Iris Johansen - Blind Alley

He chuckled. “Me or Julius?”

“Both of you.”

“Chauvinist or not, he was ready to kill for her. In one scroll he was contemplating murdering his rival who was stealing her away from him.”

“Who was it?”

“He didn't name him. He referred to him as a young actor who had recently come to Herculaneum and taken the town by storm. Evidently he had also taken Cira by storm and it threw Julius into a rage.”

“Did he kill him?”

“I don't know.”

“He's far more likely to have tried to kill Cira if he couldn't change her mind about leaving him.”

“You think so? Interesting.”

Not interesting. Horrible. And only a small example of the life Cira had lived.

Trevor suddenly stopped. “Here's the passage Joe will take to get to the ledge overlooking the vomitorium.” He shone the light on the rocky wall to the left and she saw a shallow dark cavity close to the tunnel floor. “It's barely crawl space and he'll have to wriggle through the opening, but two yards into the passage he can stand and walk upright until he gets to the ledge.”

“I would never have noticed it if you hadn't pointed it out.”

“And neither will Aldo.” He started down the tunnel again. “There are too many offshoot branches in this tunnel for him to notice a small hole in the wall. He's going to have a plethora of choices.”

“Aren't we close to the vomitorium yet?”

“Yes, a few minutes' walk from here.”

“Then let's hurry. I want out of here.”

It seemed longer than the few minutes Trevor had stipulated when he stepped aside and shone his flashlight into the blackness ahead. “Here we are. Not exactly the most elegant example of Cira's time. Though those six marble bases that are scattered around the area probably held statues of gods and goddesses and maybe the current emperor on the throne.”

But the bases were now jagged, broken remnants that guarded the darkness of the three tunnels leading off the vomitorium like sentinels with bared teeth. There were three photography can lights and a battery generator next to the bases but she paid no attention to them. She took a step forward, her gaze on the center of the room. A long red velvet cloth lay on the rocky ground.

“What's that?”

“Part of my prep work. I wanted to make sure Aldo knew he'd reached pay dirt.”

“I'd think that the lights would tip him off.”

“Okay, it's a little dramatic touch. So I'm a ham.”

The velvet looked like a splotch of blood in the oozing darkness and she couldn't take her gaze off it. “That's where you're going to put the coffin?”

“Eventually. But we want Aldo to know what's coming. We can lead him so far and then we turn him loose to search for himself. After he spots this place, he'll start setting up his plans.” He pointed to the walls. “I've already placed the torches.” He indicated a wall to the left facing the vomitorium. “Do you see that small opening in the face of the rock about thirty feet up? That opens to the passage I showed you. Joe will be lying on his ledge and able to point his rifle directly down into this area. And, as a matter of fact, the video camera I mentioned is filming us right now.” He pointed to a large flat rock close to the ground. “I'll be right there and able to roll that rock aside to get out and help you if something goes wrong.”

Her gaze shifted to the right. “Two tunnels lead off this area?”

“Three including the one you'll be using.”

“And Aldo will be in one of them?” She couldn't seem to tear her gaze from the yawning darkness. She could imagine him there now, watching them. “Isn't there any way we could go after him and try to hunt him down once we're sure he's there? You said he won't be familiar with these tunnels.”

“Joe and I talked about the possibility.” He shook his head. “It could be a nightmare to try to track someone. These tunnels are like a maze and there are at least two exits besides the one at Via Spagnola. He could stumble on one of them and then we'd lose him.” He paused. “But if you're having second thoughts about drawing him into the open, tell me. It's your choice, Jane.”

“I was only asking. I'm not having second thoughts.”

His lips twisted. “I believe I was hoping you were.”

“How strange.” She took another step toward the velvet cloth. “It looks . . .”

Blood. Pain. Aldo standing looking down at the velvet in triumph.

Imagination.

Crush the fear. She swallowed. “It looks very theatrical.” She turned away and started back toward the tunnel. “I'm sure Cira would have approved.”

“Only if it was a comedy. Tragedy wasn't her forte.”

“Not mine either.”

His hand was on her elbow, supporting, comforting. “And I intend to keep it that way. Let's get out of here.”

I'll go ahead.” Trevor climbed the ladder and opened the trapdoor to the kitchen. “If Quinn is awake and stirring, then I'll be the one to face his wrath first.” He glanced around the room, and whispered, “All clear.”

She hadn't realized how relieved she'd be to know she wouldn't have to confront Joe and Eve. She was shaken enough without having to deal with any other emotion.

“Get to bed,” Trevor said as he pulled her up into the kitchen and shut the trapdoor. “Tomorrow's a big day.”

“For Eve,” Jane said. “Not me. As far as the media is concerned, I'm only here because I'm Eve's kid and she wanted to expose me to European culture.”

“But since she's not too accessible, they may try to get at her through you. And anyone who read the Archaeology Journal article might see the resemblance with the statue.”

“It was too blurred. Sam did a good job.”

He stiffened. “Sam? You're on first-name terms?”

“He's that kind of man. And we hit it off.”

“I'm sure you did. I'd bet you had him wound around your finger before you'd been in his office fifteen minutes.”

She frowned. “It wasn't like that.”

“Really? What was it like?”

“I told you how difficult it—” She broke off. “I don't have to make explanations. What's wrong with you?”

“Not a damn thing. I was just wondering what you did to get—” He stopped and turned away. “You're right, I'm out of line. Sorry.”

“Apology not accepted. If you mean what I think you mean.”

“It was a mistake, okay?”

“No, it's not okay. Are you some kind of sex maniac? First, that stupidity about Cira and now this. I don't sleep with people to get my way. I have a mind and I use it.”

“I said I was sorry.”

Anger was searing through her. “It's no wonder you have those disgusting dreams about Cira. You believe all women are prostitutes.” A sudden thought occurred to her. “It's my face. Because I look like her, you think I'd behave the same way.”

“I know you wouldn't.”

“No? In some part of that pea-sized, chauvinistic brain the thought must have been there or you wouldn't have acted like such an asshole.”

“I don't think you're like Cira.”

“No, I'm not. But I'd be proud to have her strength and her determination, and I resent you intimating that she was less than she was.”

“May I point out I've never admitted comparing the two of you? You're the one who's so sure that I—”

She turned to leave the room.

“No.” His hand was on her shoulder, spinning her around. “Don't turn your back on me. I've stood here and listened to you condemning me for a sex crazy son of a bitch, but I won't let you run away until I have my say.”

“Let me go.”

“When I've finished.” His eyes were glittering in his taut face. “First, you may be right. I've lived with the image of Cira for so long that I could be unconsciously comparing you. Not consciously. I realize the differences. One of which sticks in my throat and nearly chokes me every time I look at you. Second, just because I've got my share of healthy lust doesn't mean I think less of her . . . or you. I told you that I thought she was bigger than life. Sex is part of the package, but only a part. Third, if you were older and had a little more experience I wouldn't have to tell you all this. I could show you.”