Trade Secrets

TWENTY-TWO

So; next major port of call, as it were, Publius Doccius. Only before I did that I needed a little insurance of my own.

Siddius was right: disappearing eight hundred amphoras and selling on their contents would take organization and manpower, and if Nigrinus didn’t cut the mustard in that department then I’d bet Doccius couldn’t’ve managed it either; not off his own bat, at least. For a heist like that, he’d’ve needed a partner with real clout, and there was only one obvious candidate; Publius Fundanius. Fundanius made all kinds of sense: he’d have the organization that could cope with something on that scale, he’d’ve jumped at the chance to do the dirty on his long-time business rival, and – which was really the clincher – I’d seen Doccius at his villa, where presumably he’d gone straight off when Mamilia threw him out on his ear. Where, again presumably, I’d find him now.

Only, especially after Agron’s repeated warnings, I wasn’t going to walk in blithely and accuse them both to their faces, was I? Oh, sure, I was a Roman purple-striper, with all that entailed where the authorities were concerned, but that hadn’t seemed to cut much ice with the bastards so far, had it? Not when their hitman of choice Sextus Nigrinus had tried to zero me on at least two occasions. So insurance of a very physical kind it had to be, plus an ally who had the same kind of clout that Fundanius had; and my best bet on that score was the injured party, Mamilia. Persuading her re the whys and wherefores shouldn’t be difficult, given that she already knew that Doccius had been on the fiddle. And as far as Fundanius himself was concerned, if she had an axe to grind it was one I’d bet she would cheerfully have smacked him between the eyes with. So Mamilia it was.

No time like the present. I headed across town in the direction of the Hinge.

The Tullius side of things was obvious, too. If Gaius Siddius, coincidentally and fortunately for him, had disappeared into the woodwork after conducting his business with Nigrinus, Tullius hadn’t been so lucky. He wasn’t to know, of course, that he was messing with some pretty hard guys, or he might’ve thought twice about trying on a bit of blackmail, but the whole thing had been done off the cuff; he’d seen a chance to make a dishonest silver piece or two, and he’d taken it. Who exactly had done the actual killing – the captain’s brother Sextus or Doccius himself – I didn’t know, and it wasn’t crucially important at this stage; nor were the precise circumstances of how he’d been lured to an out-of-the-way spot like the Shrine of Melobosis off Trigemina Gate Street. What was important was I knew now who was behind the murder, and why.

Case solved. Or almost, bar the shouting.

‘Valerius Corvinus! This is a surprise!’ The lady actually gave me a smile; clearly our relationship had moved up a notch, which was all to the good under the circumstances. ‘What brings you back so soon? I was just about to go out, but I can spare you a few minutes.’

We were in the atrium again, and the lady had obviously just been having her make-up freshened: the maid was putting away the bits and bobs, and Mamilia herself was done up to the nines.

‘It, uh, might take a little longer than that,’ I said. ‘But it’s important.’

That got me an interested look. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘How intriguing. In that case you had better sit down and we’ll take it from there. That’s all, Chloe. You can go.’

The maid left.

I sat. ‘Your husband sent a shipment of wine and oil to Aleria shortly before he died,’ I said.

‘Yes, that’s right. We did.’ Uh-huh; no pretence, this time, of being ignorant of Correllius’s business affairs, I noticed. And the ‘we’ didn’t escape me, either.

‘You know the ship – the Porpoise – sank just short of the Corsican coast?’ I said.

She frowned. ‘Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. The news came a few days ago. Unfortunate, but these things do happen, and we can stand the loss. So?’

‘There was no wine or oil on board. The amphoras were filled with water.’

‘What?’ She stared at me. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Hundred per cent certain.’ I told her the whole story, barring a mention of Tullius. ‘It was a scam. The cargo had been switched.’

She was quiet for a long time. Then she said, and I could hear her teeth grind: ‘That bastard Doccius.’

Right; no fool, Mamilia. And there was no fluffy softness there, either, none at all. Not a comfortable lady to cross, this one.

I almost felt a pang of sympathy for Publius Doccius. Almost.

‘That was my guess, yeah,’ I said. ‘Him and Publius Fundanius, working together.’

‘Fundanius.’ She sat back in her chair. I could see her thinking. ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘Yes, that would make perfect sense. I’m in your debt, Corvinus. Thank you for telling me.’

‘Actually, Mamilia, I’ve business of my own with Doccius. Not immediately connected with the scam, or not directly. But he has other questions to answer.’

‘Has he, indeed? Then he had better answer them.’ She smiled, and it wasn’t a nice smile, either. She got up. ‘Excuse me a moment. I’ll be right back.’

She went off through the peristyle, and I twiddled my thumbs. A few minutes later, she was back with a couple of heavies who could’ve been brothers to the guy on the front door, and probably were.

‘These two gentlemen are Marcus and Quintus,’ she said. ‘They have my every confidence, and they are fully apprised of the situation. If you were thinking of paying a call on Publius Doccius, who, I understood from what you said during your last visit, is currently with Fundanius at his villa, then they would be delighted to accompany you. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble either getting in or leaving.’

Yeah, I’d believe that: the pair of them looked like they’d stepped straight off a temple pediment showing the Battle of the Titans. The marble aspect of things was about right, too.

‘They have their own instructions, naturally, since I have reasons of my own to make contact with Doccius. But since our interests seem to coincide at this point you’re very welcome to make use of them. Clear, gentlemen?’

‘Yeah, madam. Clear.’ The guy on the right flexed his hands. I could hear the knuckles crack.

‘Off you go, then. As I said, I was just about to go out myself. You’ll forgive me, Corvinus.’

‘No problem,’ I said.

‘Goodbye. And thank you again.’

‘You’re welcome.’

She left, and I looked at the two fugitives from the pediment.

‘Which of you is which?’ I said.

‘I’m Marcus,’ the hand-flexer said. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘Yeah. Likewise.’ Well, at least they’d been nicely brought up. ‘Shall we go?’

‘After you.’

We went.

‘We’re here to see Publius Doccius,’ I said to the old guy on the gate.

He looked doubtfully at my two tame Titans.

‘I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think we have a-’ he began.

I held up a hand. ‘Don’t even think of it, sunshine,’ I said. ‘Just go and tell him. And if your master’s at home then we’ll see him at the same time. Off you go, spit spot.’

He opened his mouth to say something, took another look at Marcus and Quintus standing – looming – behind me, and wisely decided to close it again. Then he hobbled inside, closing the gate behind him.

He was away for a good ten minutes, by which time Mamilia’s lads were definitely chafing. Finally, though, he reappeared.

‘They’ll see you, sir,’ he said. ‘On the terrace, as before. Would you like me to show you the way, or can you find it for yourself?’

Delivered in the most unpressing tones, which was fair enough: I had the distinct impression that Tithonus here would be glad to get shot of us and take up his afternoon snooze where he’d left off.

‘No, that’s OK, pal,’ I said. ‘I think I can remember.’

We went round the corner of the villa. Fundanius and Doccius were sitting at the terrace table, on two of the three chairs; at least, Fundanius was sitting, and Doccius was sprawled, his arm across the chair-back and his feet resting on the third chair, completely at his ease. He grinned and gave us the high wave as we came in sight. Behind me, I heard one of the minders growl softly.

‘Corvinus,’ Fundanius said, and you could’ve used his tone to saw marble. ‘What exactly is the meaning of this, please?’

Not a happy bunny, evidently. Still, I hadn’t expected to be welcomed with open arms, so that was absolutely fine by me.

‘Oh, I think you know,’ I said. ‘To begin with, the little matter of eight hundred amphoras filled with wine and oil belonging to Marcus Correllius, that should be under several fathoms of seawater but aren’t.’

‘I have not the slightest idea what you’re talking about.’

‘You,’ Marcus pointed at Doccius, ‘are dead, pal.’

Doccius’s grin slipped just a little, and he took his feet off the chair.

‘Come on, Fundanius!’ I said. ‘We’ve got Doccius here cold. He arranged the shipment on a boat called the Porpoise, captain Titus Nigrinus, that went down just short of the point of delivery. That should’ve been the end of it with no one any the wiser, only I’ve talked to the crane operator who did the loading. According to him, he dropped some of the amphoras on the quayside and they were full of water.’

‘He’s lying,’ Fundanius said; he hadn’t even blinked. ‘Besides, even if they were, what business is it of mine? Or of yours, for that matter?’

‘Yeah, well, as far as the first bit’s concerned, squirrelling away eight hundred amphoras takes a bit of doing. Laughing boy here’s a natural second-stringer, and I doubt if he could hack it on his own.’ Doccius scowled, and he took his arm from the back of the chair. ‘As for the second part, there was a witness. A guy by the name of Gaius Tullius, an import-export merchant in Rome, who is definitely my business, because he was murdered twelve days back. You heard of him, maybe?’

I could feel them stiffen, and Fundanius’s eyes flicked towards Doccius.

‘No,’ Fundanius said. ‘At least, I haven’t. Publius?’

‘He’s a new one on me,’ Doccius said. ‘And last time I looked this was Ostia, not Rome. Murders in Rome are no concern of ours.’

‘I said he had his business in Rome, pal, not that he was killed there. But then you knew that already, didn’t you?’

Doccius shrugged. ‘It was a logical assumption. Why should I have heard of him? He isn’t anyone I ever had any dealings with.’ He gave Marcus and Quintus a level look. ‘When I worked for that fat slob Correllius, that is.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s just the point, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘The time your paths crossed you weren’t working for Correllius, were you? You were working for Fundanius here, or at least the two of you were partners in the wine and oil scam along with the Porpoise’s owner, Titus Nigrinus.’

Doccius smiled. Then he laughed and set his feet back on the spare chair. ‘Corvinus,’ he said, ‘you are so full of shit it’s unbelievable. I told you: I’ve never even heard of this Tullius guy, let alone met him. And if he claimed that there was any funny business with the consignment then he was lying for reasons of his own, just like that crane operator of yours. As for Nigrinus, well, there was no scam to begin with, so there couldn’t’ve been a partnership, could there? I’m sorry for the man, he’s down one ship, but that’s one of the risks you take in this business, and at least if I’ve heard rightly he survived the accident.’

‘Publius is quite correct.’ Fundanius was smiling too. ‘I’m sorry, gentlemen’ – his look included the heavies standing behind me – ‘but all this is complete nonsense. As far as your accusation concerning the shipment is concerned, Corvinus, your only proof, correct me if I’m wrong, is the word of a drunken crane operator and an obscure Roman trader of whom neither of us has any knowledge and who is in any case now dead. As for the trader himself’ – he shrugged – ‘well, what more can I say? I know nothing of him whatsoever. Now if that’s your only business here-’

‘Fuck that.’ Marcus – obviously the spokesman of the duo – pushed in front of me. ‘You’ – he levelled a finger at Fundanius – ‘are going to be one sorry cheating bastard before much longer. The mistress told me to promise you that; she’ll see to it personally. And you’ – the finger shifted to Doccius – ‘I’ve already told you; you’re a dead man walking. Buy yourself an urn.’

Doccius was looking queasy again, but Fundanius hadn’t moved.

‘How fascinating,’ he said equably. ‘But Publius Doccius works for me now, and I look after my own. Do be sure to give my regards to Mamilia, won’t you? I think you know your way out.’ He nodded to me. ‘Corvinus.’

I nodded back, and we left.

‘We’re stymied,’ I said to Perilla when we’d settled down later that afternoon on the terrace with a pre-dinner drink. ‘The bastards just sat there and laughed in our faces.’

‘It can’t be as bad as all that, dear,’ Perilla said. ‘There must be something you can do.’

‘Like what, for example?’ I took a morose swallow of wine. ‘They know I know the whole story, no argument, but they also know there isn’t a blind thing I can do about it. Not without some solid proof; Fundanius pointed that out, and he was right.’

‘But you have it, surely. As far as the scam aspect of things goes, at least. Your crane operator, what was his name, Siddius, confirmed that the accident on the quayside happened, and that the amphoras he dropped were filled with water. That’s confirmation in itself.’

I sighed. ‘Perilla, I haven’t a hope in hell of getting a signed statement from the guy, which is what it’d need. How long do you think he’d survive if he crossed Publius Doccius, never mind Fundanius? He’d be signing his own death warrant, and he’d know it. Plus the fact that, a), it’d be his word against everyone else’s, and b), as far as the port authorities are concerned there was no accident to begin with because he didn’t fucking report one at the time.’

‘Gently, Marcus.’

I took another swig of wine. Not that it did any good, mind.

‘Well, he didn’t,’ I said. ‘And the reason he didn’t was, he was paid to keep his mouth shut. You think he’d change his story now, in public, anyway? Why should he? What’s in it for him, barring a slit throat down an alley?’

‘You’re certain that Fundanius was in on the fraud?’

‘Absolutely; one hundred per cent. He knew about Siddius, for a start, and he couldn’t’ve done that if he wasn’t involved up to his eyeballs.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘Because when he mentioned the crane operator he used the word drunken. Which I hadn’t done. Oh, sure, clumsy, incompetent, cack-handed, any appropriate term you like given the circumstances; but the only way he could know Siddius had a drink problem is if Doccius had told him. QED.’

‘That isn’t much to build a case on.’

‘It’s good enough for me, lady. But with the only other witness being oh-so-conveniently dead unless by some miracle I can twist Nigrinus’s arm when he shows up and get a confession out of him we are well and truly screwed.’ I refilled my wine-cup. ‘The only consolation is that if I’m any judge of character Mamilia won’t let them get away with it. That is one very ruthless lady. Me, I wouldn’t be in Publius Doccius’s sandals for his weight in gold pieces, whether he has Fundanius’s protection or not.’

‘You can’t prove a connection between Fundanius – or Doccius, at least – and Gaius Tullius? That’s the other angle, surely.’

‘Uh-uh. For the same reason: no hard facts. Oh, they knew the name when I brought it up, sure, I’d bet a year’s income on that, because it came as a nasty facer; in fact, I thought at that point I had them. But then when I mentioned the partnership arrangement with Nigrinus, they-’

I stopped.

Oh, shit! Oh, holy gods!

‘Marcus?’ Perilla was frowning. ‘What is it?’

‘That was when the bastards relaxed,’ I said slowly. ‘Both of them at once, right then and there. Grinning their heads off. They’d been on the back foot up until then, but when I brought in Nigrinus you could almost hear the sigh of relief.’

‘But that doesn’t make any sense! Nigrinus had to be involved for the fraud to work. Didn’t he?’

‘Sure he did. No argument.’ I was thinking hard. There was something there; there had to be. When I’d mentioned Gaius Tullius completely out of the blue, it’d been a shock, because up to then he hadn’t figured; everything I’d said, all the questions I’d asked and the accusations I’d made, had had to do with the scam itself or – previously – with the death of Correllius. Now for the first time with the mention of Tullius Fundanius and his new pal had lost control of the plot, and they were running blind. Only then they realized that I wasn’t as smart or as clued-up as they thought I was. Feared. Whatever. Because I’d made a crucial mistake.

‘Marcus …’

I waved her to silence. So what was it? I replayed the conversation in my head.

I’d said that when Doccius ran across Gaius Tullius he hadn’t been working for Correllius; that he’d been in partnership with Fundanius and the Porpoise’s captain Nigrinus …

Only I hadn’t said captain, had I? I’d said owner.

‘Nigrinus didn’t own the Porpoise,’ I said.

Perilla was still frowning. ‘But that’s silly, dear! Of course he did!’

I shook my head. ‘Uh-uh. Oh, we assumed he did, sure, because he was the ship’s captain, after all, and that’s the way these things usually work. But that’s all it was: an assumption.’ I was trying to remember my original conversation with the clerk in the harbour master’s office, and with the quay-master Arrius. As far as I could recall, neither had said that Titus Nigrinus actually owned the Porpoise; like I said, that’d only been an assumption on my part, and it had gone uncorrected. ‘Nigrinus was only the hired help, not the third partner per se. No wonder the bastards were laughing up their sleeves. I’d got my facts wrong, and they knew it.’

Perilla was staring at me. ‘Can you check?’ she said.

‘Sure. Easiest thing in the world. It’s too late today, but I’ll go round to the harbour master’s office first thing tomorrow morning.’

Perhaps we were on to a winner after all.

I walked into the harbour office bright and early next day, just after it opened. Everything hinged on the answer to one question, but I was pretty sure now what that would be. Or at least that it would be one of two possibilities.

I found the clerk I’d talked to before at his desk. The guy didn’t exactly look over the moon to see me, mind. Not that I blamed him.

‘Good morning yet again, sir,’ he said. ‘And how perchance may I help you today?’

Sarcastic as hell. But in the mood I was in sarcasm slid off me like water from a duck’s back. ‘It’s about the Porpoise again,’ I said. ‘I was wondering if you could give me the name of the owner. If he’s different from the ship’s captain, that is. And an address for him, if you’ve got it.’

‘Nothing easier, sir. It’ll be entered on the file I looked out for you previously. Unless, under the circumstances, it’s been destroyed, as it may well have been.’ Bugger; I hadn’t thought of that! Oh, gods, no; please, please, no! ‘If you’ll just wait a moment, I’ll go and check.’

He went off, and I spent the next five minutes biting my nails. Then he came back holding the document. I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank heavens for bureaucratic inertia.

‘Here you are, sir,’ he said. ‘The Porpoise, ninety tons when it was a viable proposition.’ He chuckled: obviously a clerical in-joke. ‘Captain, Titus Nigrinus. Owner …’

He told me the name. Well, well, well: bullseye!

‘I’ve only an office address for him, I’m afraid,’ the clerk said. ‘Will that do? It’s in Rome, naturally, the gentleman being Roman.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, that’ll be fine.’

He told me that, as well. Double bullseye! Case closed, barring the mopping-up.

‘Thanks, pal,’ I said. ‘I’m grateful.’ That was an understatement, if ever there was one. ‘You’ve been really, really helpful.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

‘You mind if I take that with me?’ I pointed at the flimsy he was holding.

‘Not at all. As I said, it would have been destroyed in any case.’

‘Thanks.’ I took it and tucked it into my belt. I was turning away when another thought struck me. ‘Oh; one last question,’ I said, ‘and I’m out of your hair for good.’

He sighed. ‘Really, sir?’

‘Yeah. I absolutely guarantee it. You know if anyone else was in here after the same information? It would’ve been the day the ship was being loaded.’

He was frowning. ‘Yes, actually, now you mention it, there was,’ he said. ‘I can’t give you his name, though; I told you, I’m not too good with names, but faces I do remember. He was Roman, too, by the look of him. Youngish, smart dresser. The sort the ladies might take a fancy to, if you know what I mean. A friend of yours? Business colleague, perhaps?’

‘No, not exactly.’ I’d never seen Tullius in the flesh, so the description didn’t tell me much; but it’d been him, all right, I was as certain of that as of the next day’s sunrise, and it explained everything. If I needed further explanation at this point, which I didn’t. ‘Perfect. Thanks again for your help, friend. I’ll see you around.’ I caught the look on his face. ‘Or perhaps not.’

‘Goodbye, sir. Have a nice day.’

I left.

Back to Rome, ASAP. Perilla would be disappointed to cut short the holiday, sure, but into every life a little rain must fall. And we might well take that villa.

The case was cracked wide open.