Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

She looked down at his outstretched hand. She could take his hand as she'd once taken his body.

No, she'd never be that foolish again.

“One step at a time,” he said softly.

“If you wanted to get me out of here, why didn't you just let me follow you?”

“Because we'll need each other before we reach the end.” He stiffened as a rumble shook the earth. “Make up your mind, Cira.”

“I told you that—”

The earth beneath her feet broke apart and she looked down into hell!

She was falling, dying. . . .

“Antonio!”

Jane lunged up in bed, her heart beating so hard she thought it was going to leap from her chest.

Fire.

Liquid, molten fire.

She was falling. . . .

No, she wasn't falling. She took a deep breath and then another. That was better. She swung her feet to the floor and stood up.

Toby sat up and looked at her inquiringly.

“Yeah, it happened again. No fun, huh?” she whispered. She glanced at the clock. Three thirty-seven in the morning, but there was no way she could go back to sleep. Cira had taken care of that. Or her weird psyche or whatever. “Let's go out on the porch. I need some air.”

Night with no air. Heat. The earth exploding beneath her feet.

She grabbed her robe and her phone that she'd put on the nightstand before she went to bed. “Be quiet now. It's the middle of the night. You don't want to wake up Eve or Joe.”

Toby's tail thumped happily on the wood floor and the knocking was far from quiet.

“Get up, silly.”

He leaped to his feet and the thumping stopped but his tail kept wagging. He streaked down the hall and reached the door before her.

The air was cool and fresh against her cheeks as she sat down on the top porch step. She could see the dull gleam of the patrol car down the road and waved to Mac and Brian. Their headlights blinked on and then went dark again.

Lord, the air felt good. She filled her lungs and the clean, soothing sensation made her almost heady with pleasure.

Night with no air . . .

Toby whined as he settled beside her.

“It's okay,” she murmured as she stroked his head. “Only a dream. Nothing bad . . .”

Then why was she so terrified?

The world is ending tonight.

Not her world. Forget it. The dream had probably been triggered by Trevor's words and had no basis in—

Her phone rang.

She stared at it with no surprise. Why else had she taken it with her? It was Trevor and that was no surprise either.

“Are you alone?” he asked.

“If you don't count Toby.”

“I wouldn't dare not count Toby.” He paused. “How are you?”

“Fine. I was fine when you left us. You didn't have to use me as an excuse to bolt.”

“Jane.”

She wasn't being honest and they both knew it. “Okay, you freaked me out.”

“I know and it surprised me. It wasn't the reaction I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Curiosity. Interest. Maybe a little excitement.”

And that was exactly the response she would have experienced if he hadn't mentioned Cira. He'd gauged her well. “Then obviously you don't know me as well as you think you do. The only thing you accomplished by leaving us yesterday afternoon was to irritate Joe and give him a chance to get on the phone and try to substantiate what you told us about Guido Manza.”

“And did he do it?”

“Not yet. He shouldn't have to do it that way. Help him, blast it. You made a deal.”

“You weren't ready. And you're the one who's important to me.”

“I'm ready now.”

He was silent a moment. “I think you are. I wish I could see your face. I'd like to be sure.”

“Be sure. Who is Cira?”

“She was an actress in the theater in Herculaneum in the years before Vesuvius erupted and destroyed both Herculaneum and Pompeii in—”

“Then why did Aldo think she killed his father?”

“The tunnel that Guido blew led to Julius Precebio's library near his villa outside of Herculaneum. It contained several bronze tubes containing scrolls, jewels, and statues that had been preserved by the lava flow the night Herculaneum was destroyed. Julius was evidently a wealthy citizen of the city and completely enamored with Cira. A good many of the scrolls were devoted to praising her talents.”

“Acting?”

“And other more intimate accomplishments. It seems that to be Cira's lover was a coveted honor among the elite of Herculaneum. She picked and chose who was to occupy her bed. She was born a slave and managed to work and scheme her way to freedom. Then she started to climb the ladder. Some called her a prostitute, but she—”

“They had no right to call her a prostitute,” she said fiercely. “She had to survive and sometimes men only understand what they can use and possess. You said she was a slave. How could she be expected to— Do you know how hard it must have been for her to survive?”

“No.” He paused. “Do you?”

“I can imagine. Beatings and starving and—” She stopped, realizing that her reaction was far too extreme. “Sorry. I've always hated people who condemn first and try to understand second. Or maybe don't try at all.”

“You're taking this very personally.”

“I have reason. I assume this woman had my face. You can't get more personal than that.”

He nodded. “Touché. And, yes, she did look like you. There's an amazing resemblance.”

“How do you know?”

“The library had several statues of Cira. Julius evidently commissioned some of the finest artists of his day to create likenesses of her.”

“And you saw them? You only mentioned Aldo and his father being in the tunnel. You were there in the library?”

“Yes.”

“That was brief. It won't fly, Trevor. I don't want bits and pieces. I want the entire story.”

He chuckled. “You want it all. You have more than a physical resemblance to Cira. She wanted it all, too.”

“How do you know?”

“I read some of the scrolls. I was stuck there at the site for weeks and I had to have something to do while I waited for them to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”

“Pot of gold?”

“Julius mentioned a chest full of gold that he'd given to Cira to get her to stay with him for a few more weeks. It was supposed to be hidden in a room in one of the tunnels and only he and Cira knew where it was. She'd found another lover and was about to leave him and he was desperate.”

“It's the gold you want.”

Don't remember Cira's words to Antonio. Concentrate on today, Trevor, Aldo. “Those scrolls must have been in ancient Latin. How did you translate them?”

“I was motivated. And I had the services of a scholar Guido had hired after he discovered the library. Actually, I put him in touch with Pietro Tatligno. Pietro was smart as a whip and had an almost childish enthusiasm. He was more interested in a historical find than he was in the money Guido promised him. The scrolls were preserved in the bronze tubes. But Pietro still had to be extremely careful when he was handling and transcribing in order not to damage them. He made Guido pay a fortune for the equipment to preserve them.”

“But you weren't concerned about the incredible historical find.”

“I like money. I appreciate historical artifacts, but in the end I've noticed that even museums use them to barter. Besides, I don't believe Cira would want her possessions stared at by strangers.”

“My, what an incredibly convenient belief.”

“But true. I found myself developing a very personal feeling for Cira during those weeks. We all did. It may even be that Guido never intended a double cross when he brought me to the site. He and his son became obsessed and didn't want to share.”