INCEPTIO (Roma Nova)

by Alison Morton

  ‘Look, I don’t know about Roma Nova but that type of thing doesn’t happen here. Every citizen is free to do as they please, as long as it’s not illegal. That includes businesses. The government can’t force them into anything.’

  Then I realised what I’d said. God, it was ironic. When I floored Junior Hartenwyck, I’d become a victim of that same government. But I wasn’t going to back down now, not in front of a foreigner and certainly not in front of Conrad.

  ‘Okay, Karen, have it your way.’ He looked at me with a long stare, almost like a teacher working out how to explain a complex point to an ignorant child. I found it unnerving.

  ‘Humour me about the watchers, though.’ His eyes narrowed and seemed to tilt up at the outside edges. ‘Keep a note of when they’re near. If you get worried, you contact me immediately, okay?’

  He handed me a card with his name and cell phone number – and nothing else.

  This was getting too deep. Maybe it was true, maybe it was a scam. I didn’t want to get into any more trouble. Taking my time, I drew my knife and fork together on my plate, pushed it away and stood up.

  ‘I’m going to leave now and go home. What you’ve told me, it’s like something out of a bad movie.’ I looked straight at him. ‘I need time to think.’

  I weighed up what he’d told me as I rode back in the cab. I reassured myself I’d done the right thing. I’d had one run-in with the establishment and lost. Badly. I shivered when I thought about that. Now I’d begun to succeed in my normal job, I wanted to hold on to it, to keep my life regular and safe.

  VIII

  I peeked round Hayden’s office door next morning. ‘Just to let you know, everything’s commissioned. I don’t expect much back until Monday.’

  ‘Morning, Karen. Come in a moment, would you, and shut the door.’ Hayden always kept his door open. Right now, his face was closed, solemn like at a funeral.

  ‘What is it? Did I miss something?’

  ‘No, nothing at all. You’re making excellent progress on the Sextilius account.’ He put his fingertips together. ‘I feel rather embarrassed to ask you, but have you been up to anything you shouldn’t have?’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I had a visit last night, at home, from a couple of government people. One was from the FBI and the other from something called the Economy Security Department.’ He pushed two business cards across the dark oak table.

  I picked up the cards and read the details. The names meant nothing to me, but the government logos in dark solid colours looked all too real.

  ‘What did they want?’

  ‘They warned me about the penalties for my employees infringing EUS government rules on dealing with foreign countries. I would be held responsible as well as the employee. I should carry out a thorough check on my employees to ensure I complied. The one from the ESD said that withholding any useful information wouldn’t be in my best interests, and so on.’ He looked around the office, settling his gaze on his Addy Awards in the bookcase, lingering on the slim gold crossed ‘A’s. ‘They were perfectly polite, but I got the distinct feeling I was being threatened.’

  Fear pulsed through me. Not here, please.

  ‘Surely some kind of mix-up?’ I managed.

  ‘That’s what I hope,’ he said, picking up his silver pen and twirling it through his fingers like some majorette. ‘The only overseas contract we have open at present is Sextilius. Does anything occur to you?’

  My heart hammered.

  ‘No, nothing. Roma Nova’s not on any trade list, is it?’

  ‘No. I know you will have done it, but I checked again with the Treasury. Roma Nova continues to enjoy “normal trade relations” status. They’ve recovered from the débâcle twenty years ago when Roma Nova embargoed all American goods after the expulsion of a dozen so-called “EUS diplomats”. In my experience, the Roma Novans are frighteningly well-educated and clever, like Sextilius, a bit eccentric, but never any trouble unless you attack them first. They tend to react robustly.’ He waved his fingers in a shallow arc. ‘Every schoolboy knows the original Romans were world-class engineers. These descendants seem to have embraced the digital revolution with the same relentlessness they once used to conquer the world.’

  ‘Did these men say anything else or name any names?’ I swallowed with some effort.

  ‘No, but I’m sure they were serious.’ He released the pen and turned to me, a look of enquiry on his face.

  I was desperate not to disappoint him, but I had nothing to say.

  ‘Well, I won’t hold you up any longer,’ he said after a full minute’s silence. He returned to playing with the silver pen and looked away.

  ‘Sure, anytime.’

  IX

  Clyde, Renschman’s supervisor, had congratulated him on his research. Not only had Renschman filled out Karen Brown’s background but he had also pointed out that her approaching birthday on August tenth would give her full legal possession of BI.

  Brown Industries was a closed company and had refused to be drawn into the Washington network. It couldn’t be bought politically either. The administration had sought for years for a way to reverse its dependency on the company. Now a chance had presented itself.

  Clyde glanced at the other man. His talents as a fixer would be perfect for the job and he seemed motivated.

  ‘I suggest we frighten her a little, sir,’ Renschman said. ‘To get her to sign BI over, of course. After my visit, I think we could pressure her employer some more.’

  ‘Whatever you need, Jeffrey. We can’t let this opportunity pass.’

  Back at his desk, Renschman lit a cigarette and sat back, inhaling the smoke. Relaxed, he mapped out every next step. He smiled as he crushed the stub. It flew from his fingers in an exact trajectory and landed in the centre of the paper bin. He wouldn’t touch another until he had ended this.

  X

  I left work a little earlier than usual. The sun’s powerful light pouring in through the office window drew me outside. I would take a detour through the park and find a tree; stretching out under fresh spring leaves, my back supported against the warm trunk, and my eyes closed, I would rebalance. I had no doubt Hayden’s visitors meant me. Maybe I should resign and move away now. I could start over somewhere else where nobody knew me.

  More than a little depressed at that thought, I trudged on in the increasing heat. Only three more blocks to the park. I had crossed at the second intersection and reached the far sidewalk almost without realising it when I sensed somebody directly behind me. I heard the rustle of their clothes. I was too frightened to turn around, so I made a sharp left and hurried along a street of row houses.

  A hand grasped my arm and I cried out. ‘Get off, get off, I don’t have any money!’

  How stupid was that? The cops always say you should hand your purse over and run.

  ‘I don’t want your money, you silly girl,’ Conrad Tellus said in an exasperated tone. He was gripping my elbow so tightly it pinched.

  ‘You!’ I couldn’t put more loathing into my voice. ‘Let go of me.’ I cast around, desperately looking for a cop. Or anybody. The street was deserted except for two older people in the distance wrapped up in their conversation.

  ‘Calm down. I’m not attacking you. If you stop trying to pull away, it won’t hurt.’

  He was right, damn him.

  ‘What do you want?’ I used the coldest voice I could.

  ‘Let’s get back to your apartment and I’ll tell you.’

  I glared up at him, but all I gained was a bland smile and the hard eyes. He was perfectly capable of forcing me, so I strode along, ignoring him. Irritatingly, he fell into perfect step with me. As we approached, he pulled me round to the parallel street and we entered my building via the service door at the back.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I struggled against his grip.

  ‘Later,’ he said and released me once we were in the elevator.

  I stomped along the hal
lway, unlocked my door and pushed it so hard it rebounded on the doorstop.

  ‘Okay, you have five minutes then I’m calling the—’

  ‘Could you make us some coffee?’ he interrupted, placing his finger on my lips. I was too surprised to resist as he nudged me into the kitchen and set the kettle on. He left the faucet running then made a circuit around the apartment with some hand-held device. He picked up a newspaper from the recycling pile and scribbled Keep talking. Please on the blank edge.

  ‘Black or white?’ I said, but glared at him. ‘Sugar?’

  ‘White. Sugar, please.’

  I ground coffee along with my teeth and filled the press pot, keeping up a stream of trivialities in between noises. I turned the faucet off. I couldn’t afford to waste money like that. Or maybe I could now, with my mother’s money. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  A few minutes later, he dropped down on the couch and breathed out forcibly. ‘You’re clean.’ He gestured with the electronic device.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Then I got it. ‘You thought somebody had planted listening devices in my apartment? Are you crazy?’

  He stood up, pulled me over to the window and drew the drape back a fraction. ‘Look down there,’ he said. ‘That’s why we came in through the basement.’ In the street were two men, the same ones as before.

  Well, crap.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Okay, now you have some explaining to do. I don’t know whether the money’s real or if my grandmother’s still alive or anything. And those people following us could be protecting me. Against you.’

  ‘Yes, I heard about your phone call to the legation this morning. You’re right to be careful, of course.’ He glanced at me. ‘My government work is in the security field.’

  ‘You’re a spy? Like those people following me?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’ He rose to his feet and looked around. ‘Can I log on here?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You want proof, don’t you?’

  I fired up my laptop and left him to it while I cleared the cups and made noises in the kitchen. I wanted to keep busy.

  A few moments later, he came to the kitchen door. ‘Come and have a look at this – perhaps it’ll help.’

  On the screen was a sequence of messages in Latin between him and Aurelia, my grandmother. I right-clicked to get them up in English. Reading through the stilted automated translations, her concern that I was safe and well, that I knew about my mother’s money and that I was happy shone through.

  ‘You could message her live, or talk on video if you wanted.’

  I’d only ever seen her once, the summer after my mom died. Clutching my father’s hand, we had crossed a long hallway lined with statues into an enormous room. An older lady had crouched down to speak to me. She had smelled like cookies. Her face had been sad, but she smiled at me.

  I nodded at Conrad.

  He tapped a sequence on the keyboard then made a call on a tiny cell phone the size of a powder compact while software was downloading and installing. I had never seen a phone so small or slim.

  What was I supposed to say to this grandmother? Panic grabbed hold of me. I almost told him to cut the connection, but it answered too quickly. Below a mass of grey hair, a strong, sculptured face with fine lines and my blue eyes looked out of the screen. The cookie lady. Conrad greeted her in Latin then beckoned me forward and switched to English.

  ‘Aurelia, may I present your granddaughter Karen Brown?’

  ‘Er, hi,’ I stumbled. ‘I’m…I’m very pleased to see you again. I’m sorry, I can’t remember much from when I visited.’

  She laughed – a funny, friendly laugh. ‘I’m not surprised! You were only four and it must have seemed so strange to you. I hope we can remedy it soon, though.’ Her tone was melodic, but her words clipped and British-sounding. I didn’t have any intention of visiting at present, but it never hurt to be polite.

  ‘Sure, that would be great, Gran, er, Grandmother…Oh! What shall I call you?’

  ‘The traditional Latin is ‘Nonna’. I think the Italians also use it, but we won’t mind that!’

  I smiled at her semi-disparaging tone. I rubbed my fingertips along my jaw. ‘Look, I’m finding this all a little weird. Do you know why these people are following me? I’m not being dumb, but I can’t see the threat.’

  She looked steadily at me and waited a second or two before answering. ‘Has Conradus explained about Brown Industries?’

  ‘Yes, he thinks there may be a problem with our government, but I told him that type of thing doesn’t happen here.’

  She glanced up at Conrad. ‘I wouldn’t want to be the one to disillusion you, Karen,’ she said briskly, ‘but I agree with him. We’ve liaised discreetly with BI through the years to protect your interest. We’ve made damned sure it’s been compliant in every way. I didn’t want to give them the least excuse to take it from you.’ The lines on her face deepened as she frowned. ‘We know the American departments of Trade and Security have been trying to monitor our contact, especially recently. Your father was an honourable man. I hope his adopted country respects that, for his daughter’s sake.’

  Good grief. I wouldn’t care to get on her wrong side.

  ‘I wish I was there to help you, but Conradus is perfectly capable of doing everything necessary. You can ask him to do anything. He has my full confidence and my instructions.’

  On the way to my desk next morning, I grabbed a coffee from the machine and took another ten minutes to mull over Hayden’s visitors in the light of what Conrad and my grandmother had said. She’d been so concerned for me, but not in a soppy way. Direct and ‘no-nonsense’ fitted her perfectly, but her smile had been warm. I couldn’t help speculating how it would have been to grow up with her instead of the Browns.

  I started tapping the keys, surfing for Roma Nova while I was drinking and thinking. I couldn’t leave it alone. My grandmother’s name shot out at me. Fascinated, I loaded the English translation. The screen displayed a list of her business interests. Sketchy on detail, it gave some personal stuff at the end: head of the influential Mitela family, senator and government advisor, cousin to the current imperatrix. She really was a big hitter.

  I took her advice and had Conrad arrange an appointment at the bank holding my trust accounts. I was intimidated by the alien world of the vice-president’s leather and polished teak office, and his smooth condescension, but more so by the amounts.

  ‘This is real?’ I asked as I studied the series of zeros on the account statements.

  The banker looked offended for a second, but put his full-teeth smile back on and nodded.

  ‘When can I draw on this?’

  ‘Immediately,’ he said. ‘These figures represent the dividends and interest payments net of tax from your mother’s portfolio into your checking account. We had instructions to transfer any balances unused after three months into high-interest accounts and bonds. Nothing has been withdrawn since the arrangements were set up. The trustees made provision for you to have limited access at age sixteen and full rights at eighteen.’

  He looked at me speculatively, but I was far too annoyed to say anything. This money would have set me free from Aunt and Uncle Brown.

  So what was I going to do? I wouldn’t leave Hayden in the lurch, but I thought my days at Bornes & Black were numbered. I could study at some truly snooty school like Cambridge Vassar or Smith Watt, and afterward start my own business. I could travel, certainly visit my grandmother for a few weeks each year, or longer, even. I could have a good seat at the theatre, not have to stretch my neck from behind the pillar. I could buy a house back in New Hampshire. The possibilities chased each other around in my head.

  While I tried to unscramble all this, I decided to leave the portfolio at the bank for now. I drew out two thousand dollars, feeling both daring and guilty at such a large amount. I asked them to set up Internet access and send me a debit card as soon as possible.

 
; As we descended the bank steps into the street, I glanced up at Conrad and smiled to myself. Now I had Nonna’s support, I would enjoy having him run around after me, and not tell me what to do. I insisted we went for a celebratory lunch with a good champagne. The waiter nearly had heart failure when I counted out the hundred-dollar bills on the table. I had a vague memory of getting home, very relaxed, and trying to remember something I needed to tell Conrad. It was very important, I knew, but I drew a complete blank.

  XI

  A goblin was hammering in my head when I woke next morning. I heard a voice shouting on the telephone, the sound echoing around the living room. Conrad. How the hell had he got into my apartment? I closed my eyes again. Of course – he was a spook. He could probably burglarize the Presidential Mansion if he wanted. I groaned; then heard his laugh. A few minutes later, he appeared with a steaming cup.

  ‘Here, drink this – you’ll feel better quite quickly.’

  Sure I would. But, out of politeness, I took a sip. The spicy warmth rolled down my throat. It smelled like ginger and malt.

  ‘What is this?’ I croaked.

  ‘It works as a post-alcoholic pick-me-up. I imagined you might find it helpful this morning.’ He didn’t laugh out loud at me, but for a few seconds his lips were pressed together a little firmer than was natural, under very liquid eyes.

  Then I remembered. ‘Hayden’s visitors. My purse.’

  I’d memorised the details on the cards left by Hayden’s government visitors and written them in my journal. That was the important thing I needed to tell Conrad.

  ‘Hayden was really unhappy about the way they threatened him. But I think he was more upset at the thought that anybody in Bornes & Black could have been careless or disloyal.’

  Conrad scanned the notes, muttered a word under his breath and snapped the journal closed. His mouth tightened into a ruler-straight line. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and stabbed at it. I finished the wonder drink and made for the bathroom. He was till talking harshly and rapidly after ten minutes. He glanced at me, and finished his call. His face was calmer, but set like a concrete mask.