Lindsey Davis - Nemesis

Momus reacted eagerly to news of the spy's implication in sordid crimes, until I hankered for Laeta's measured thoughtfulness instead. Momus even promised to help – - though he freely agreed it was hard to see what he could do.

'Momus, I still don't think the Claudii showed up and got jobs with the spy by accident. Are you ever going to tell me what you know about them?'

'Falco, if I knew how they control him, I'd be controlling him myself

'Do you admit you've put in people to watch him?'

'Of course I haven't,' he lied.

I left, reflecting ruefully that Momus had always been useless.

There was one more possibility.

Anacrites sometimes used a freelance on very special assignments, a woman. Helena and I had run into her a few times, and although I had a professional respect for her, we viewed her warily. She killed for Anacrites, killed to order. She took a pride in a beautiful performance, whether it was death or dancing. Dance was her cover. Just like her assassinations, it was clean, prepared in every detail, immaculate and took your breath away. Her talent gave her access to people Anacrites wished to remove; distracted by her brilliance, they were at her mercy. As often as not, no connection was made between her dancing and the discovery of a shocking corpse. Her name was Perella. She used a thin-bladed knife to slit her victims' throats. Knowing her method, I never let her stand behind me.

The first time I met Perella, before I knew her significance, it was at her home. Though a few years had passed, I managed to find the place again: a small apartment near the Esquiline, inexpensive but endurable. She let me in, barely surprised to see me. I was given a bowl of nuts and a beaker of barley water, urged to take the good chair and the footstool. It was like visiting a great-aunt, one who looked demure but who would reminisce about times when she juggled three lovers all at once – - and who was rumoured to still do it, passing them on to the baker's wife, when she felt tired.

What made me remember Perella was my encounter with the mystic Alis. Perella, too, was of mature age and build; in fact more years of age than it was kind to mention. The skilled diva remained supple. She had power too; not so long before, I saw her kick a man in the privates so hard she wrote off all chance of him producing children.

'Didius Falco! Whenever I see you, I feel apprehensive.'

'Nice courtesy, Perella. And I take you very seriously too. Still working?'

'Retired – generally.' That figured. Her hair, never stylish, had once passed for blonde; she was letting the grey work its way out through the lopsided chignon. The skin on her neck had coarsened. But her self-containment did not alter. 'Yourself?'

'I had the chance – came into money. I decided work was in my blood.'

'What are you working on?' Perella was eating pistachios as if all that mattered was splitting their shells. She tossed off the question like casual conversation – - but I never forgot she was an agent. A good one.

I let time pass before I answered. Perella put the nuts down. We gazed at one another. I said quietly, 'As usual, my role is complex. I cannot trust my principle – - insofar as I have any, given that the case I was investigating for a dead man's nephew was then grabbed by Anacrites.'

Perella folded her hands on her full waistline, as if she was just about to ask me where I got my stylish wrist purse. 'My whimsical employer!'

'Still?'

'Oh yes. You mean the marsh bugs, I suppose? He sent me there, if you're interested.' I must have looked surprised. 'I can swat flies, Falco.'

'And which fly,' I asked with emphasis, 'was he wanting you to swat?'

'A vicious coward called Nobilis.' Although Perella worked for Anacrites, he never quite managed to buy her loyalty. She was more likely to connive with me, a fellow professional. 'Nobilis must have heard I was coming, so he fled abroad.'

I could not blame him. 'So that's why he vanished! How did he know you were coming for him?'

'I wonder!' scoffed Perella. She implied Anacrites let it slip.

'Do you know where he went?'

'Pucinum.' Where had I heard that name recently? 'Fled into hiding with his grandma,' Perella said, sneeringly. 'That's where they come from, those animals. I could have gone over there and dealt with him easily.'

'Did Anacrites run out of cash for your fare?'

'Much more intriguing! Anacrites was going that way himself.'

Davis, Lindsey – Falco 20

Nemesis (2010)

'Aha! So Pucinum is in Istria!' I whistled through my bottom teeth, to give myself thinking time. 'I've remembered – he bought wine there on the trip… Has Anacrites done the business? Has he finished Nobilis himself?'

Perella gave me an odd look. 'Well, just like you, I'm off the case. But, just like you, I never let go. He didn't. Nobilis is back, according to my sources. Seen in Rome. Anacrites must have reprieved him.'

'Or he just bungled it.'

'Not so,' said Perella softly. 'Claudius Nobilis came home on the same ship as the spy. The pair of them together, tight as ticks.'

'Anacrites brought him back? But not in leg irons – - I haven't seen a trial announced!'

'Surprise! You'd think,' Perella told me in disgust, 'if he wanted Nobilis dead, as he told me, he could have found the chance to put a boot in the small of his back and shove the bastard overboard. Anacrites is handy enough – - and I hear you know all about that!'

'What?'

'A little bird twittered "Lepcis Magna"?'

'That birdie must fly absolutely everywhere! I'll wring his neck for tweeting.' Anacrites had fought as a gladiator at Lepcis. It was illegal for any but slaves. Citizens who fought in the arena became non-persons. News of it would make Anacrites a social outcast; he would lose his job, his ranking, his reputation, everything. I smiled gently. 'You are well informed. It's true; he spilled blood on the sand. But that information is mine to exploit, Perella. I was there.'

'I won't step in – even though I want his job.'

'You want his job?'

'Why not?' Indeed! The Praetorians would never accept her, yet Perella was just as shrewd, experienced and ruthless as the current incumbent. More intelligent, in my opinion. She had the talent. Only the ancient traditions of keeping women beside the hearth interfered with her qualifications. No tombstone yet had ever said: She kept the house and worked in wool – and slit a few throats for security reasons

… 'You could destroy Anacrites, Falco – - and presumably he knows it. Can you ever feel safe?'

'I have protection: other witnesses. If he touches me, they'll tell. So he's the one who lives in fear. I'm saving the information for the sweetest possible moment.'

The dancer took up her barley water peacefully. She still sounded like a well-disposed aunt, giving me career advice: 'Don't wait too long, my dear.'

I found my team, not as tipsy as I feared, merely unreliable. I said it was good to associate with happy men. Petronius had to work, or at least take a nap at the station house. The Camilli, being persons of leisure, rolled along with me. They had reached the clingy phase, where I was their best friend. Trailing them like seaweed stuck on an oar, I went up the Aventine to Ma's house, intending to collect Albia.

She had left, for home my mother said. 'Anacrites was here – he drops in, to see I am all right,' she confided in Aelianus and Justinus hoarsely. 'He knows my own don't give me a second thought. When I am found stone dead in my chair one morning, it will be Anacrites who raises the alarm.'

I cursed this libel and sat down on a bench. The Camilli did likewise, fitting in fast, as people did at Mother's house. They were clearly thinking: what a dear little old lady. She sat there, tiny and terrible, letting them believe it. Her beady black eyes rested wisely upon them. 'I hope my good-for-nothing son hasn't taken you drinking.'