Lindsey Davis - Alexandria

'Her name is Roxana,' Helena informed Thalia, in an innocent tone she used sometimes. I knew better. Helena had picked up that Thalia harboured some grudge against Roxana. Possibly she just hated members of the public who caused problems with animals; perhaps there was more to it.

'So I believe,' returned Thalia, sounding sour. I put down this definite needle as contempt for fancy dolls who tripped around in the dark, having to be rescued. Thalia had a jaded view of the public's lack of common sense.

'Had you met her before?' Helena enquired.

'I don't mingle with that sort.'

'How did the gates get broken?' I asked. 'Did Sobek smash them?'

'That's the story.'

'Do I believe it?'

'Believe what you like!' Thalia was definitely not herself today. 'Crocodiles are unpredictable, they are intelligent and skilful, they have devastating strength -'

'I don't need to be reminded!'

'And if he wanted to eat half a gate, Sobek could do it.'

Thalia relapsed into silence so Helena filled in more for herself: 'On the other hand, the zoo has had Sobek almost all his life and the keepers say he is fifty. Confinement must be all he can remember. Sobek is thoroughly pampered, fed daily with more treats than a wild crocodile ever dares to hope for. His keepers love him and regard him as tame. He is very intelligent – so why would he try to leave?'

'Who knows?' Thalia grunted. 'Once he did get out, he had a fine time – but that's what any croc would do. Perhaps he really did want an expedition and a little rampage. The lad was there in his way. I dare say he tried to run – well, Sobek would have only one reaction to that. It was just an accident.'

'So that's the official story. You believe it?' I asked.

'Yes, I do, Falco.'

'Well, I don't. Calling this an accident is sheer nonsense. Somebody lured Sobek out deliberately, with a piece of goat on a long rope.'

'Whatever you say, Falco.' Thalia unaccountably lost interest.

I trusted Thalia. Nonetheless, as Helena and I walked to the Zoo Keeper's quarters after we left the circus tent, neither of us said much. Perhaps we were both pondering how tricky it is when somebody you have liked and trusted for years starts closing up suspiciously.

We inspected the crocodile's enclosure. Sobek was lying at the bottom of the pit, feigning sleep. To encourage him to stay there, several chunks of new meat had been thrown down. Chaeteas was watching over him. Like his comrade, Chaereas, he was a pleasant-featured man of middle years and calm temperament, who looked to be of native Egyptian origin; they were so similar, they were possibly related. I had always received the impression these two were content with their work. They seemed genuinely fond of the animals and keen on the pursuit of science. At the postmortem they had behaved with a discretion that seemed to come naturally. They appeared to have a close relationship with Philadelphion. He relied on them and they had respect for him. These qualities are plainly desirable, yet in my experience, between employers and their staff neither occurs frequently. In many professions it never happens. Mine, normally.

I examined the damaged top gate by daylight. It was mainly of wood, since the crocodile was never intended to reach it. It certainly looked as if it could have been chewed by a vicious reptile, though there could be equally persuasive alternatives. The way struts were torn out and one side smashed off its hinges could just as easily have been done with an axe (say). I lacked the forensic skill to distinguish; so would most people, as a villain might realise. Newly splintered wood is newly splintered wood. 'Are you satisfied,' I asked Chaeteas, 'that Sobek did this?' He nodded.

'If so, why did he break out?'

As if he had been with Helena and me yesterday when we were told about the Khamseen, Chaeteas blamed the disturbing effects of the fifty-day wind.

Chaeteas offered to take me down to see the lower gate as well. Under Sobek's evil gaze, I was satisfied to squint at long distance.

The other gate was made of metal and had not been so badly mangled. It looked a bit buckled, but the enormous Sobek could have thrashed it with his tail as he passed through. Chaeteas admitted sheepishly that a chain and padlock had inadvertently been left unsecured last night. I gave him a straight look. He then confessed this was not the first time – though he claimed it was the only occasion Sobek took notice and escaped. Philadelphion normally found and corrected the error when he made his nightly rounds.

According to Chaeteas, he and Chaereas always tended the beast together. Zoo routines forbade anything else. Sobek was so big, no one ever took solo trips down to his pit. It was impossible to say which of the pair had been responsible for not fastening the padlock as neither could remember.

'And what,' I asked, 'is your explanation for the goat on a rope I found?'

'Someone taunted him. Maybe the young fellow who died.'

That jarred with me. Helena, who had been listening in silence, also thought it seemed an easy way of making out that Heras had brought death on himself. 'He was not the type for taunting,' she retorted bitterly.

Helena and I went to see Philadelphion. When we arrived, he was being harangued by the Director. Philetus would happily reprimand his colleagues in front of strangers, however eminent those colleagues were. 'I have warned you! Your association with this woman brings the Museion into disrepute. You must end it immediately. She is not to enter Museion premises again.'

Philadelphion had been receiving his rebuke with pinched lips. In some respects he looked like a schoolboy whose misdemeanours had caused many a teacher's tantrum before. As the Director paused for breath, the Zoo Keeper's handsome features flushed, however; I suspect because we were listening. 'You may be on my shortlist -' Philetus made no attempt to curb the nastiness in his tone -'but do remember, I can only recommend a man of unsullied principles!'

Whirled by his own moral superiority, Philetus flew from the Zoo Keeper's office. He whipped up a breeze with his robe so angrily, a scroll on the desk began unrolling. Helena put out a slim hand and steadied it.

'As you see,' Philadelphion remarked to me, once the man had left, 'I am formally forbidden to present Roxana to you at the zoo this morning!'

He assumed a slight smile, the kind that often means a patient man is thinking how dearly he would like to throttle the bastard who has been insulting him. How slowly he would draw out the death, and how much pain he would inflict…

I spoke gently: 'I gather senior members have to be above reproach?'

'Senior members,' grated Philadelphion, now letting all his resentment show, 'can be fools, liars, cheats or buffoons – well, you have met my colleagues, Falco – but they must never reveal that they are having a more pleasant life than the Director.'

Helena's chin was up. I flashed her a grin, including the Zoo Keeper. 'So do what you like, but don't let him find out?'

Philadelphion bridled. 'The lady Roxana is intelligent, well-bred, well-read and a charming hostess.' That sounded next best thing to a courtesan. When I met her she certainly came over as a game girl. The way she shot up that palm tree did the lass credit. I believed him that the sweet Roxana could discuss Socrates at the same time as serving a plate of fig fancies. I could imagine the rest of her talents too.

'Philetus objects to your charming friend visiting you here?' asked Helena, coolly.

'She never does,' Philadelphion said. 'I see her at her house.'

'But she came here last night?'

His face shadowed at the correction. He almost looked guilty. 'Exceptionally.'

'By appointment?' I queried.