Finished Business (10 page)

I
was off and away fairly bright and early the next morning, except that this time I made sure I had a decent breakfast inside me first. Normally, unlike Perilla, who can really sink it, I don’t bother much beyond a roll dipped in olive oil, but this time I had Bathyllus rustle me up a three-egg omelette stuffed with mushrooms, plus a bit of cheese and a couple of apples from the store to take with me for later. The weather wasn’t too bad – evidently, fortunately, we’d hit a comparatively dry spell, although the sky was pretty overcast – and the temperature was a bit on the chilly side, but fine for walking.

So. What did Junior want to see me about? Not to confess to the murder in a sudden fit of abject guilt and remorse, I was sure of that, and I reckoned we’d all drawn a line under the Tarquitia business. Personally, I suspected that although it’d cost him an arm and a leg in the end, he’d simply be relieved to see the back of her and his brother and get on with his everyday boring life. And, looking on the bright side of things, foreign travel was always a risky business. There was always the chance that, when he did set out on his eastern tour, Hellenus would be lost at sea or get himself fatally pirated. I couldn’t see that causing too much grief in the family.

So there wasn’t much left for him to tell me about. I was really,
really
keeping my fingers crossed that he’d found our freedman friend. If so, then how he’d managed it I didn’t know, but with Cilix having provided a description and the bought-help network on to it, that was at least a possibility. And if we were going to crack the case, then finding the guy was crucial.

I crossed the river at the Sublician and made my way through the immediate built-up area towards the Janiculum and the open countryside. By the time I’d reached it and taken a right along the road to Vatican Hill, what with the increased gradient I was sweating; now the sun was properly up it was beginning to feel positively warm, and the sky was clearing fast. Well, I needn’t’ve bothered bringing my cloak, need I? I took it off, removed an apple from the inside pocket, bundled it up and tucked it under my arm.

I’d only gone a couple of hundred yards further when three men came out of the bushes ahead and fanned out across the road, waiting for me. Two of them – the ones at the sides – had knives in their hands, and the guy in the centre was hefting a nail-studded club.

Shit; muggers, in Rome, don’t usually work during daylight hours, but of course out here in the wilds there was no reason why they shouldn’t put in a bit of overtime. And they’d chosen their spot well: no villas in sight on this stretch, with inconvenient gate guards who might decide to step in and spoil the fun, while the chances of another pedestrian turning up and complicating matters were practically zilch.

I reached for my purse, unfastened it from my belt, and threw it towards them.

‘OK, guys,’ I said, ‘you’ve got me fair and square. Drinks are on me. Enjoy.’

The man with the club grinned and took a step forwards. The other two followed him. None of them had even glanced at the purse. I felt a chill run down the back of my neck.

‘Fuck that for now, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘We’ll leave it until after you’re dead. Right, boys.’

They moved forwards again; not quickly, but like they had all the time in the world and meant to enjoy themselves. The guys on the wings moved slightly further out to cut me off if I made a dash to one side. They were professionals, I could tell that from the relaxed, confident manner and the way they held their weapons. All in a day’s work, then.

Fuck. Double fuck. Running wasn’t an option, since they’d be on me before I’d got five yards; I’d no knife myself, and the ground round about was spectacularly empty of hefty branches that I could use as a club of my own, or at least to fend them off with. The best I could do was wrap my cloak round my left arm as a shield and trust to luck …

Something whirred past me two or three feet to my left, and the guy on that side went down like a poleaxed ox, his forehead, suddenly, a pulped mess of blood and bone. The other two stopped, complete astonishment on their faces. Me, I must’ve looked the same.

There was another whirring sound, this time to my right. The other knifeman jerked backwards, slumped to his knees and slowly collapsed. The left-hand side of his face had gone, and I could see his cheekbone protruding through the mangled flesh.

Chummie with the club glanced sideways at him, then shouted and launched himself at me. I threw the apple I was holding straight into his face, and he flinched and ducked; not much of a movement, but the distraction had been enough to break his stride and his speed and let me get inside his guard. I got in one good punch to the throat and a not-so-good one, with my cloak-wrapped left hand, to his chest, then wrapped my arms round him and pitched myself forwards. He went down with my full weight on his ribs, and I heard the thud as the back of his head hit the gravelled roadway. He slumped unconscious.

I stood up, breathing hard, and looked round. A big guy, easily six foot four and built to match, was coming towards me. There was a sling tied to his wrist, and a shot-pouch plus an efficient-looking knife attached to his belt.

‘Thanks, pal,’ I said. ‘You arrived just in the nick of time.’

He ignored me, and without even a glance at the two dead men reached down and hefted my live one into a sitting position. Then, still without speaking, he knelt behind him, took a firm hold of his head with both hands, and gave it a sudden twist to the side. I heard the neck-bone snap.

The slinger let go of the body and stood up.

I’d been watching in horror.

‘What the fuck did you do that for?’ I said.

‘It’s neater that way.’ He unfastened his sling and put it in the pouch.

‘I’d got the bastard cold,’ I said. ‘He wasn’t going anywhere. The other two, fair enough, but that was murder.’ He shrugged and began to walk away back the way he’d come. ‘Hey! Come on! We need to report this!’ No answer; he didn’t even slow down. ‘I need your name, for a start!’

I was talking to his back, and for all the reaction I got he could’ve been stone deaf.

Shit.

Well, at least I was alive, which was something that I wouldn’t have bet on five minutes ago. I lugged the three corpses off the road and into the undergrowth; you can’t have bodies promiscuously impeding the public highway and, like I’d said, I’d be reporting the whole thing to the local Watch commander on my way back, so no doubt they’d be cleared up eventually. I’d had a good look at their faces in the process, to check for birthmarks. The club man and the guy who’d been on my left and got it in the forehead were clean, but of course I couldn’t tell where the one on my right was concerned because the whole left cheek was missing. I hadn’t noticed any distinguishing marks while he was a viable entity, sure, but there again at that point I’d had other things to occupy my attention.

Once they were decently housed, I picked up my fallen purse, reattached it to my belt, and carried on up the road.

I was thinking hard. They’d been no ordinary muggers, that was obvious: muggers don’t usually bother to learn the names of their victims beforehand, and unless they’re complete head-bangers (it does happen), they’re usually quite grateful when the punter surrenders with good grace and without giving them any trouble. I mean, why piss the Watch off more than you need to? And zeroing a purple-striper unnecessarily really tends to get you noticed.

So they’d been waiting for me, presumably because they’d been paid to. The first big question, of course, was who by? And, equally of course, the answer was obvious. The only person who’d known I’d be out in the wilds of Transtiber this morning, because he’d arranged it himself, was Surdinus Junior.

When I got to the villa I’d nail his fucking hide to the door.

The other big question was who was my pal with the sling? Not a passer-by, obviously: you don’t get many passers-by on the west side of the Janiculan Hill. When you do, they don’t carry slings loaded with seriously injurious military-grade lead shot, and they don’t break unconscious men’s necks for them with no more compunction than a priest killing a pigeon. Plus there was the fact that he’d appeared out of nowhere; there hadn’t been anyone on the road behind me, that I knew, because I’d turned round a couple of times on the straighter stretches just to see if I’d got any company. So he’d been tailing me, keeping out of sight, probably off-road, which wouldn’t’ve been difficult, given the terrain. As to why, or who for, or how the hell he knew I’d be out this way, I hadn’t the faintest idea.

Not that I wasn’t grateful, mind.

I reached the villa, and this time I went straight to the main entrance.

‘The master’s in his study, sir,’ the door slave said. ‘If you’d like to wait a moment I’ll have someone take you.’

Bought-help number two led me through the labyrinth; not upstairs this time, but to a room on the ground floor at the back, overlooking a small garden. Surdinus Junior was there, sitting behind a desk, talking to Leonidas, the estate manager. They both looked up as I came in.

‘Valerius Corvinus!’ Junior said. ‘This is a surprise!’

‘Yeah, it probably is, at that.’ I nodded my thanks to the slave as he went out. ‘Because I should be lying by the roadside somewhere between here and the Janiculan with either my throat cut or my head bashed in, right?’

‘
What?
’ He was staring at me.

‘Come on, pal! You set me up. You sent me a message saying you wanted to talk to me this morning and then you had your tame thugs lie in wait to take me out.’

Surdinus turned back to Leonidas, who was looking on open-mouthed.

‘You can go, Leonidas,’ he snapped. ‘We’ll deal with the rest later.’ The little Sicilian got up, gathered together the pile of wax tablets on the desk in front of him and moved to the door; never taking his eyes off me, and edging past like I was some sort of dangerous wild animal. The door closed behind him. ‘Corvinus, I sent you no message.’

‘Is that so, now?’

‘Certainly it is. What would I want to talk to you about? I gave you all the information that I had last time we met.’

‘Yeah, well, that side of things wouldn’t matter, would it? Because I shouldn’t’ve got this far. And when the question of the message was raised you could tell whoever asked it just that; that it hadn’t come from you.’

He was almost purple with anger. ‘For the last time, and I give you my solemn word on this,
I did not send you any message!
Now what’s this about an attack?’

I frowned. Well, it could be an act, of course, but if it was it was a bloody good one. And I didn’t think Surdinus Junior – unlike his brother – had either the nous or the panache to brazen something like this out successfully. Still, if it wasn’t him, then who was it?

‘There were three of them,’ I said. ‘Professionals. They’d’ve had me, too, if I hadn’t had a bit of unexpected help.’

‘We do get the occasional footpad out here.’ He was calming down now, losing his colour. ‘But not often during the day. This is disgraceful; the Watch are lax, very lax. When I’m appointed as a city judge I shall certainly make it my business to look into the problem.’

‘They weren’t robbers,’ I said. ‘They weren’t interested in my purse. All they wanted was to kill me. And they knew my name.’

That got me another stare. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I told you. I was set up. Presumably by whoever sent the message. I don’t suppose you have any idea who that might have been?’

‘No, of course not. None whatsoever.’

‘Uh-huh. Ah … one last question, pal, before I go and let you get on with things. Four names. Cassius Longinus. Julius Graecinus. Valerius Asiaticus. Anicius Cerialis. Any bells?’

‘Of course. They’re all senators. Longinus is – was, I suppose, now the emperor has recalled him to Rome – the Asian governor. Graecinus is currently a praetor. Asiaticus is from Narbonese Gaul; he’s a consular, suffect consul five years back. Cerialis – well, nothing special. A bit of an also-ran, really.’

‘They all friends of your father’s?’

‘Longinus and Graecinus, certainly. Intimate friends, you could say. The other two, no, not at all. He’d know them, naturally, as I do, but you couldn’t call them friends by any stretch of the imagination.’

‘Enemies, then?’

‘Good gods, no! That’s not what I meant at all! Simply that he had no particular dealings with them, of any nature.’ He was frowning. ‘Corvinus, what is this about?’

I shrugged. ‘Probably nothing. But I thought I’d ask. I’m sorry for the interruption. I’ll see you around.’ I half-turned to go, then paused. ‘How’re your brother and his girlfriend doing, by the way?’

He stiffened. ‘Well, I assume. But now our business is done we have no further contact. Or are likely to have in future.’

‘Fine, fine.’ I grinned. Cheeky, sure, and completely unwarranted, but I hadn’t been able to resist it. ‘Thank you, Naevius Surdinus. Don’t disturb yourself, I’ll find my own way out.’

‘The slave will be waiting out of earshot.’

‘Great,’ I said, and left.

Back to the centre, with a brief stop-off at the Fourteenth District Watch house. To the Palatine this time, for another word with Gaius Secundus, if he wasn’t too busy, regarding the sena-torial quartet. If the set-up hadn’t been Surdinus Junior’s doing – and I’d be very surprised, now, if it had been – then one or all of these guys was in the frame: it couldn’t be coincidence that I’d been attacked practically right after I’d mentioned to them that I was investigating Surdinus’s death and knew, in essence, who to look for as the actual perp. Someone, somewhere, didn’t want things to go any further.

Why any of them would want to kill a quiet-living man like Naevius Surdinus, mind, I couldn’t think.

Still, you can’t make tiles without clay. We’d have to start by finding out as much as we could about the buggers, and see if anything gelled. With luck, Secundus would be able to help there, and I was sure he’d be amenable enough. Besides, I owed him a half-jug of Massic.

There was still the matter of the phantom slinger (by the gods, there was!) but he, like the birthmarked freedman, was currently a piece of the puzzle with no context. No doubt that’d come in time; I could only work with what I’d got.