'Marcus, we can't go, not until you have finished here.'
'It never ends though, sweetheart.' I leaned back and looked up at her. 'Organised crime keeps coming. One success only quells it temporarily and opens possibilities for new rackets.'
'Don't be so disheartened.'
I smiled ruefully. 'I'm tired. I didn't sleep two nights ago. My girlfriend had a fight with me… Love me?'
Her thumb caressed my forehead. 'If I didn't love you, I would not have had the fight.'
That was when I chose to tell her – when I had to tell her – we were liable to see Chloris at the residence that night.
Helena released her hold on me, but when I caught her hands in mine she did not resist. 'Don't get this wrong, love. Chloris has to make her deposition for the governor and she has also been asked to look at our dinner guests. Both Norbanus and Popillius have been invited tonight, along with other newcomers who could be the gang leaders. This is business, Helena. I'm not playing about.'
Helena merely said quietly, 'What she is doing is perilous.'
'I know.' I was terse. 'She does not seem to know that her status makes the witness statement unusable in court.'
'She is doing it for you.'
'She's doing it because she likes stirring!' She always did. Women like that don't change. 'I am not sure she sees just what danger she courts.'
'Her career is based on physical risk,' Helena pointed out.
'Yes, but that's her choice. She enjoys the thrills and she earns a great deal of money. She and the other girls have come here to Britain because fighting in the new amphitheatre will make them independent for life – if they survive. But tangling with street criminals is different. The odds on survival are far worse. If I were an ethical person I would spell out the truth to her.'
'But you need what she tells you.'
'Well, I could myself report to Frontinus what she said, but he won't act on hearsay.'
'She saw what happened,' Helena insisted. 'Infamous or not, if Frontinus interviews her in private and he believes her, then she will give his actions validity.'
'Closed room verdicts are not my favourite scene, Helena.'
'You're a grumpy old republican! Oh I despise them too, Marcus, but if they have to happen I would rather it was in a cause like this.'
'Bad politics.' I hated this situation. The Claudian emperors were fond of it, subjecting their enemies to secret trials at the Palace, rather than facing them in the Senate or open court. I had hoped that with our Flavian dynasty the practice would die out. It was for panicking leaders, to remove imagined rivals after swift closet questioning – often based on trumped-up evidence. Informers, I regret to say, were often the filthy instruments of such private trials. I had never worked like that.
As we went to dinner, the procurator popped out of an office and signalled me. He had been lying in wait with Amicus. Helena went on ahead, while Hilaris and I held a hurried consultation with the torturer.
'Titus is just putting things away -' I caught Hilaris looking pale again as Amicus reported. 'I got the waiters' stories. They all match; it's nice and neat. Apparently, the two men you are holding run a helpful service. They deter troublemakers and sneak-thieves who might grab the takings. All the wine shops appreciate the extra security, and are happy to contribute modest sums to obtain it.'
Hilaris and I gazed at him in surprise.
'Well, that was today's silly story,' Amicus scoffed in a comfortable tone. 'Tomorrow I shall crank things up a bit. They think they've got away with it. When I reappear with the bag, they'll be ripe to tell me their life histories in ten volumes of fine poetry. Mind you, the barber stuck. I knew it. Bastards!' He then enquired anxiously, 'Is there any hurry?'
'Everything seems quiet currently,' Hilaris said, sounding cautious.
Amicus suddenly transferred his attention to me. 'Falco! Do you have a witness to any of the killings?'
I wondered why he asked. 'The murder of the Briton, probably. Do you want details?'
'No. I just like to warn the nasty fibbers that I can obtain corroboration.'
I was slightly shy of telling this professional I was using Chloris. Better for her sake, anyway, that I kept her name quiet.
Hilaris invited Amicus to dine with us. He refused gruffly. It seems torturers prefer not to socialise.
Tonight we had more guests than on other occasions; it had to be a buffet party rather than a formal dinner on couches. We spilled out from the dining room into the garden, with music from the Hilaris family's tibia-player and the Norbanus harpist. The tibia-player was excellent, he must have put in plenty of practice here in boring Britain; the harpist, presumably trained in Rome where there were more distractions, was simply adequate. The evening remained sedate. Anyone who hoped for half-naked gymnastic dancers hoped in vain.
Due to the plucking and tootling, conversation did not thrive. Norbanus himself hung around Maia as usual. However at one point he approached me rather deliberately; I was sitting with Helena, unfashionably conversing with my wife.
'I ought to have a word, Marcus Didius. About your sister -' I raised an eyebrow. His manner was open, friendly, even honest. He managed to avoid acting like a creep and although he was a businessman, clearly accustomed to his own way in most things, yet he was scrupulously polite over this. 'It cannot have escaped you that I enjoy Maia's company. But if my attentions offend you, then of course I shall withdraw.' (His sad smile, said Helena afterwards, was a delicate touch.)
I told Norbanus gruffly that my sister made her own decisions. He looked pleased, as if I had given him boarding rights. In fact I thought the only way she would see through him was if nobody interfered. Mind you, I had made that ridiculous assumption once before, over that swine Anacrites.
Norbanus Murena went back to my sister, who was staring across at me suspiciously. I watched him, keeping my face neutral; he was good looking, confident, and as the women kept saying, he seemed a nice man. I could see Maia was finding him welcome company. He was not being pushy. Perhaps this kind of courteous, well-heeled self-made man was just what she needed.
On his way around the gravel paths to the seat where Maia had placed herself, Norbanus had passed Popillius. They must have met before, the previous night when the lawyer first made himself known at the residence (when I was out, having my weak spots tested by darling Chloris). Now the two men exchanged brief nods. They did not speak. They looked like mere acquaintances.
Popillius was a typical off-duty lawyer. Socialising happily, he ignored the fact that his two clients were still incarcerated in this very house. He and Frontinus had chatted tonight as if their wrangle over Pyro and Splice had never occurred. By tomorrow Popillius would be back on the attack, while Frontinus would resist the lawyer's efforts as strongly as if he had never been tonight's genial host.
I hated that kind of hypocrisy. Helena said that in a province with a small social circle it was inevitable. She was justifying the system, though I could see she agreed with me. She had been brought up in a senatorial household, but since her father Camillus Verus had never sought public office, he had managed to avoid holding open house. Cash-starved and secluded, the Camilli kept their hospitality for family and friends.
'Life with your uncle and aunt may be comfortable,' I said, 'but I can't take to this constant diplomatic plate-pushing.'
Helena smiled – then showed sudden alarm as we were interrupted by a distant child yelling, 'Julia's got a bee!' We heard the sounds of other children scarpering. All but the teenagers ought to be in bed. I rose calmly and excused myself to investigate.
My elder daughter, deserted when the others ran off, was stark naked except for her little sandals as she crouched on her heels beside a pond. She had been in the pond at some stage. Her skin was cold and her dark curls were sticking together in wet clumps. I gulped, imagining the perils for a toddler who loved splashing about but who could not swim.
The bee, a large bumble, looked virtually dead. It
was standing on the path, motionless, being stared at by my two-year-old from inches away. This was a fine clear night, with no need for lamps yet; I could see why the children had escaped from the nursery staff. I tried feeble remonstrations about water being off limits. Julia pointed her tiny finger and said firmly, 'Bee!'
'Yes, sweetheart. He's not feeling very well.' I squatted down obediently and took a look. His pollen sacs were bulging; he was exhausted by the heat.
Julia waved her fist at the insect, while I tried to remove her gently from stinging range. 'Poorly bee!' she shrieked.
Time to inculcate a sense of kindness in my child, who could be violent. I tried putting water on a folded leaf. The bee expressed some interest, yet it was too feeble to drink. I would have just left it here, for the gardeners to sweep up tomorrow; by then it would undoubtedly be dead. Julia leaned up against me happily, trusting me to rescue it from its predicament. I left her to hold the leaf gently near the bee's head, while I went back to the food tables. I looked around for Helena but she had vanished somewhere. I dipped an olive spoon in honey from the wine waiter's equipment bench, then returned to Julia.
As soon as I put the spoon near the bee, it responded. Julia and I watched enthralled as its long black proboscis unravelled and dipped into the honey. I held the spoon steady with one hand, keeping Julia under control in my other arm. To be feeding a bee did feel rather wonderful. Visibly reviving right before our eyes, it began to shake its heavy wings. We sat back. The bee crawled about slowly, testing out its legs; it fluttered once or twice. Then it suddenly took off and zoomed away in powerful flight, high over the garden.
'He's gone home to his crib now. And you're going to yours!'
I picked up Julia and stood upright. As I turned towards the house, I noticed that Helena was now upstairs on the balcony. Someone was standing in the shadows with her, veiled and discreet: a woman. Julia and I waved to them.
My daughter insisted that I put her to bed. I managed to avoid story-telling; rescuing a bee was enough tonight apparently. I had a quick look at Favonia, who was sound asleep. Then I rushed to find Helena. She was back at the party, now alone.
We spoke in low tones. 'Did I see you with -'
'Amazonia.'
The blind harpist had strayed too near, insistently serenading us. I gestured to the boy who led him around to take him off elsewhere. Musicians have always irritated me. 'Where is she?'
'Gone home.'
'I would have spoken to her.'
'She watched you being a good father,' Helena murmured. 'Maybe it disconcerted her.'
For some reason I felt embarrassed. Informers are hard men; we don't generally go around rescuing weary bumblebees. We are famous for making women walk out on us and for expecting our children to be brought up as strangers. Still, doing it my way, I would never have some unknown fifteen-year-old who had quarrelled with Mummy turning up on my doorstep with her luggage and her bad habits. Julia and Favonia would have their quarrels direct with me.
'Well? What did Chloris have to say?'
'She has given her statement,' Helena said quietly. 'Then I showed her the visitors. It was no good. She could not recognise the man who was arguing with Verovolcus at the bar.'
So he was not Norbanus, not Popillius, not any of the entrepreneurs who had come to Londinium and approached the governor. While that fitted what I had said all along, that chief gangsters would keep a low profile, we now had no idea who they might be, nor where to look for them.
It seemed a quiet night, as Hilaris had said earlier. Too quiet.
XXXVI
I was called away. In a private office I found Lucius Petronius, wanting to see me. 'Ah! Reporting in?'
'Liaising, you big-headed bum.'
'Master of charm, as usual.'
'Shut up, Falco! Stop messing about – I've found a warehouse where I think that baker must have been attacked.'
'Olympus! Out of all the hundreds -'
'We searched quite enough!' Petro said with feeling. 'Firmus and the customs boys helped narrow it down. There's blood on the floor, and crudely hidden outside were bloody staves and even a belt.'
'Damned careless! What was in the store?'
'Not a lot. Firmus and his assistants will now watch the place. People nearby say the warehouse has been in regular use – odd boxes being taken away by boat almost every day.'
'Cash? There won't be much of that for a while, with Pyro and Splice in custody.'
'Don't be so sure.' Petronius was grim. 'The gang has them covered already. I saw an argument at the Swan that was almost certainly about pay-offs. I reckon the owner there was always lukewarm. Now he knows that the bagmen are in jail, he may have tried to dodge his payments.'
'What happened?'
'Somebody reminded him about his instalment plan. That pimp from the brothel, the Old Neighbour. I've been watching him. The Old Neighbour is part of the Jupiter empire, you know.'
'How come?'
'When Zeus was courting Semele, his jealous wife Hera disguised herself as an old neighbour so she could advise the girl to question him about his true identity.'
'Good thing it doesn't happen to everyone,' I commented drily. 'I hate this mythical bosh. Shall we pull in the pimp?'
'I'm not keen, Falco. If he's put out of action too, we may not recognise the next replacement.' Petro looked thoughtful. 'He reminds me of someone. But I haven't placed him yet.'
'He should be tailed – find out where he's sending the money.'
'We know where it goes. First to a warehouse, then it's taken off by boat and shipped to Rome.'
We stopped bickering and brooded. 'I don't like this,' I confessed.
'Wise boy.'
'Listen – the governor's using his torturer. Amicus is taking his time with the hot pincers; it all seems too slow to me. You and I could shift things on much quicker with a little well-judged questioning.'
'Let him play,' Petronius soothed me. 'We have enough to do… A lawyer came to inspect the corpse, by the way. He said you sent him.'
'Popillius. He's here tonight. I had him down as a likely face for one of the gang. Or if he's innocent, what was done to Epaphroditus may make him back out. He's representing Pyro and Splice, he claims – or will be when the governor lets him talk to them.'
Petronius looked intrigued. 'Paid by?'
'He refuses to say.'
'He needs to be watched,' said Petro quickly. 'Tell Frontinus to keep a visitors list for him.'
'Tell him yourself. Come and eat with us. Frontinus and Hilaris know what you're doing in their province. I bet even the gang has noticed your fine presence. You may as well stop skulking in that dirty tunic.'
He joined the party, though he refused to change his outfit. It drew immediate comment from my sister, when she saw him come out into the garden alongside me. 'That's a disgraceful garment. You look like something the tide washed in.'
'I'm clean underneath,' Petronius reassured her, taking a sneaky squint at Norbanus, accompanied by a leer to emphasise that he and Maia were old acquaintances. 'I've been working at a public baths. Want to check?' he offered her, pretending to pull up his tunic.
'No, I have enough children to inspect at bath-time,' Maia retorted.
'We haven't met,' Norbanus introduced himself. 'Lucius Norbanus Murena – I'm in property.'
'Lucius Petronius Longus – I'm not.' It could be taken as rude, or merely playful. Norbanus chose to smile.
Apparently bored, Petronius wandered off to find himself a plate of food.
The company had thinned out. We were almost down to family, though Norbanus had decided to include himself.
Popillius was still here too, talking intently to the governor by the ornamental pool. Maybe I did him wrong earlier. Maybe he had come tonight intending to stick up for his two clients.
I noticed Aelia Camilla looking towards Petro anxiously. She spoke to Gaius in an undertone; he nodded. Petronius was now munching, slightly by himself. Aelia Cam
illa waited until he had finished, then went and sat by him. Conversation had sunk to a murmur and I managed to overhear. 'I am so sorry for your loss. This is perhaps not the time, but I don't know whether you will stay with us tonight… We have tried to find out for you which of your children has survived. I just wanted you to know, my dear. Petronilla is alive and safe.'
Petronius said something, very briefly. Aelia Camilla rose quietly and left him. I caught Helena's eye. Tears started and she grabbed my hand. Even Maia seemed alert to the situation, though she was flirting with Norbanus, perhaps to distract him.
Petronius stood up. To go into the house he would have had to pass too close by too many people. He walked away to a bench where he could sit with his back to us. He slumped with his head in his hands. We all knew that he was overcome. I moved, to go to him. Aelia Camilla shook her head, suggesting I give him privacy.
Most of us were silent when Frontinus and Popillius approached, having completed a circuit of the garden. Petronius, who must have recovered a little, had just raised his head and was staring at the pool. Popillius noticed him. 'Is that the man who showed me the corpse this afternoon?' the lawyer demanded of me. I was ready to kick his feet from under him if he tried to go near Petronius; that was preferable to Petro himself lashing out.
'Friend of mine. Corpses are his hobby.' My tone was brusque.
'I thought he worked on the docks… What's his official role?' This time Popillius addressed the governor.
'Eyewitness,' snapped back Frontinus. 'He saw the corpse pulled out of the river.'
Popillius did not buy it. 'Is he working for you, sir?' Frontinus was mild. 'He has excellent credentials, but other people own him.'
'People in Rome?'
'It is no secret.' Either Frontinus had drunk too much tonight, or he was angrier than we realised that an officer had been sent here without due clearance. Before I could stop him he came out with it: 'He's a member of the vigiles.'
'Then,' retorted the lawyer, as if he had scored a brilliant point, 'he has no jurisdiction here!'
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