David Wishart - Parthian Shot

‘And this high-up Roman would be Prince Gaius, right?’

‘Maybe,’ she said cautiously.

‘You don’t know?’

‘I’m not paid to think. I just do what I’m told.’

Sure, and I was born yesterday. Gaius made complete sense. A Seleucian revolt wouldn’t directly harm Roman interests, unless Callion’s pals were stupid enough to go down that road, which they wouldn’t be. Quite the reverse. On the other hand, it wouldn’t do Rome’s official candidate Phraates any favours, either: the last thing a new Great King wants when he’s taking over and desperate to establish his authority is an independent state across the river from his capital with widespread ethnic support throughout the kingdom and bargaining clout in spades. If you wanted to keep Parthia weak and divided, then giving Seleucia her head would be a peach of an idea. Risky, mind, and that was the point. Tiberius wouldn’t go for it — he was a step-by-step, take-things-one-at-a-time man — but Gaius, Gaius was different…

She was watching me again. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘this isn’t very flattering. You’ve paid for my time and you’re not even looking at me.’

I grinned. ‘Yeah. Sorry, lady. Not your fault, not in the least. So. How did it go, with Callion? You got what you wanted? What Isidorus wanted?’

‘Oh, yes. After the dinner.’

I almost dropped my winecup. ‘You were there the night of the murder? All night?’

She smiled. It could’ve been coincidence, sure, but her breasts rose clear of what little of the dressing-gown was still hiding them. ‘Now that’s really unflattering,’ she said. ‘You think Callion had me come along that evening just to send me away?’

Shit! ‘He told me categorically there was no one else in the house that night!’

‘Then he was lying. Understandable, in the circumstances. And I was gone before morning.’

My brain was buzzing. Sweet holy Jupiter, the open door! ‘You were the one who drugged the door-slave, right?’

‘And Callion. It was my last chance. He’s a clever man and maybe I’d been pushing too hard. If I’d left things any later he’d probably have gone beyond suspecting. I told Isidorus and he authorised it.’

‘What about the —?’ I stopped. I didn’t need to ask that question any more. ‘The guard outside didn’t matter, did he? He’d been ordered to turn a blind eye. Or if he had sloped off he’d been fucking told to.’ Hell; the devious bastards — both Isidorus and Vitellius — had conned me right down the line.

‘He was there. Within sight, anyway. Isidorus thought I might need a little backup.’

I took an angry swallow of wine. The next time I met that slimy three-faced bugger if he wanted his pen and notepad back it’d need surgery. If Callion had lied then that was fine, he had reason to keep Anna out of things, but you don’t expect it from your own side. ‘The rest of the delegation. They knew you were sleeping over?’

‘Of course. It was no secret.’

‘Then why the hell didn’t they say and be done with it? The Greek bastard was going behind their backs as well, they didn’t owe him anything.’ I sighed. ‘No. Don’t tell me. Parthian solidarity, right?’

‘That and other things.’ There was that look again, the one she’d given me when Helen was mentioned. ‘Callion had a locked chest with him. While he was unconscious I forced the lock. The original letters he’d carried from the Seleucian senate had already been delivered, of course, but I found some other documents that were equally good. Plus the reply that he’d be taking back.’

‘And then you left.’

‘Then I left.’

I looked at her sharply. There was something there, something in the tone…

Oh, fuck. Oh, holy sodding gods…

‘You saw him, didn’t you?’ I said quietly. ‘On your way out. The guy who murdered Zariadres.’

She smiled and flicked a strand of hair from her right breast. ‘Yes. I saw him.’

‘So who was it?’

‘Peucestas.’

So easy. I stared at her. It wasn’t the name that surprised me — the killer had to be one of the delegation, and Peucestas had always been high on the suspect list — but the way she said it. Like it didn’t matter.

‘So — ’ I began…

Which was when the implication hit me.

Anna had known who the murderer was all along. Anna worked for Isidorus. Ergo, Isidorus had known all along too.

First the litter attack, now this. There was nothing left, and lying didn’t cover it; the word was nowhere near strong enough. What his reasons had been — and someone like Isidorus would’ve had reasons, that I was sure of — I couldn’t begin to guess, but the bastard had shafted me right from the start.

‘Why?’ I said.

‘Why what?’ She had her cautious, cat-at-the-cream expression on again.

‘Why didn’t your boss tell me? Why go through the charade of an investigation when he knew who’d slit the guy’s throat five minutes after it happened? You reported what you’d seen, didn’t you?’

‘Oh, yes. I was waiting for the coast to clear, looking through the crack between our bedroom door and the jamb, and I saw Peucestas go past towards his room with blood on his tunic and a knife in his hand.’ That came out matter-of-fact. No pushover was right: tits, a face and a body that Queen Cleopatra would’ve died for or not, the lady was a seriously tough cookie. ‘Short of seeing the actual murder itself I couldn’t’ve been luckier. And I went straight round to Isidorus’s flat — he has one in Augustus House — as per my instructions.’

‘And you think the other delegates — Osroes and Callion — knew Peucestas had done it?’

She laughed. ‘But of course they did!’

Of course they did…

I lay back. Out of my depth wasn’t the half of it: none of this made any sense, even in Parthian terms. The guy — head of the fucking delegation — had been murdered in his bed by a colleague and even knowing who the murderer was no one on either the Roman or the Parthian side gave a damn. They never had, right from the start. Plus the fact Peucestas wasn’t a murderer, not that kind, anyway. That I’d swear to. Shit! What was going on? Why should Peucestas — ?

And then things shifted.

It was obvious. Change just one word and the whole business was clear, everything added up: why neither the other delegates nor Isidorus had been interested, why both sides wanted the case shoved down a very deep hole and buried, why Phraates had brought his taster to the dinner. Even what Phraates had been trying to tell me in his carriage the night of the Medea …

Change ‘murdered’ to ‘executed’.

‘Zariadres was a traitor, wasn’t he?’ I said. ‘He was working for Artabanus. Peucestas killed him because Phraates, as Great King of Parthia, ordered him to.’

‘Yes,’ Anna said.

‘So why the fuck could Isidorus not say so? Him or Phraates, one of the two?’

She shrugged. ‘I told you, Corvinus. I’m not paid to think, I’m just a whore who collects information. If you really want that question answered you’ll have to ask Isidorus yourself. Now.’ She lay back. ‘We’ve talked enough. I’ve my reputation to consider here, and I reckon you have about three gold pieces’ worth left.’

But I was already up and heading for the door. Too right I’d ask Isidorus. By the time I was finished with that bastard they’d have to wheel him around in a cart.

The anger jag got me as far as the main road. Then I began to cool down and think things through.

Going to see Isidorus in this mood would be a very bad idea, even I could see that. The way I was currently feeling, I would definitely have the bastard by the throat and be shaking his teeth out inside five minutes, and to do that to a senior Roman official who has more Praetorians on call than beans in a bean-bag isn’t a smart move; not unless you seriously undervalue your skin and don’t mind spending a couple of years somewhere the locals trail their knuckles, anyway. Also, there was still the question of the two Pollio library guys. I could be wrong, but with Mithradates and Phraates out of the running and Vitellius the blue-eyed boy again that didn’t leave many names in the hat. Six got you ten the person responsible had been Isidorus himself. And confirmation of that little nugget was something I didn’t want to get while I was within easy punching distance of the bugger’s mouth.