Tomb Raider: The Ten Thousand Immortals by Dan Abnett, Nik Vincent

said Lara. “It’s my job.”
    “As far as I could ascertain, you are not currently employed,” said Ares. “I believe you are what is commonly known as a ‘trust fund brat.’ Am I correct?”
    “I make my own way,” said Lara. “But I can be a brat, if you like.”
    “What is your interest in the Golden Fleece?” asked Ares.
    Lara was facing down a very serious man in a very serious room. She had stalled for time and she had played games. She was in danger, and she knew it. She could feel it. She had to stay calm and, somehow, she had to get out.
    A glance at the window had told her that it wasn’t an option. She was too high up. There was only one door into and out of the room, and she was sure there was someone beyond it. She had been escorted in by Crewcut and Ponytail, and Windcheater had to be around somewhere. She had no idea who else was in the building. She also had very little idea of the layout of the building. Worst of all, they’d taken her bag. She had her passport and a credit card in her pocket, but the Book was in her bag. She’d sewn it into the lining of the base. If she was lucky, they wouldn’t find it.
    Lara sighed heavily as if resigned to finally answering his questions.
    “I visited the foremost professor of antiquities,” she said. “He told me there was no such thing as the Golden Fleece.”
    “Ah yes,” said Ares. “Your visit to Oxford.”
    “How do you know about that?” asked Lara.
    “Because I have made it my business to know about you, Lara Croft,” said Ares. “I make it a point of principle to learn something about anyone who takes an interest in my business.”
    “And what is your business?” asked Lara.
    “In this particular instance,” said Ares, raising his arms to encompass the room and everything in it, “artifacts, of course. My business is history, myth, legend, and the objects that make them come alive.”
    “Then you know why I was interested in the Golden Fleece,” said Lara.
    “The entire world is interested in the Golden Fleece,” said Ares. “Your father would have been interested. Your professor in Oxford is interested, and the American boy, the one who looks like an athlete, perhaps he’s interested, too. A word of warning, Miss Croft. You should be careful in whom you choose to put your faith. Trust is so easily broken.”
    “Are you threatening me?” asked Lara. “Because I’m just a girl, just a student. You’re asking me questions, but it seems as if you have all the answers.”
    “No, Miss Croft. I have no reason to threaten you. You interest me, just as your father did before you. I followed his exploits all over the globe… I followed your adventures on Yamatai. It was all most fascinating.”
    “What do you know about Yamatai?” asked Lara. “What do you know about Sam?”
    “I know a very great deal, Miss Croft. Knowledge is power, and I am nothing if not a powerful man. But I am not an adventurer. Those people, people like you, are so often innocents, and innocents are invariably exploited in this cruel world. You must beware, Miss Croft.”
    Lara chose to be more sullen than aggressive. She was young and a girl; she could get away with a bit of petulance if she played it right.
    “Innocent?” said Lara. “I was naive. I was stupid and upset, because my friend is sick. And the legend of the Golden Fleece is such a wonderful story.”
    “You wanted to cure your friend?” asked Ares. “How divine. Divine and foolhardy. You thought you could find the Golden Fleece and use it to save your friend.” He barked out another laugh. “An artifact that makes men immortal kings!” He barked again.
    “It’s not funny,” said Lara, keeping up the petulant act.
    Ares stopped laughing as suddenly as he had begun.
    “Then why did you decide to come to Paris?” he asked.
    “Because there is no Golden Fleece,” said Lara. She had to think fast. When she had to think, when she had to concoct stories, the truth always came