TOMB RAIDER: The Money Pit

Chapter 1: Aurignaciian Jewellery

PART ONE: THE MONEY PIT

CHAPTER 1: Aurignacian Jewellery

Gorges de l'Ardeche, France, March 1997

1

"Joanne Parker," said Lara Croft.

"David Roberts. Nice to meet you."

She watched his eyes run up and down her slender frame, reading her like a barcode.

She did not mind the appraisal. Indeed, over the years she had become immune to such attention. She knew that wherever she went, if there were hot-blooded males present then it was a foregone conclusion.

Her dress did nothing to dissuade interested males. Long and black, with dark red satin showing inside every slit as if the garment were a living creature torn open to reveal bloody innards. Her long hair, normally held in a single pig-tail running down her back, tumbled over her shoulders in salon-designed chaos. Pale cheeks and blood-red lips completed the effect: that of turning every male head, and testing the ego of each one.

The one currently under test belonged to a tall and rather handsome American whose Texan drawl, rough hands and caramel-coloured skin made Lara think of horses. Either he rode or bred, or both. His eyes said he was looking for another species to ride this night, but Lara was in no mood for breeding.

"So, Joanne - if you don't mind my using your Christian name - what do you do?"

"I belong to the majority here," Lara replied, having already decided on a subtle, diversionary, and possibly even sarcastic approach to this man's mission to bed her.

David Roberts sipped from his glass. "Ah, so you're a bonedigger too?"

"I prefer the more casual slang term of 'archaeologist.'"

David Roberts smiled at the joke, not sensing her sarcasm. "Here for a while?"

Making a direct assault, it seemed. "I'm flying back to England directly after this party."

"Then we shan't see each other ever again after this party." He seemed to be waiting for a specific response from her, obviously something along the lines of, Oh, we can't have that! Come back to my room!

A bell was rung, and soft murmurs of delight came from the people around them, who promptly began moving away in the same direction.

"Dinner time," Lara said, fixing her eyes onto David Roberts', challenging him.

With only seconds left to make his move, the tall Texan took a great gulp of his drink and blurted: "You want to . . . to . . ."

He failed. He walked past Lara but not in the same direction as everyone else. Perhaps going home, dejected. Lara felt a brief pang of pity, then dismissed it. He'd saved himself embarrassment.

But no sooner was he gone than another slipped into his place like water filling a hole. Short, rounded, and glinting with jewellery.

"Hi, I'm Anton. Nice to meet you. Care to be escorted to dinner, young lady?"

Here we go again, Lara thought.

2

The large marquee reserved for dinner seating hummed with the sound of hidden generators that provided the heat out here in the Ardeche region of France, which was nothing but miles and miles of hills and cliffs and a few scattered towns. Out here, the wind was cold and fast and loud. However, this sound was masked by the music, played live by a five-piece brass band on a stage-like platform for the pleasure of the rich and respected archaeologists, sponsors and media personnel present.