Start at lovely Croft Manor, where things are already afoot

England, Croft Manor

“There is nothing there but trees Lara,” the man shouted.

“Well change to radar Bryce,” Lara shouted back, “I know that that plane went down in this valley!”

“These are pictures that were taken three days ago on an ‘electro-optical camera’ not a radar imaging system,” Bryce pinched the bridge of his nose, “If you want the valley scanned with Radar imaging, we need to hire another service…”

“Fine, how much?” Lara folded her arms across her chest.

“I don’t know,” the tech junkie took a deep breath, “Let me make a few calls.”

There was a knock from the door to the offices and Winston’s frail voice called out.

“Lady Croft, you have visitors, Captain Buckingham of her Majesty’s SAS regiment,” Winston pronounced, “And his, ah… associates.”

“Charlie!” Lara squeed like a little girl and rushed over to hug her friend.

The tall and strong brown haired British soldier blushed.

“Lara, I mean Lady Croft…” Captain Buckingham started.

Lara ignored his words, but released him and looked her old friend over.

“You look absolutely smashing, who died?” Lara suddenly frowned.

“No one,” Buckingham said.

“Ah, Winston me mate, how about we make some tea?” Bryce spoke up.

“Right this way mister Bryce,” Winston said before turning and plodding along past the guests.

“Then what are you doing in Number Two Dress?” Lara put her hands on her hips.

“Meet and greets as well as joint operations planning with allies,” Buckingham cleared his throat and nodded his head back towards the rest of the people in the office.

“Hello,” Lara raised one hand and gave a queen’s wave.

“If I may, this is Agent Chameleon,” Buckingham presented a dark haired woman in a Chanel skirt suit and trench coat.

“Hello,” the woman said in accented English.

“Is that the winds in tree branches of the Arden’s Forrest I hear in your accent?” Lara asked in perfect French.

“Only when I want ya to,” the woman’s accent was now thick Bronx New York.

“Told you taking away her Nanny DVDs wouldn’t solve the problem,” someone grumbled from the back.

Buckingham then presented a red haired woman in a US Army dress uniform with corporal strips on her shoulders.

“And this is Corporal O’Hara of the United States Army,” Buckingham noted.

“Greetings,” Lara smiled.

The woman saluted and kept an expressionless face about her. Lara recognized this was a fighter, not just a pretty face, even if she had most of the men swooning over her and probably most of the women too.

“And Mister Clancy from the United States as well,” Bucking hand gestured to the man in the suit and glasses.

“Madame,” he spoke with an authority beyond just his years.

Lara looked around at the group and spotted the man she expected skulking in the back.

“Hay Al, still sloshing around behind this pampered baby Earl?” Lara called to her other friend.

“You know how it goes Lady C,” the man smirked, “Go where the Marines tell you and baby sit the officer appointed above you.”

“Sergeant Jones is not my babysitter,” Buckingham muttered.

“Sure Charlie,” Lara snickered, “So what brings this motley crew to my manor, it can’t be to sign up for a Motely Crue impersonation competition.”

“Doctor Croft,” one of the men in the back spoke up, “We need you to be our Vince Neil.”

“Now is not the time for jokes Mister Hardy,” Mister Clancy was clearly rolling his eyes, even behind the sunglasses, “Doctor Croft, we are in need of an archeologist, and one with particular skills outside of normal research and patiently digging.”

“I can assure you that the stories about my expeditions are greatly exaggerated,” Lara said instinctively.

“So, you are saying that the reports of you getting into a fire fight with the team from Beijing University aren’t true?” Mister Clancy said flatly.

“Or that you shot doctor Xi with a thirty-two in the butt,” Corporal O’Hara added, “Twice?”

“Ok, that story is true, but it lacks important context,” Lara snapped.

“This I have to hear,” Al snapped from in back.

“I was already on site, I had permission from the authorities, then Xi sent those MSS goons to shoot everyone and run us off so he could do the dig himself. They had shot four of the interns from Cairo already,” Lara defended her actions.

“Those MSS goons are pretty trigger happy,” the one called Hardy said ruefully.

“Here is our problem,” Mister Clancy pulled a folder out of his brief case, “Doctor Juanita Ivanova Shpigana, until last week, of the Moscow University school of Anthropology. Between her initial degree and her doctoral studies, she was a lieutenant in the Russian Federal Security Bureau. She maintained her commission until she went rogue last week.”

“Consulting and linguistics?” Lara asked.

“Spanish and Portuguese Translator, but she was a combat medic for a FSB Spetznez team,” Chameleon interjected.

“So what is the concern with her?” Lara asked.

“Last week, she killed her roommate, most of her department at the university and destroyed or stole all their material on the **** God’s Tomb Dig from the Soviet expeditions to Southern Mexico in the 1960’s,” Mister Clancy pronounced.

“I am familiar with that, part of Khrushchev’s liberalizations,” Lara spoke, “Universities of Moscow, Cambridge, Mexico City and Buenos Aries did digs at the site in fifty-nine, sixty, and sixty-three. The one hitch for the Moscow university team was they had to sign the praises of socialism all the while.”

“Well we have reason to believe that she hooked up with Red October,” Chameleon stated, “And they are probably going to head to the dig site.”

“Red October?” Lara asked, “Weren’t they some sort of Soviet Spec-Ops teams from the seventies and eighties? Weren’t they disbanded when the Soviet Union collapsed?”

“Most were RIF-ed in ’91,” Mister Clancy said, “A number stayed in Russian Service, a few went into service in other breakaway republics. They have since become the founders for a hard core Neo-Communist militant faction operating in and around the former Warsaw Pac countries trying to impose Communism on everyone.”

“What is ‘rifted’ mean?” Lara asked.

“Reduced in ****,” Buckingham spoke up, “Term for being laid off en mass from the military.”

“Well there are two things I don’t understand,” Lara closed the file on Shpigana, “Why don’t you just tell the Mexican Government to arrest her on entry and why would Communists be interested in an occult site to begin with?”

“Well, the Mexican government isn’t in control of that area,” Mister Clancy stated.

“And frankly,” Chameleon noted, “Communists always want one thing over all everything, power. Power over the rich, the poor, the middle class, the means of production, societies as a whole, individuals, heck even over nature it’s self.”

“Comrade Stalin declares that there is no drought, so there is no reason why your grain production is below party mandates?” Lara mused as she handed Clancy back the file of the doctor, “Let me pack my bags.”

“Great, I’ll get my co-pilot to warm up the engines!” the one called Harding called from the back.