Jupiter Myth

XXXIV

Organized crime lords have most things working in their favor. In the cynical world that Petro and I inhabited, we knew that the crime lords would always win. They had money on their side. In Rome, the vigiles and the Urban Cohorts struggled constantly to maintain an uneasy peace. Without their aid, even in the provinces, the governor did have one way to fight back. He used it. Right at the start, Frontinus decided to bring in the official torturer.

I knew these craftsmen existed on the staff of overseas embassies. I had imagined they were a last resort. The speed with which the decision was made here did shock me.

"Amicus!" Hilaris named him to me, in a hollow tone. Frontinus had formally approved using this man, but we had been charged with briefing him.

"The Befriender? A nickname, I take it?"

"I never like to ask." Hilaris chuckled briefly, though he seemed serious. "I always feel that involving him is like taking a wagon with a broken spoke to the wheelwright. I expect Amicus to look at the job-the suspects, I mean-then to shake his head and tell me, 'Procurator, you have a real problem here.'"

"Don't tell me he inspects the bugger waiting for him in the cell, then vanishes for an hour, gone to collect materials'…?"

Hilaris shuddered. "I leave him to it, at that stage." He was a kindly man. "I always hope the mere threat of Amicus will make them gasp and give in."

"And do they?"

"Rarely. He is rather good."

We needed him, then.

As soon as Amicus appeared, I saw exactly what Helena's tender-conscienced uncle meant. The torturer looked as if he had forced himself to leave another job-a more interesting job, one that had been properly booked into his schedule, unlike our last-minute, problematic one. His sleeves were rolled up and there were stains down his tunic (what from?). He heard our request with the tired, slightly put-upon air of a man dealing with idiots. Had there been a fee, he would have overcharged. Since he was on the governor's payroll, that did not apply.

"Professional criminals can be difficult," he remarked, wanting us to know how lucky we were to have his skills.

"Are you saying it cannot be done?" worried Hilaris, just as if he had a dodgy axle.

"Oh, it can be done!" Amicus assured him, chillingly.

He had a long, thin, uncouth assistant who never spoke. This young man stared about with open curiosity and somehow gave the impression he might be extremely bright. Amicus himself was bound to be intelligent. Professional torture experts are among the Empire's men of subtlety. Their job requires them to be experienced in the world, and if possible Well-read. Trust me. I had worked with them before, during my time as an army scout. "I bet he studies cosmography in his spare time," I had suggested to Hilaris earlier.

"Nothing so frivolous as planets. I had a long conversation with him once about Democritean principles and whether deities experience pain or pleasure. He soon lost me!"

Now Amicus sniffed-his one expression of emotion, even that possibly caused by some summer allergy. "I'll knock off the waiters; I'll get through them this afternoon." I had intended to question the waiters myself, but deferred to him meekly. "The barber may stick. I hate barbers. Measly runts, and they're grizzlers, once they crack… or your two enforcers, I would like them kept in solitary for a second night, if possible with little sleep. And no food, obviously. Then leave them with me. I'll send up Titus to let you know when it's time to come and watch." Hilaris and I tried to look appreciative.

"What do you want to know?" Amicus then asked as an afterthought. "The truth," said Hilaris, with a hint of a smile. "Oh, you're a case, Procurator!"

"Someone has to have values," I chided. "Here's the list: we want to know about protection rackets; two murders-a Briton drowned in a well for unknown reasons and a baker beaten to death for resisting the rackets; and gang leaders."

"There are thought to be two," stated the procurator. "Even one name would help."

Amicus nodded. These trite tasks seemed to intrigue him much less than Democritean principles. He led off his assistant, the lank Titus, with the deathly catchphrase, "Bring the bag, Titus!"

I should have mentioned the bag. It was enormous. Titus could hardly heave it up onto his shoulder as he swaggered after Amicus. It caught the doorframe a glancing blow as they went out, removing a chunk of architrave and emitting a resounding clank from heavy metal implements within.

Amicus popped his head back around the door. Flavius Hilaris, who had been inspecting the crunched joinery, dropped a fragment of architrave and stepped back, looking ashamed of himself for being annoyed at the damage.

"Do you want it done without leaving any marks?" inquired Amicus.

I thought Hilaris went pale. He found the right thing to say: "The enforcers have a lawyer."

"Oh!" replied the torturer, impressed. He looked pleased to hear of this challenge. "I'll be very careful, then!"

He went out again. Hilaris resumed his seat. Neither of us said anything. We were both subdued.