Blind Alley

by Iris Johansen

  “She's interesting. The museum said she was working-class, possibly a laborer. I wonder what her life was like.” She tilted her head. “And I wonder what she really looks like. . . .”

  “You'll know soon.”

  She nodded. “You bet I will. As soon as this is over. This is so weird. . . .” She brushed the hair back from her forehead. “First, that reconstruction of Caroline Halliburton and now this one. Both Jane. Do you know, Jane was talking about how things seem to go in circles.”

  “You've got clay on your face.” He took his handkerchief and carefully wiped her forehead. “How many times have I done this over the years?”

  “I'm sure enough to qualify for the Guinness Book of Records. Since my profession isn't the most popular one in the world.” She smiled. “And you're very good at it.”

  “My pleasure.” His finger gently touched her upper lip. “Always. Taking care of you fills me with— It warms me.”

  “I know.” Her smile faded. “And that's why you're trying to keep me away from that tunnel.”

  “I am keeping you away.” His lips brushed her nose. “You've done your part. Now let me do mine.”

  “I didn't argue when you were all talking details because I knew it wouldn't do any good.” She slid her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. “But if you think I'm going to let you go down there without me, you're crazy.”

  “Then I'm crazy.”

  She looked up at him. “No,” she said firmly. “I'll do anything you say to keep safe, but I'm going to be there. Get me a gun. You know I can use it. You're the one who taught me.”

  He shook his head.

  “You're going to be down in that hellhole. So is Jane. Do you think you can keep me away? Either take me yourself or watch me go down alone.”

  He sighed. “I'll take you.” His lips tightened. “You'll go into the passage with me. You stay quiet. You don't move a muscle no matter what you see happening. You let me take care of it. Understand?”

  She didn't answer.

  “If you don't, the first thing I'll do is knock you out to make sure you don't get yourself killed.”

  “I wouldn't forgive you for that.”

  “I'd take my chances. It's better than the alternative.” He smiled recklessly. “You forgave me for doing something a hell of a lot worse. Well, maybe not entirely, but you let me stay with you. And after all I've done to mend my fences, I'm not losing you to that son of a bitch.”

  “It's Jane you have to worry about.”

  “No, it's you. First, and always. Then it's Jane and the rest of the world.” He kissed her, hard. “I can't be any other way. You should know that by now.”

  Yes, she knew, and that knowledge had been her shelter and her armor all these years. Dear God, she loved him. Her arms tightened around him. “Me, too. You first, Joe.”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. Someday, maybe. I'll take my turn.” He rubbed slowly, sensuously, against her. “But in the meantime . . . I've never made love to you in Herculaneum or any other ancient city. Don't you think we should rectify that?” He glanced at the skull on the pedestal. “Since this lady's first reconstruction's not going to furnish any surprises, I definitely think Giulia would approve.”

  “So do I.” She started unbuttoning his shirt. “And, anyway, I need to show you. You first, Joe . . .”

  EIGHTEEN

  October 20

  10:40 A.M.

  He found the vomitorium.” Trevor strode across the parlor and popped the tape into the player. “At four-seventeen this morning. I do love cameras with all the bells and whistles.”

  “You're sure?” Jane asked.

  “Oh, yes.” He pressed the button. “It's dark as hell but the camera's built for low light. You can make him out.”

  Yes, she could make him out, Jane thought numbly as she watched Aldo bend and touch the red velvet throw. Dear God, his expression . . .

  “Evil,” she whispered. “How could anyone be that evil?”

  The picture disappeared from the TV screen. “That's enough,” Trevor said curtly. “I just wanted you to know that we weren't doing all this planning for nothing. He found the bait and now we have to get him to go after it.”

  “No, I have to get him to go after it.” She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. “It shouldn't be that difficult. He wants Cira and me so bad he can taste it. He's . . . hungry. When he reached down to touch that cloth he looked like a cannibal.”

  “Then it's our job to give him a bellyache.” He headed for the door. “I'll show this to Joe and Eve. They'll be glad to know we're on target.”

  “Is that the only time you caught Aldo on tape?”

  “Yes, no more sightings at the vomitorium, but you can bet he was exploring those tunnels after he found it.”

  She sat there for a moment after he'd left, staring blindly at the blank TV screen. She shouldn't be this shocked by that brief glimpse of Aldo. She knew exactly what he was. She didn't need this reminder.

  But, God in heaven, his expression . . .

  Jane was sitting in the parlor when her phone rang at two-thirty the next afternoon.

  She tensed.

  “Answer it,” Trevor said from across the room. “You know what to say.”

  Yes, she knew. She'd rehearsed it enough mentally since she'd blown that other opportunity. She pressed the talk button. “Aldo?”

  “You've been waiting for my call? That's good. That's the way it should be. I've been waiting a long time for you. Years.”

  “You can wait forever. It won't do you any good. I'm too close. In another two days you can kill all the women with my face on earth and I'll still survive. My face will be everywhere.”

  There was a silence. “Two days? That's not the truth. You told me only two days ago that Duncan had only started the reconstruction and that you needed—”

  “Two days is a long time for Eve when she's motivated. And you can bet that I motivated her. I was hoping you'd believe you had all the time in the world so we could complete our plans. Trevor managed to get the reporters from all the major newspapers to commit to the great unveiling. Eve's doing a wonderful job. The face of the reconstruction looks young and strong and when I look at it I see myself.”

  “You see the devil.”

  “No, you see the devil. I see life and power enough to rid myself of enemies like you.”

  “You'll never rid yourself of me. I'm your nemesis.”

  “You're a poor, pitiful pervert who has delusions of grandeur.”

  “You're not going to make me angry again.” He was silent a moment. “Where is this photo shoot going to take place?”

  She waited a moment before saying, “Here at the library in the villa, of course. At nine o'clock in the evening, day after tomorrow.” She tried to make her tone mocking. “You have an invitation. Don't you want to see the huge splash the reconstruction makes?”

  “You're lying. It's not going to be at the villa.”

  “No? Then where is it going to be held?”

  “Did you think I wouldn't find all that equipment at the vomitorium?”

  “Dear me, you must have been doing a little spying. You're right, of course. We think the photo shoot will be much more effective down in the tunnels. That should be to your advantage if you decide to join us.”

  “Do you think I don't know you'll all be waiting for me?”

  “All? I don't need anyone else to rid myself of vermin like you. But I'll be waiting for you. I need to destroy you before you destroy me.”

  “I won't be there. I'm not a fool.”

  “But you're a coward.” She paused. “Okay, don't come to the press conference. I'll meet you at the vomitorium tomorrow night at nine o'clock. I'll have Trevor take down the coffin with the reconstruction and then leave. You'll have us both, if you're man enough to kill me and destroy the skeleton.”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Tempted? No skeleton for the press conference the ne
xt night and you rid yourself of me.”

  “It's a trick.”

  “If it is, are you clever enough to turn it against me? I don't think you are. You won't be there. You'll be too frightened. You know I've beaten you all your life. I took away your father. I took away your childhood and now I'm going to show you what a sniveling failure you really—”

  “Shut up.”

  “Why should I? You're nothing. You're weak. I don't have to have help to crush you.”

  “No, you're so proud of yourself.” He sneered. “You've been preparing yourself to meet all comers. Do you still have that thirty-two Smith and Wesson Quinn gave you?”

  She was silent, surprised.

  “See? I know everything about you. I know you can fire a gun and you were issued a hunting license when you were sixteen. The computer is a wonderful source of information and I even know the name of the firing range where Joe Quinn took you to teach you.”

  “If you're so sure that destiny is on your side, then that shouldn't bother you. Don't you think you're smart enough to find out if there's anyone down there but me?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Did that sting? Good. You deserve it. Poor bastard, afraid of a seventeen-year-old girl.”

  “I'm not afraid.”

  “Admit it. You're out of your league, Aldo. I'll be there tomorrow night. Come or don't come. I don't care. I'll have a chance to kill you another day. But this is your last chance. After that press conference it won't matter if you destroy the reconstruction. I'll live on forever.”

  “No! It won't happen and I won't be taunted by you.”

  “Then don't come. Read about it in the newspapers.” She hung up, drew a deep breath, and looked at Trevor. “How did I do?”

  “You could have fooled me,” Trevor said.

  She shook her head. “He was very wary.” She paused. “I keep thinking about that video of him in the vomitorium. He looked so triumphant, so at home in that tunnel.” She shivered. “I felt caught, smothered, down there. And you said they were like a maze.”

  “But you're not going to have to know anything about the tunnels. And remember, Aldo is in the same boat as you are. He's not familiar with the Via Spagnola tunnels. Even if he's been doing some tentative exploring, it would take months to learn them without a map.”

  “Do you think he'll come?”

  “If he can find an advantage, if he can see any way he can kill you and survive.”

  “It won't be easy. He's going to be suspicious. He knows you and Joe will be trying to trap him.”

  “But you threw down the ultimate challenge and he's just nuts enough to try to do it. Isn't that what we've been counting on?”

  Madness and that sick hunger to kill. “Yes.”

  “And he'll be down there checking out the immediate area. He won't find anything but what we want him to find. Our principal advantage is the temptation you offer and his desperation at the thought of Cira becoming a household name. If anything will draw him out of his hole into the open that will be it.”

  She tried to think, mentally going over the conversation word for word. “I have to look vulnerable. He's not going to show his face if I show up armed to the teeth.”

  His lips tightened. “There's no way you're going down there without a weapon.”

  “Do you think I'm crazy? But no jacket or pockets that could hide a weapon.” She repeated, “I've got to look vulnerable. You'll have to plant a gun somewhere I can get to it fast.”

  He thought about it. “Underneath the red velvet throw. Lower right-hand corner as you come out of the tunnel. It will only take you seconds to get to it. And we'll plant another in the coffin itself. Just in case.”

  Just in case something went wrong. She didn't want to consider that possibility. “Tomorrow night.” She tried to keep her voice even. “After all this time it seems impossible it's finally—”

  “Stop thinking about it,” he said roughly. “If you're going to opt out, do it. I did the best I could but I don't like it. You'll be lucky if we don't get you killed.”

  “You don't have to like it. All you have to do is protect Joe and Eve.” She paused. “You keep trying to talk me out of this. You seem . . . torn. Maybe it wasn't only the money. Perhaps this Pietro did mean something to you.”

  “How kind of you to grant that I have a few human feelings.”

  “How am I supposed to know what you're feeling when you don't let anyone see them? Was it the gold or was it Pietro Tatligno?”

  “The gold, of course.”

  “Damn you, talk to me.”

  “What do you want from me?” His lips twisted. “Do you want me to tell you that Pietro saved my ass in Colombia? That he was the only person I ever knew that I felt I could trust? That he was closer than a brother to me?”

  “Was he?” she whispered.

  “Hell, no. It's all a bunch of lies. Of course it was the gold.” He stood up and headed for the door. “Let's go tell Eve and Quinn we've made the connection.”

  October 21

  7:37 P.M.

  It was getting dark.

  “It's time,” Trevor said quietly from the doorway. “You told me to tell you when Quinn was going down to the tunnel. He's heading for the kitchen now.”

  Jane turned away from the parlor window and started for the hall. “You checked out the passageway?”

  “I've just come back.” He smiled. “Can't you tell? I look like I've been crawling through a sewer. It's safe. First, Bartlett and I carried the coffin down and positioned it and then I checked out the passage. And I've left Bartlett down there to make sure it stays safe until Quinn gets to his ledge.”

  She stopped. “Bartlett?”

  “Don't worry. I gave him a shotgun and orders to fire at anyone but me or Quinn. You don't have to have much martial skill to be intimidating with a shotgun. After we get down there, Bartlett is going to stay near the ladder and guard the entrance to the villa. It's best that someone is outside those tunnels to give warning, if something goes wrong.”

  If something goes wrong. Yet another qualification that filled her with panic. “I thought Bartlett was going to stay up here with Eve.”

  “So did I. But he decided that wasn't going to happen. I arranged for there to be four security men to stay with her instead. Lord knows what other security Quinn's set up.”

  “You promised me.”

  “And I'll keep it. I won't let Aldo get past me to climb the ladder to the villa.” He nudged her toward the kitchen. “If you want to see Quinn before he goes down, you'd better hurry. He was opening the trapdoor when I left him.”

  “We give Joe fifteen minutes and then we follow him?”

  Trevor nodded. “That should give him time to get up on the ledge and position himself. I'll be there to back him up in—”

  “Eve!” Jane ran toward the trapdoor. “What are you doing?”

  Eve was on the third step descending the ladder. “What does it look like?” She took another step down. “Really, Jane. What did you expect? I wasn't going to let Joe or you go down there without me.”

  “You were supposed to—” She whirled on Joe. “Tell her— Keep her out of there.”

  “Do you think I haven't tried? Can't do it. You know her. All we can hope for is damage control.”

  “Why didn't you tell me?” Her voice was anguished. “Why didn't you—”

  “Because I knew you'd be upset.” Eve grimaced. “And you are. But now you don't have to stew about it for days. Come on, Joe. Let's get going.”

  “Don't do this, Eve,” Jane pleaded. “Please.”

  Eve shook her head. “Jane, we're a family. We do things together.” She took another two steps down and disappeared from view.

  “No!”

  Joe started down the ladder. “You can't budge her. I'll take care of her, Jane.”

  “Take care of yourself, Joe,” she whispered. Dear God, she had a terrible sinking feeling. It was only beginning and everything was
going wrong.

  Joe was out of sight. Lost in the darkness of the tunnel.

  “I didn't know,” Trevor said. “As God is my witness, I thought Eve was staying here in the villa.”

  “I know you did,” she said shakily. “It almost makes you believe in fate, doesn't it?” She shook her head to clear it. “But not Aldo's version of destiny. We can't let that happen.”

  “She'll be with Quinn and me. I'll keep my promise.”

  “You'd better.” She wanted to start down that ladder, run after Eve and Joe through the darkness. She couldn't do it, she realized frantically. She had to wait until they got into position on that ledge.

  Fifteen minutes.

  October 21

  8:02 P.M.

  “I leave you here,” Trevor said in a low voice as he fell to his knees at the entrance of the passage leading to Joe's ledge. “I'm going to work my way around to where Joe and Eve are waiting. The vomitorium is right ahead.” He handed her a flashlight. “Remember, a thirty-two Smith and Wesson is under the velvet throw and another gun is in the coffin. Joe said you knew how to use it, but don't do it unless you have to. If Aldo sees you with it, he may decide that a long-range killing isn't that bad. When you get up ahead, the torches are lit. But it's best if you try to stay in the shadows.”

  She moistened her lips. “Then how will he see me?”

  “He'll be able to see you. Just don't make it too easy for him.”

  She laughed shakily. “Don't worry. I've no intention of doing that. But hiding in the shadows isn't going to do much good. You said he wouldn't shoot me and the whole point is to draw him toward me so that Joe can get his shot.”

  Trevor muttered a curse and shone the beam of the flashlight on her face. “You're scared. We can call this off. It's not too late.”

  “No, we can't.” She shielded her face from the light. “And of course I'm scared. I'm not an idiot. Get going. I want you there to protect Joe and Eve.”

  He hesitated a moment and then began to crawl through the opening.

  He was gone.

  Silence.

  Darkness.

  Alone.

  Or was she alone? Was Aldo somewhere behind her in the darkness?