Free Countdown by Iris Johansen Page B

four years ago.”
    “You know about that?”
    “Not firsthand. I was in a jail in Bangkok when all the furor was going on, and by the time I liberated myself you were yesterday’s news. It wasn’t until Trevor brought me on board a year ago that I even knew you existed.”
    “Trevor mentioned me?”
    He shook his head. “Nary a word. But when he started sending me to Naples to retrieve the scrolls, Bartlett dropped a word here and there about you and I did a little research.”
    She went still. “The scrolls. You have the scrolls?”
    “No, Trevor has them. I was only the courier.”
    “Where are they?”
    He smiled. “I’m not that indiscreet.” He studied her. “You really do look like the statue of Cira. Much more beautiful, of course.”
    “Bull. Does Trevor have all the scrolls now?”
    “You’ll have to ask him. I brought him everything he sent me for and he’s usually pretty thorough. I know he was very determined I get them out of Italy without the government confiscating them.”
    “Because he thought there might be a mention of the location of the gold in them?”
    “Possibly.”
    “Was there?”
    He smiled.
    “Don’t try to play games with me,” she said coldly. “I have enough of that with Trevor. Why don’t you just go back and fly the damn plane?”
    “Ouch.” His smile disappeared. “Sorry. I admit I was doing a little exploratory assessing to see how far I could push you. It’s my inquisitive nature.”
    “Screw your inquisitive nature.”
    “I’ve heard that before, and not from such exceptionally attractive lips.” He paused. “And you’ve had a rough time, according to Trevor. You deserve not to have to put up with bastards like me.”
    “I agree.”
    He chuckled. “Okay, then why not call a truce?”
    “I’m not at war with you. You don’t mean anything to me.”
    “You mean something to me. I’ve lived with you at MacDuff’s Run since Trevor leased it.”
    “What?”
    “Well, not you. Cira’s statue. But the resemblance is remarkable.”
    “It’s only a resemblance. That’s not me.”
    “Okay. Okay. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re a bit sensitive on that score, aren’t you?”
    “You’re damn right I am. I have a right to be. Or maybe your ‘research’ didn’t delve that deep. What did you find out about me and Cira?”
    “From the newspaper stories on the Internet? That a serial killer was murdering and mutilating every woman he could find who resembled the statue of an actress who was the toast of Herculaneum at the time of the Vesuvius eruption. That he thought you were the reincarnation of Cira and targeted you. The rest was pretty much about how he was trapped and killed.” He paused. “And I was amazed how few photos there were of you in the stories. I was wondering how your family managed to keep the spotlight on Cira and made you fade into the background.”
    “They did their best. Eve and Joe are very smart, but the first year was pretty rough for me.” She smiled sardonically. “But, as you put it, after that I was yesterday’s news. Thank God.” She returned to something he’d said earlier. “Trevor keeps his statue of Cira at this MacDuff’s Run? Is that in Scotland?”
    Brenner nodded. “Oh, yes. The statue’s a truly splendid work of art. Even a rough-and-ready bloke like me can appreciate it. I can see why Trevor had to have it.”
    “Enough to negotiate with a collector who’d bought it illegally to get it,” she said dryly. “And I’m not sure that he wanted it for its artistic value. He’s like the rest of you. He has an obsession with Cira.”
    “The woman with your face.” He smiled faintly. “An interesting connection.”
    “No connection. She’s been dead two thousand years and I’m very much alive. Why did he send you to Naples instead of going himself?”
    “It was a little too hot for him.”
    “The Italian police? They found the tunnel where Trevor discovered those scrolls?”
    Brenner shook