Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

“Four. Two bathrooms. Parlor, study, and library. The kitchen is pretty modern and that's a plus for houses this old.”

“How old is it?” Jane asked.

“It was built around 1850. Sontag owns it and I got him to lend it to me when I found out that it's exactly what I needed.”

“You twisted his arm?”

“I didn't have to. He'd caved by that time and was doing everything I told him to do. Until the other night when he got his midnight visitor.”

“It's okay,” Joe said as he came down the stairs. “Eve and I will take the bedroom at the end of the hall. You take the middle bedroom, Jane. Trevor can be on the other side and we'll sandwich you.”

“A sandwich,” Trevor said. “Interesting idea, Jane. But considering how prickly you are, not very appetizing.”

“Shut up,” Joe said coldly. “That's not acceptable, Trevor.”

“I know. It just slipped out.” He started down the hall. “To make amends I'll brew a pot of coffee and fix something to eat while you all get unpacked and cleaned up.”

“Sontag appears to be very cooperative,” Jane said as Eve and Joe headed for their bedroom. “He's not upset any longer?”

“He's upset. He'd like nothing better than to take off with his tail between his legs. It's all a question of control. Try to get a little rest. You had a long flight.” He disappeared through the arched door at the end of the corridor.

She didn't want to go to her room and rest. She wasn't tired. She was excited and on edge and the different sights and sounds and smells of Italy had almost overwhelmed her. She hesitated and then reluctantly headed for her bedroom.

“Want to come with me?” Trevor had come back and was standing in the doorway. He smiled. “I thought you wouldn't be able to tamely shuffle off to rest. Come on. Help me.”

She turned toward him eagerly and then caught herself. “Don't be patronizing. It doesn't take two to make a pot of coffee.”

“Patronizing, hell. I'm lonely.” He took a step toward her, his hand outstretched. He coaxed, “Come with me.”

“Come with me. Trust me.”

No, she wouldn't let her mind play tricks on her just because they were in Herculaneum. The relationship between them was nothing like the one shared by Cira and Antonio. Hell, they had no relationship, only a common goal.

But it would do no harm to go with him right now. She was feeling unsettled and, yes, a little lonely, too. She took a step forward, then another, and took his hand.

Her eyes widened. Tingling. Disturbing. Sensual. She started to pull away.

His grasp instantly closed around hers, warm, strong, safe, and suddenly that sensual disturbance vanished. “See? It didn't hurt a bit. Do you want to make the coffee or do the sandwiches?” He chuckled as he led her toward the kitchen. “Sorry. Those ‘sandwiches' keep appearing out of nowhere, don't they?”

Three guards at the rear of the house. Two at the front. It would be difficult to get to Jane MacGuire while she was inside the villa.

Aldo watched the lights go on at the house on Via Spagnola. So cozy. They were probably gathered around the dinner table, drinking wine and chatting about Cira and the reconstruction.

Did Eve Duncan and Joe Quinn know the serpent they were hugging to their bosoms? That Jane MacGuire and Cira were one? Probably not. No doubt she had worked her magic and made them believe what she wanted them to believe. She wanted to live forever and this reconstruction could ensure that at least her face would be immortal.

It wasn't going to happen. He couldn't tolerate it. And the longer he stayed here in this city, the more convinced he was that he'd been brought here for a reason. His fear and uncertainty were gradually fading. He'd be shown the way through that army of guards surrounding her.

Or she'd be led to him like a lamb to the slaughter.

It's beautiful,” Eve said, gazing out the kitchen window at the winding streets of the city. “No, that's not right. It's arresting. You can't help but remember what happened here.”

“The citizens of the town make sure you don't forget,” Joe said dryly. “It's how a good many make their living. And I can't wait to get this job done and get out of here.” He turned to Trevor. “I didn't like that circus at the airport. I'm not having Eve go through that again.”

“It's not going to be necessary,” Trevor said. “There will be at least one more press conference but after tomorrow it's best that she stay out of the limelight as much as possible.”

Joe met his gaze. “I agree.”

“When am I supposed to be starting to work on this reconstruction?” Eve asked. “It would be nice to have a little more information. I had to tap dance through all those reporters' questions this afternoon.”

“But you did it so well.” Trevor smiled. “I was impressed.”

“I don't need you to be impressed,” Eve said. “I need you to be smart, efficient, and to get us the hell done with this horror as soon as possible.” She glanced at Jane. “And not to do anything that will give Aldo his chance at her. We agreed to come here because it was a way of ending this nightmare quickly. I'm not planning on spinning my wheels now that we've arrived. Your job was to set up a place where we could trap Aldo. You say you've done it. Is this the place?”

Trevor nodded.

“What makes it so special?”

“The tunnel.”

“What?”

“There's a robbers' tunnel running beneath the villa that intersects the network of archaeological tunnels that crisscross the theater excavation. No one really knows how many robbers' tunnels were drilled over the centuries. Sontag discovered this one several years ago and decided to keep its location secret so that he could go down and do a little private excavating for fun and profit.”

“Do you honestly think Aldo will try to gain entrance to the villa through that tunnel?” Joe asked. “He'll know we're waiting for him. He may be nuts but he's canny as a fox.”

“You're right,” Trevor said. “There's no way he'd try to gain entrance to the villa. So we have to draw him down to the tunnel and then go after him. The Via Spagnola tunnels have as many off-shoots and twists and turns as Precebio's tunnel.”

“You said that Aldo knew the tunnels like the back of his hand when he was a boy,” Jane said.

Trevor nodded. “The one advantage we have is that Sontag is the only one who ever mapped this particular network of tunnels. Aldo wouldn't be familiar with them.”

“We hope,” Joe said. “And if the tunnel is that complicated we may be as lost down there as he is.”

“I've got Sontag's maps and I've been checking out the tunnel every night since I found out about the villa. Besides, with any luck we won't have to know much about the tunnel. We'll set up the trap and let Aldo come to us.”

“And I suppose you've already done that,” Eve said dryly.

“Pending your approval.” He took a notebook from his back pocket and flipped it open. “There's only one place that's really possible for an ambush.” He put the notebook on the table. “I know it looks like hen scratching but this is the tunnel that leads to the archaeological tunnels. You take the branch that leads off it here.” He drew a line intersecting. “This branch leads to the vomitorium but about halfway you run into an offshoot passage that twists around and then comes back from a different angle. There's a ledge about thirty feet up that will give you a clear shot, Quinn.”

“Cover?”

Trevor nodded. “You won't have a problem. The face of the wall looks like a solid sheet with only a small opening off the ledge.”

“Vomitorium,” Eve repeated. “Is that what it sounds like?”