Countdown - Iris Johansen [102]
“Your bed.” She started up the staircase. “But I don’t know how long I’ll be with Mario.”
“I’ll wait.” He headed down the hall. “And I have a few things to check out myself.”
“What?”
“Brenner, to see if he’s managed to find out anything more.” He smiled back at her. “Then Demonidas. We didn’t get a chance to do any research this morning before Eve called.”
“He probably doesn’t exist,” she said wearily. “It was only a dream. And this Giulia from the marina is more than likely Cira.”
He shook his head. “You’re tired or you wouldn’t be this negative. We’re going to give old Demonidas his shot.” The door of the library closed behind him.
She was tired. And discouraged. She didn’t want that poor girl in the museum to be Cira. Yet the coincidence was overwhelming, and she couldn’t deny the truth that it might be.
But that girl wasn’t her Cira, dammit. Not the woman who had lived in her mind and imagination for the last four years.
Then find out the truth. Forget about dreams and give Mario a little more time to give her the reality she needed.
Any progress?” Mario asked when she came in to the study after knocking.
“A skeleton found in the marina that looked like Cira.” She walked over to stare at the statue by the window. The determination, the humor, the strength in that face was the Cira she knew. “I suppose it could be her. But what was she doing in the marina if she was in that tunnel on Julius’s estate when she wrote those scrolls?” She turned back to him. “How much longer is it going to take you to finish?”
“Not long.” He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been able to piece in most of the missing words. Some of it was guesswork, but I’ve got the hang of it now.”
“When?”
“Don’t push me, Jane. I’ve already stopped training with Trevor and MacDuff to work full-time on it. It will get done as quickly as I can do it.”
“Sorry.” She glanced back at the statue. “Have you gotten far enough along to tell if it’s going to help us?”
“I can tell you it was written in haste and she was planning to leave the tunnel that day.”
“The day of the eruption—”
“We don’t know that. There’s no date on this scroll. It could have been written days before the eruption. She could have left the tunnel and been at the marina that day.”
“I guess you’re right.” Because she’d dreamed Cira was in that tunnel during the catastrophe didn’t mean it was true. “And the mention of the gold?”
“Nothing definite.”
“Or a ship?”
He gazed at her curiously. “No. Why?”
She wasn’t about to confide in Mario about those dreams that were taking on less and less substance. “If she was at the marina, there must have been a reason.”
“Survival. She was at the theater and ran for her life.”
The logical answer. She should accept it instead of fighting and searching for an alternate solution. Admit that woman in the marina was the dead end Eve had claimed. “Will you have it done by tomorrow?”
“There’s a good chance. If I don’t sleep.” He smiled faintly. “No kindly protest at my sacrifice?”
“It’s your decision. I’m selfish enough to want to know right away. It’s not going to hurt you to sleep after you finish it.” She added soberly, “In my heart I believe I always thought we’d find the gold, and now I’m out to sea and looking for a life raft. I don’t know which way to go and I feel helpless. We have to stop this, Mario.”
“I’m working as fast as I can.”
“I know you are.” She headed for the door. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
“I’m sure you will.” He looked back at the scroll. “Good night, Jane. Sleep well.”
She didn’t miss the faint sarcasm in his tone. She couldn’t blame him, but it wasn’t characteristic of the Mario she had met when she’d first come here. But then, Mario had changed, forged in the fire of tragedy and loss. He had lost all boyishness and softness,