Successio

by Alison Morton

  ‘Get anything useful?’

  Lurio slouched in his chair, his eyes intense.

  ‘Nothing immediate,’ I said, ‘but I think she’s admitted to herself how stupid she’s been. She’s a little fragile and has lost all her self-belief. I told her to write out everything that’s happened for Pelonia. The governor will send it via the DJ secure net.’

  He grunted. ‘Pelonia’s got something for you.’ He swung his screen around and spoke the display command. Reams of credit card statements scrolled down. Hades, Nicola knew how to spend. Quintus would be paying the Argentaria Prima back for years.

  ‘Look at the last two transactions.’

  A thousand solidi cash withdrawal and an airline ticket.

  London.

  ‘Pelonia says she’ll run through it all whenever you want.’

  ‘Tell her I’ll leave her to put it together for the court herself.’

  ‘Why? Where are you going?’

  ‘Hunting.’

  *

  I stabbed Lucius’ number into my cell. As Conrad’s closest comrade in arms for years, as well as PGSF adjutant, Lucius was a good first bet. It rang and rang. I was about to cut the call when he answered.

  ‘Lucius? Carina. Have you heard from Conradus?’

  He paused.

  ‘So that’s a yes. Stay there, I’m on my way.’

  ‘Carina—’

  ‘Just do as you’re told.’

  I cut it. Pelonia’s ferrets were already at the front and back of Lucius’s building and searching the underground garages. She nodded as I scanned and overrode the building access panel. I went up the stairs, she in the elevator. In the lobby outside Lucius’s door, I gave her brief nod and knocked. The door flew open.

  ‘Who in Hades do you think you are, ordering me around like that?’ He shot an angry glance at Pelonia. ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘May I present Inspector Pelonia from the DJ Special Investigations Unit?’

  He looked up and down the lobby. ‘You’d better come in.’

  I strode straight through to the living room.

  ‘Where’s Paulina?’

  ‘Gone to a charity meeting,’ he said almost too easily.

  ‘Oh, really? Venue? And her car registration, please. Now.’

  ‘You can’t march in here like a stroppy barbarian. You produce a warrant with our names on and I might listen to you. Until then, you can whistle.’

  He folded his arms and glared at me.

  ‘Lucius,’ I said and laid my hand on his forearm. ‘You won’t help him like this. He’s in so much shit, running won’t help.’ He opened his mouth to speak, but I held my hand up. ‘He’s in no fit state to deal with her once he finds her.’

  He snorted. ‘You don’t have much faith in him.’

  ‘On the contrary. That’s why I need your help. Look, you can waste my time, but all you’ll get is a long-term reservation in one of the DJ’s best cells.’

  ‘Are you threatening me? On what grounds?’

  ‘Obstruction, harbouring and assisting a proscriptee for a start.’

  He went pale and swallowed hard. It was a few moments before he spoke. ‘He’s been proscribed?’ His voice was almost a whisper.

  Although Silvia had stopped at stripping Conrad of his citizenship, he had lost all protection under the law. But it hadn’t been published in the Acta Diurna yet and wouldn’t be until after the emergency Imperial Council meeting on Monday.

  I showed Lucius my warrant. He looked at it like it was radioactive. He flopped down on the small couch and recited the details we wanted in a monotonous voice. Pelonia relayed it over her commset.

  ‘If they even so much as frighten her I’ll have their hides.’

  ‘They’ll be discreet.’

  ‘The scarabs couldn’t know discreet if it smacked them in the face.’

  Pelonia stiffened and threw Lucius a hostile look.

  ‘Don’t be childish. Where’s she taking him? And please, please don’t let’s pretend any more.’

  ‘The airport. They went hours ago.’

  Paulina arrived half an hour later, accompanied by a custos. Her eyes flew to Lucius, who smiled at her and drew her to him, his arm around her to protect her.

  ‘Paulina Carca, I require you to answer questions honestly and fully,’ I said. ‘If you do not do so or I think you are answering dishonestly, you will be arrested and detained until you do. Is this clear?’

  She didn’t say a word, just nodded.

  ‘Lucius Punellus can stay, if you want him to, but I will not tolerate any interruption or attempt at interference. Please look at me while you are answering.’

  I nodded at Pelonia who started recording.

  ‘Please state your name, address and profession.’

  She trembled as she recited them in a high-pitched nervous voice, but spoke clearly enough.

  ‘What time did Conradus Tellus arrive at your apartment?’

  ‘Eleven o’clock this morning.’

  ‘Describe what happened after that.’

  ‘He and Lucius went into the study. After a while, Lucius asked me to book an airline ticket for this afternoon and pay with my card. I made lunch and we left afterwards for Portus Airport. I left him at the departures and went back to the car park. I stayed there for three hours as he’d asked. I listened to some music and dozed for some of the time.’ She paused and ran her palm over her face. ‘As I was leaving the car park, the custodes stopped me and brought me back here.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I gave her a brief smile. ‘Okay, Lucius, what did he look like?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You know perfectly well what I mean. Don’t be a smartass.’

  He shrugged. ‘He dyed his hair dark brown and I gave him some old clothes, but you know yourself how good he is at changing his walk and persona. And no, I don’t know what passport he was using.’

  Lucius was right. Pelonia was already on her cell asking them to check the CCTV at the airport, but I knew we had little chance of identifying him on it. And the passport would get through every check. He’d have hitched up with somebody else and gone through security like friends, or a couple if it was a woman.

  Lucius and Paulina stayed, hands locked together, on the couch; she anxious, he thunderous.

  ‘Okay, so where was Conradus booked to go?’

  Paulina glanced at Lucius.

  ‘Paulina. Answer me.’

  ‘Munich, then London.’

  Pelonia called her colleagues in the Bavarian National Police to stop him in Munich, but I was sure it was too late. He’d be in London by now.

  Part III: The Hunt

  XX

  As the Imperial Air Force transport touched down at London’s military airbase the next evening, I gathered my thoughts together. The emergency meeting of the Imperial Council that afternoon had been like facing a firing squad. I’d felt so angry at the way some had made such easy judgements. Conrad’s uncle Caius had been thrown in my face. Quintus’s years of service and Conrad’s own were conveniently forgotten. To my surprise, the chancellor stomped on the whiners after a while. When one of them had suggested suspending me as tainted by association, I just stared at him until he looked away. In the end they endorsed Silvia’s decision. I had twelve days to get back with Conrad. Nicola would be a bonus.

  *

  I thanked the uniformed steward and stepped out of the warm cabin on to the first metal tread. A blast of sleet came out of the dark and slapped me in the face. I pulled my collar up which covered half my face. Juno, it was colder in the wet than the summit of the Geminae.

  Michael Browning stood smiling at the foot of the steps like it was a summer’s day and not early February. I shivered even more. He guided me to a waiting car.

  ‘Good flight?’

  ‘Sure. Thanks for meeting me.’

  He pulled the car around. ‘We’ll stay in the mess here overnight, then head into town tomorrow morning.’

  I was settling
in my room, when somebody knocked on the door.

  ‘Courier from your legation left this for you this afternoon, ma’am.’ The young steward was solemn as he handed over a large plascard box in a transparent cover, sealed with a digital fastener. As soon as he’d closed the door, I stowed the shielded mailing box in the closet. Later, I’d unpack it, open the backpack I knew was inside and check out the equipment.

  Over a drink and dinner in the officer’s club, I updated Michael.

  ‘So, can you help?’

  ‘I’ll do as much I can.’

  Which didn’t sound too enthusiastic.

  *

  Full of traditional breakfast and characterless coffee, we set off at seven the next morning along the freeway into central London. Even this early, the traffic was dense and crawled through a landscape of orange-lit grey gloom. Michael said little beyond polite things. We reached the elevated section as the sky was lightening.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To meet an old friend.’

  ‘Yes?’

  He just smiled.

  We drew into a dingy street of 1970s office blocks; concrete panels, large dirty windows in metal frames. At a recessed doorway halfway along, Michael stopped the car and we got out. A younger man, who moved like military, emerged from the revolving door, opened Michael’s door and slid into the driver’s seat and drove the car off, disappearing around the corner. Michael led me through a pale yellow foyer smelling of stale paper to a desk where I collected a guest pass, signing in a register with a ball-point pen.

  ‘Not as high tech as yours,’ he said, ‘but all the same, don’t lose it.’

  On the third floor, we stepped out of the elevator into a lobby with an armed guard – the first I’d seen. No doubt they had hidden CCTV and detection fields, but this place looked as open as a picnic ground on parents’ day. Michael nodded to a female assistant tapping on her keyboard. She spared him a glance and a nod towards the door behind her counter and resumed processing her pile of papers.

  I wasn’t too surprised to see Andrew Brudgland getting to his feet, coming towards me, his hand stretched out, a standard issue smile on his face.

  ‘Lovely to see you again, Carina. Coffee?’

  ‘No. Thank you.’

  ‘How can I help you?’

  He sat back, entirely relaxed. I glanced over at Michael, but he sat on an upright chair at the left, quiet and expressionless; the perfect subordinate.

  ‘You’ve been helping Conrad with his domestic problem from the start, so you know the background.’ I tried not to sound resentful. His smile crystallised on his face, although it didn’t falter. ‘Since Captain Browning here ID’d Nicola Sandbrook four months ago, it’s all gone in the crapper. She’s systematically attacked my daughter, nearly killing her. Yesterday morning, I left her great-uncle, who took her into his household, lying in a hospital bed with a broken arm, strangulation bruising and destroyed faith. As well as blackmailing Conrad emotionally, she’s resurrected and played on demons in his past and brought him to the edge of a breakdown as well as professional ruin. He’s been proscribed.’ I let that sink in. His file said he’d been to one of their preppy schools, Marlborough, so he must have studied Latin history.

  ‘You still proscribe?’

  ‘Rarely, but in crisis cases, yes. We don’t stake the head on the town gate these days, but he’s lost all protection under the law. Basically, it’s open season on him.’ I shrugged. ‘Anybody informing on him could be paid a reward plus a portion of his assets; the state would take the rest. All the Tellae would be blighted. And Conrad wouldn’t even come out of prison for his pension.’

  ‘But why so harsh a measure?’

  ‘Your precious Sandbook, Hargreve, whatever, targeted another of Conrad’s daughters, made her an addict, and involved her in dealing. All this using the skills she learnt here. Don’t you ever screen for personality? Don’t you do thorough documentation and DNA checks?’ I heard my voice rising and swallowed back my anger. ‘But she made a serious mistake; when she did that, she attacked the imperial heir. Imperatrix Silvia Apulia was distraught at her daughter being so abused. And twisting her tail is not recommended.’

  ‘I see.’

  I fixed him with a hard stare. ‘The Imperial Council have designated it as an attack on the state. I have twelve days to find Conrad, and Nicola, or we’ll have to consider other measures.’

  ‘What exactly do you mean by that?’ Brudgland asked in his cool voice.

  ‘Let’s just say that helping me is your better option.’

  *

  Michael took me to his office and let me read the file on Nicola. It added a few details, but didn’t tell me much more.

  ‘Any guesses where she might go?’

  ‘The local plods are checking the mother’s house and we’re booked to interview her last unit CO later this afternoon.’ His voice was subdued, technical even. I had the impression he was dancing around the point.

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘What did you really mean by “other measures”?’

  ‘C’mon, Michael. You’ve studied us more than most. You know we go in and do what’s needed. Your boss looked upset enough to believe it. It’s the last thing I want to happen, but I can’t stop it. I had to fight the Imperial Council for this twelve day concession, so shall we get going?’

  *

  I dozed on the road west. The sleet had been replaced by driving rain that thudded ruthlessly on the windshield. The young driver seemed impervious to it. The line of his military haircut on his neck stayed in the same place the whole time. He didn’t even flex his neck.

  We’d briefly called in at the mess where I’d left my travel bag. I presumed the security services here had searched and scanned the contents. But I had my field service backpack in the box the legation had sent me. The digital seal showed no sign of breach. Brudgland’s people had either been too polite or too sloppy to insist on searching it.

  Three and a half hours after leaving London, we cruised along the peripheral circling around the market town leading out to the barracks. The pale green roofs, visible as we drove along the access road, glistened with recent rain. Crowning the hill behind, a kilometre or so away, the woods looked dark, closed and strangely malevolent. Crazy thought. Maybe I was tired. Inside the complex, we went straight to the colonel’s office.

  ‘Good to see you again, Major.’ Colonel Stimpson was still the slim figure who’d hosted our visit all those months ago in Norfolk. His thick, almost brush-like hair was a little greyer, but the air of decisiveness and constrained energy bursting to escape hadn’t changed.

  ‘No longer major. I’m an imperial agent these days. I take my instructions direct from the imperatrix.’

  ‘I see.’ He obviously didn’t. He exchanged glances with Michael who said nothing.

  ‘Look at it like a roving inspector, if it helps.’

  ‘Well, I have Sandbrook’s service records here, which I understand you’ve been cleared to see. And RSM Johnson will be joining us shortly.’ He paused. ‘Michael’s told us a little about the background to your, ah, mission. If you think we can help in any other way, you will let me know.’

  ‘I’m not here to make trouble for you, Colonel. I just want to find Conrad Tellus and Nicola Sandbrook and take them back.’

  *

  Johnson was as I remembered from the exercise; a wall of muscle with an ironic sense of humour. After some formal stuff in the colonel’s office, he and I sat over a beer in the senior non-coms club, he embracing the dark bitter, me wimping out with a lager.

  ‘So, Sandbrook, she’s been causing trouble, I gather. Not really surprising.’

  ‘What do you mean? She seems to have excellent reports all the way through.’

  ‘Precisely. Now what does that tell you?’

  ‘Ah! Nobody that perfect exists?’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, she carried out her duties well, but she didn’t blend. She never went o
n a bender or got into a fight, like they all do here sometimes. It’s mostly operational stress coming out.’ He shrugged. ‘She never went with anybody that I know of. The boys called her a dyke behind her back, and probably to her face, but I heard elsewhere that wasn’t the case.’ He placed his glass on the table, refusing my offer of a third one. ‘She had an edge in her manner, a sort of snottiness, and was as stubborn as hell. You’d watch her smile, looking as if she was listening, but knowing she wasn’t. She’d get people to do the thing she wanted them to do by eliminating all another possibilities. We put her in for leadership tests but it was the one thing she didn’t shine at.’

  ‘Did she have any friends, or even work buddies?’

  ‘The reconnaissance work she did was individual, quite lonely, but she said she liked being on her own.’ He gave me some printed sheets. ‘These are her previous two years’ schedules showing team rostering. I don’t know if they might tell you anything. Let me have them back in the morning.’

  *

  ‘Salve. That you, Fausta?’

  ‘Colonel?’ The voice was thick and blurry. Damn. Rousting the head of digital security out of her bed probably wasn’t a good start.

  ‘Sorry about the time. I’m sending you some lists of people. I want you to run them. See if there’s any kind of linking thread or common factor.’

  ‘What’s the background?’

  ‘All UK military, the odd colonial, possibly. Send me anything you find as soon as you have it.’

  *

  I was too busy downloading Fausta’s report to go for a run that morning. The sleet had also returned. Placing a crystal pyramid on the table in front of me to jam any surveillance, I called Fausta.

  ‘Saw your bursts. They’re the only two possibilities?’

  ‘That’s it, ma’am. I’ll re-analyse and 3D cross-reference to narrow it down, but it may take an hour or two.’

  ‘That’s great, Fausta. Excellent job. We’ll drive north and visit number one. Out.’

  At breakfast, I advised Michael that our destination was a place called Birkenhead where one of Nicola’s retired army buddies lived. First, I had to return the schedules. I found Johnson’s office, but he wasn’t there. I begged an envelope from his assistant, marked it ‘Private and Personal – Urgent’ and signed across the flap closure. She assured me he’d get it as soon as he was back. I didn’t like leaving it like that, but we had to go.