But Aldo hadn't even appeared on her radarscope until weeks after the dreams had started.
So maybe she was psychic after all. She'd heard of long-distance telepathy.
She was really reaching, she thought in disgust. Next she'd be seeing aliens or those little green monkeys Eve had mentioned. There had to be an explanation, and however weird or pragmatic, it just had to be faced and handled, and everything would be okay.
And that was what Cira would have done.
No, that was what she, Jane, would do. Cira was a dream and had nothing to do with reality. She was already beginning to feel better, stronger. All she'd needed was a little time to get over the shock and realize that this was nothing she couldn't control.
She straightened and headed for the bathroom. She wasn't about to curl up in bed and “rest.” She'd wash her face and then she'd hit the computer and see if she could find any historical reference to a Cira in Herculaneum. It was entirely possible she'd run across information, maybe just a line or two that she'd absorbed and then forgotten and later reprocessed in those dreams. If that didn't work, she'd call the reference library downtown and see if they knew anything or could tell her where else to look. Before Trevor had thrown that bombshell she'd accepted those dreams with curiosity and fascination but she couldn't do that any longer. If there was any fragment of reality connected with Cira she had to know about it and how it was connected to her.
Two hours later she sat back and gazed in frustration at her computer. Nothing. And the reference librarians had not been able to access anything about Cira either. Okay, don't wig out. There had to be an answer. She just had to find it.
And the only knowledgeable source on Cira appeared to be Trevor, blast him.
Cira and Aldo.
She tried to quell her impatience. Keep busy. Go cook dinner. She'd always found if you concentrated on doing the little things right, the big things usually fell into place too.
So call me, Trevor, I'm ready for you.
Hot.
Smoke was beginning to creep through the rocks.
Antonio was just ahead, moving swiftly.
Go faster. Keep from coughing. He mustn't know she was following.
He was gone!
No, he must have just disappeared from view around a turn in the tunnel.
She mustn't lose him. She was committed and there was no turning back.
She started to run.
Don't lose him. Don't lose him.
She turned the corner.
“Can't we go the rest of the way together?” Antonio was outlined against the glowing rocks.
She skidded to a stop. “You knew I was following you.”
“I knew there was a good possibility. You're smart and you don't want to die.” He held out his hand. “Second chance, Cira. For me and for you. We both know second chances don't come along very often. We can make this work.” He grimaced. “If we get out of here in time.”
“I don't want a second chance with you.”
“You loved me once. I can make you love me again.”
“You can't make me do anything. I choose. Always.”
“That's what I've always said. But I'm willing to give in . . . a little. For you.” He coughed. “The smoke is getting worse. I'm not standing here begging. No woman is worth dying for. But you may be worth living for.”
“It's the gold you want. And you can't get the gold away from here without dealing with Julius.”
“Maybe not under the usual circumstances, but the world is ending tonight. There's a chance Julius may end with it. Or that we can find a way to escape to someplace he'll never find us.”
“And you can be emperor,” she said sarcastically.
“Why not? I'd be a magnificent emperor.”
“In some primitive village hiding from Julius?”
“It wouldn't be primitive long if we were both there.”
He was exerting that charisma that had first drawn her to him and the force of his personality was almost overpowering. She mustn't be seduced by him. He was too dangerous.
But he was also beautiful as a god and possessed a reckless, wicked charm that made the danger seem worth risking.
“Don't give me all your trust,” he said. “Take it one step at a time. Just let me get you out of here.”
She looked down at his outstretched hand. She could take his hand as she'd once taken his body.
No, she'd never be that foolish again.
“One step at a time,” he said softly.
“If you wanted to get me out of here, why didn't you just let me follow you?”
“Because we'll need each other before we reach the end.” He stiffened as a rumble shook the earth. “Make up your mind, Cira.”
“I told you that—”
The earth beneath her feet broke apart and she looked down into hell!
She was falling, dying. . . .
“Antonio!”
Jane lunged up in bed, her heart beating so hard she thought it was going to leap from her chest.
Fire.
Liquid, molten fire.
She was falling. . . .
No, she wasn't falling. She took a deep breath and then another. That was better. She swung her feet to the floor and stood up.
Toby sat up and looked at her inquiringly.
“Yeah, it happened again. No fun, huh?” she whispered. She glanced at the clock. Three thirty-seven in the morning, but there was no way she could go back to sleep. Cira had taken care of that. Or her weird psyche or whatever. “Let's go out on the porch. I need some air.”
Night with no air. Heat. The earth exploding beneath her feet.
She grabbed her robe and her phone that she'd put on the nightstand before she went to bed. “Be quiet now. It's the middle of the night. You don't want to wake up Eve or Joe.”
Toby's tail thumped happily on the wood floor and the knocking was far from quiet.
“Get up, silly.”
He leaped to his feet and the thumping stopped but his tail kept wagging. He streaked down the hall and reached the door before her.
The air was cool and fresh against her cheeks as she sat down on the top porch step. She could see the dull gleam of the patrol car down the road and waved to Mac and Brian. Their headlights blinked on and then went dark again.
Lord, the air felt good. She filled her lungs and the clean, soothing sensation made her almost heady with pleasure.
Night with no air . . .
Toby whined as he settled beside her.
“It's okay,” she murmured as she stroked his head. “Only a dream. Nothing bad . . .”
Then why was she so terrified?
The world is ending tonight.
Not her world. Forget it. The dream had probably been triggered by Trevor's words and had no basis in—
Her phone rang.
She stared at it with no surprise. Why else had she taken it with her? It was Trevor and that was no surprise either.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
“If you don't count Toby.”
“I wouldn't dare not count Toby.” He paused. “How are you?”
“Fine. I was fine when you left us. You didn't have to use me as an excuse to bolt.”
“Jane.”
She wasn't being honest and they both knew it. “Okay, you freaked me out.”
“I know and it surprised me. It wasn't the reaction I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Curiosity. Interest. Maybe a little excitement.”
And that was exactly the response she would have experienced if he hadn't mentioned Cira. He'd gauged her well. “Then obviously you don't know me as well as you think you do. The only thing you accomplished by leaving us yesterday afternoon was to irritate Joe and give him a chance to get on the phone and try to substantiate what you told us about Guido Manza.”
“And did he do it?”
“Not yet. He shouldn't have to do it that way. Help him, blast it. Y
ou made a deal.”
“You weren't ready. And you're the one who's important to me.”
“I'm ready now.”
He was silent a moment. “I think you are. I wish I could see your face. I'd like to be sure.”
“Be sure. Who is Cira?”
“She was an actress in the theater in Herculaneum in the years before Vesuvius erupted and destroyed both Herculaneum and Pompeii in—”
“Then why did Aldo think she killed his father?”
“The tunnel that Guido blew led to Julius Precebio's library near his villa outside of Herculaneum. It contained several bronze tubes containing scrolls, jewels, and statues that had been preserved by the lava flow the night Herculaneum was destroyed. Julius was evidently a wealthy citizen of the city and completely enamored with Cira. A good many of the scrolls were devoted to praising her talents.”
“Acting?”
“And other more intimate accomplishments. It seems that to be Cira's lover was a coveted honor among the elite of Herculaneum. She picked and chose who was to occupy her bed. She was born a slave and managed to work and scheme her way to freedom. Then she started to climb the ladder. Some called her a prostitute, but she—”
“They had no right to call her a prostitute,” she said fiercely. “She had to survive and sometimes men only understand what they can use and possess. You said she was a slave. How could she be expected to— Do you know how hard it must have been for her to survive?”
“No.” He paused. “Do you?”
“I can imagine. Beatings and starving and—” She stopped, realizing that her reaction was far too extreme. “Sorry. I've always hated people who condemn first and try to understand second. Or maybe don't try at all.”
“You're taking this very personally.”
“I have reason. I assume this woman had my face. You can't get more personal than that.”
He nodded. “Touché. And, yes, she did look like you. There's an amazing resemblance.”
“How do you know?”
“The library had several statues of Cira. Julius evidently commissioned some of the finest artists of his day to create likenesses of her.”
“And you saw them? You only mentioned Aldo and his father being in the tunnel. You were there in the library?”
“Yes.”
“That was brief. It won't fly, Trevor. I don't want bits and pieces. I want the entire story.”
He chuckled. “You want it all. You have more than a physical resemblance to Cira. She wanted it all, too.”
“How do you know?”
“I read some of the scrolls. I was stuck there at the site for weeks and I had to have something to do while I waited for them to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”
“Pot of gold?”
“Julius mentioned a chest full of gold that he'd given to Cira to get her to stay with him for a few more weeks. It was supposed to be hidden in a room in one of the tunnels and only he and Cira knew where it was. She'd found another lover and was about to leave him and he was desperate.”
“It's the gold you want.”
Don't remember Cira's words to Antonio. Concentrate on today, Trevor, Aldo. “Those scrolls must have been in ancient Latin. How did you translate them?”
“I was motivated. And I had the services of a scholar Guido had hired after he discovered the library. Actually, I put him in touch with Pietro Tatligno. Pietro was smart as a whip and had an almost childish enthusiasm. He was more interested in a historical find than he was in the money Guido promised him. The scrolls were preserved in the bronze tubes. But Pietro still had to be extremely careful when he was handling and transcribing in order not to damage them. He made Guido pay a fortune for the equipment to preserve them.”
“But you weren't concerned about the incredible historical find.”
“I like money. I appreciate historical artifacts, but in the end I've noticed that even museums use them to barter. Besides, I don't believe Cira would want her possessions stared at by strangers.”
“My, what an incredibly convenient belief.”
“But true. I found myself developing a very personal feeling for Cira during those weeks. We all did. It may even be that Guido never intended a double cross when he brought me to the site. He and his son became obsessed and didn't want to share.”
“The gold?”
“Not really. It wasn't long before I found out what was most important to them. Guido was completely obsessed with finding Cira's remains. When he was a young man he'd run across a statue of Cira in the ruins of the theater and spent the rest of his life trying to find her.”
“Were there any stories in the newspapers about it?”
“No, I told you, he was completely obsessed. He talked about her as if she were a living woman even before we found the scrolls. Believe me, he didn't want anyone to discover anything about Cira before he did.”
She felt a surge of disappointment. For a moment she'd thought she'd found a possible way she could have learned about Cira. “And Aldo was obsessed with her too?”
“In a different way. He became very quiet whenever his father was talking about her but he was pretty easy to read. She was alive for him too. But he didn't want her alive, he wanted her to stay dead and buried forever.”
“Why?”
“Then the torment might someday be over.”
“Torment?”
“Picture Aldo at five years old when his father discovered the bust of Cira. His father was his whole world, and then to have Guido be so focused on a dead woman that he totally ignored Aldo's needs would be devastating. Enough to send him insane.”
“Then why was he helping his father to find her?”
“He was firmly under his thumb. And maybe he wanted to find the gold, too.”
“Did you find it?”
“No, but that doesn't mean it wasn't there. He'd barely gotten started picking his way through the rocks when he decided he didn't want to share. He had to be very careful. The walls of the tunnels were weakened by the volcanic explosions and they couldn't go more than a few feet a day or risk a collapse.”
“And in the meantime you sat and read scrolls?”
“Physical labor wasn't part of our deal.”
“What was your deal?”
“I was in Milan working on another project when Manza contacted me.”
“Smuggling.”
“Well, yes. Anyway, Manza said he'd located an ancient find that would net all of us millions. He'd excavate the artifacts and I'd smuggle them out of the country and find buyers for them. He'd been on an archaeological dig near Herculaneum and stumbled on some ancient letters that led him to Julius's estate located some distance from the city. He didn't mention the bust of Cira. I was pretty skeptical. There have been digs at Herculaneum since 1750. I was sure every site would have been discovered.”
“But you went anyway.”
“I was interested. Manza had worked on excavations in Herculaneum for years. Aldo had spent half his childhood running around in those tunnels that had been dug down to the old city over the centuries. There was a chance Manza had struck it rich. Anyway, I figured it couldn't hurt. I was wrong. I ended up on my ass in a hospital for two months.”
“How?”
“Guido decided not only to blow the tunnel but everyone connected with the deal. He planned on closing the entrance and then going back later when he wouldn't have to either share the booty or leave anyone alive who'd know he'd found Cira's remains.”
“And you were in the tunnel?”
“Me and Pietro and six laborers he'd hired in Corsica. I was the only one who managed to crawl out of that hole. Only because I was on my way out when he blew the tunnel. I had a broken leg and it took me three days to wriggle through those rocks to daylight. I found Guido dead at the cave entrance.”
“No one else survived?”
“They were deeper in the tunnel. The charge literally blew them to bits and then buried them. He didn't wa
nt to destroy the library so the charge was less powerful near it.”
She shivered. “All those deaths . . .”
“Aldo evidently came by his homicidal tendencies naturally. Although I'd never heard anything about Guido being particularly lethal before this job. He'd been a professor of archaeology in Florence before he started peddling artifacts.”
“And where was Aldo when you got out of the tunnel?”
“Gone. He'd obviously made a halfhearted attempt to drag his father out of the debris and then just covered him with a blanket and got the hell out of there.”
“Not a very caring good-bye.”
“He cared. In his weird, twisted way. It was pretty clear Aldo had a screw loose from the moment he showed up at the site. He was completely absorbed in his computer and muttered a lot about destiny and reincarnation, besides being involved in some pretty sicko stuff. He was also nasty, sadistic, and bullied the workers whenever he got the chance. But around his father he'd cave if he raised an eyebrow.”
“And you're sure he blamed Cira for his death?”
“More importantly, Aldo blamed her for the life he had been forced to live because of her. He and his father had taken a statue of Cira out of the library and loaded it in their truck. It was gone. But I found next to the body the statue Guido had discovered when Aldo was a boy. It had been placed on a rock above his head and cleaved in half with an ax.”
“Couldn't it have been the explosion?”
“No, the bust's features had been hammered off.”
“Like he removed all those features of the women he killed,” she whispered.
“I didn't think much about any symbolism at the time. I was mad as hell and all I wanted to do was to get my hands on Aldo. It was too late for Guido, but not for Aldo. I didn't know any of those other workers but I liked Pietro. He was a good guy and he didn't deserve to die. But, by the time I made it to the nearest town, my leg was infected and I was too busy fighting to keep them from amputating it to worry about anything else.”
“You told the people at the hospital what happened?”
“Hell, no. I would have ended up in jail, and I have an excellent sense of self-preservation. When I was released, I went back and buried Guido, camouflaged the site, and then went after Aldo.”