Blind Alley

by Iris Johansen

  “How kind,” Joe said. “I do hate to work in the dark. Though I can see how you might benefit from it.”

  “Another jab.” Trevor smiled at him over his shoulder. “It might bother me if I didn't know you're looking forward to making this move as much as I am. Neither of us is good at spinning our wheels.” He turned to Jane. “And we'll all be going full speed ahead to get you to Herculaneum. So chill. Okay?”

  “No. It's not okay. What am I supposed to do?”

  “You've done it. It's your plan. We're just implementing.”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay, if you want something to do, go to the mall and taunt Aldo again. That should keep you at the front of his mind until I get some action on the Web sites going.”

  “No,” Eve said firmly.

  “Just a little. I'd bet once he's read the first articles in the newspapers, he won't be making any new moves on her. He'll be confused and uncertain about his next course of action.”

  “Maybe,” Eve said. “It's bad enough that we're taking her to Herculaneum and staking her out for him.”

  “We're not staking her out. We'll figure some way to keep her safe there. That's my job. That's one of the things I'm going to set up as soon as I get to Italy. Your job is to keep her secure here until you get the magic invitation to come do your voodoo.” He started down the steps. “The quicker you get your archaeologist to make his call, the quicker we can begin moving forward.”

  “No one asked me if I wanted to go to the damn mall,” Jane said. “I'm not a kid to be kept busy on trivialities because I'm not allowed to do anything important.” She took a step forward and confronted him. “I've no intention of taunting Aldo, Trevor. It would be overkill. Subtle is better. We want him to concentrate on Cira, not me. So I'll stay here and be bored out of my mind. But it better not be for more than three weeks.”

  He lifted his hand to his brow in a salute. “Aye, aye. I hear you loud and clear.”

  “And you call me and tell me what's happening.”

  “My pleasure.” He smiled. “Every night. I promise.”

  “You'd better keep it.”

  “I will.” He was walking quickly down the path. “I'd miss the sound of your voice berating me. . . .”

  Am I going with you?” Bartlett asked as he watched Trevor throw his suitcase in the rental car. “I don't speak Italian but I've found that doesn't make much difference if you want to communicate. I've always been able to make myself understood.”

  “I'm sure you have.” Trevor got into the driver's seat. “No, you're not going. If I find I can't do without you, I'll give you a call. But I need you here to keep an eye on Jane.”

  “Quinn will do that.”

  “But he won't call me and report anything that looks suspicious. He'll try to take care of it himself.”

  Bartlett thought about it. “That's true. Maybe you do need me here.” He sighed. “But it would be much more exciting to go with you. I have to admit life is much more interesting with you around.”

  “And how many times have you told me how happy you'll be to get rid of me and have your uneventful, comfortable life back?”

  “Perhaps I've been corrupted. Oh, dear, I hope not.” Bartlett took a step back as Trevor started the car. “I'll take this period to contemplate and evaluate your effect on me. In the meantime you can be sure that Jane will be as safe as I can make her. Take care.”

  “You take care.” Trevor paused. “Don't do anything foolish. If you see anything suspicious, call Quinn.”

  “Certainly. See and report. I'm far too valuable to be sacrificed.” He turned back to the cottage. “And so are you. It would behoove you to be cautious.”

  “Behoove? Good Lord, what a dated word.”

  “I'm dated. It's part of my charm. And I'll thank you not to make fun of me.”

  “I wouldn't think of it.” He pressed on the accelerator and moved down the road. “Your army of female fans would come after me with machetes.”

  FOURTEEN

  It's not here,” Jane muttered, her gaze glued to La Nazione on the computer screen. “Not a word.”

  “It's only been two days,” Eve said. “I'm not sure what breaking into a secure Web site entails but I'd think it would take longer than that.”

  “Then why hasn't he called and told us he was having trouble? He said the prep work would only take three weeks.”

  “Tentatively. I believe you're the one who carved it in stone.”

  She made a face. “I did, didn't I? I just wanted to push him a little.”

  “I'd judge he didn't need any nudging. He was running on all cylinders when he left here.”

  “Just so he didn't slow down without a—here it is!” She leaned forward, her body tense with excitement. “Just a tiny article at the bottom of page five.”

  “Where?” Eve came across the room and looked over her shoulder. “It's only four lines.”

  “It's just right. Enough to attract Aldo's attention and curiosity and not enough to be blatant.” Jane exited the Florence site and went to the Rome newspaper. “If he'd put anything else in, it would have been suspicious.”

  “I'm sure he'd appreciate your approval.”

  “He wouldn't give a damn.” Jane was scanning the articles. “But he is clever, isn't he? This must have been very difficult. . . . Here it is.” She smiled. “It's got an AP byline to make it seem it was picked up from the Florence newspaper.” She switched to the London Times site. After ten minutes she shook her head in disappointment. “Nothing.”

  “Give him a break. Two out of three isn't bad.”

  “I guess.” She leaned back on the couch. “At least he's making progress. Did you get through to Ted Carpenter?”

  “He's in Guyana. I left a message yesterday. He hasn't called me back yet. I'll try again later.” She shook her head as Jane started to speak. “Later,” she repeated. “I'm handling this, Jane.”

  “Sorry. I didn't mean to step on your toes.” Her lips twisted. “My problem is that I'm not being allowed to handle anything myself. It makes me crazy and tends to make me want to reach out and grab.” She got up and moved out onto the porch with Toby at her heels. “I'm going to get some air. Let me know if you find out anything.”

  “I will.” Then Eve called after her resignedly, “Okay, dammit, I'll call him back right away.”

  A radiant smile lit Jane's face. “Thanks.”

  “You're welcome. But don't you dare think you're manipulating me.”

  Jane shook her head. “Never.” The door slammed behind her and she plopped down on the top step. At last things were beginning to happen. Not fast enough. But there was movement and action that gave her hope. She'd be happier if she could participate in that action but she could wait.

  Maybe.

  “Have you heard from Trevor?” Bartlett called from the path.

  “No, have you?”

  Bartlett shook his head. “I didn't expect it. When he gets in motion he's like a whirlwind. It's easy for him to forget me.”

  “Then why did you think he'd call me?”

  “Because he thinks about you all the time. You don't forget what's always with you.”

  Jane made a face. “He thinks about Aldo, not me.”

  Bartlett smiled. “Perhaps you're right. I've been wrong before.” He moved down the path. “But do tell me when he calls, won't you?”

  If he called, Jane thought crossly. He'd promised her a call every night and he'd already broken his promise. Okay, he'd been busy and that activity had yielded rich fruit. But a promise was a promise and she was feeling strangely lonely. She'd not realized how much she'd become accustomed to the sight of him moving around the grounds, bringing her the mail in the evening, waving casually at her while he was speaking to Singer or Joe. He'd become a part of the pattern of her life and the pattern was now broken.

  And it was a good thing. She didn't need any patterns that contained an erratic force like Trevor. Face it, her body se
emed to respond the moment he came into view. She wasn't ignorant. She knew it was only sexual attraction but it was new to her and she wasn't sure how to handle it. He was too disturbing.

  But one side of her nature liked the disturbance. The conflict was a challenge and similar to the way she'd felt when she was training Toby. Every moment an adventure, full of laughter and minor catastrophes. She found herself smiling. Trevor wouldn't be flattered at the comparison with her dog, and there was no way he'd tolerate training. Not that she'd want to get close enough to him to make the—

  Her phone rang.

  “Did you see the insert?” Trevor asked.

  Her heart leaped and she had to steady her voice. “Yes. Why wasn't it in the English paper?”

  “God, you're tough.” His tone was testy. “Give me another twenty-four hours. I have to be more careful with the English press. Unless you want it in the Sun. They'd have no problem if the story was sensational enough.”

  “Aldo reads the Times, not the Sun.”

  “I was joking.”

  “Oh.” She paused. “You did very well.”

  “She said with faint praise.”

  “You don't want my praise.”

  “Who said? I like stroking as much as anyone else. And since I'm limited to verbal in your case, I might as well take advantage of it.” He continued on before she could answer, “Out of line. Forget I said it. Has Eve contacted Ted Carpenter?”

  “Not yet. He's in Guyana and hasn't returned her call. She's placing another call.” She stood up. “She might be finished by now. I'll go in the house and check.”

  “You're on the porch?”

  “Yes, why do you want to know?”

  “I'm a long way from there and surrounded by ruins and hucksters hawking their wares. It's nice to be able to picture you by the lake. Clean . . .”

  She felt that sudden strange warmth that was becoming too familiar surge through her, and said quickly, “Eve's off the phone. Do you want to speak to her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Eve.” Jane handed her the phone. “Trevor.”

  Eve gave her a curious glance before she spoke into the phone. “I just hung up from talking to Ted. He says the man we need to talk to is Professor Herbert Sontag. He's been excavating Herculaneum for the past fifteen years and is well-known and respected by the Italian government. He's got his own little kingdom going there and is probably the only man who could pull off what we need done. Ted's met him several times at conferences and says he doesn't have many people skills but he's great at what he does. He said he'd call Sontag tomorrow and tell him the version of the story you concocted and ask for his cooperation.” She grimaced. “Don't thank me too soon. Ted didn't sound encouraging. He wasn't sure Sontag would give us the time of day. He'll call me back as soon as he hears from him.” She handed the phone back to Jane. “You'd better tell him to start thinking about another plan. This one's on shaky ground.”

  “Did you hear her?” Jane asked Trevor. “But we don't have another plan.”

  “I have a few ideas, but we'd better make this one work. I've devoted too much time and effort to it.” He was silent a moment. “Sontag . . . I've heard the name but I don't know anything concrete about him. And, dammit, I've got to give names and places in the next articles and I can't mention Sontag without him willing to go along with us. Get back to me as soon as she hears.”

  “I will.” She added deliberately, “I realize the importance of communication in situations like this.”

  “Was that another jab?” Trevor asked. “I've been a little busy for the last forty-eight hours. I haven't had more than two hours' sleep since I left Atlanta.”

  “What have you been doing besides hijacking Web sites?”

  “Isn't that enough? No, I guess not. Oh, and while I was trying to break into those secure Internet sites, I had a thought about how Aldo could have found his victims. So simple. The Driver's License Bureau. Their files are well secured but a good computer hacker could get in and go through them and Aldo's an expert. He'd be able to get photos and addresses without a problem.”

  “And Aldo didn't start stalking me until I took my driver's test.”

  “I could be wrong, but you might have Quinn check out the possibility.”

  “I'll tell him right away.”

  “It may be closing the barn door after the horses have escaped but it's all I could come up with. Other than brainstorming on that subject, I've been scouting out places to set up Aldo. It has to be a place that he thinks he can access and yet one that we can booby-trap.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “Not yet. But I've still got time. You gave me my three weeks.”

  “No, I didn't. I accepted your estimate. The sooner, the better.”

  He laughed. “In other words, don't sleep, don't rest, until I get the job done.”

  “I didn't say that. Just don't lollygag.”

  “I'll try not to.” He paused. “What have you been doing since I've been gone?”

  “Sketching, doing homework, playing with Toby, going out of my mind with boredom. The same things I did when you were here.”

  “I notice you're being careful to make sure I know my presence makes absolutely no difference in your scheme of things.”

  “Maybe it makes a little difference. It irritates me that you're free to do something.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  “And at least you're somewhere different and interesting. I've never been out of the U.S.”

  “You're young. You have plenty of time to do your globe-trotting. And this town isn't all that fascinating.”

  “You have the experience to judge and compare. It would probably seem interesting to me. Tell me about it.”

  “I've barely scratched the surface and these tourist towns are pretty much the same until you dig deep.” He laughed. “Cripes, what a play on words. I promise it wasn't intentional.”

  “I still want to hear about it.”

  He was silent a moment. “Because Cira lived here?”

  “Is it so strange that I'm curious about the place where she lived and died?”

  “No stranger than anything else connected with this muddle.” He paused. “I'll make a deal. You tell me about those dreams, and I'll describe this town down to the last ruin. You can see it through my eyes.”

  “I'll be able to see it myself in three weeks.”

  “But I doubt if Quinn is going to allow you to traipse around the city.”

  That was true but she'd be darned if she gave in to him after resisting the temptation for the past weeks. “I'll find a way.”

  “Okay, I thought I'd try.” He sighed. “It was only a bluff. Give me a day or so and I'll fill you in on the joys of ancient Herculaneum. Maybe that will shame you into being more generous with your confidences.”

  “It won't.” Her mind was racing, trying to think of all the things she wanted to ask. “The theater. I want to know all about the theater at Herculaneum. All I could find on the Internet was a mention that it was famous. Nothing about Cira. Surely there has to be some mention somewhere if she was so famous.”

  “Two thousand years, Jane.”

  “Okay, then I want to know how she lived, the flavor of the time. . . .”

  “Good God, I'm not a history buff and I'm going to have a few more things to do than—”

  “Then do them. I just thought during your spare time you could— Forget it.”

  He sighed. “I won't forget it. I'll give you what you want. You'll have to forgive me if I put Aldo first in priority.”

  “I wouldn't forgive you if you didn't.” Her hand tightened on the phone. “Do you think he's seen the articles yet?”

  “It depends how often he checks these Web sites. That's why we have to keep the insertions coming and building in intensity. If something catches his eye, he'll go back and see if he can find other references. But, dammit, we have to have something in Archaeology Journal to authenticate.”


  “How soon?”

  “Next week would be best. The week after if necessary. It doesn't have to be much. Just a short story and maybe a picture of the statue found with the skeleton.”

  “What statue? That's just part of the big lie. We don't have a statue of Cira.”

  He was silent. “I do.”

  She stiffened. “What?”

  “I bought it from the British collector Aldo sold it to. I made him an offer he couldn't refuse.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted it.” He hurried on, “Anyway, we have a statue to use in the Archaeology Journal article if they'll use it.”

  “I'm surprised you're willing to lend it. Isn't that dangerous for your plans of finding the gold? It's bound to attract more attention to Cira and her life. An article is one thing, but it's a visual-oriented world and a photo prods the imagination. Look at all that fuss the bust of Nefertiti caused.”

  “I'll take my chances. You can bet the place I choose to stage Cira's reconstruction won't be anywhere near Julius Precebio's tunnel.”

  “That goes without saying.” Jane was silent, and then asked, “Why did you want it?”

  “It was mine, dammit. It was my favorite bust of Cira and I negotiated with Guido for it as part of my cut. Aldo stole it. It was mine.”

  “The Italian government would give you an argument.”

  “It was mine,” he repeated. “I'll call you tomorrow night at midnight. Good night, Jane.”

  “Good night.” She hung up the phone and stared thoughtfully out at the lake. Cira again.

  “I wanted it. It was mine.”

  “Jane?” Eve called. “Are you through talking?”

  “Yes.” She turned and went into the cottage. “But he didn't tell me much more than we knew from checking the Web sites. He's worried about Archaeology Journal but he said he'd handle it.”

  “Then I'm sure he will. You can't fault his skill and dedication.”

  “It was mine. Aldo stole it from me.”