Blind Alley - Iris Johansen [87]
Last night he'd dreamed of Cira and woke in an ecstasy of sexual release. Broken bones and blood and her tears of humiliation. But he couldn't have the blood without Jane MacGuire. She was the present manifestation of that bitch. He had to have both to be complete.
He would have them. He deserved it.
But fate sometimes stumbled and needed a little help. He had to take control. Look at what happened at that glade when he'd almost had Jane MacGuire in his grasp.
He couldn't permit any slips this time.
I need to see you,” Sontag said curtly when Trevor answered his phone. “Right away. I never bargained for this.”
“You didn't bargain for anything. You were blackmailed.” Trevor sat up in bed. “What's wrong? Reporters bugging you?”
“Just get here.” He hung up the phone.
Trevor glanced at the clock on the nightstand as he started to dress. Two forty-five A.M. Sontag wasn't one who tossed and turned, worrying in the dead of night, and he'd definitely sounded spooked. Trevor had better move fast before he unraveled and blew everything.
He arrived at Sontag's house on the outskirts of Herculaneum fifteen minutes later.
“You said it was cut-and-dried,” Sontag sputtered as he threw open the door. “Just a few news conferences and then I could go to Cannes. You said he was out of it.”
“Calm down,” Trevor said. “You have only a week or so more and then you can leave Herculaneum.”
“I'm leaving tomorrow.”
“The hell you are.” He strode into the room. “You still have work to do.”
“No, I don't.” He picked up a large envelope on the coffee table and threw it to Trevor. “I'm done.” He was untying his velvet robe as he moved toward his bedroom. “I wash my hands of it. He's trying to take over. He'll expose me. I'm going to pack.”
It wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to let Sontag off the hook. He was tempted to go after him at once and apply pressure but he decided to let him cool down for a few minutes. He opened the envelope and drew out the sheaf of papers inside.
He gave a low whistle as he saw the top page. “Christ!”
We've got him,” Trevor said when Jane answered her phone two hours later. “We've not only got him. I'd bet he's here in Herculaneum.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“Sontag phoned me in a panic and tossed an envelope at me as soon as I walked into the room. It contained a complete dossier on Eve Duncan. It was obviously pulled off the Internet, and the story about her reconstruction of the Egyptian mummy was on the top.”
“No note?”
“No, but he found it on his doorstep when someone knocked on his door in the middle of the night. It freaked him out. He thought it was Carpenter trying to muscle in on the great unveiling. He loves all the attention focused on him and wants to stay in the limelight.”
“You think it was Aldo?”
“He could have hired someone else to do it but I've got a hunch Aldo's tired of waiting and wanted to make contact. Jesus, I didn't think we'd get this lucky. I thought we'd have to have Sontag make the announcement and then sit on pins and needles until we got a response from Aldo.”
“Why would he do it?”
“He's been reading about Sontag's mulling over the forensic sculptor selection for a week and decided he wanted to take command. Arrogant son of a bitch. It's all gone his way since he started his killing spree and he can't imagine not being able to call the shots.”
“But why drop her dossier off in the middle of the night?”
“Why not? He wants to be feared and he's not been given much of that satisfaction lately. If he's going after the skeleton, perhaps he wanted Sontag to realize how vulnerable he was. He didn't realize Sontag would be more worried about his fifteen minutes of fame than his life.”
“But it could have worked the other way. Sontag could have chosen someone else because he didn't want to be dictated to.”
“True. My guess is that Aldo may not even be entirely sure that this isn't a trap, but he's willing to take the chance because he's