A dying light in Corduba mdf-8

by Lindsey Davis

  'What was the game?' I asked in a dangerous voice. 'You've been lurking around all my suspects – Annaeus, Licinius, Cyzacus – they've all had a visitation. I gather you even made a trip to see me.'

  'Yes, I got to most of them ahead of you; what kept you dawdling?'

  'Romantic mentality. I like to admire the scenery. You may have got to them first, but most of them talked to me for longer.'

  'Learn anything?' she jeered.

  I ignored it. 'You knew I was official. Why not make contact? We could have shared the work.'

  Perella dismissed my quibbles as mere prissiness. 'Making contact with you took second place! Until I decided whether I could trust you I didn't want to give you any clue who I was or what I was there for. I nearly managed to get to you the night of the Parilia.'

  'Was it you who hurled that rock at me?'

  'Just a pebble,' she smirked.

  'Then why make yourself invisible afterwards?' 'Because unbeknown to you, Quadratus was lurking up ahead.'

  'He had left in a carriage with two others.'

  'He'd stopped it, pretending he wanted to throw up. The girl -' Aelia Annaea – 'was distracted, looking after the youth, who really was chucking his heart up. Quadratus had walked back slowly along the track as if he was getting some air, but it looked to me as if he was expecting somebody. That was why I flung the stone, to stop you before you blundered into him. I thought he was waiting for a meeting with Sella; I wanted to overhear what they said.'

  'I never saw you and I never saw him.'

  'You never saw Selia either! She was creeping up behind. In fact, Falco, the only one who wasn't hiding in the dark from you that night was Selia's sheep!'

  'Did Selia make contact with Quadratus?'

  'No, the girl in the carriage called out and he had to go off with her and the youth.'

  'I thought it might have been you dressed up as the shepherdess?' I suggested. No chance of that: Perella could not compete with the dead girl's glorious brown eyes.

  She laughed. 'No fear. Can you imagine trying to get Anacrites to sign an expenses chit for the hire of a sheep?'

  So she still thought he was in operation, then.

  'Let's talk about Rome,' I suggested. 'Double dealing is afoot; that's clear. It's in both our interests to explore who's doing what to whom, and why two thoroughly reasonable agents like ourselves have ended up in the same province on two different missions involving the same racket.'

  'You mean,' mouthed Perella, 'are we on the same side?'

  'I was sent by Laeta; I'll tell you that for nothing.'

  'And I was not.'

  'Now that raises an interesting question, Perella, because I had worked out you were a staffer for Anacrites – but the last time I saw him he was lying in my mother's house with the fare for the ferrymen to Hades all ready in his outstretched paw.'

  'The Praetorians have got him in their camp.' 'I arranged that.'

  'I saw him there.'

  'Oh, so I'm dealing with a girl who mingles with Guardsmen. Now that's a real professional!'

  'I do what I have to.'

  'Spare my blushes; I'm a shy boy.'

  'We all work well together.' That's usually a pious lie.

  'How fortunate,' I said. Still, the intelligence service was attached to the Guard. 'Did the Praetorians tell you he was with them?'

  'I tracked him down myself, after you told me he had been beaten up. It was hard going, I admit. In the end I came to ask you where he was -' I remembered giving her my address. 'You'd just left Rome, but someone put me on to your mother. She didn't tell me where he was, but she had a big pot of soup bubbling, and I guessed it was for the invalid. When she went out with a basket, I followed her.'

  'Ma's still taking Anacrites broth?' I was amazed.

  'According to the Praetorians she regards him as her responsibility.'

  I had to think about that. 'And when you took your own bunch of flowers to his sickbed, exactly how was your unlikeable superior?'

  'As tricky as ever.' This was a shrewd lady. 'He croaked and moaned as sick men always do. Maybe he was dying. Maybe the bastard was rallying and fighting back.'

  'And Ma's still nursing him? I don't believe it! In the Praetorian camp?'

  'The Praetorians are great lumps of slush. They adore the maternal virtues and such old-fashioned tripe. Anyway, Anacrites is safe with them. If he survives he'll think your mother's wonderful.'

  I experienced a swooning dread that I would go home to Rome and find my mother married off to the Chief Spy. Never fear; she would have to divorce Pa first. They would never sort out arrangements while neither was on speaking terms.

  'And you talked to Anacrites? What did he say?' 'Nothing useful.'

  'How like him!'

  'You saw the state he was in. It was only a couple of days after you left.'

  'So who sent you here?'

  'Own initiative.'

  Do you have the authority?'

  'I do now!' Perella laughed, fished down inside her satchel and held something up for me to see. It was a seal ring; rather poor chalcedony; its cartouche showing two elephants with entwined trunks. 'Sebeh had it. I found it when I searched her. She must have stolen it when she clonked Anacrites.'

  'You searched her?' I enquired politely. 'Would that be before or after you squeezed very hard on her pearly throat?' I received a sideways look. 'I knew the ring was missing, Perella. Knowing Anacrites, I assumed he heard Selia and her heavies creeping up behind him, so he swallowed it to safeguard public funds.'

  Perella liked that. After she finished laughing she spun the ring in the air, then threw it as far as possible across the road and into a copse opposite. I applauded the action gently. I always enjoy a rebel. And with Selia dead, the ring was no longer useful evidence. 'I'll tell Anacrites you've got it, Falco. He'll be on at you about it for the next fifty years.'

  'I can live with that. What are you doing here?' I demanded again.

  Perella pursed her mouth and looked sorrowful. I was still trying to reconcile in my mind that this dumpy fright in her frumpish wrappings was a highly efficient agent – not just a damsel in a short dancing frock who listened in at dinners to earn herself a few denarii, but a woman who worked alone for weeks on end, who travelled, and who when she felt like it mercilessly ended lives.

  'What's going on, Perella?'

  'Did you know Valentinus?' she asked.

  As her voice took a lower note, I felt a chill. For a second I was back in the Second Cohort's fire engine house, with Valentinus swinging stiffly in a hammock and that gruesome bucket beneath his head to catch his blood. 'Hardly. I met him once, at that dinner; I really missed my chance to talk to him. The second time I saw him he was dead.'

  'He was a nice lad.'

  'He seemed so to me.'

  'We had worked together a few times. Anacrites had us both on the Baetican case. It was all mine to begin with, but Quinctius Attractus must have twigged that we were on to him, and he arranged for me to be pushed out by that girl. So Valentinus had to do duty that night instead of me. When he was killed, I decided to follow up. I owed him that. Well, Anacrites too. He does his job in his own way – and it's better than the alternative.'

  'Claudius Laeta?'

  Perella let her eyes narrow. 'Obviously I have to watch my step, Falco – I know you're thick with him.'

  'He paid my fare, but I'm not in his pocket.'

  'You're independent normally?'

  'Freelance. Like Valentinus. That's why I wasn't weeping when I found Sella dead. I recognised your pictogram too – Valentinus had one on his apartment door… I gather you share my sceptical attitude to Laeta?'

  Perella hunched her shoulders. She was choosing her words carefully. The result was a colourful character appraisal, the kind he would not want to have read to the Emperor at birthday bonus time: 'Lutes a cheating, dabbling, double-dealing, swindling, jumped-up clerk.'

  'A gem of the secretariat,' I agreed with a smile
.

  'It was Laeta who told Quinctius Attractus I was keeping an eye on the Society; I'm pretty sure of it. You know what's going on among the Palace bureaux?'

  Laeta wants to discredit Anacrites. I hadn't realised he was stirring the Pot so actively, but the word is he wants to get the spy network disbanded so he can take over. The hidden power in the Empire. The watcher we love to fear.' 'You could get a job with him, Falco.'

  'So could you,' I retorted. 'Decent operatives never lack work. There are too many duds out there messing up chances; the new work rosters will contain ample spaces. Laeta would welcome both of us. But do we want to embrace his slimy charms, Perella? It's still our choice.'

  'I'll probably stick with the dog I know.'

  'If he survives. And if his section survives too.' 'Ah well.'

  'I'll work for myself as usual.'

  'Well, we both know where we are, then!' she smirked. 'Oh yes. Under a tree in a wood in Baetica without a lunch basket.'

  'You're a misery, Falco.'

  We seemed to be talking frankly – not that I trusted her any more as a result. Nor did I expect Perella to trust me.

  'If I level with you, Falco, can I expect the same favour?' I screwed out a half-hearted shrug. 'I came to Baetica for two reasons,' she announced. 'I wanted to see Selia get it – but most of all, I'm going to sort this cartel nonsense and get the solution marked up as a credit to the spies' network.'

  'Outwit Laeta?'

  'And you too, if you're on his side, Falco.'

  'Oh, I was sent to block the cartel too; I think it's a dead duck now.' I gave her a far from modest grin. 'I dropped a few suggestions in a few relevant ears, so I'm taking credit for suppressing it!'

  Perella frowned. 'You'd do better to take a laxative!'

  'Too late. Give up. It's fixed. Now there's just young Quadratus. He's crazy and out of control – just the right material for the Palace to use in its cover-up of the real mess. What Rome needs is a juicy patrician scandal to fill up the Daily Gazette; that's always good for taking the heat off the government. Putting Quadratus out of action on grounds of unspeakable misdemeanours caused by foolish youth allows the big men to escape with their pride intact.'

  Perella scoffed quietly. 'There is a problem I don't think you realise.'

  'You mean the noble Quadratus belongs to a rich and ancient family? Do you think he'll dodge the indictment?'

  'Who knows? I mean, the cartel was never just a scheme set up by a few notables in Baetica for their personal gain,' Perella said. I thought she was referring to Attractus. He certainly wanted to rule far more than the cartel. Then I stayed quiet. Something in her tone was far too ominous. Laeta wants the cartel too, Falco.'

  'Laeta does? Well, I discovered a reason for that. He's suggesting to the oil producers that he intends the industry to become state-controlled. Attractus is trying to bribe him into keeping quiet.'

  'I thought Laeta had another plan,' Perella mused. 'Oh, if the oil market comes under state control, he certainly wants to be the man in charge – who creams off the golden froth for himself.'

  'It wouldn't surprise me. First he would have to persuade the Emperor to take over the industry and provide state funds for running it.'

  'I can think of a way he would manage that.' Perella was enjoying her superior knowledge.

  'All right, you've lost me.' I could be frank. I was dying with curiosity.

  'Laeta really wants the oil market cornered; he wants it for the Emperor.'

  LXV

  I gulped discreetly. Immediately she said it I could see there might be an appeal. Yes, Vespasian wanted to go down in history as an honest servant of the state. But yes too, he was notoriously personally mean.

  He came from a middle-class family, Sabine farmers turned tax collectors: hardworking, intelligent folk on their way up – but with never enough money to run on fair terms with the old patrician families. He and his elder brother had clawed their way through the Senate to the highest Posts, always in comparative poverty, always having to mortgage last year's gains in order to move on to the next magistracy. When Vespasian, having made it to consul somehow, was awarded the governorship of Africa, his brother had been compelled to fund him – and while he was there in his exalted position, Vespasian became a legend: for what? For acquiring a monopoly in the supply of salted fish…

  Why should he change? He inherited empty coffers from Nero. He had the new man's zeal to make his mark. Grabbing the market in a staple commodity could still be the Emperor's dream. He ruled the Empire now, but he was just as short of funds for the business of government and probably just as eager for cash in hand himself.

  'There could be various ways this would work for Laeta,' I suggested slowly. 'The most basic is the one I mentioned – a local cartel is set up, stage-managed by Attractus, and Laeta agrees that the state will allow it to exist provided he gets a large Personal bribe. The next stage, more sophisticated, is that he exerts even more pressure; he says the cartel will only be allowed to continue if the Emperor gets a huge Percentage of the Profits.'

  'That's what I thought,' said Perella. 'Both of those needed Anacrites wiped out. He was trying to stop the cartel.'

  'Such a simple soul! Wiping out Anacrites has an additional bonus for Laeta: he can then take over the spies' network.'

  'So you agree with me. That's it?'

  'I think Laeta might be toying with even more elaborate plans. For one thing, I can't see him staying happy with Attractus as prime mover in the cartel. This probably explains why he hired me to expose the conspiracy: he specifically complained about Attractus getting above himself. So let's assume what he really wants from me is to remove Attractus. But what then happens to the cartel?'

  Perella was rushing ahead. 'Suppose the cartel is made public, and it's banned – and the estates of the conspirators are all confiscated. That would attract Vespasian!'

  'Yes, but what would happen? We're not talking about another Egypt here. Augustus was able to grab Egypt, capture its wonderful grain, and not only accrue huge profits for himself but gain power in Rome by controlling the grain supply and using it for propaganda, with himself as the great benefactor ensuring the poor are fed.'

  Vespasian had actually shown that he appreciated the value of the corn supply by sitting in Alexandria during his bid for the throne, and tacitly threatening to keep the grain ships there with him until Rome accepted him as emperor. Would he contemplate a similar move with oil? If so, would it actually work?

  'So why can't the same thing happen with Baetican oil, Falco?' Perhaps after all Perella belonged to the active type of agent, rather than the puzzle-solving kind. She was adept at strangling her rivals, but lacked a grasp of political functions. In the complex web of deceit where we were now stuck, she would need both.

  'Baetica is already a senatorial province, Perella. This is going to be the problem. It may be why, in the end, nothing will ever happen. Anything in Baetica that's officially taken over, confiscated, or otherwise state-controlled will simply benefit the Treasury. For the Emperor that would hardly be a disaster; the Senate's control of the Treasury is nominal and he himself could use the money for public works, sure. But the olive oil is never going to be a monopoly in his personal control, and he'll get no personal credit for Producing an oil dole for the populace. No; better for him that whatever happens is underhand. That way there may be profits.'

  'So you're saying, Falco, the ideal result for Laeta is to destroy Anacrites, destroy the Quinctii – and yet keep the cartel?'

  'Apparently!' I could see how it might be organised too. 'I bet Laeta will propose something like this: in Rome the estate owners, and anyone else in the trade who joins in, will all become members of the Society of Olive Oil Producers of Baetica as a cover for their operations. The Society will then make large personal gifts to the Emperor – and smaller, but still substantial ones to Laeta of course. It will look like the kind of ingratiating behaviour that's officially allowed.'

>   'So what can you and I do about this?'

  'It all depends,' I said thoughtfully, 'whether Vespasian has been informed of the devious plan.' Remembering earlier conversations with Laeta I reckoned he would not yet have shared his ideas with the Emperor. He would want to be sure his proposals would work. It would suit Laeta to complete the scheme, then present it to his imperial master as a working proposition. He was assured of the credit then. While the cartel was being set up, Laeta could keep open an escape route in case anything went wrong. If that happened he could fall back on the straightforward move, holding his hand from personal involvement and gaining his credit by exposing the plot. But if everything went well, he could produce the more elaborate scheme for his imperial master with a splendid – though secret – secretariat flourish.

  He would always have kept a secondary plan to cover snags. Me finding out too much, for instance, on the way to removing Attractus. So he had hired and kept Selia paid up, in case he wanted to eliminate me.

  He had made at least one serious miscalculation: for this plan to work, the oil producers themselves had to want a cartel. If they sneakily took the honest route, Laeta would be nowhere.

  The other problem would be if Vespasian decided that he preferred to keep his hands clean now that he was an emperor.

  'Anacrites had seen what was going to happen.' Perella was still talking. 'He always reckoned Laeta wanted to put the cartel in place, then offer it to the Emperor as his bargaining piece. Laeta's reward will be power – a new intelligence empire, for a statt.'

  'It's cunning. He will demonstrate that Anacrites has simply blundered in and threatened the success of a lucrative scheme – failing in his dumb spy-like way to grasp the potential for imperial exploitation. Laeta, by contrast, exhibits superb speculative nous, proving himself the better man. He is also loyal – so hands his idea to a happy and grateful Emperor.'

  Perella looked sick. 'Pretty, isn't it?'

  'Disgusting! And you're telling me before Anacrites received his head damage he was on to all this?'

  'Yes.'

  'I've been told it was Quinctius Quadratus who lost his nerve and arranged for Anacrites to be beaten up. Is there any possibility that Laeta himself really organised the thugs?'