Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

“Just get here.” He hung up the phone.

Trevor glanced at the clock on the nightstand as he started to dress. Two forty-five A.M. Sontag wasn't one who tossed and turned, worrying in the dead of night, and he'd definitely sounded spooked. Trevor had better move fast before he unraveled and blew everything.

He arrived at Sontag's house on the outskirts of Herculaneum fifteen minutes later.

“You said it was cut-and-dried,” Sontag sputtered as he threw open the door. “Just a few news conferences and then I could go to Cannes. You said he was out of it.”

“Calm down,” Trevor said. “You have only a week or so more and then you can leave Herculaneum.”

“I'm leaving tomorrow.”

“The hell you are.” He strode into the room. “You still have work to do.”

“No, I don't.” He picked up a large envelope on the coffee table and threw it to Trevor. “I'm done.” He was untying his velvet robe as he moved toward his bedroom. “I wash my hands of it. He's trying to take over. He'll expose me. I'm going to pack.”

It wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to let Sontag off the hook. He was tempted to go after him at once and apply pressure but he decided to let him cool down for a few minutes. He opened the envelope and drew out the sheaf of papers inside.

He gave a low whistle as he saw the top page. “Christ!”

We've got him,” Trevor said when Jane answered her phone two hours later. “We've not only got him. I'd bet he's here in Herculaneum.”

She stiffened. “What?”

“Sontag phoned me in a panic and tossed an envelope at me as soon as I walked into the room. It contained a complete dossier on Eve Duncan. It was obviously pulled off the Internet, and the story about her reconstruction of the Egyptian mummy was on the top.”

“No note?”

“No, but he found it on his doorstep when someone knocked on his door in the middle of the night. It freaked him out. He thought it was Carpenter trying to muscle in on the great unveiling. He loves all the attention focused on him and wants to stay in the limelight.”

“You think it was Aldo?”

“He could have hired someone else to do it but I've got a hunch Aldo's tired of waiting and wanted to make contact. Jesus, I didn't think we'd get this lucky. I thought we'd have to have Sontag make the announcement and then sit on pins and needles until we got a response from Aldo.”

“Why would he do it?”

“He's been reading about Sontag's mulling over the forensic sculptor selection for a week and decided he wanted to take command. Arrogant son of a bitch. It's all gone his way since he started his killing spree and he can't imagine not being able to call the shots.”

“But why drop her dossier off in the middle of the night?”

“Why not? He wants to be feared and he's not been given much of that satisfaction lately. If he's going after the skeleton, perhaps he wanted Sontag to realize how vulnerable he was. He didn't realize Sontag would be more worried about his fifteen minutes of fame than his life.”

“But it could have worked the other way. Sontag could have chosen someone else because he didn't want to be dictated to.”

“True. My guess is that Aldo may not even be entirely sure that this isn't a trap, but he's willing to take the chance because he's certain he can overcome all obstacles that get in his way.”

“To get to Cira.” She added slowly, “And he still wants me, too.”

“You act surprised. That was the plan, wasn't it? He wouldn't want Eve to do the reconstruction if he didn't think it would draw you.”

“I'm not surprised.” But she was chilled and a little taken aback at the speed at which Aldo had grabbed the bait. “This has caught me off-balance. I'm just trying to think my way through it. You don't believe he might think it more logical for them to leave me behind under guard?”

“His destiny,” he reminded her. “And if they did leave you behind, he'd do something to bring you here.”

“So when do we leave for Herculaneum?”

“You've bounced back. You're beginning to sound eager as hell.”

“It's a relief to know that we're moving at last.”

“It's not a relief to me. I've been having visions of faceless corpses dancing in front of me the closer we've been getting to pushing this final button.”

“Then make sure you don't do anything stupid that will make me one.” She asked again, “When do we leave for Herculaneum?”

“I'll have Sontag make the announcement that he's hired Eve tomorrow at a news conference. We should probably give it two days before you arrive at Herculaneum. Tell Eve that there will be media at Naples airport when you get in.”

“She'll hate that.”

“She can put up with it. Everyone knows she's media shy but if I'm wrong about Aldo being here I want to make sure he knows she's arrived. And that barrage of publicity will be salt in Aldo's wounds. I'll make sure they run another picture of the bust of Cira in the local paper. I'll try to make sure Eve's exposed as little as possible after that but media exposure is key here. I'm going to meet you in Rome and fly in here with you.”

“Why?”

“I want to be seen arriving at the same time. I'm going undercover until then. If Aldo is already here, I don't want him to see me hovering over Sontag and pulling the strings.”

“Can you still control Sontag? I thought you said he was freaked.”

“He is, but he has a keen sense of self-preservation and all I had to do was convince him that I could keep him in the limelight. Tell Quinn that I've found a villa on the outskirts of Herculaneum that has some interesting features but I'll leave it to him to hire a security force for protection. He can contact the local police and get recommendations. The backgrounds of the kind of team I'd hire wouldn't meet with his approval.”

“I can imagine.”

“No, you can't. You're seventeen.”

“Will you stop harping on that?”

“No, I have to keep reminding myself. I've called Bartlett and told him to arrange to fly your Toby to California for your friend, Sarah, to puppy-sit. I know you wouldn't rest if you weren't sure he was well taken care of. Is that okay?”

“As long as he's safe.”

“He'll be safe. I'll tell Bartlett to hire a private jet for the pooch if he has to do it. I'll call you after the press conference tomorrow night.” He hung up.

She pressed the disconnect and sat there for a moment. She felt stunned . . . and scared. She hadn't expected to feel either emotion. She'd thought she'd be prepared.

She was prepared, dammit. All she had to do was shrug off this weird sense of foreboding at the thought of going to Herculaneum. Events were moving as they'd planned, better than they'd planned. She should be happy.

No, not happy, but she was beginning to feel a tingle of excitement and anticipation. She stood up from the swing and headed for the front door. “Eve, Trevor called. Pack your bags. We're going to Herculaneum.”

The two-story stucco villa on the Via Spagnola that Trevor had rented was spacious and charming. It was enclosed by an ornate wrought-iron fence and there were bright geraniums overflowing from the window boxes on the second floor.

Trevor unlocked the front door and stepped aside. “I'll stay here with Eve and Jane, Quinn. Suppose you go in and check it out. I'd do it, but I don't think you'd trust anyone but yourself.”

“Right.” Joe moved quickly past them and into the foyer. “Though it should be okay. I've had two security men watching the house since you gave me the address yesterday. Stay here.”

“I should have known,” Trevor murmured.

“Yes, you should,” Eve said as she glanced around the marble foyer. “Nice. How many bedrooms?”