Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

“The gold?”

“Not really. It wasn't long before I found out what was most important to them. Guido was completely obsessed with finding Cira's remains. When he was a young man he'd run across a statue of Cira in the ruins of the theater and spent the rest of his life trying to find her.”

“Were there any stories in the newspapers about it?”

“No, I told you, he was completely obsessed. He talked about her as if she were a living woman even before we found the scrolls. Believe me, he didn't want anyone to discover anything about Cira before he did.”

She felt a surge of disappointment. For a moment she'd thought she'd found a possible way she could have learned about Cira. “And Aldo was obsessed with her too?”

“In a different way. He became very quiet whenever his father was talking about her but he was pretty easy to read. She was alive for him too. But he didn't want her alive, he wanted her to stay dead and buried forever.”

“Why?”

“Then the torment might someday be over.”

“Torment?”

“Picture Aldo at five years old when his father discovered the bust of Cira. His father was his whole world, and then to have Guido be so focused on a dead woman that he totally ignored Aldo's needs would be devastating. Enough to send him insane.”

“Then why was he helping his father to find her?”

“He was firmly under his thumb. And maybe he wanted to find the gold, too.”

“Did you find it?”

“No, but that doesn't mean it wasn't there. He'd barely gotten started picking his way through the rocks when he decided he didn't want to share. He had to be very careful. The walls of the tunnels were weakened by the volcanic explosions and they couldn't go more than a few feet a day or risk a collapse.”

“And in the meantime you sat and read scrolls?”

“Physical labor wasn't part of our deal.”

“What was your deal?”

“I was in Milan working on another project when Manza contacted me.”

“Smuggling.”

“Well, yes. Anyway, Manza said he'd located an ancient find that would net all of us millions. He'd excavate the artifacts and I'd smuggle them out of the country and find buyers for them. He'd been on an archaeological dig near Herculaneum and stumbled on some ancient letters that led him to Julius's estate located some distance from the city. He didn't mention the bust of Cira. I was pretty skeptical. There have been digs at Herculaneum since 1750. I was sure every site would have been discovered.”

“But you went anyway.”

“I was interested. Manza had worked on excavations in Herculaneum for years. Aldo had spent half his childhood running around in those tunnels that had been dug down to the old city over the centuries. There was a chance Manza had struck it rich. Anyway, I figured it couldn't hurt. I was wrong. I ended up on my ass in a hospital for two months.”

“How?”

“Guido decided not only to blow the tunnel but everyone connected with the deal. He planned on closing the entrance and then going back later when he wouldn't have to either share the booty or leave anyone alive who'd know he'd found Cira's remains.”

“And you were in the tunnel?”

“Me and Pietro and six laborers he'd hired in Corsica. I was the only one who managed to crawl out of that hole. Only because I was on my way out when he blew the tunnel. I had a broken leg and it took me three days to wriggle through those rocks to daylight. I found Guido dead at the cave entrance.”

“No one else survived?”

“They were deeper in the tunnel. The charge literally blew them to bits and then buried them. He didn't want to destroy the library so the charge was less powerful near it.”

She shivered. “All those deaths . . .”

“Aldo evidently came by his homicidal tendencies naturally. Although I'd never heard anything about Guido being particularly lethal before this job. He'd been a professor of archaeology in Florence before he started peddling artifacts.”

“And where was Aldo when you got out of the tunnel?”

“Gone. He'd obviously made a halfhearted attempt to drag his father out of the debris and then just covered him with a blanket and got the hell out of there.”

“Not a very caring good-bye.”

“He cared. In his weird, twisted way. It was pretty clear Aldo had a screw loose from the moment he showed up at the site. He was completely absorbed in his computer and muttered a lot about destiny and reincarnation, besides being involved in some pretty sicko stuff. He was also nasty, sadistic, and bullied the workers whenever he got the chance. But around his father he'd cave if he raised an eyebrow.”

“And you're sure he blamed Cira for his death?”

“More importantly, Aldo blamed her for the life he had been forced to live because of her. He and his father had taken a statue of Cira out of the library and loaded it in their truck. It was gone. But I found next to the body the statue Guido had discovered when Aldo was a boy. It had been placed on a rock above his head and cleaved in half with an ax.”

“Couldn't it have been the explosion?”

“No, the bust's features had been hammered off.”

“Like he removed all those features of the women he killed,” she whispered.

“I didn't think much about any symbolism at the time. I was mad as hell and all I wanted to do was to get my hands on Aldo. It was too late for Guido, but not for Aldo. I didn't know any of those other workers but I liked Pietro. He was a good guy and he didn't deserve to die. But, by the time I made it to the nearest town, my leg was infected and I was too busy fighting to keep them from amputating it to worry about anything else.”

“You told the people at the hospital what happened?”

“Hell, no. I would have ended up in jail, and I have an excellent sense of self-preservation. When I was released, I went back and buried Guido, camouflaged the site, and then went after Aldo.”

“But you didn't find him.”

“I told you he was smart. He made himself invisible and disappeared. Every time I got close to him he vanished. It was frustrating as hell. And then I saw the photo of the victim, Peggy Knowles, in Brighton.”

“Cira.”

“It made sense. He and his father were both obsessed with her, and that symbolic smashing of the statue was pretty clear. He blamed Cira for both his father's death and for his miserable childhood. Maybe the shock of his father's death sent him over the edge and he began to think of her as a living presence, as his father did. Or it could be the first kill in Rome was because he accidentally stumbled over a woman who looked like Cira. Then when he realized there were others, he went on the search for her.”

“You think he believes in . . . reincarnation?”

“Who knows? He's nuts. I'd say there's a good chance it's all mixed up in his head. We know he's been searching the world for anyone who looks like her and made it his life's mission. He can't tolerate anyone living who even resembles Cira. Since she died two thousand years ago, his belief in reincarnation seems to be the most likely answer. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”

“And he thinks I'm this reincarnation?” She made a rude sound. “No way. I'm not a carbon copy of anyone. It's bad enough to look like this Cira. Inside, I'm all me.”

“You don't believe in the possibility of reincarnation? There are millions of people who do.”

“Then good luck to them. I'm the only one who accepts credit or blame for what I do. I'm not about to moan and whine and say it's all because of some woman who bit it two thousand years ago.”

“You're very emphatic.”

“Because I mean it. I'm sick to death of hearing how Aldo is going after me because of my face. I'm more than a face.”