‘Cesco?’ frowned Lucia. ‘What the hell’s he doing here?’
‘Looking for us, I’d imagine.’ Carmen rolled the scroll back up, replaced it on its shelf, made her way back briskly through to the first chamber, arriving just as Cesco did, so that she got to witness his astonishment at their discovery. But then he saw her and his astonishment turned to relief. ‘Thank Christ,’ he said. ‘But why are you still here? Didn’t you feel it?’
‘Feel what?’
‘The eruption.’
‘Eruption?’ She looked at him in horror. ‘We thought it was just another tremor.’
‘The whole fucking top’s gone. It’s raining Vesuvius out there. The water’s rising fast too. We need to get out now or Romeo will drive off without…’ He stopped as he saw Lucia. Almost unconsciously, he drew Carmen behind him.
‘So you know, then,’ said Lucia flatly. ‘And Romeo? Does he know too?’
‘This isn’t the time,’ said Cesco. ‘We need to get out.’
‘Does he know?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘He knows.’
She nodded twice. ‘Go, then,’ she told them. ‘Leave.’
‘Don’t be crazy,’ said Carmen. ‘Didn’t you hear? Vesuvius has blown.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I don’t understand.’ She looked back and forth between them, bewildered. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
‘Not now,’ said Cesco, drawing her with him to the steps. ‘I’ll explain later.’
‘No,’ said Carmen. ‘Not without Lucia.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Lucia.
‘But we can still all—’
‘I killed Taddeo, Carmen,’ Lucia told her. ‘It was me. I killed him because he murdered Raff. And because he raped me and countless others too. So I went to his house last night. I made him confess. Then I stabbed him through his heart. I’d do it again, too, without a qualm. No doubt many people will think me justified. But they’ll convict me anyway. And rightly so. They’ll put me in prison and take away my scrolls. Without them, without Raff, there’s nothing left for me out there. But in here…’ She gestured at the alcoves. ‘In here, I still have these to live for. They’re my children, my responsibility. Maybe I won’t be able to save them from what’s coming. But maybe I will. And I won’t risk losing them. I just won’t.’ She stepped forward to hand Cesco her backpack. ‘Now get out, both of you. While you still can.’
‘We’ll be back,’ promised Cesco. ‘One way or the other.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Thank you. Now go.’
They hurried down the spiral steps through the vault and back out into the passage. Carmen kept glancing around, for Lucia was close behind, making her wonder whether she’d changed her mind. But the moment she and Cesco had clambered out over the lower wall, Lucia set about rebuilding it with the fallen blocks to create a first line of defence. Carmen bade her farewell but she didn’t even notice. Then she saw to her shock how far up the passage the water had already reached, and she didn’t hold back any more. They splashed and waded their way as far as they could through the uncomfortably hot shallows. Then Cesco clamped his torch between his teeth and set off in a gentle crawl, glancing back every few strokes to make sure she was keeping pace. The ceiling grew ever lower, forcing them into breaststroke until they ran out of headroom altogether. He trod water while she drew alongside. They were still a frightening distance from safety, and with an underwater obstacle course to negotiate.
‘Do you know how long you can hold your breath?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Have you ever packed your lungs before?’
‘No.’
‘Okay. We’ll do it together. We’ll start with two deep, slow breaths. Hold them for a couple of seconds each, then let out them again. Our third breath will be as deep as we can make it. This one we’ll hold. But you’ll find you can actually take at least a couple more mouthfuls of air and kind of force yourself to swallow them. We’ll take two each of those, then go for it at once. I’ll set the pace, steady rather than fast. Exertion won’t get you any further. It’ll just kill you quicker.’
‘Nice.’
‘I’ll hold my torch behind to give you something to follow. But it’ll be murky in there. I won’t be able to see you. So, even if you lose me, keep going straight ahead. Got it?’
Carmen gave a shiver. ‘Enough talking. Start counting.’
He nodded and led her through it, counting down their last two gulps on his fingers. He checked that she was ready, then turned and vanished underwater, smooth as an eel. She followed after. The water was, at least, relatively clear, and not too toxic on her eyes. She could see his torch easily, keeping the steady pace he’d promised. The air trapped in her backpack dragged her upwards, however, dragging along the underside of the ceiling, making her kick her heels against it. She swam lower but it was an effort. She felt an uncomfortable knot in her chest, as though a stone had lodged in her windpipe. She needed another breath already; no way was she going to make it. Better to turn back, to see this nightmare through with Lucia. But, to her surprise and relief, the knot somehow untied itself and she relaxed a little. Then she passed the point where turning back was even possible.
The water grew dirty, the torchlight dimmer. Her backpack scraped ceiling again, tugging her back until she lost sight of Cesco’s torch altogether. She looked this way and that in search of it, and before she knew it, she’d lost her bearings. Panic welled inside her. She had to fight to suppress it. She felt for and found a wall. She followed it along, ignoring the whispering voice that told her she’d got turned round and was going the wrong way. Her lungs were aching for real now. Each heartbeat banged like a drum in her temple. Every moment was a struggle to keep her mouth clamped. She took off her backpack, blew some air out her nose, then undid its zip just far enough to breathe in from its stash. But most of the air simply bubbled away and her pack filled up with water. She only had a few seconds left. No time for steadiness now. Only exertion could save her. She kicked hard, reached out her hand. Her fingers touched marble. A statue. She propelled herself forward, feeling for more statues. The need for air was like nothing she’d ever felt before, like a vice clamping on her head. She felt the colossus and then the horse. She thrust herself forward at where the opening should be, only for the strap of her backpack to snag on the Sabine woman’s outstretched arm, tugging her so sharply to a halt that it jolted the air from her lungs and she couldn’t help herself any longer. She opened her mouth to breathe the water in.
Romeo Izzo’s watch was particularly precious to him. A Panerai Luminor Due, it had been his wife’s last gift to him, chosen very consciously during her dying days as something for him to remember her by. So it wasn’t just the time he saw whenever he consulted it. It was memories both glad and wrenching. And parental duty too. ‘Figlio di puttana,’ he muttered, stamping his feet as the floodwater advanced remorselessly up the passage, pushing him ever further back. ‘Come on, come on. What’s taking you so long?’
The ten minutes had already passed. Now it was twelve. He retreated all the way up the stone staircase, then stood there uncertainly before coming a little way back down. Still no sign of them. He stamped his feet some more and then ventured all the way to the portico, where rainwater was streaming through multiple splits and holes in the corrugated plastic roofing. Lucia’s Ka was almost completely underwater. Even his own Fiat was in danger. Heavier rocks had started falling too. One smacked into the escarpment wall even as he stood there, exploding into fragments that showered its roof and bonnet, denting it like hammered pewter. Yet still he couldn’t bring himself to leave.
He returned to the stairs, down to the passage. The water had already covered the bottom step and was still rising. Eighteen minutes had now passed. Twenty. Enough! Something terrible had clearly happened. His heart grieved but he owed it to Mario not to stay any longer. He owed it to him to survive.
He gave the passage one last lingering look. No one appeared. He made the sign of the cross, then hardened his heart and hurried back though the portico out into the tempest. The lake was so deep that he had to swim across it. The water was already lapping at his tyres. He pulled the driver’s door gratefully closed behind him. The ignition coughed but didn’t start. He gave it a moment and then tried again, pumping the accelerator hard. Thankfully it caught.
He’d parked facing downhill. The track was too narrow for him to turn. He reversed up to the first hairpin, taking his rear wheels as close to the edge as he dared, wrenching the steering wheel round in a harrowing five-point turn. Then, despite the terrible weight of shame, he set off up the track towards the gates.
It changes everything, knowing you’re about to die. The trivial is blown away. What remains is substance. Now that it was upon her, Carmen felt not fear but rather regret. Regret that her mother would have to face her condition alone, and now with a bereavement to cope with too. Regret for Cesco too. Airy, glib and poorly timed his proposal might have been, but she could hardly doubt his sincerity when he’d said they were in it together. He’d just risked his life to prove it. And what were visa problems, when all was said and done? What were visa problems compared to this? And now she’d never even get to tell him.
A glint of torchlight ahead. She saw his face. He reached out to grab her arm and drag her by it through the opening and along the pipe into the passage beyond. She had no strength of her own. All she could do was watch. The passage was underwater. He hauled her to the stone staircase, then hoisted her upon his shoulder. They breached the surface and found air. Instantly, her body took over. She convulsed violently, coughing and spluttering out the water inside her until there was none left. Her ribcage ached as though she’d been pummelled by lead piping. She was more drained than she’d ever been. All she wanted was to lie down. But he wouldn’t let her. He carried her all the way up the staircase, then set her on her feet, his arm round her waist.
‘Izzo’s gone,’ he said. ‘We’re on our own.’
She nodded, too spent to talk. The lights had gone out. He used his torch instead, taking them through darkened passages to the portico. Its corrugated roofing had been taking such a beating from falling rocks that whole sheets of it were now hanging free, allowing waterfalls to splash onto the floor and offering terrifying glimpses of a black velvet sky shuddering with lightning. The bombardment continued outside too, the volcanic fallout being funnelled by the steep escarpment walls down to the lake at its foot, sending up huge plumes of water.
‘Stay here,’ said Cesco. ‘I’ll go get us a car.’ He gave her the ghost of a wink. ‘That misspent youth you’re so mad at.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘No need. I’ll be straight back.’
‘I know,’ she said. Hobbled as she was, she was sure to hold him back a little. But better that than making him drive all the way back down to pick her up, as he undoubtedly would. ‘I’m still coming.’
He nodded and took her hand. They went out together. The storm was astonishing in its force, even braced for it as they were. They slipped and skidded down the quagmire ramp to the lake, waded and swam it to the other side. But they’d barely started up the track when a blue Fiat Uno appeared round the bend ahead and reversed down to meet them. They hauled themselves in the back. ‘You were supposed to leave us, you arse,’ said Cesco.
‘I tried,’ said Izzo. ‘Believe me, I tried.’ He looked around. ‘Lucia?’
‘She wouldn’t come,’ said Carmen. ‘We did our best, I swear.’
A large rock crashed into the lake behind them, drenching their roof and rear window. Without another word, Izzo set off upwards, spurting along the straights, braking sharply into each turn. ‘Where to?’ he asked.
‘The ferry,’ said Cesco.
‘It’ll have left by now. At least it bloody well better have.’
‘Maybe there’ll be another. If not, we’ll take the coast road.’
Izzo nodded and sped across the apron, scraping out the gate onto the Via Mare, then screeching downhill towards the sea.