kind of tracking device or bug. It was certainly good tech, put there by Ares or most likely one of his people.

“Great,” she said. “Well, two can play at that game.”

Lara rose from the table as the waiter approached her. She waved and shrugged at him as she went back out onto the street. She looked around, very cautious, sure that Ares’s people couldn’t be far away.

Lara got lucky and quickly hailed a cab. She got in and said, “Gare du Nord, s’il vous plaît.”

If they think I’m going home,
she thought.
Maybe they’ll leave me
alone.

In the back seat of the cab, Lara dumped the stuff out of her rucksack, ripped the stitching in the lining, and took out the Book. She tore a piece of paper from one of the blank pages at the back of the Book and put everything back in the bag. Then, she unclipped the device from where it had been attached to the inside of the rucksack and folded it carefully in the paper, securing it with a hairband. She scribbled the word “Ares” on the small package. Remembering the photographs from Earpiece’s jacket, she pushed them into the flyleaf of the Book’s jacket. She could look at them later. She needed to be alert right now.

She kept a close eye on the traffic around her. There was no sign of the BMW.

“Monsieur,” she said to the driver, “do you speak English?”

“Of course,” said the cabbie.

“Someone is following me. If I see his car, can you change routes?”

“Ah,” said the driver, “a bad boyfriend, n’est-ce pas?”

“Something like that,” said Lara.

“You will run away, and I will help you,” said the driver.

“Thank you,” said Lara. “The Gare du Nord? How far?”

“Fifteen minutes,” said the driver, “twenty. The vehicles, so many of them.”

“Thank you,” said Lara.

“The subject is moving southeast on Friedland,” said Hydarnes. “Fast.”

“She’s on a moped,” said Lydia, breathing hard as she landed on the pavement on Friedland close to the café where Lara had picked up the taxi.

“You’re coming in, Lydia,” said Hydarnes. “Darius is taking over.”

“Shit!” said Lydia.

“Ares will see you on your return.”

Lydia’s face grew firm, her jaw clenched. She breathed in hard and out slowly.

“Copy that,” she said. She turned to walk back to the Champs-Élysées.

“What’s your position, Darius?” asked Hydarnes.

“Square Louis XVI,” said Darius.

“Take a left,” said Hydarnes. “You got ahead of her. She’s heading northeast on La Pépinière.”

“I didn’t pass her,” said Darius.

Hydarnes shot a glance at the tech as they studied the screen together.

“May I?” asked the tech, leaning in to tap an instruction on the keyboard.

“There,” she said. “I should have seen it. She stopped for, maybe ninety seconds.”

“There was movement,” said Hydarnes.

“The tracker’s sensitive,” said the tech. “She might have been pacing. The rucksack might have been swinging. There’s no forward trajectory. She definitely stopped.”

“Is she still on the moped?” asked Hydarnes.

The tech shrugged.

“She stole it or jumped a ride. I’m guessing not,” she said.

Hydarnes thought for a moment.

“She’s in a taxi,” he said. “Darius, Croft is in a taxi.”

Lara looked around at every stoplight, at every junction. She never stopped scanning the road, and every time she saw a seven series, black BMW, she went to alert. She was surprised at just how many there were.

“He must have been a very bad boyfriend,” said the driver at one point.

“Very,” said Lara, turning to check the view from the rear window.

As they pulled away from the intersection with the Rue de Rome, Lara looked right to see the traffic waiting to pull out behind them. They were traveling at no more than walking speed, and the first car was already turning out of the junction. She was looking right at Windcheater.

She hadn’t been expecting to see him there. She didn’t know why, but she expected the BMW to come up behind her. Of course she’d checked all the turnings, but that was because of the anxiety, that was belt and braces. She gasped.

“Madamoiselle?” asked the driver.

“It’s him,” said Lara.

“Nous allons le faire,” said the driver.

Before Lara knew what was happening, the cabbie had swung into the right-hand lane and turned right down Rue de

Rome before switching back left, crossing Rue Saint-Lazare and cutting down Cour de Rome.

“I’ve got her,” said Darius.

“Stay with her,” said Hydarnes. “Don’t lose her again. Ares wants to know exactly where she is at all times.”

The tech grinned and put her hand up for a high five. Hydarnes looked at her coldly and turned back to the screen. The tech blushed.

The cabbie had put several cars between them and the BMW. He’d also caused some confusion, and a flurry of car horns sounded all around them. He beamed in his rearview mirror at Lara.

“Gare du Nord,” he said. “The scenic route. It will be...”

“I have money,” said Lara.

“I would say fun,” said the cabbie.

Sorry
, thought Lara.
You can do your best, but I know something that you don’t. You can try as hard as you want, but you can’t lose that BMW.
She gripped the paper parcel in her hand a little tighter.

Then she checked the view through the rear window. She was rocked onto her side when the cabbie took a sudden right turn without indicating. He was throwing the car all over the place, and when Lara was able to sit up again, she could see why.

Rue de Caumartin was narrow, and the shops and business spilled out onto the street. Racks of clothes stood outside the small boutiques, and the cafés had outside tables filled with customers. It was like an obstacle course. The cabbie dodged a sandwich vendor selling his product under an awning, but clipped one of the tall pedestal tables that some of his customers were standing at to eat. Fortunately, it wasn’t occupied. He hit his horn by way of a warning and an apology, and shrugged at Lara when he heard shouting.

Lara turned to look back through the rear window once more. She was surprised and relieved to see a large white van in the road thirty yards behind them. It had stopped. The driver was getting out. He had a clipboard in his hand and was clearly making a delivery.

This is it,
thought Lara.
This is my
chance.

“Where can I pick up another taxi?” asked Lara.

“You don’t like my driving?” asked the cabbie, crestfallen.

“I love your driving,” said Lara. “I want to pay you to keep driving. I want you to take something to the Gare du Nord for me. I want you to let the man in the BMW follow you, but don’t make it easy. When you get to the Gare du Nord, I want you to give him this.” She held up the paper parcel with the bug in it.

“And you will escape?” asked the driver.

“You will be helping me to escape,” said Lara, holding out three ten-euro notes. “Is this enough?”

The cabbie pulled over on the corner of Caumartin and Rue de Provence, outside Printemps department store. He took the money.

“It will be my pleasure,” he said. “Look! There’s a taxi.”

Lara switched cabs.

“Hotel Odéon,” she said, “St. Germain.”

“Oui, mademoiselle,” said the new driver.

“She’s playing games,” said Darius, backing out of Caumartin. He’d taken the turning too fast, trying to keep up with the taxi, and swiped through a rack of dresses. The boutique owner was beating his fists on the hood of the BMW, trying to get a reaction, but Darius had a job to do. The white van twenty yards ahead of him was blocking the road, and the pile of boxes being unloaded would take time to shift. He’d have to abort and take a different route.

“You’re better than any taxi driver,” said Hydarnes. “I’ll feed you coordinates as I get them.”

The cabbie drove back and forth and around the city for twenty minutes more, playing a game of cat and mouse with the big, black BMW. The taxi fare was more than Lara’s thirty euros, but he was having fun.

“I know where she’s going,” said the tech.

Hydarnes turned to the young woman.

“It’s a simple algorithm,” she said.

“Don’t explain it,” he said. “Just tell me.”

“The Gare du Nord,” she said. “If you ignore the detours and look at the key route, the subject is making her way back to the Gare du Nord.”

“Gare du Nord. Darius, you’ll find the subject at the station.”

The taxi driver became a little concerned when he could not see the BMW behind him for two or three minutes. He turned back onto the Rue Lafayette, but still did not see the car that had been tailing him. He had promised the girl. He picked up the little packet from the dashboard, and read it. The man’s name must be Ares. He was almost there. He’d take the package to the Gare du Nord.

The black BMW was parked in the taxi bay outside the station. A man was leaning against it. He looked as if he was waiting.

Moments later, the back door of the taxi was being pulled open before the driver knew what was happening.

“Where is she?” asked the man. “Ou est-elle?”

“Mademoiselle asked me to give you this,” said the driver, handing Darius the paper packet with Ares written on it.

Darius took it. He slammed the rear door of the cab so hard the car rocked. As he strode back to the BMW, the cabbie wound down his window.

“You are a very bad boyfriend,” he shouted, waving his fist.