INCEPTIO (Roma Nova)

by Alison Morton

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ll look at me now,’ he said.

  ‘No, but don’t worry, Publius. Not wishing to be brutal but you weren’t in the running.’

  Back at Helena’s car, we loaded our bags into the trunk. Although Helena overawed me, it was a relief when the two of us went out without any chauffeur or household servant hovering around. I guessed Helena was considered sufficient escort. I was opening the passenger door when I caught a reflection in the baker’s shop next to the car. A face with frameless glasses stared back at me. I froze. Impossible. Renschman couldn’t be here. I forced myself to turn around to face the original, but nobody was there. When I looked back at the window, the reflection had vanished. I scrambled into the car, gasping for breath and my heart pumping.

  ‘Carina? Are you okay? You’re as white as ice.’ She took my hand. ‘And as cold.’

  ‘I’m…I’m fine. Let’s get home.’

  She searched my face then, apparently satisfied, glanced up and down the street, lingering for a second on a couple by a black car. As she drove the short journey, I took deep breaths to calm myself. I tried to analyse it logically. It was ridiculous. Some innocent passer-by, around Renschman’s age, with brown hair and frameless glasses, had confused me. I could mention it to Conrad and ask him to look it up on his spook databases – he would think I was crazy – or I could just put it down to a fanciful mistake. By the time I reached home, I’d decided I’d imagined the whole thing and shelved it away.

  I took up Helena’s suggestion and, following two sessions with Nonna’s accountant, started a micro-loan agency which helped a bar, a florist and a domestic decorating agency start up. I stumbled with the vocabulary for a week or two and found the regulations were stricter than in the EUS, but I persevered. By the fall, they were breaking even. Even Helena conceded I was doing well, but I had stopped seeking her approval; I was too busy. Coming up to Saturnalia (or Christmas in the Christian West), I was getting good returns. Looking through the figures on the spreadsheets, I was delighted I was making a contribution at last. Nonna was impressed, which meant a lot to me.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘these figures are very encouraging, especially Dania’s bar. You obviously have a flair for it. The florist is a little risky, I’d say, but it’s not a big amount.’

  ‘I think he’ll make it, Nonna. He’s a prima donna, but his designs are cutting edge and will appeal to those wanting to make a high impact on their guests or partners. I think the key is to make strategic partnerships with regular repeat orders, preferably with other businesses like hotels. That’s where I’m helping him most.’

  She searched my face. ‘I’m very pleased you’re doing so well, darling, but don’t tire yourself out. You’ve got your first Saturnalia to get through, and that’s ten strenuous days.’

  ‘It’ll be fine, Nonna. Most of the businesses will be pretty nearly self-sufficient by then.’

  And they were, even the florist. Maybe now I had found something professional, I could settle into doing something with a purpose.

  XXXV

  The ATM warned Renschman in perfect English he was approaching his daily credit limit of four hundred solidi. The notes looked trashy, gaudy, but he stuffed them in his wallet. He had funds left for five more days. His last chance to terminate her.

  He’d followed the girl to the bar with her friend, but they were surrounded by kids in uniform. But his sightline was clear. Not that he could shoot her today: he couldn’t carry here. The border guard had been officious enough about his quad-band smartphone, a leaving concession until the contract ran out next month. If he was still on the government payroll, he could have drawn a weapon from the embassy. Christ, she’d wrecked everything. He had no job, no income and a medical bill which the department refused to pay.

  Carrying their designer bags full of expensive crap, the girl and her friend left and made for a side street, turned left and stopped by an Audi A5. Renschman followed on the opposite side, a little way back, and stared across into the window of the baker’s store where the car was parked. The girl gasped, eyes wide and unbelieving. Her hand flew up to her mouth. He smiled at her terror. All he had to do was cross the street.

  Renschman took one step off the kerb. Then he caught a woman watching him. She flashed a quick glance over the shoulder of her companion who lounged against a black Golf, his arm around her waist. At the same time the man smiled down at her, he glanced in the window of the store two down from the baker’s. The light bulge under the man’s arm betrayed a gun. As the man turned, the holster showed under his open jacket. Oh, shit. Only cops and military carried weapons openly in this place. Renschman reversed abruptly and hurried away as they turned in his direction.

  Damn her to hell.

  XXXVI

  I had only met the Imperatrix Silvia Apulia once before, for just over five minutes, shortly after I arrived. She was some kind of relation; her father had been Nonna’s youngest cousin. She’d been gracious and friendly. But I’d detected an undercurrent I couldn’t pinpoint.

  This time, the dark-leaved evergreens lining the palace driveway were covered with clusters of red and blue berries. The first snowfall had left enough traces to make it look like something out of a Christmas card.

  We walked through the magnificent colonnaded atrium down some steps into a narrower, much older stone hallway with several doors off. We passed through an oak door set back in an archway at the end, into Silvia Apulia’s private drawing room where she was waiting for us.

  ‘Aurelia, Carina, welcome.’

  The stone-walled room was comfortable: pale blue furnished with dark blue and oak couches. Family photographs on a side table and a few toys cleared into one corner gave it an intimate air. Silvia had soft red-brown hair drawn back in a slide in the nape of her neck, and clear brown eyes. In a chic olive-coloured linen dress and gold jewellery, she looked more like a model than a ruler. She was a little over fifteen years older than me, but didn’t look it.

  I didn’t know if I was supposed to start a conversation, but I gave it a try. ‘This is a beautiful room – I love the way the photos are grouped under the light.’

  ‘Come and have a look, if you like. They’re mostly of my children,’ she said, and smiled. I guessed she only did it to set me at my ease. I remembered there were three, but I hadn’t met any of them yet. She lifted one frame that showed a baby looking surprised, a laughing pre-schooler and a girl, about seven or eight, sullen. ‘This is Stella,’ she said, pointing to the oldest girl, ‘and these are Darius and Hallie. And, of course, their father.’

  I took the frame in my hand. Conrad’s arms were around the middle one as he laughed into the camera. No. I looked again. Wild ideas like he had a twin brother flitted through my mind. Who was I kidding? Cold anger climbed up through my body and seized my heart. I held it together, responding on auto-pilot, too proud and, to be honest, too embarrassed to do anything else. A look of horror had passed across Nonna’s face when she saw my shock, but she’d replaced it with her politician’s smile and taken over the conversation until the end of that interminable visit. By the time we got home, she had run out of words, furious with Conrad and guilty toward me. She’d never dreamed he hadn’t told me about his children.

  I pleaded a headache and went into my apartment. I couldn’t process it. I knew the system was different here; women like Silvia and my grandmother needed heirs. Silvia’s children belonged to her family; there was no legal link with Conrad. But there was sure to be some emotional bond. How could he have not mentioned them? I was embarrassed at just how stupid I’d been. Sure, his previous relationships were his business. Fine. But I’d been under the impression that we had something important going between us. Why hadn’t he told me? Didn’t he trust me? Perhaps he was letting me settle in before taking the next step. Perhaps he was still involved with her.

  When he called me on his cell the following day, he suggested going away for a winter sports weekend in the north. I’d loved skat
ing in New Hampshire as a kid and could handle skis reasonably well. The memory of the hot, jagged tears running down my face the previous evening decided me. I told him I was doing something else and stabbed the End Call key.

  Next morning, sunny but frosty, I wrapped myself up well, including gloves, hat and scarf, before I set off. The chill air was sharp on my throat and nose. I needed to work off some of my hurt, but I would keep it quick this morning. Our first Saturnalia party was next week and I made sure I had a lot to do. I slipped out so early I didn’t see Junia. For a change, I jogged along between the tall buildings on the Decumanus Maximus – Dec Max – Main Street, if you will, and crossed over to the road that led to the Palace Park. Originally part of the palace gardens, it had been landscaped as a pleasure garden for public use several centuries ago.

  I jogged along the main pathway, past the picturesque ruins, the kiosk shuttered up for winter, and the old perimeter wall. As I reached the end, a tingle ran across my shoulders. I wasn’t alone. Only one or two other joggers were around today, away in the distance. But I knew I was being watched. I skirted away from a group of shrubs. Their glossy, dark green leaves and berries coated with frost shone attractively, but the dense foliage made a perfect place to hide. Crime was relatively low here and attacks rare, possibly because of the public video but mainly because of the strong restorative justice system. But something unsettled me as I approached the open-air theatre where live music played in the summer. I passed it and breathed with relief.

  I had barely registered a figure being there when he slammed into me. I stumbled and fell. I managed to roll back onto my knees. I didn’t have time to stand up before he hit my head. I went down and lay crouched on my side, winded, my head swimming. He half-carried, half-dragged me toward the service kiosk behind the theatre. My head cleared a little and I struggled to get out of his grip. I tried to kick out but my lower legs were being trailed along the frozen ground. I couldn’t get a grip with either foot. I clawed my hands and aimed for his face. He grabbed my wrists and yanked my arms hard. Tears sprang out of my eyes with the pain. He heaved open the service kiosk and flung me into the dark. I landed on a pile of heavy cable. I caught my breath, placed the soles of my feet on the floor and sprang up to make a bolt for the door, only to be thrown back to the ground, face down. His knee in my back, he pulled my arms, tied them together and stood back, his breath coming in gulps.

  ‘Still a feisty little bitch, aren’t you?’

  Renschman.

  Crap.

  So it had been him I’d seen when Helena and I had been shopping all those weeks ago.

  He set a flashlight end up on the ground so the light cast upwards.

  ‘Too bad your soldier boy’s not around to rescue you. Tired of you already, has he?’

  My head rang with pain. I could hardly think, but I knew I had to keep him talking. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I needed to see you, Miss Brown. I’ve made a special trip back to finish my conversation with you.’

  From where I was lying face down, I could only see his shoes. They were a little too near my face. One foot suddenly swung away. I flinched, but it was back, bizarrely opposite the other. He had sat down and crossed his legs.

  ‘I had a very uncomfortable time in the emergency room after my disappointment at your so-called legation in Washington. My office declined to pay for my treatment so, after a day, I was forced into the public hospital. And, thanks to you, I lost my job. I was unhappy about that, Miss Brown. Very unhappy. I think you need to pay.’

  I swallowed hard. His voice had gone quiet, almost a whisper. I shivered – and not because of the cold concrete floor.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Oh, dear me, I don’t want your pocket change. No, something a little more permanent. With you out of the way, the American Brown family can petition to inherit Brown Industries. My former office will be so grateful, I’m sure they’ll even offer me my job back if I want it.’

  Shit. He was going to kill me. I’d changed my route; nobody knew where I was. I was trussed up here in the freezing dark like a turkey with the Thanksgiving butcher.

  He pulled me over to the back wall of the kiosk and secured my tied wrists to the electricity distribution box. I kicked out desperately, but he grabbed my legs and sat on them. I spat at him. He took out a Kleenex from his jacket pocket and calmly wiped his face. He pulled off my hat, gloves, scarf and shoes. Despite my wriggling to get away from the touch of his hands, he methodically removed my clothes sliding a razor-sharp knife through the fabric of my jacket and undershirt, and parting the fabric like so much mist.

  Gods, it was freezing. My teeth started to chatter. He stood and looked down at me for a few moments, his pale eyes sweeping to and fro, assessing me like I was a piece of meat. I closed my eyes. I shuddered. He knelt down and bent over me.

  ‘Keep away from me!’ I screamed at him, and sobbed with fright.

  I tensed, waiting for his invasion. Instead, he tied my ankles together, securing them to the heavy cable reel, and stood up again. The only movement I could make was my involuntary shivering.

  He stayed silent, working as if alone. He reached back between the stacks of plastic boxes and bins, pulled out a bucket and placed it under the faucet above the janitor’s sink. His face was impassive. When the bucket was three quarters full, he reached out and turned off the flow with a precise, mechanical movement. He looked at me for a long time. I knew it was going to be bad.

  ‘Please, please, don’t leave me here,’ I begged. ‘Take everything, but please don’t leave me.’

  He drew out a reel of duct tape, cut off an exact amount and stretched it across my mouth. I jerked my head around from side to side, desperately searching for any trace of a way out of this nightmare.

  At last he spoke. ‘There are very few people about. I see they don’t start shows here for a few months, so they won’t find your body any time soon.’

  He opened the door, allowing the pale light in.

  ‘It’s twenty degrees now, five below in your fancy system here. You’re shivering nicely already. Your core temperature will drop steadily and you’ll be unconscious soon. But not before you realise what a miserable and lonely death you’re going to have.’

  He lifted the bucket of cold water, poured it over every part of me and left.

  XXXVII

  I screamed and almost passed out with the shock of the cold drenching. My body was coated in ice. Water dripping off me froze into miniature hard gums as they fell on the concrete. I struggled to loosen the plastic cable ties but only made my wrists sore. After a while, I couldn’t feel them. Or the floor. A chill, hard lump grew inside me, pushing its cold fingers into my every cell. I became so thirsty, and my head hurt. More than anything, I wanted to sleep. My eyelids pressed down like two heavy stones. But I knew I had to stay awake.

  I had been so stupid. After the kidnap in New York, I promised myself I would never be so vulnerable again. But I hadn’t done anything about it. Too late now. My body was a stone. It would soon be over. I was really too tired to be angry with myself. Nonna…she would be devastated when they found my body. Conrad? Maybe…

  I wanted to rest now. Sleep. My nightmare was full of arguing: ice monsters and black, swirling clouds of smoke, all wearing glasses. I wanted them to go away and leave me alone. I’d had enough now. Sleep. No, the shouting was still there. My befuddled mind pushed a thought up to the surface. My name. I heard my name. I shouted back, but my lips wouldn’t move. They were glued together.

  The shouters wouldn’t know I was here. I panicked. They would go away and leave me. Please stay. The shouting faded. Tears seeped out of my eyes and froze on my skin. I sank back to sleep.

  Footsteps. Please, not Renschman coming back to gloat. I couldn’t even shudder. Heavy boots. The door lock jangled. The lock area exploded under a heavy impact. Light burst in as the door swung open. A tall blue figure shone a light in my face, knelt down and removed the tape from my mout
h.

  ‘No, I do not want counselling. I want to be able to protect myself against that maniac.’

  Dressed in my thickest sweater and still not trusting ever being warm again, I sat in the atrium opposite Nonna and hugged a cup of the malt and ginger drink. Winter sunshine streamed in through the glass wall and fell on the table between us, making patterns on the pile of papers and magazines I was bored with reading.

  Nonna looked up as Conrad was announced. Her cold, set face and minimal hand gesture showed me she hadn’t forgiven him. Instead of throwing his jacket down first as he usually did, he held it in one hand, hesitated and lowered himself carefully into one of the easy chairs. He sat stiff and tense in the silence. He shook his head to Nonna’s raised eyebrow.

  Conrad blamed the custodes for letting Renschman get away. I thought they were wonderful, far better than the cops I’d encountered in the EUS. The tracker in my shoulder had given them my location to within fifteen metres. They’d searched centimetre by centimetre until they found me. After I’d been wrapped in foil and blue-lighted to the hospital, they treated me with courtesy, even when questioning me in some depth. They put an immediate APB out at railroad stations, the airport, the roads and on the borders, and tasked one of their special investigators to handle the case. She found no trace whatsoever. She initiated the international alert system with her colleagues in Italy, Slovenia and New Austria, but wasn’t optimistic. Renschman had evaporated into the ether.

  I studied the frost-coated conifers the other side of the atrium glass wall. I’d been both dreading and desperate to see Conrad again, but couldn’t look at him. In the reflection, I saw Nonna get up. I whirled around to stop her.

  ‘No, you stay and talk to Conradus.’

  ‘I—’

  She stared me down. I capitulated. She nodded and left.