Perfiditas

by Alison Morton

  ‘Anybody else?’ I unwrapped the coat from my arm, but nobody looked me in the eye. ‘Okay, then somebody take out the trash on the floor.’

  I was in the laundry room an hour later pulling my washed tees out of the machine when a young boy came with a message that the farm assistant wanted to see me in the dormitory now. My things were spread out on the bed again, but tidily. A number of other workers loitered in the background.

  ‘Please explain why I have two previously able-bodied workers in the infirmary.’

  ‘They’d stolen something that belonged to me. They wouldn’t give it back. I recovered it.’

  ‘How did you acquire such an expensive pair of field glasses?’

  ‘I didn’t steal them, if that’s what you’re saying.’

  ‘I’m not. Please answer my question.’

  ‘I saved up.’

  ‘And why do you have them?’

  ‘Why not?’ I shrugged.

  ‘I seen her writing things in her book,’ said one of the audience.

  ‘Show me,’ said the assistant.

  I handed her the torn notebook.

  She took it and leafed through. ‘I see. These notes go back two years. How long have you been watching?’

  ‘Several years.’

  ‘Well, you might try the far shore of the lake. It’s a good spot for grebe, greylag geese, black-headed gulls and sometimes kingfishers. The rise the other side of the road near the cottages is where migrating populations gather.’ She stopped smiling. ‘You’re a good worker, so I don’t want to lose you. But I won’t have brawling. You’re deducted three days’ pay to cover medical costs for the two injured, and you’re reassigned to field work for a week. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.

  ‘Ex-military?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Try to remember the “ex” part.’

  I looked away.

  That evening, with my knives under my tee, I set off as soon as I could after the evening meal towards the cottage. I’d pulled a muscle that afternoon, but nothing important. I had the strangest feeling of not being alone. I stopped and waited for ten minutes, extending every sense to its furthest stretch, but I heard and saw nothing. I couldn’t smell much beyond grass, sheep dung and hedgerow plants.

  I found a better vantage point to observe from, one which had sight of the front door. I glimpsed Justus talking to somebody else but, irritatingly, couldn’t see the other person. But I knew in my heart who it was. Twenty-five minutes after I’d arrived, a car pulled up with a rental plate. My throat constricted as I saw the driver step out, lock the door and approach the cottage.

  Philippus.

  No.

  Justus answered the door and, within seconds, the two men were waving hands around and shouting at each other. I had to hear this. I had no distance mic so, scanning left and right, I crept across to the wall and pressed myself against it. I took a quiet deep breath and edged along to just before the corner.

  ‘…be so childlike. He was protecting our interests.’ Justus’s voice was terse, impatient even.

  ‘You knew! You knew all along!’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I didn’t. But I’m so relieved he dumped that little tart and her national interest crap.’

  ‘But he backed the wrong side.’

  ‘No, he played both.’ A pause. ‘Good tactics.’

  ‘Yeah, but they know,’ retorted Philippus, ‘and they’re hunting him.’

  Justus’s laugh. ‘They’ll never guess where he is and now Mitela’s contained in jail, even she won’t be able to do anything about it.’

  ‘So why did he want to see me?’

  ‘He’ll tell you himself. Turn round against the wall.’

  I heard the movement of Justus’s hands over Philippus’s clothes as he searched him.

  The door opened and closed. I shut my eyes. Thank Juno, Philippus wasn’t involved.

  I edged back to the window. I always thought it was too obvious in spy movies when the window was left open, so I nearly laughed when I saw the gap. But the voices overrode my bizarre thought. Apollo’s rich, cold voice and Philippus’s hurt and angry one.

  ‘My dear Philippus, this really is unlike you to be so overwrought. It was a matter of pragmatics.’

  ‘I thought we were doing the right thing when we helped Pulcheria, and I thought you did. I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s always wise to make, er, arrangements with other players, you know. Do tell me, just how did you find out?’

  I shivered with fear. What would Philippus say? I dreaded he would go too far and give Apollo no option but to terminate him.

  ‘Hermina and I were dragged in by those PGSF bastards and given the full treatment.’

  ‘I trust Hermina has recovered?’

  ‘Do you? I always thought you cared for your people, Apollodorus. Now I’m not so sure.’

  Shut up, Phil. Don’t get him riled, I begged silently.

  ‘But you still haven’t told me how they found out,’ Apollo said in his softest tone.

  I shut my eyes.

  The jab of a barrel rammed under my jawline woke me up.

  Shit.

  ‘Nothing smart. Hands on the wall above your head.’ Justus kicked my feet apart. He punched me in the small of my back, so I collapsed against the stone wall. I couldn’t stop a grunt escaping. I was helpless with pain as he wrenched my wrists down and circled them with a cable tie, pulling the plastic band tight. I sagged to my knees and fought for my breath. He hauled me to my feet and dragged me round to the front entrance, each step a jab of pain. He shoved me through the door into a rustic living room with an open fire blazing and pulsing out heat.

  My head swam but I planted my feet on the tiled floor. I willed myself to stay upright. Sitting at his ease on a high back couch was Apollodorus. But I knew him too well. The skin around his mouth was tight, a sure sign of tension. Was it anger or guilt shining in his eyes? Or some other emotion? Philippus stood back facing him, fury all over his face.

  Both men stared at my dramatic entrance. Apollo was first to recover.

  ‘My dear Carina Mitela, so kind to drop in.’ He gestured to Philippus. ‘A chair.’

  I dropped down onto it, catching another jab of pain, but a relief from standing. Philippus sent me a desperate look, but I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  ‘I think, Philippus, you should sit down opposite me where Justus can see you. I would be disappointed if you did anything rash.’ Apollodorus’s face had regained its usual praeternatural calm. ‘Now, I would like very much to hear what our other guest has to say for herself.’

  ‘First, I need some water.’

  Apollo lifted a jug and tumbler.

  ‘From an unopened bottle.’

  ‘Dear me, you don’t trust anything, do you?’

  ‘No, as I’ve found out.’

  He stood up, disappeared into the kitchen, came back with a small blue bottle, and with an ironic bow handed it to Philippus to serve me. It was liquid heaven. And, apart from the occasional crack from the fire, my gulping was the only sound in the room.

  ‘How did you know?’ Apollodorus asked at last.

  ‘Oh, you were very careful. I knew in the back of my mind something didn’t mesh together but couldn’t put my finger on it. Superbus let slip something after I interviewed him. He mentioned Cassia.’

  ‘Cassia?’ His brows drew together.

  ‘Common enough name, but it worried me.’

  ‘I thought a descendant of the Twelve Families would know how to hold his tongue, how to behave.’

  ‘Then you’re kidding yourself. He’s an amoral little shit.’

  ‘Very well, I admit I was not overly impressed.’ He shrugged. ‘I did warn Petronax to keep a close eye on him, but I was too far in by that stage.’

  My back was aching like seven levels of Hades, the breath was circulating my lungs on minimum running, but I couldn’t help myself. I smirked at him.

&nb
sp; ‘Cassia,’ I said, ‘turned out to be a Censor’s Office investigator. An undercover one. She went through your organisation like a ferret on a high.’ Apollodorus and Justus exchanged nervous looks.

  I gave a quick laugh. ‘Don’t worry on that score – Hermina had everything in wonderful order. Cassia found nothing. You don’t deserve Hermina. She was fantastically loyal to you. She’s devastated by your treachery.’

  Apollodorus rose off the couch, his hands balled. I tilted my face up, daring him.

  ‘But the key was a witness at Superbus’s house,’ I carried on. ‘She saw you the evening before the coup and has identified you.’

  He sat down again, his face sombre.

  ‘Why did you do it, Apollodorus? Why did you deal with Petronax?’

  ‘Pragmatism, my dear. My father was weak – it was humiliating. Although I loved my grandmother, I sometimes hated her for sneering at him, her son.’

  ‘That’s sentiment, not pragmatism. He was a druggie pimp who prostituted his own child.’

  ‘Petronax winning would have settled that for me. I would have become one of the richest men in the new order.’

  ‘You knew it was wrong.’

  ‘I never said I didn’t.’

  ‘We worked so well together against the drug dealers all those years ago.’

  ‘Yes. You were so useful to me then and it never hurts to have the establishment owing one a favour.’

  ‘Is that all it was?’

  ‘You know it wasn’t.’

  I was trying to puzzle out this complex and damaged man. The hard ruthlessness was genuine, but so was the sensitivity. A crack from a log breaking up on the fire made me jump.

  ‘Why did you help Flavius and me when we were shot in front of your gate?’

  ‘Petronax hadn’t made his big move then. It could have gone either way.’

  I shivered when I thought about when he’d had Conrad at his house. Out of Transulium into the traitor’s trap.

  ‘How did you know I was here?’ Apollodorus asked.

  ‘You told me.’

  His brow creased.

  ‘You always said you’d finish where you began, so I guessed you’d return to Castra Lucilla. I found the rental contract you took out five years ago in the concealed compartment in the swan’s neck table.’

  ‘And what precisely were you doing in my private room?’

  ‘Didn’t Justus tell you?’ I smirked at him. ‘I would have thought he would have the answer off pat. Or is he hiding something from you?’

  Justus swung his hand up in an arc to smash his semi-automatic down on my face. Pleasure and anticipation shone out of his eyes.

  ‘Justus,’ Apollodorus’s soft voice chilled the air. Justus’s arm came down slowly. He was only centimetres away from me. He waved the Glock in my face, but stepped back.

  Apollodorus turned his black gaze on me. I couldn’t read it, but I tried very hard not to shiver.

  ‘If you attempt to provoke him again, I won’t stop him. Now answer my question.’

  ‘You know the custodes raided the house. They brought me in to help with their search. I found the panel into the room.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s been stripped out, and the contents will be sold off at public auction when you’re convicted.’

  His lips turned almost white in a mouth pulled into a tight line. Pink blotches gathered in his cheeks. I’d never seen him so angry. I was pleased to hurt him: it eased my own hurt. I knew I was going to die now. And he would kill me himself.

  ‘Why didn’t you terminate us when Flavius and I came back after the operation?’

  ‘I don’t know. I had you in my hand.’ He sighed. ‘I should have known you would work it out eventually. You are so persistent.’

  ‘Did none of the good work we did mean anything to you?’

  ‘Yes. My bitterest regret was betraying your friendship.’ His eyes drilled into mine. The lines at the corners of his mouth pulled down. ‘You’re so single-minded, Carina, so sure of yourself, aren’t you?’

  ‘Never believe that. I’ve had my struggles, but I know the difference between right and wrong.’

  Justus broke the silence. ‘What happens next?’ He spoke directly to Apollodorus. ‘You can’t let them go.’

  Apollodorus put his hand in his inner pocket, drew out a mother of pearl box. He flicked open the lid, extracted a tablet and swallowed before anybody had time to react. He drained his glass and replaced it on the table.

  I stared at him, not believing what he had done. I pulled at the plastic binding round my wrists, to get to him, but I couldn’t move. ‘Apollo, you— No!’

  ‘I will not face the public humiliation of a trial. I am satisfied I have chosen the time and circumstances of my own death.’ He closed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. Truly.’ A spasm rode through his body and he was gone.

  ‘No!’ Justus moved forward, bent over Apollo. He swung around, his face contorted. He brought his semi-automatic point-blank to my head. As his finger went to squeeze the trigger, a crack sounded, his eyes bulged, a red jet exploded from his forehead. His legs folded and he fell.

  I rocked my chair off balance and threw myself to the ground in the same split second Philippus dived for the floor.

  XLI

  Livius had made the shot that killed Justus. It seemed obvious now but, at the time, all I took in was Justus’s blood and brains everywhere; warm on my face, a spreading pool of blood on the tile floor.

  Philippus was crawling towards me when something thumped heavily on the door. The lock exploded away from the wood. I screwed my eyes closed and turned my head away from the flying debris. The door was smashed back on its hinges. I opened my eyes to see Paula and Flavius burst in, semi-automatics in their hands. Conrad on their heels. From the floor, I heard more than saw Paula and Flavius run toward the kitchen and hallway doors. Half a second later, they shouted, ‘Secure.’

  Conrad pushed Philippus out of the way and dropped to his knees by my side. We stared at each other. My heart was still thudding hard from the fall but seemed to speed up. He closed his eyes for a second, then shook his head like he was rebooting his brain. He leaned over my body and slashed the plastic tie around my wrists.

  The pulse rocketed through my wrists, swiftly followed by pain as blood started freely circulating through my flesh.

  ‘Ah, ah, Juno.’ I bit my lip. Pain shot through my arm that had gone numb from taking my weight when I crashed to the ground. Conrad shoved the fallen chair away. Although he carried out the standard vitals check swiftly and surely, I felt his fingers tremble as he touched my wrist for my pulse. He was silent as he focused on my arm.

  ‘Nothing’s broken, thank the gods,’ he rasped after a few moments, then wrapped his arms around me. He bent his head down onto my chest, and I brought my good hand up to touch his hair.

  ‘Conrad, I’m so—’

  ‘Shush, relax. It’s over.’ He glanced up at Flavius who was standing over Apollodorus’s body. ‘And?’

  ‘Dead.’

  Conrad grunted. ‘Get the first-aid kit.’

  Ever practical, Flavius raised my head and wedged a cushion under it. He strapped a cold pack onto my bruised arm and gave me a shot. The cold liquid curled through the flesh of my arm. Conrad gently wiped my face clear of Justus’s blood and flesh with a stericloth. His smile faded as he packed it in a plastic waste baggie. When he’d finished, he took my hand in his, stroked it, then cupped it in both of his.

  ‘There are so many charges I could bring that you’d be immobilised in prison for years, safe where you couldn’t get up to anything remotely dangerous.’

  I studied his face. It wasn’t anger but anxiety.

  ‘No, too tempting to start a riot,’ I whispered back.

  His grip on my hand became more intense. ‘Gods, woman, don’t ever do this again to me.’

  I gave him a little smile. ‘No guarantee of that.’

  But he smiled back, bent over and kissed my lips.

  I didn
’t remember much of the ride to hospital, but I felt his hand on my face and the warm pressure of the other one holding mine.

  They’d been the noisy group arriving that morning. Conrad had asked Aurelia for permission to track me, but they took a little while to realise exactly where I was on the estate. Livius had followed me up to the cottage with Conrad, Paula and Flavius behind. They’d gotten every word on a distance mic.

  Conrad hadn’t processed my resignation further than his in-tray. He knew I’d be back.

  Apollo was identified at last: his mother had been a moderately successful businesswoman’s daughter from Castra Lucilla. His family history tied up with everything he’d told me. He’d leased the cottage for years. I left hospital in time for his funeral at the Castra Lucilla public burning ground. Philippus, Flavius, the public recorder and duty priest, and I were the only attendees.

  Philippus threw his libation on last – a woven leather belt. ‘It was the first thing he gave me the day he scraped me off the street. He said none of his household, his family, would ever wear rope around their waist. I’d never owned anything so good. It doesn’t fit any longer, but I kept it to remind me of that moment.’ He tipped his head toward the burning body. ‘It’s right it should go back to him.’ And he threw it in an arc into the middle of the flames.

  After a surprisingly short trial, the conspirators were given long sentences, all hard labour, except Superbus, who was sent to a state farm where he flourished. Leaner and fitter, he ended up managing it and making a profit for the state. He still had bad breath.

  Aidan was tried for complicity but escaped with a public censure after we’d entered a plea citing his co-operation. But Aburia’s hearing was awkward and the tone terse. The senior legate giving judgement spoke like she was eating gravel. As Aburia was being taken away to the central military prison for the next five years, she shot a venomous look at me, the only sign of animation from her during the whole ninety minutes.