Blind Alley

by Iris Johansen

  “I've no idea. It's difficult to imagine. . . .” She moistened her lips. “You said that the tunnel was directly below this house?”

  “Yes.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “Does that make you nervous?”

  She shook her head. “Not nervous.” Her glance shifted to the window. “It's getting dark. It will be even darker in the tunnel, won't it?”

  “Yes. What are you thinking?”

  She looked back at him. “I want you to take me through the tunnel. I want to see this vomitorium and I want to see for myself where Sontag barricaded the tunnel anteroom where Cira is supposed to be.”

  “We couldn't get close. Quinn has the tunnel guarded. Besides, you'll see it tomorrow night.”

  She shook her head impatiently. “Not with a gaggle of reporters on our heels. Tonight.”

  “Because you want to make sure I'm not off base?”

  “I want to see those tunnels. I don't care how close or far away I have to be. You said you didn't think that Aldo was in striking distance.”

  “I also said I could be wrong.”

  “But he doesn't know about the Via Spagnola tunnel. We'd be safe there. What about the tunnels close to the theater?”

  “If he didn't have a reason, he probably wouldn't be down there. It's pretty nasty and those tunnels are lit by electric light and guarded by the locals.”

  “Would they bother us if we ran across them?”

  “I believe I could talk our way out of it.”

  “Another con?”

  “Isn't that what life's all about?” He studied her. “Why is it so important to you?”

  She didn't answer.

  “You said you'd been dreaming of tunnels. You think you'll recognize them?”

  “Of course not. That would be weird.”

  He was silent a moment. “Quinn will probably kill me.”

  He was going to do it! “When?”

  “In an hour. I have to call Sontag and prime him for tomorrow's news conference.” He paused. “Are you going to tell Eve?”

  She thought about it. “No, they'd feel they had to come with us and I don't want to drag them through those tunnels. You said they were pretty unpleasant.”

  “Slimy.” He added, “But they'd still want to go.”

  “I'll leave a note for Eve in case she wakes up when we're gone. I don't want her worried.”

  “But you don't want them to go. Why?”

  “They'd watch me,” she said baldly. “They'd analyze why and what I was doing and wonder if they should have let me go. People who love you do that. But you don't care. If you watch me, it'll be because you're curious. I'll be safe if you go with me because you don't want to lose Aldo, but you're not going to be biting your nails and fretting.”

  “No, I'm not inclined to fret.” He smiled crookedly. “And, yes, I'm curious about everything about you.” He turned away. “I'll see you in an hour. Bring a sweater.”

  “Wait.” When he looked back at her, she asked, “How do you get to this tunnel? Where's the entrance?”

  “You're sitting on it.” He nodded at the rug covering the stone floor beneath her chair. “It's a seven-foot trapdoor that evidently accommodated Sontag's thievery of the larger items he found. And there's a steel ladder leading fifty feet down. Don't get eager and leave me behind. Okay?”

  There was no danger of that. The knowledge that she was sitting over that dark emptiness was disturbing. She wanted to get up and move but forced herself not to do it. She kept her tone casual. “I'll wait for you.”

  SIXTEEN

  Darkness. Only the beam of Trevor's flashlight illuminated the blackness of the tunnel.

  The chill and damp seemed to ooze into her every pore and Jane found she was having trouble getting her breath.

  Night without air.

  Imagination. If she couldn't breathe, it was because she was hurrying after Trevor. “Are we going to the vomitorium first?”

  “No, I thought we'd do that on our way back. I have a hunch that wasn't your first priority. You wanted to see the theater.”

  She didn't argue with him. She was filled with eagerness. “Are there rats down here?”

  “Probably. When there isn't any human habitation, nature tends to take back its own.” His voice drifted back to her. “Stay close. I don't want to lose you.”

  “But you wouldn't mind giving me a scare.”

  He laughed. “I admit I'd like to shake you up a little to see if I could do it.”

  “Well, you won't do it with the threat of rats. I got used to them in some of the foster homes where I lived when I was a kid. I was just curious.”

  “There were rats at the orphanage where I grew up, too.”

  “In Johannesburg?”

  “That's right, Quinn dug deep into my murky past.”

  “It wasn't that murky. At least, what he could uncover.”

  “It wasn't pristine clean. Watch your step. There's a puddle ahead.”

  “Why is it so damp down here?”

  “Cracks, fissures.” He paused. “You said you dreamed about tunnels. Was it like this?”

  She didn't answer for a moment. She'd told herself that there was no way she'd confide in him about those dreams but the isolation and darkness made her feel strangely close to him. And what real difference did it make what he thought of her? “No, it wasn't like this. It wasn't damp. And it was hot and smoky. I— She couldn't breathe.”

  “The eruption?”

  “How do I know? It was a dream. She was running. She was afraid.” She waited for a moment, and then said, “You said you dreamed of Cira.”

  “Oh, yes. From the time we found the scrolls. At first, it was every night. Now it's not so often.”

  “What do you dream about her? Tunnels? Eruptions?”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  He laughed. “Jane, I'm a man. What do you think I dream about?”

  “Oh, for God's sake.”

  “You asked me. I'd like to tell you some mystic, romantic story but I know you'd prefer the truth.”

  “She doesn't deserve that.”

  “What can I say? It's sex. I don't really think she'd mind me having a few fantasies about her. Cira understood sex. She used it to survive. And she probably would have enjoyed the thought that she had that much power over me two thousand years after she died.”

  “I don't believe you're— Maybe you're right, but she was more than a sex object.” She had a sudden thought. “And I don't think that's all she was to you. You spent a fortune for that bust of her you bought from that collector. Why would you do that?”

  “It's a wonderful piece of art.” He was silent a moment. “And maybe I'm a little obsessed with her personality as well as her body. She was larger than life.”

  “Then why the devil didn't you say that in the beginning?”

  “I wouldn't want you to think I'm sensitive. It would ruin my image.”

  She made a rude sound. “I don't think you need to worry about your—”

  “This is where the Via Spagnola tunnel ends and joins with the network around the theater,” he interrupted. “It should be a little brighter because of the electric lights though it's still pretty dim. I'll keep the flashlight on. These tunnels meander around but it's the only way to view the theater since it's still buried.”

  “Why haven't they worked harder at excavating it?”

  “Money. Difficulty. Interest. They've been doing better lately. Though it's an uphill battle since parts of it are buried beneath more than ninety feet of volcanic rock. It's a shame because this theater is a jewel. It sat between two thousand five hundred and three thousand people and it had all the bells and whistles. Bronze drums for making thunder, cranes for flying the gods across the stage, seat cushions, trays of sweets and nuts, saffron water to spray the patrons. Amazing.”

  “And exciting. It must have seemed magical to them.”

  “Good theater still seems magical to us.”

 
“And you found out all of this from that newspaper reporter?”

  “No, I did a little research. You said you wanted information. I didn't dare disobey.”

  “Bull. You were interested yourself.”

  “Busted.”

  “It's surprising that the theater wasn't destroyed by the lava flow.”

  “It's one of the freaky things that happened that day. The flow picked up enough mud to encase and protect it. It might have been excavated intact except for the greed of the people who came after it. At one point King Ferdinand was melting down priceless bronze fragments to make candlesticks.”

  “I thought you had no respect for the preservation of antiquities.”

  “I respect the artifacts themselves. And I don't like stupidity or destruction.”

  “Could Cira have been here at the theater when the volcano blew?”

  “Yes, it's believed the cast was rehearsing for an afternoon performance.”

  “What play?”

  “No one knows. Maybe as the excavations progress, we'll find out.”

  “And they might find Cira buried here.”

  “You mean, fact following fiction? It's possible. Who knows? The archaeologists are discovering new things all the time.”

  “New things from a dead world. But somehow it doesn't seem dead, does it? I was thinking while we were driving here from the Naples airport that if you closed your eyes, you might be able to imagine what life was like before the eruption. I wonder what it was like for them that day. . . .”

  “I was wondering, too. Shall I tell you?”

  “Your research again?”

  “It started out that way but it's hard to keep a clinical attitude when you're this close to the source.” His soft voice came out of the darkness. “It was a normal day, the sun was shining. There had been earth tremors but nothing to worry about. Vesuvius was always rumbling. The wells in the country had dried up but it was August. Again, not unexpected.

  “It was a hot day but it was cooler here in Herculaneum because the city was on a promontory over the sea. It was the birthday of an emperor, a holiday, and people were in town to see the sights and celebrate. The forum was crowded with hawkers, acrobats, jugglers. Ladies were carried on litters by slaves. The public baths were open and men were undressing and preparing to be bathed by attendants. There were athletic events at the palaestra and the victors were about to receive their olive wreath crowns. They were only boys, naked and suntanned and proud of their feats. Mosaicists were cutting their polished stones and glass, bakers were making their breads and tarts, and Cira's friends and fellow actors, maybe Cira herself, were rehearsing their play at the finest theater in the Roman world.” He paused. “I can tell you more. Do you want to hear it?”

  “No.” Her throat felt tight and she could almost see and taste the bittersweetness of that morning. “Not now.”

  “You said you wanted the flavor of her time.”

  “You certainly gave it to me,” she said unevenly. “It seems impossible that it all disappeared in the blink of an eye.”

  “No, not impossible. We manage to destroy pretty efficiently without the help of nature. Look at Hiroshima. And it was more like a bellow than the blink of an eye. Reports said that great bull-like bellows seemed to come from the earth itself. Acrid sulphuric smoke was everywhere and a mushroom cloud shot up from the mountain.”

  “And everyone dropped everything that made their lives worth living and ran.”

  “Those who could do it. There wasn't much time.”

  No air.

  No time.

  She was suddenly having trouble breathing. “I want out of here. How close are we to the tunnel where this anteroom is supposed to be located?”

  “Just ahead.” He shone the flashlight on her face. “You don't look too well. Do you want to go back?”

  “No, let's go. Show me. That's why we're here.”

  “No, it's not. We're here because you had to see this theater. It's been bugging you.”

  “It's natural that I'd want to see this place when the woman who looks like me—”

  “You don't have to make excuses to me. You wanted to be here. I brought you. Now you want to go home. I'll take you home. But you haven't really seen the main excavation. I can get you closer to the stage by accessing the next tunnel.”

  She shook her head. “I'm ready to go back after I see where you and Sontag have put the coffin.”

  He shook his head. “Stubborn.” He shone the beam on the ground and took her hand. “Come on. We'll take a quick peek and get you out of here. There's nothing much to see. We've walled off the entrance to the robbers' tunnel so that no one stumbles into it before we're ready.” He led her forward. “I'm not sure your hot, smoky dream tunnel isn't preferable to this one. It's oozing slime and filth.”

  “But you know where you're going. You're not lost and continually going down blind alleys.”

  “No, I know where I'm going. You're safe with me.”

  She felt safe, she realized suddenly. His voice was as sure as his grasp around her hand, and the darkness was no longer suffocating but . . . intimate. She felt strange. She wanted to pull away. No, she wanted to move closer. She did neither. She let him lead her into the darkness.

  Do what she'd set out to do. See the tunnel where Trevor had set up his big con, check out the vomitorium, and then get back to the villa on Via Spagnola.

  Are you sure you still want to visit the vomitorium?” Trevor asked as he moved ahead of her through the tunnel toward the villa. “I think you've had enough for one night.”

  “Stop treating me like I'm some kind of invalid. Of course I want to go. It's not as if being down here has been particularly traumatic. You were right, we couldn't get that close to the anteroom tunnel.”

  “And there's nothing major to see in the vomitorium. So let's skip it for now.”

  “No, I have to know what's waiting for me.” Lord, she was tired of this overpowering darkness. What a horror it must have been for the thieves who had dug their way into the bowels of the earth, not knowing what they were going to find around the next bend. “You said some of these tunnels collapsed over the years. Did it happen here?”

  “I ran into a couple dead ends while I was exploring. Don't worry, the walls seem pretty sturdy around the vomitorium. I wouldn't let you down here if they weren't safe.” He stopped. “We turn here. If you're sure you want to go.”

  She didn't want to go. She wanted to run straight back to the villa and go to bed. She wanted out into the light, dammit. She felt as if she'd been buried alive.

  As Cira had been buried alive by those falling rocks?

  “Jane?”

  “I'm going.” She moved past him down the turnoff for the tunnel. “You said it's not that far off the main tunnel. It shouldn't take long. Right?”

  He moved ahead of her. “It depends on what you consider long. I have an idea time's moving a little slow for you right now.”

  She tried to think of something else besides this blasted darkness. “Cira probably knew about that vomitorium. This was her town, her place. I can see her walking around, talking, laughing, playing her games with the men of the town.”

  “So can I. That's not hard to imagine.”

  “Not for someone like you who definitely thinks about Cira in a physical sense. She did what she had to do to survive.”

  “She was no martyr. She enjoyed life. According to Julius's scrolls she had an unseemly sense of humor, but he forgave her because in bed she was a true goddess.”

  “How patronizing. She probably had to have a sense of humor if she was forced to go to bed with him.”

  “No force. Choice. She made the choice, Jane.”

  “Her birth and circumstances made the choice. What else did the scrolls say about her?”

  “That she was kind to her friends, ruthless to her enemies, and it wasn't wise to cross her.”

  “Who were her friends?”

  “The actors in th
e theater. She didn't trust anyone else.”

  “No family?”

  “No. She took a street boy into her home and was said to have been very kind to him.”

  “No mention of anyone else?”

  “Not as far as I remember. Most of Julius's scrolls concerned her beauty and sexual prowess, not her maternal attributes.”

  “Chauvinist pig.”

  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.”