Blind Alley - Iris Johansen [84]
“That's all. I was understandably more concerned about what Sontag was saying than I was about ancient history. More later.”
She smothered the disappointment. “Of course. Sontag was much more important. I'll talk to you tomorrow night then.”
“Now that you've wrung me dry, you're through with me?”
“I should be so lucky. You're not a man who'd allow that to happen. I've got some thinking to do and I can't do that while I'm talking to you.”
“Heaven forbid that I interfere with your ruminations. Good night, Jane.” He hung up.
She pressed the disconnect and leaned back in the swing, her mind whirling with images.
Slaves. Actors and actresses striding flamboyantly through the streets of Herculaneum. Satyrs with fake phalluses cavorting on marble stages.
Aldo waiting in the shadows with his knife drawn.
No, that had nothing to do with the theater where Cira had made her magic.
Yes, it did. The images of past and present seemed to be merging, overlapping, she realized in panic.
Then stop it.
She drew a deep breath and cleared her mind of everything but Joe and Eve and this dear, familiar place where she had lived for so many years.
And Aldo.
Aldo was the real threat. Not something that happened centuries ago.
Okay, it was better, more clear.
And perfectly natural that she had been swept down into the whirlpool of images Trevor had drawn for her. Now it was over and she had to keep it at bay while she dealt with the problems Aldo presented.
And she had to deal with them. She couldn't sit here any longer and wait to be summoned to Herculaneum like the helpless slave Cira had been all those centuries ago. She was no slave and she had to move.
She reached for her laptop and flipped it open.
Joe was sitting on the couch when she came into the cottage two hours later, paperwork spread on the coffee table in front of him.
“Where's Eve?”
“She went to bed.” He looked up and then stiffened as he saw her expression. “Any problem? I thought it was going well. What did Trevor say?”
“Not much. He's busy. But he said we have to move fast.”
He studied her. “And that means?”
“It means I may need your help. No, I will need your help.” She rushed on, “And you won't like it, but it's going to happen. It has to happen.”
He didn't speak for a moment, and then said quietly, “Then why the hell don't you stop standing there like a drama queen and tell me what you're talking about.”
FIFTEEN
Jane opened the car door as Joe drew up before the brick building. “Why don't you park and I'll go inside?”
“No way.”
“I told you I wanted to do this alone, Joe.”
“You can do it alone. After I check out the office and make sure it's safe.” He smiled crookedly. “That's the job you gave me and that's the job I'm doing.” He parked in a spot near the building. “Now you can jump out and be as independent as you please as long as I'm right behind you.”
Jane ruefully shook her head. “Joe, do you know how weird that sounds?”
“It works for me.” He got out of the car. “Get moving.”
She started quickly toward the double glass doors of the entrance. “As long as you stay behind me. I don't want to scare him off. You can be intimidating.”
“I wish I could intimidate you.” He opened the door for her. “And you're beginning to be a little intimidating yourself.”
She shook her head. “Not me.” She moved toward the girl dressed in jeans and a tunic sweater who was sitting at a desk in the foyer while Joe leaned against the wall, his gaze focused on the row of desks and cubicles to the left of the foyer. “Hi, I'm Jane MacGuire. I called this morning and made an appointment with Samuel Drake.”
A smile lit the girl's freckled face. “Hi, I'm Cindy. Sam said to send you right in.” She lifted the phone and pushed a button. “She's here, Sam.” She hung up and nodded. “Go for it.”
Both the receptionist and the office itself breathed casualness and informality. The attitude was encouraging and exactly what Jane had hoped it would be. “Thanks.” She walked toward the