David Wishart - Bodies Politic

‘Yeah. I’d like to speak to Claudius Etruscus.’

He pulled over a set of wax tablets. ‘Your name, sir? You have an appointment?’

‘No. No appointment. And it’s, uh, Gaius Anteius.’

‘Your business?’

‘A private matter.’

The slave hesitated. ‘Well, I’ll see, sir,’ he said. ‘But Claudius Etruscus is rather busy this morning. If you could possibly come back later, or better still arrange a time for another day -’

‘No. It has to be now. And it’s urgent.’

‘I’ll ask. If you’d like to wait.’

‘Sure. No problem.’ There was a bench against the wall. I went over and sat on it while he disappeared down a corridor.

He was back in two minutes. ‘This way, sir.’

He led me down the corridor to a door, opened it and stood back. I went in.

Etruscus, aka Dion, was sitting behind a desk loaded with paperwork and wax tablets, dictating to a secretary. His eyes widened when he saw me, but he stretched out a hand.

‘Ah, Anteius, wasn’t it?’ he said. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’ We shook. ‘Do have a seat. It’ll be about the tenders for the repairs to the temple of Venus Erycina, no doubt.’

‘ Uh…yeah,’ I said, pulling up the guest chair and sitting on it. What?

‘You’re a bit premature, I’m afraid. We’ve only got the raw figures at present, and we need to compare them with the materials specifications which Public Works still have. But I can certainly show you those.’ He turned to the secretary. ‘Stephanus, go and fetch them, please. Oh, and while you’re about it look out the bills for the Octavian Porch work and the new Augustan Marketplace bronzes. You know the ones I mean. I’ll need to refer to them later.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The secretary left, closing the door behind him.

Etruscus was on his feet like a rocketing pheasant. ‘Corvinus, what the hell are you doing here?’ he snapped. ‘How did you find me?’

I shrugged. ‘It wasn’t all that difficult, pal. And I think you owe me an explanation. Plus telling me a lot more about what’s going on than the shovelful of garbage you handed me the last time we met.’

‘If I could do that I would’ve done it in the first place!’ He sat down, pulled a handkerchief from his tunic-sleeve and mopped his forehead. ‘I had good reason not to then, and I still have. As it is, you’ve now seriously compromised the pair of us and may have caused far more damage than you can imagine.’ He did a double-take and looked at me more closely. ‘What’ve you done to your face?’

‘An accident with a runaway cart.’

‘Good gods!’ He put the handkerchief down. ‘What happened?’

‘That’s not important.’ I leaned forwards. ‘The explanation is. Now just exactly what is going on here?’

‘I said: I can’t tell you.’

‘Bugger that, sunshine. I want an answer. Now.’

‘Then you can want it. Look, Corvinus, I’m sorry, but this is exactly the situation I was trying to avoid. I know it’s difficult for you but believe me, I cannot get involved. Not directly. If I did it would ruin everything. They’d find out, and that would be the end of both of us.’

Yeah, well: judging by chummie at the wine shop and the business with the cart, we’d already gone past that point. As far as I was concerned, at least. Still, there was no reason to panic the guy any further than he was evidently panicking already. ‘Who’s “they”? The imperials? Vinicius? Agrippina?’

He looked blank. ‘What? No! What’ve the imperials got to do with it?’

The surprise was genuine; nobody was that good an actor. I sat back again. Bloody hell! ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Then who?’

‘ I can’t tell you! That is final! ’ He mopped his forehead again. ‘Oh, good sweet Jupiter, I’m trying to…’ He stopped, put the handkerchief down and took a deep breath. ‘Corvinus, listen to me. Please. I’ve done the best I could, but I dare not go any further. I dare not! You’re on your own, completely, and I have total confidence in your abilities. All I will say is that it is vital for Rome that you find out the truth behind Macro’s death. I swear it. Now just go away, leave me alone and don’t come back.’

‘Now hang on, pal! That’s not -’

‘You’ve already done both of us possibly irreparable damage by coming here. Fortunately I’ve never met the real Anteius, and luckily neither has Stephanus, nor Euthias on the desk, but I do know he’s one of the new finance officers. Using his name to get in to see me was sheer stupidity, and asking for trouble. Good gods, man, you’re not even wearing a senatorial mantle!’ Oops; the guy had a point. I hadn’t thought of that, and Anteius’s name had been the first to spring to mind. Well, it was too late to worry about spilt milk. ‘Now, Stephanus will be back in a moment. We’ll play a small charade which hopefully should get me at least out of this nonsense. Where it will leave you with your half-baked impersonation of a quaestor is your own concern, but that’s your own stupid fault.’

I’d had about enough of this. ‘Look, sunshine,’ I said. ‘No charade. Not unless you give me something tangible in exchange, because at present I’m floundering. So when your Stephanus walks through that door I’m going to get up, thank you nice as pie for delivering Sertorius Macro’s letter to me the other day and call you Dion when I leave.’

‘ You wouldn’t!’ His face was grey. ‘This is a nightmare! Corvinus, you absolute bloody fool! ’

‘Your choice, pal.’ I crossed my arms.

There was the sound of footsteps coming along the corridor. Etruscus licked his lips. The footsteps slowed.

‘All right,’ he said quickly. ‘Two names. Flaccus and Isidorus. That’s all I can give you.’

My brain went numb. Oh, Jupiter! ‘ Who? ’

‘ Corvinus, for the gods’ sake! Please! ’

The door opened and the secretary came in with an armful of documents. I recovered enough to smile at him as he put them down on Etruscus’s desk.

‘Are you all right, sir?’ he said.

‘Yes. Yes, of course. I’m fine.’ Etruscus took a deep breath; I could see the reason for the guy’s question because he was visibly shaking. ‘Thank you, Stephanus.’ He fumbled through the documents, pulled out three and handed them to me. ‘There you are, Anteius. As I said, only the raw figures, but I hope they help.’

I unrolled them one by one, scanned the meaningless columns of numbers for a minute or two for effect and to give both of us time to settle, then gave them back. ‘That’s marvellous,’ I said. ‘Just what I needed.’ I stood up. ‘Thanks, Etruscus. We’ll be in touch.’

I could feel his eyes on my back all the way to the door.

I left the building and walked in the direction of the Staurian Stairs, brain churning. Well, that had been a facer. Two facers. Whatever the hell this was about, the imperials had to be involved, they just had to be. Only seemingly they weren’t; I’d given Etruscus my best shot, point-blank, and he’d scotched the idea in no uncertain terms. And if anyone knew what was going on here then Etruscus did. So scratch the imperials theory completely; in which case floundering was right. He was scared, too, deathly scared: whoever his ‘they’ were carried clout, and I didn’t like the sound of this ‘vital to Rome’ business at all.

It didn’t make sense. Any of it.

The second facer, of course, and it was a real whammy, was the two names, Flaccus and Isidorus. That combination couldn’t be coincidence, no way, they had to be Agron and Cass’s Egyptian governor Atillius Flaccus and his new pal the Alexandrian Greek rabble-rouser. I’d had Etruscus over a barrel, and he’d known it; he wouldn’t’ve given me chicken-feed, not at that point, not the way he was sweating. Which meant that however the hell Flaccus and Isidorus fitted in they were important. Vitally important. Maybe even crucial. The real bummer was that both of them were currently more than a thousand miles away, in Alexandria, and if I wanted to follow the lead through then…