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 want 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.”
“But you didn't find him.”
“I told you he was smart. He made himself invisible and disappeared. Every time I got close to him he vanished. It was frustrating as hell. And then I saw the photo of the victim, Peggy Knowles, in Brighton.”
“Cira.”
“It made sense. He and his father were both obsessed with her, and that symbolic smashing of the statue was pretty clear. He blamed Cira for both his father's death and for his miserable childhood. Maybe the shock of his father's death sent him over the edge and he began to think of her as a living presence, as his father did. Or it could be the first kill in Rome was because he accidentally stumbled over a woman who looked like Cira. Then when he realized there were others, he went on the search for her.”
“You think he believes in . . . reincarnation?”
“Who knows? He's nuts. I'd say there's a good chance it's all mixed up in his head. We know he's been searching the world for anyone who looks like her and made it his life's mission. He can't tolerate anyone living who even resembles Cira. Since she died two thousand years ago, his belief in reincarnation seems to be the most likely answer. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”
“And he thinks I'm this reincarnation?” She made a rude sound. “No way. I'm not a carbon copy of anyone. It's bad enough to look like this Cira. Inside, I'm all me.”
“You don't believe in the possibility of reincarnation? There are millions of people who do.”
“Then good luck to them. I'm the only one who accepts credit or blame for what I do. I'm not about to moan and whine and say it's all because of some woman who bit it two thousand years ago.”
“You're very emphatic.”
“Because I mean it. I'm sick to death of hearing how Aldo is going after me because of my face. I'm more than a face.”
“You're preaching to the choir. I knew that the moment I saw you.” He paused. “And Aldo isn't only going after you because you look like Cira. He probably believes you have her soul.”
“Then he's going to find out he's wrong. I'm not like her. Not really.” Her hand tightened on the phone. “And I don't know what's going on, but I'm the one who has to deal with it, not Cira.”
“We have to deal with it,” he corrected. “We're in this together.”
He was wrong. Comforting words, but she had a gut feeling that in the end it wouldn't be that way. All her life she'd been alone. Why should this be any different?
No, that wasn't right. Why had she even had that thought? It was Cira who'd been alone all her life. She, Jane, had Eve and Joe. It was frightening that she'd had that instant of confusion. It must be all this stupid talk of Cira and reincarnation. “Don't think I won't call loud and clear. Now tell me about Aldo. All you've said is that he's nasty, sadistic, and was studying acting when his father sent for him to come to Herculaneum. That's a weird career choice for a beast like him.”
“Not so weird for someone who's not got all his marbles. Split personality, paranoia . . . He could be anyone he liked the minute he got on the stage.”
“You said he was brilliant. In what way?”
“Computers. He did all of his father's research. That's one of the reasons Guido wanted him at the site. He had him exploring every map on the Internet to see if any tunnel excavated in Herculaneum was possibly connected to Julius's.”
“Were there any?”
He shook his head. “Guido was disgusted. He'd hoped that he might be able to make the excavation easier. No luck. And he made his disappointment in him very obvious to Aldo. He treated him like an idiot, made him check and recheck to make sure he wasn't making a mistake. It was pretty clear that was how he'd treated him all his life. If Aldo hadn't been such a bastard, I would have felt sorry him.”
“I wouldn't.” Her mind was puzzling over something else. “I don't understand how Aldo could have been able to flit from country to country without being caught. Did he have money?”
“Not when he left Herculaneum. But he did have one of the statues of Cira he took from the library. He sold it to a private collector in London. That's how I traced him to the U.K. I heard about it from one of my informants. The statue was priceless and even on the black market he would have enough money to buy as many false documents as he needed and have enough to support himself for a good many years.”
“So he used Cira to kill all those women.”
“In a manner of speaking. Do you need to know anything else?”
“I have one more question to ask.” Her lips twisted. “Were you more angry with Aldo because he killed all those people or because he tried to cheat you of the gold?”
He was silent. “Interesting question.” But he wasn't answering it.
“I have to warn you I'm telling Eve and Joe everything you've told me. And that means that there will probably be investigators all over that site at Herculaneum. Someone else will find that pot of gold in those tunnels.”
“They won't find it. Those tunnels are very well hidden. They went undiscovered for all those years and that blast sealed the entrances to the tunnel and I did the rest. I covered any trace of excavation. When this is over I'll still have my chance . . . if I want it.”
“Oh, I think you'll want it.”
“My, how cynical. You think my mercenary streak dominates my life? Maybe you're right. And maybe you're wrong. Did it occur to you that I knew you'd tell Quinn and was willing to take my chances? So it could be that I'm more bloodthirsty than greedy. I'll call you tomorrow and you can tell me if Quinn has any more questions. Sleep well, Jane.”
He hung up before she could answer.
