Parthian Shot

7

Perilla had been in bed and asleep when I got back, and she was still flat out when I woke up the next morning. That lady’s capacity for sleep never ceases to amaze me: Perilla’s no night owl, but she’s definitely not an early morning person either. Which, this morning anyway, suited me perfectly. After blowing my diplomatic street-cred at the dinner party I might well be out on my ear with Isidorus, but until I knew that for certain I had a conscientious duty to push on with the case. The next stage was to pay a call on Decimus Lippillus down at the Public Pond Watch-house re the knife gang that’d hit Phraates’s litter. Knifemen being currently a sensitive issue with Perilla — plus the fact that I wasn’t too anxious to tell her about my brush with Mithradates — meant that slipping out of the house while she was still an unconscious and uncritical lump under the covers was pretty sound policy.

I grabbed a crust of bread to eat on the way and set off down Head of Africa. It was still early — just after dawn — and the eastern sky was full of red clouds: we’d had a real belter of a rainstorm the night before, and although that’d passed the gutters were still running like streams and everything was soaked. Early morning was the best time to catch Lippillus, although I’d still probably cut it fine: unless something special had come up overnight, he usually spent the first hour or so after his dawn start dealing with the paperwork and general admin stuff. The knifemen aside, I was looking forward to the chat: Lippillus, as well as being far and away the smartest and shortest Watch Commander in Rome, is good company, and after Vitellius and his Parthian mates I needed a palate-cleanser.

Just after dawn’s a good time to be walking in Rome. It’s cool, the streets aren’t crowded, and the only traffic tends to be pedestrian, which means in the narrower alleyways — and the city has plenty of these — there’s less of a chance you’ll get stuck behind a fancy litter squeezing its way between the shops that spill out into the thoroughfare. I came down off the Caelian whistling, crossed Appian Road and headed along the slopes of the Aventine towards the Watch-house itself.

The squaddie on the desk grinned at me over his working breakfast. ‘Hard luck, Corvinus. You’ve just missed him. Break-in at a tenement near Aqueduct Junction.’

Bugger. ‘He liable to be there long?’ I said.

‘No idea. If you’re going over ask for the Cloelian Building. It’s the first floor front.’

‘Thanks, pal.’ Well, it could’ve been worse: Aqueduct Junction wasn’t all that far, the point where the Appian Water crossed Appian Road. I left the guy to his egg roll and went off on my travels again.

I found the tenement finally. It was a new one in an upmarket block, the ground-floor shops looked pretty prosperous, and the balconies had flower pots and trailing greenery instead of the usual strings of washing, which meant the tenants were rich enough to have their smalls done for them elsewhere. First floor front was a good address, too, and it explained why Lippillus would be involved personally. Sure, actual purple-stripers didn’t go a bundle on tenement accommodation, even the top of the range variety like this example, but it was a growing market for up-and-coming plain-mantle businessmen who needed to be close to Market Square and the city centre. There was even a porter on the door, rigged out in a smart blue tunic: again a sign that we weren’t in boiled-cabbage country here. I checked I’d come to the right place and went on up.

The door was open. Lippillus was talking to a thin, sharp-faced woman in a pricey mantle and bangles. Although she wasn’t all that tall, she towered over him by at least a head and a half. He glanced round and his face split in a grin.

‘Hey, Corvinus! What brings you here?’

I held up a hand: this could wait, and the guy had work to do. He said something to the woman and came out.

‘Problems?’ I said.

‘The usual.’ He nodded towards the open door. ‘Family were out for the evening. The bugger crowbarred the lock and helped himself to everything that wasn’t nailed down.’

‘What about the porter?’

‘He’s clean, as far as I can tell. These guys have to be. Our lad used his crowbar to force the back door of the building where they make deliveries and got in that way. All the same, it took planning, and this wasn’t the only flat that got taken. Could still well be an inside job.’

‘You want me to come back later?’

‘No. It’ll keep, and the other flat was empty. Tenant was a single man away on business. Now. What can I do for you?’

‘There somewhere private we can go?’

‘Not here. There’s a cookshop a few doors down that looked quiet enough, if that’ll do you.’

‘Sure.’

‘Just give me a few minutes to mop things up and I’ll join you there. Okay?’

‘Fine.’ I glanced over his shoulder at the thin woman with the bangles. She was glaring at us. Yeah, right: I knew the type. The thief had probably cleaned out her very considerable jewel-box, and she’d be holding the Watch personally responsible for getting the contents back. I didn’t envy Lippillus. ‘See you, pal.’

I went downstairs, past the porter and outside. I hadn’t noticed the cookshop, so it was probably further on in the next block. On the way I thought about just what I could reasonably tell Lippillus. This was going to be tricky. On the one hand, any info re the Parthian delegation — even the fact that it existed — was classified, so that was out. On the other hand, I had to have a reason for asking him about the attack on Phraates. I’d no intention of lying to the guy, none at all, not even for Isidorus — he was too good a friend for that, and besides he was far too smart to be taken in for a moment — but all the same I couldn’t give him anything near the whole boiling. I’d just have to play things by ear.

I found the cookshop and went in. It was pretty basic, definitely greasy-spoon standard; you get a lot of these places in tenement areas catering for the early-morning tunic trade: workmen who need a good hot meal inside them before they start, because that’s usually it until sunset. The rush was over — most of the clientele would be at work by now — and I had the place to myself. I checked what was on offer, ordered grilled sausages for two with bread and a side-dish of fried onions and took the plates over to a table in the corner. I’d scarcely sat down when Lippillus came in. He wasn’t looking too happy.

‘The lady give you a hard time?’ I asked, pushing the plate of sausages over.

‘You could say that.’ He took the bench on the opposite side. ‘Her brother’s on the staff of the City Prefect. That’s where she and her husband were last night. One of the things they talked about over dinner was burglaries and how useless the Watch was. I got the whole conversation repeated, blow by blow. These people make me sick.’

‘How’s Marcina?’ Marcina was Lippillus’s common-law wife. ‘She had the baby yet?’

‘She lost it.’

‘Oh, shit.’ Both of them had really wanted that kid, unexpected as the pregnancy had been. ‘I’m sorry, pal.’

He shrugged. ‘These things happen. So. What brings you down to the Pond?’

I scooped up some of the onions on a crust. ‘I was hoping you might be able to help me find out more about a knife attack three days ago near the Esquiline Gate. The Maecenas Gardens side.’

‘That’s Third Region. Gaius Hostilius’s patch.’

‘Yeah. I know. All the same, I thought I’d come to you first.’

He grunted and cut a slice of sausage. ‘You have any details?’

‘Sure. It happened in the early hours of the morning. Gang of knifemen jumped a home-going litter party and three of the slaves were killed.’

I’d given it to him dead-pan and poker-faced, but I’d been expecting the reaction I got. He set down the sausage-knife and stared at me. ‘What?’

‘Yeah. Right. And don’t tell me that sort of thing doesn’t happen because this time it did.’

‘Who was the guy in the litter?’

‘A Prince Phraates. He’s…’

‘I know who Phraates is. Jupiter’s holy balls! Was he hurt?’

‘Uh-uh. The gang was beaten off. But like I say two of his bodyguard were killed outright and one died later.’

‘Sweet gods! How do you fit into this, Corvinus?’ I didn’t answer at once, and he scowled. ‘Okay, no sweat. It’s political, isn’t it?’

‘Probably. I don’t know for certain, but it seems that way. There’re political sides to it, sure, or there might be. I’d rather not tell you about them.’

‘Fair enough. That’s fine with me.’ He was still scowling. ‘You watch yourself, though. Politics is the dirty end of the stick. I’d’ve thought you’d have more sense than get mixed up with that business again.’

‘No choice of mine, pal. So. Can you help?’

‘Maybe. That depends on what you want, doesn’t it?’

‘A lead on the guys who did it. Names, if possible. People to talk to, find out who was behind the attack.’

He whistled softly. ‘Sure that’s enough? You don’t make things easy, do you?’ I said nothing. ‘Okay. Let’s think this through. Like I said, the Third Region is Hostilius’s patch. He’s no ball of fire, that’s putting it mildly, but I can have a quiet word with him, see what he says, get the inside angle. Mind you, I’ll bet you now a month’s pay to a poke in the eye he won’t be able to help much.’

‘Yeah? Why’s that?’

‘You said it was a gang. How many would that be?’

‘I don’t know actual numbers, but I’d reckon ten or a dozen.’

‘Right. There aren’t any gangs that size operate on the Esquiline or anywhere near it. Sure, whoever set the thing up may’ve done his hiring piecemeal, but that’d be tricky to arrange. My guess would be they weren’t a local bunch, that chummie brought them in on contract. That’d make them harder to trace, too.’

‘Brought them in from where?’

‘Most of the city’s big gangs belong to the dockland area south of Cattlemarket Square, or across the Sublician in Transtiber. There’re a couple on the Aventine, too, but that’s not such a strong possibility; Aventine villains tend to be solo artists. Same goes for the Subura.’ Lippillus impaled a piece of sausage with his knife, popped it in and chewed. ‘So the docklanders and the Transtiberans’re your best bet. They don’t normally operate in big groups, sure, unless they’re fighting each other, but they’ve certainly got the organisation. You get a lot of protection racket activity over that way, so finding a set of professional heavies wouldn’t be too difficult.’

‘If you had the contacts.’

‘That wouldn’t be a problem. Not if chummie was persistent and had money. Serious money. All he’d have to do was put the word around in a few wineshops, make it clear he was willing to pay, and the lads’d find him soon enough. It’d be pricey, mind. The gangs don’t like operating off their own patch, for obvious reasons: you don’t know whose toes you’re treading on, and mixing it away from your home ground is always risky. In fact, that could be our best way in.’

‘Yeah? How do you mean?’

‘Maybe Hostilius can help after all. Crooks may be crooked, but they’ve got strong views on where belongs to who, and they get pretty pissed off if foreigners muscle in on their territory. I’d bet there’re quite a few Esquiline heavies who’d like to see your knifemen pals pegged out for the crows. And if they do know anything there’s a good chance they won’t be too reluctant to pass it on.’ He cut another piece of sausage. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll put out feelers and let you know if I come up with anything. Now. How’re things otherwise?’

We chatted for a bit and finished off the sausages; they weren’t bad, not bad at all; they might even have been pork like the cookshop owner claimed, although maybe that’s pushing things. Then I let Lippillus get back to his break-in and headed for home.

Well, that was conscience salved: I’d opened up the most likely avenue of investigation, and there wasn’t a lot I could do now but wait to see what came of it. Unless, of course, after talking to Vitellius — and maybe Phraates — Isidorus decided to scrub the whole thing, in which case like I’d said to Lippillus I wouldn’t exactly be crying. Nor would Perilla.

She was in the dining room when I got back, finishing off what even for her was so late a breakfast it was practically lunch. I leaned over and gave her the usual homecoming kiss.

‘Hello, dear,’ she said. ‘How was your dinner last night?’

I settled down on the opposite couch. ‘Okay.’ I wasn’t going to give her even the expurgated version before I had to. And if Vitellius had any clout whatsoever with Isidorus even that mightn’t be necessary now.

‘No problems?’ She sounded suspicious. Jupiter, the lady was psychic!

‘No. No problems. And the food was great.’ Which reminded me; the recipes. I hadn’t had time to see Meton before going out that morning, and the terms of our deal meant that a personal transfer was in order. I turned to the hovering Bathyllus. ‘Bathyllus, ask Meton to step in for a second, would you? Unless he’s otherwise occupied, of course.’ Best to be safe. Make it sound too like a summons and if the bastard was doing something important ie anything from breathing forward there’d be Consequences. ‘Oh, and bring me those sheets of paper I left on the study couch last night.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The little bald-head exited.

‘So what happened?’ Perilla said. ‘Marcus, you aren’t usually so reticent. You’re sure there was no trouble?’

Hell. Nose like a bloodhound. I took a sip from the wine-cup Bathyllus had handed me when I came in; just a sip, because with nothing else going on I might as well have another shot at tackling those bloody accounts this afternoon. ‘Sure I’m sure. It was just a dinner, nothing special. There was a good tumbling act, though. Really impressive. They had this guy who — ’

‘So where were you this morning?’

‘Down at Public Pond, talking to Lippillus.’

‘About the knife gang?’

‘Yeah. I told you.’ Shit; I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. ‘Perilla, just what is biting you?’

She didn’t answer at first, just ducked her head and fiddled with a crumb of bread on the table. Then she said in a small voice: ‘I don’t know. I just have a feeling that something’s wrong. Or something’s about to be wrong. Badly wrong.’

I tried a grin. ‘Maybe it’s because this time round there’s no body. If — ’

‘Don’t!’ Her eyes came up. ‘Marcus, don’t joke about it, please. No, I can’t explain why this business gives me the shivers, but it does. For some reason I keep thinking of Aelius Sejanus.’

I had to work to keep my expression neutral, but I felt the tingle up my spine all the same. Oh, gods; psychic was right! She didn’t even know about Mithradates! ‘Sejanus is dead.’

‘Yes, but — ’

‘You wanted to see me?’

I turned round.

‘Ah, yeah. Yeah, Meton. I’ve got the recipes for you, pal. Bathyllus is bringing them.’

The eyes beneath the matting gleamed. ‘Hey! That’s great!’

‘So we can, uh, have the lampreys tonight, can we? You decided how to do them? Pramnian and lovage, wasn’t it?’

Pause; long pause. Then he said:

‘The lampreys got nicked.’

I thought I’d misheard him. ‘What?’

‘The lampreys,’ he repeated slowly, ‘got nicked. There are no lampreys. Somebody nicked the lampreys.’

‘They what?’

‘Yeah. Walked into my bloody kitchen cool as you please through the back door while I was out at the market and liberated the whole fucking basketful.’

‘How the hell — ’

‘So you’re having meatballs tonight. Minced pork’s all I’ve got in. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got the sundries to see to.’

He left. Perilla and I stared at each other.

‘That,’ I said, ‘was one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had with Meton. Which is saying something.’

‘Hmm.’ She was looking thoughtful and twisting a lock of hair. Well, if nothing else that little slice of domestic drama had pulled her out of her mood, for which I was grateful. ‘Yes, it was strange, wasn’t it? He hasn’t even waited for his recipes.’

‘A whole basket of fucking lampreys! No wonder he was — ’ I stopped.

‘Was what, dear? And don’t swear. Just because Meton does it doesn’t mean you have to.’

‘Upset. Only he wasn’t, was he? Not so’s you’d notice.’

‘No.’ She tugged at the lock. ‘That’s what I meant by strange. I would have thought that losing a basket of lampreys would have sent him running for the cooking wine. Not that I’m not grateful that it hasn’t, mind, but — ’ She went quiet for a moment. ‘Marcus, how often does something like this happen anyway? Especially on the Caelian? Someone just walking into a private kitchen on the off-chance of it being empty and stealing a basket of very valuable fish?’

‘You see a blue moon out there, lady?’

‘Exactly.’

Just at that point Bathyllus shimmered in with the recipes and, for some reason, a clean mantle over his arm. ‘Here you are, sir,’ he said. ‘And — ’

‘You know anything about this phantom lamprey-napper, Bathyllus?’ I said.

I’d caught him on the hop, which was the intention. A look that was indefinable passed over the little bald-head’s face before it changed to his usual bland major-domo expression.

‘No, sir,’ he said.

‘You sure? Spit on your granny and hope to die?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Yeah, well; thousands may have believed him, but I didn’t; the bastard was a pure, hundred-on-hundred prevaricator if I ever saw one. Which was odd, because Bathyllus and Meton were cat and dog, at each other’s throats for half the time and not on speaking terms for the other. Covering for our anarchic chef was something Bathyllus just did not do. Hell; what was going on here?

‘Look, pal,’ I said. ‘If you — ’

‘There’s a litter outside, sir, with the consular Lucius Vitellius in it. He wants you to join him immediately. I’ve brought you a clean mantle, in accordance with the consular’s instructions.’

I stared at him and swallowed. Oh, shit; Augustus House, here we come. Well, the Great Lamprey Mystery could wait for an hour or two while I got my balls very deservedly chewed off by Isidorus. Still, I wasn’t looking forward to this.

‘What’s it about, Marcus?’ Perilla said.

I shrugged while Bathyllus loaded me into the mantle. At least if I was pulled off the case Perilla would be happy. I wouldn’t be too upset myself, either: the diplomatic world and I could do without each other, and head-to-heads with bastards like Mithradates I didn’t need.

‘Search me,’ I said. I got up and planted a kiss between nose and chin. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Sure enough, the litter with its quota of official outwalkers was standing outside. I pulled back the curtain and squeezed into what little space Rome’s best and greatest had left me.

‘Hiya, Vitellius,’ I said. ‘Okay, let’s get this over with. If Isidorus wants to kick me off the team then — ’

‘Fuck that, Corvinus,’ Vitellius growled. ‘We aren’t going to see Isidorus, we’re going straight round to the delegation house. Some bugger’s murdered Zariadres.’