“I didn't say that. When the Zurich casino was looking for Trevor to squeeze some of their money out of him, they ran across one of his contacts, Jack Cornell, who said he fought with him when he was a mercenary in Colombia. That was over ten years ago and Trevor wasn't much more than a kid, but he was one lethal son of a bitch.”
“And still may be. The military can be a great training ground.”
“You should know. You were in the SEALs, weren't you?”
“Yes.” He paused. “And, kid or not, he could well have been seduced by the dark side.”
“Dark side? Come on. You sound like something out of Star Wars.”
“Do I? The phrase struck a note when I first heard it. Violence can be addictive if you don't pull yourself away fast.”
“Maybe he did. Card counting is a mental exercise.”
“But very dangerous if you do it on the scale Trevor was playing. Like walking a tightrope. Serial killers get off on taking chances too. Did they find out anything on a personal level from Cornell?”
“Not much. Cornell said that Trevor was quiet and never talked about himself. He was always reading or playing with those Rubik-type puzzles. He was a whiz at that kind of stuff. But once he did mention being in Johannesburg.”
“At last, something concrete. And did Interpol follow up on it?”
“Negative. There wasn't any reason. No crime and Trevor had disappeared from their radar scope. They have enough to do without borrowing trouble.”
“Well, he's back on the scope with a vengeance now.”
“And they're sending out feelers, but we may not get lucky anytime soon. I'll send you a copy of the fax I received from Scotland Yard and I'll let you know if we get anything else.” She hung up.
“It's not much.” Eve replaced the receiver. “They don't even know his nationality.”
“It's more than we knew before.”
“We know he's brilliant and shady and was trained to kill. That's not very encouraging.”
The bell on the machine signaled the incoming fax.
“Are we going to let Jane read about our Mr. Trevor's past?” Joe asked.
“Hell, yes. We tell her anything we can that will cause her to stop identifying with him. A mercenary isn't a role model.” She went over to the fax machine and took out the two pages. “Besides, she'd resent it if we tried to keep anything from her. I don't blame her. So would I.”
Joe nodded. “You're a lot alike.” He smiled. “But I'm not sure that she's going to instantly condemn him for that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn't.” He opened the screen door. “And she's a lot like me, too.”
The lights in the cottage went out.
Soon she'd be sleeping, Aldo thought. She'd be lying defenseless in her bed not realizing how close he was to her. He might be able to climb in her window and—
No, he might be able to kill her but he'd never be able to do it as it should be done. No quick, merciful death for her. He'd disposed of even her counterfeits with the usual ceremony and he wasn't about to cheat himself of the pleasure with the true Cira.
So, watch and wait?
No, he couldn't stand to do that. Not this time. Not with her.
Then find a way to bring her to him and put an end to waiting. Make her kneel as he had those other women. Submission was hateful to her and the perfect revenge.
Yes, that was what he had to do. Make her come to him.
You have to come this way. Don't be foolish.” His voice echoed behind her as she ran down the tunnel.
Whose voice? she wondered hazily. That's right, the man who had come out of the smoke and was standing at the fork of the tunnel. But she didn't know him. . . .
No, that wasn't true. Jane didn't know him but she did. Antonio. His name exploded out of nowhere and with it came all the memories, bitterness, and anger again. “I'd be foolish to believe you. I won't make that mistake again. I know what you want.”
“Yes, I want it. But I also want you alive. This isn't the time for battles.”
At least he was being honest.
Or clever. Antonio was always clever. It was the quality that had first drawn her to him. Clever and self-serving and ruthless. But she had those same qualities and had no argument with them.
Until he had turned them against her.
“Why do you think I followed you?” There was anger in his voice. “I know the way. I could have left you to die.”
“Or you could get me lost in this cave and then tell me you won't show me the way out until I give you what you want. Do you think I don't know that you always take advantage of every opportunity, Antonio?”
“Of course you do. Because we're alike. That's why you took me for your lover. You didn't trust me, but you knew me. You looked at me and it was like looking in a mirror. You could see every scar and feel the hate and the hunger that drives you.”
“I wouldn't have betrayed you.”
“I made a mistake. I'd been poor too long. I didn't realize that you were more important than—”
“Liar.” Hot. It was getting hotter and her lungs felt tight and sore.
“Yes, I'm a liar and a cheat and I've been a thief. But I'm not lying now. Let me help you.”
“Go away. I'll help myself. Just like I've always done.”
“Then die, damn you.” His tone was harsh. “But you'll die alone. I'm going to live and become rich as an emperor and make the earth shake at the wave of my hand. What do I care if you burn, Cira?”
“I didn't ask you to care if—”
He was no longer there. His shadow had disappeared from the tunnel opening.
Alone.
Shake off this despair. She'd always been alone. This was no different. She'd been right to depend only on herself. He had betrayed her once and it was clear he was as ambitious as ever. Even if he knew the way out, he might have turned her over to Julius at the end of the tunnel.
But he wanted to live and he hadn't followed her down this tunnel. He had taken the path on the left. If he did know the way out, then she would be stupid to be stubborn and continue on this course. She had no idea how to get out of here. She would follow him down the other path. He would not have to know she was behind him. Use him as he had used her.
She turned and started back toward the branch of the tunnel. The earth was becoming hot beneath her sandals and the rocks on her right were beginning to glow dimly in the darkness. Her pace quickened as she felt a surge of panic.
There wasn't much time. . . .
Jane was panting as she opened her eyes.
Hot. She couldn't breathe.
No, that was Cira.
Jane wasn't in the tunnel. She was lying in bed, in the cottage. She lay still and drew several long, deep breaths. In a few minutes her heartbeat steadied and she sat up. She should be used to this aftereffect but it was always new and terrifying. But this time it hadn't been as horrible as usual. The panic had been present but there had also been hope. Cira had thought she had found a way to bend fortune to suit herself as she usually did. She was always happier when she could take action.
And how was Jane so certain of that? Who the devil knew? Maybe she was echoing Antonio's words and Cira was Jane's mirror image. It felt strange to know Cira's name without understanding how she knew it. Or maybe Cira was some kind of manifestation of a split personality.