The Folding Knife (10 page)

"No, of course not." Which was perfectly true. It was Father who'd lost the entire capital, buying into a trading consortium on the point of bankruptcy; competing with his son, as always. But a sum like that was small change to Basso these days. "I suppose you'll want to see the accounts next."

"Yes, please. I want Bassano to know it was his father's money, and nothing to do with you." She walked straight at him, making him give ground so she could pass through the doorway. "Send Antigonus to tell me the arrangements," she said. "Don't come and see me yourself."

He heard the hem of her skirt rustle on the stairs. Chasing after her would probably just make matters worse; so did everything he said or did. Without realising he was doing it, he rubbed his right thumb up and down the scars across his left palm, tracing the smooth raised line of the damage.

Three days of making speeches, government stuff; getting rid of people who'd helped him win the election, because they were dangerous; making peace with those of his enemies who he knew were more capable than his own people in their various specialities; paying off political debts with appointments, honours and Treasury contracts; struggling into the mind of his predecessor (like trying to put on shoes three sizes too small). Fortunately, Caelius had assumed he'd be re-elected, and so hadn't made a ghastly, poisonous mess of the administrative and operational systems, with a view to making life interesting for his conqueror. Small mercies.

On the fourth day, the funeral; and in the afternoon, the deputy assistant commissioner of the Guard asked to see him. When he saw the man's name, he sent for him at once.

"I'm resigning my commission," Aelius said. He was standing to attention, which was ridiculous, since there was nobody else but Basso in the room, and Basso wasn't a soldier.

"Sit down," Basso replied. "Have a drink."

"No, thank you."

"Fine." Basso stood up, crossed to the table in the corner of the room and poured himself a glass of water. "You can't resign," he said, turning his back on Aelius. "You've still got nine months of your term to run, and I won't let you go early."

"I'd have thought--"

"Why?"

"Why?" Aelius repeated. "Well, let's see. Because of me, you're deaf in one ear. I was the investigating officer when you killed your wife and her lover, and in my report I recommended a state prosecution. I led the Guard unit that broke up the riot started by your supporters on election day, and my men killed over a hundred of them, quite probably illegally. All things considered--"

"Be quiet," Basso said, and turned to face him. "And for crying out loud sit down." Aelius opened his mouth, thought better of whatever it was he was about to say, and sat down. "Thank you," Basso continued, and perched on the edge of the desk. "Now, then. First, I've probably got you to thank for winning the election. I don't know what possessed Caelius to break the law and send in the troops like that, but it was about the only thing he could've done to make himself lose. A lot of men in your position would've questioned the order. Just out of interest, why didn't you?"

Aelius shrugged. "There was a riot going on," he said. "They were setting fire to buildings, the whole of the south quarter could've gone up. We tried to be nice about it, and they killed two of my men. Naturally, I take full responsibility for what happened after that."

Basso nodded. "Moving on," he said, "in your report you said I probably killed my brother-in-law in self-defence, but in your view killing my wife was murder."

Aelius waited for a moment, then said, "And?"

Basso smiled. "You were quite right," he said. "You went on to say that since, in law, any complaint would have to be lodged by my sister, who's under my control, the interests of justice demanded a state prosecution. You must've felt quite strongly about it to stick your neck out like that."

"Yes."

"Finally," Basso said, touching his left ear with his fingertips, "there's this. About which, all I have to say is that you taught me a valuable lesson which I've never forgotten. The fourth infantry division needs a new commander. I'm giving it to you."

Aelius stared at him. "You're joking," he said.

Basso frowned; a mild rebuke. "I've had you researched," he said, picking up a sheet of paper. "You're fifty-one years old, born in a wooden hut in Beroea, father unknown, mother died when you were six; recruited at fifteen, commissioned lieutenant at eighteen, captain by the time you were twenty-one." He turned the paper over. "Served with distinction--well, you know all that." He folded the paper in half and dropped it in the scraping-tray. "Well? Do you want the job or not?"

"You know I do," Aelius said.

"You're sure about that?" Basso stood up, went round the desk and sat in his chair. "Maybe you hadn't heard, we're at war with Scleria. Perhaps I'm sending you to the front to get killed."

Aelius grinned. "You can't drown a fish in water," he said. "But I can't do it. I haven't got the experience."

Basso shook his head. "Experience is a myth," he said. "I was put in charge of the Bank after a few weeks sitting in with the chief clerk. You'll do just fine."

"All right," Aelius said. "Provided you tell me why."

From his pocket, Basso took his gold-handled penknife and started trimming the nib of his pen. It was sharp enough already. "I want this ridiculous war over as soon as possible," he said. "I don't care whether we win or not, just so long as we don't lose in a way anybody will notice. I want it off my desk. General Basiliscus, on the other hand, wants a comprehensive victory. He wants a campaign they'll teach at the military academy for the next thousand years. Do you see where there might be a conflict of interests?"

"Basiliscus is a military genius."

"Quite," Basso replied. "And Scleria's the only truly worthy opponent he's ever likely to face. For him, it's the opportunity of a lifetime. Which is why I'm bringing him home. He can be the new City prefect, where he can't do any damage. The way I see it, you don't hire an icon-painter to whitewash a wall. Besides, if you screw it up, I'll send him out to replace you and he'll love that. Now, is that a good enough explanation?"

There was a confused look on Aelius' face that Basso found mildly entertaining. "I suppose it has to be," he said. "Thank you, Arcadius Severus, I'm honoured."

"Yes," Basso replied. "Now salute and go away. You interrupted me, remember?"

* * *

"What on earth possessed you...?"

Basso frowned, and poured Antigonus a glass of wine. "Oh come on," he said. "Think about it."

"I have been," Antigonus replied. "And I'm afraid I don't see it. Basiliscus..."

Basso leaned forward, picked a book up off the desk and lobbed it at Antigonus, who caught it clumsily. "Amandus'
History of the Wars
," he said. "They made me read it when I was a kid. Open it at random and you'll see where I've drawn sea serpents in the margins. It's a very dull book," he went on, leaning back in his chair. "The same thing happens, over and over again. A great general arises in the Republic's hour of greatest need. He defeats the enemy, and his loyal troops, who worship the ground he treads on, demand that he leads them against the wicked and corrupt administration back home and sets the Republic free. A few years later, the same thing happens. We had seventy-three military dictators in a hundred years. It was awfully bad for business."

Antigonus smiled. "That was a long time ago."

"So?" Basso shrugged. "Just because it rained a thousand years ago doesn't mean it won't rain tomorrow. Basiliscus isn't just a soldier, he's a hero. I can't take the risk. General Aelius, on the other hand, is a barely house-broken Beroean with a knack for doing the right thing. He'll end the war and we can get back to normal. That's what sensible people do with wars. They put a stop to them." He yawned. "Can we talk about something else now?" he said. "War's just violence, and violence is an admission of failure. I don't like thinking about it."

Antigonus handed back the book. "If that's what you want," he said. "Now then, what else? Oh yes. Your sister's found a house she likes in town."

Basso turned his head and looked out of the window. Across the square from the Bank, the absurdly long, narrow windows of the Notaries' Hall were lit up and golden, their light reflected in the water of the fountain below. "They must be having a function of some sort," he said.

"Inscription Day," Antigonus said. "Big occasion. Shouldn't you be there?"

"I don't know. Should I?"

"Affairs of state," Antigonus replied. "Unavoidably detained. It's a pretty dull affair, actually. Each newly registered notary has his name called out, and he stands up while they write his name on the roll. I suppose it'd be all right if you're a proud father."

"That's it?"

"More or less. There's speeches too, of course."

"Anything political?"

"From the notaries? I'd be greatly surprised."

Basso nodded. "Where?" he asked.

"Lower town," Antigonus said. "Nice quiet square, just round the corner from the Victory Temple. You paid eight thousand for it."

Basso opened his eyes wide, then shrugged. "Big enough for both of them?"

"Comfortable. Comfortable without being snug."

"Fine." Basso closed his eyes. Long gold streaks blazed across the inside of his eyelids. "Furniture?"

"Nothing from the town house. Two dozen pieces from store, and she'll buy the rest new. I offered her extra money to cover that, but she refused."

"And?"

Antigonus paused. "Her exact words were, 'Tell him not to come. It'd be embarrassing, the First Citizen locked out on the pavement by his own sister.' "

"Considerate of her," Basso said quietly. "Oh well." He was fiddling with something, but keeping it hidden in his hand. A flash of gold told Antigonus it was the penknife. "Let's have something cheerful," he said. "How about the takeover? All done?"

"Mostly." There was a slight feather to Antigonus' voice. "Actually, there's a problem."

"Of course there is," Basso sighed. "What?"

"Well." Antigonus opened his document case and flicked through the papers inside. "There's a government loan," he said. "One they didn't tell us about."

"Shit," Basso hissed through his teeth. "When?"

"That's the interesting bit," Antigonus said. "They'd been negotiating it for some time; Treasury, three hundred thousand at four per cent over twenty years, fixed rate."

"You're kidding."

Antigonus shook his head. "Obviously they didn't want to take it, but the Treasury was pressing them for it. Then, as soon as you made your raid and it looked like it was going to work, they agreed. According to the Treasury clerks, they dragged the permanent secretary out of bed in the middle of the night and he signed the memorandum right there, in his bedroom. And forgot to write it up the next morning."

Basso sucked his lip. "Go on."

"Which means," Antigonus said, "technically you're in breach, even though you didn't actually know about it, and even though the loan was made before you acquired the bank. I say technically, but the code of conduct--"

"Can we prove they did it maliciously?"

Antigonus pursed his lips. "Demonstrate to anybody with half a brain, yes. Prove, no. The signed memorandum was on the Bank's premises when we inspected the records. True, it was hidden in a closed file about a completely different matter down in the cellars, but that still makes it a breach. It doesn't help, of course, that none of the Benevolent's clerks will testify to concealing it, for fear of winding up in court themselves."

Basso closed his eyes. "Who knows about it?"

"Ah." Antigonus steepled his fingers. "My guess is, if they did it on purpose to get back at you, they'll have told Caelius, and he'll be round at the Speaker's office right now, filing a complaint. After all, why go to all that trouble if they're not going to make the most of it to hurt you?"

Basso thought for a while. "When they did it," he said, "they had no way of knowing I was going to win the election. In fact, it was odds-on I'd lose. You sure it wasn't just a perfectly innocent bad business decision?"

Antigonus shrugged. "Could be," he said. "But if you were being bullied into making a truly awful deal, would you go and wake up the Treasury boss at midnight to get it signed?"

"True." Basso sighed. "All right," he said, "what can we do?"

He watched as Antigonus closed the case and put it on the floor. "I have no suggestions to make," he said. "Sorry."

"Oh." Basso sat up straight in his chair, his hands on the armrests, like an emperor on his throne. "In that case, this is what we'll do. Draft me a statement to the House. Say that when I took over the Benevolent I inadvertently bought government debt. Say I apologise unreservedly for my carelessness, which I deeply regret, and that as a gesture of good will I'm writing off the loan."

Antigonus' eyes widened. "You're joking."

"When I make jokes, they're funny," Basso replied. "There's not much to laugh about in losing three hundred thousand nomismata. But," he went on, letting his head droop forward, "if it's that or give Caelius grounds for impeachment, it's cheap at the price. And we can afford it, and you'll make absolutely sure that the true story gets put around." Suddenly he grinned. "And you've got to admit, it's a pretty magnificent gesture. It'll give Caelius heartburn for a day or so, if nothing else."