The Vesuvius Isotope (The Katrina Stone Novels) (26 page)

I yanked the cord to signal that I wanted to get off the bus. Then I leapt from my seat and ran toward the rear exit.

A hurricane was raging through my mind.

Shuman still needs to write his report. How long will that take? When did he start? Was he already finished before he called me? Why did he call me? Why did he forewarn me? Why would he give me an opportunity to contradict him before he turned me in?

Was he giving me the chance to flee or hoping I would be caught trying? Maybe his report is already turned in and the authorities are already on my trail. Maybe Shuman set me up, to make me appear even guiltier.

I stood at the rear doors, waiting for the bus to reach its next stop. As it finally began to slow, I glanced out the windows on both sides, scanning for police. Instead, I saw a familiar face. I was immediately relieved because I knew that he could help me, as he had so many times before.

Dante Giordano was walking briskly down the street, weaving between pedestrians. He was carrying the same battered backpack I had seen him with before, and he was smiling.

“
Mi scusi
,” I said softly to a man standing next to me on the bus, and he stepped aside so that I could reach for the window. I leaned forward to tap on it and get Dante’s attention. But just before I did, Dante reached an arm up to wave at someone else on the packed sidewalk.

I lowered my hand and scanned the faces of the bustling pedestrians on the sidewalk, those who were walking toward Dante. Several yards in front of him, another arm went up in the air. I gasped and clasped my hand over my mouth.

The man approaching Dante with the friendliest of gestures was Carmello Rossi.

The bus stopped, and the doors opened. Mindless of my own safety, I stepped off. As the bus pulled away, I was drawn into the street, staring. I was only distantly aware of the scores of cars swerving and honking to avoid me.

The gap between Dante Giordano and Carmello Rossi closed. I watched in disbelief as they embraced and kissed one another, once on each cheek. Then Rossi slapped Dante affectionately on the back, and they began walking, together, in the direction from which Rossi had just come.

Traffic swirled around me like a tornado.

He set me up.

The whole scene on the bus. The whole scene at the police station. The whole scene at Herculaneum. Dante was soliciting my trust. And I gave it to him. I led him to Herculaneum. I led him to the poppies. I might even have led him to the nardo.

To follow them would be to bring Jeff’s killers to justice and clear my own name. But to leave them was the only chance I had of saving Alexis.

I watched them walking a moment longer. Then I turned and walked away without looking back.

“There’s been a change of plan,” I said. “We can’t wait until tonight.”

“Let me check my schedule.” Aldo de Luca looked dramatically around the homeless shelter before returning his gaze to me. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes were as cold as ever.

An hour later, I returned to the underground lab accompanied by a handsome professional in a shirt and tie. A handful of devoted scientists remained at their work, apparently uninterrupted by the earthquake—an event that now seemed to me like days rather than hours earlier.

“Is Dr. Iacovani still here?” I asked the first person I saw.

“No,” the boy said. “She left a while ago.” His English was perfect, but his accent was German. “I think she went back to her museum.”

Good
, I thought.
This might work.

“Excuse me!” I said loudly, to command the attention of the scientists. In unison, they looked up from their work and stared curiously. A few drifted in from an adjacent room.

“For those I did not meet this morning,” I continued, “I’m Dr. Wilson’s wife. This is Inspector de Luca of the Naples Fire Department. As I understand it, he needs to conduct an inspection as some kind of post-earthquake measure?” I looked at de Luca, faking timidity. “Is this right?”

He shrugged and looked at me with irritation.

“We must check labs!” he said in a thick Neapolitan accent and then emphasized this with something unintelligible in Italian. After a moment, he returned to English to say, “
Go, go!
” He waved his hands as if to shoo the occupants from the lab like flies.

“I’m sorry for the disruption,” I said, “but the Inspector needs to do this with no interference. You all have the remainder of the afternoon off. Please wrap up your efforts to the best of your abilities in the next fifteen minutes. I promise that you will have plenty of leeway from Dr. Wilson for lost work.”

Two employees grinned at each other and promptly strolled out without a word. The other three exchanged frustrated looks of disbelief. One looked at his watch, rolled his eyes angrily, and threw a rack full of test tubes into the garbage. One began frantically clicking buttons on one of the beautiful new state-of-the-art lab computers. The third continued her pipetting, but at a much expedited pace.

We stepped into the adjacent lab spaces, dismissing the occupants of each. “Thank you for your cooperation,” I said to them all and led de Luca into Jeff’s office.

“OK, let’s get started,” I said.

I pulled a file from Jeff’s file cabinet and showed de Luca how to scan its contents using the copier/scanner near Jeff’s desk. Then I showed him how to send the scanned documents to my e-mail address. I quickly sifted through the file cabinet and generated a pile of work for him, basing the prioritization upon my own rushed assessment of the file names.

I pulled five new memory sticks from my purse, sat down at the desk, and opened Jeff’s computer. It only took a moment for me to locate the secret e-mail account I knew would be there. It came up automatically when I opened his web browser. While he clearly needed ready access to the account, he also took the precaution of keeping it out of the computer systems he frequently used in San Diego. It took two tries to get the password. It was not HER2 as I had expected. The password was Katrina.

My heart was thumping as I scanned through the messages in the inbox of an e-mail account deliberately not loaded onto Jeff’s iPhone. There were many, many messages from [email protected]. Curiosity overcame me, and I clicked on one of the recent ones. It was all business.

I memorized his username and then continued with the task I had come there to do. I clicked quickly and efficiently through Jeff’s desktop and hard drive and began copying every file I could find.

Two hours later, both Aldo de Luca and I had made considerable progress, but many files and documents remained to be copied. Nonetheless, it was now 4:00 p.m., and I needed to move on.

“OK,” I said. “That’s it.”

“That’s all?” he asked, shocked that fifty thousand euros had been so easy to earn.

“That’s all,” I reiterated. “Just, please, look around the lab and make sure we are alone before we leave.”

He did as instructed and then returned to assure me the coast was clear. I tucked the memory sticks back into my purse, and we cautiously exited the office.

As we passed back through the facility, I found a few notebooks and flipped through their contents. For a moment, I considered taking them. But I knew that they were still needed by the scientists.

I poked around through the lab for a few more minutes before leaving. Because I knew that I would not be returning again.

As we passed through the underground tunnel toward the chapel above us, I chose my words carefully. “I know you can read people. Eerily well. So I will ask you honestly: Do you trust me?”

“Depends,” de Luca answered. “What do you want me to trust you with?”

“The one hundred thousand euros I owe you.”

“Go on,” he said.

“I want to know if you believe I am good for it.” He did not respond, so I explained further, “I want to know if you will believe me when I say that I simply can’t give it to you immediately. I need all of my liquid assets for myself right now. But I promise that within a matter of days, if I’m still alive, I will set up an account for you and wire the money there.”

“And if you’re not alive?”

I had been expecting the question, but I still had no answer. We emerged from the tunnel and paused to allow our eyes to adjust to the light in the underground chamber of
Cappella Sansevero
. De Luca gazed for a moment at the anatomical model of the pregnant female, apparently deep in thought. Then he looked into my eyes briefly before he continued walking.

We both remained silent as we passed up the staircase into the chapel, beyond
The Dead Christ
, and through the front doors into the street. I was speechless, and he was evidently waiting for an answer to his question. When he changed the subject, I knew my silence had answered the question for him. He knew I had no idea how to pay him in the event of my untimely death. He also knew this was a strong possibility.

“Where are you going?” he asked, and I knew lying to him would be a mistake.

“Egypt.”

“Why?”