David Wishart - Bodies Politic

He stood up. The squaddie saluted and backed out, closing the door behind him.

‘I repeat, Corvinus. What’s the meaning of this?’ The guy was angry, sure, but there was something else in his eyes that looked very like fear. ‘You have absolutely no right to…’

‘Glabrio’s dead,’ I said.

‘Yes, I know.’ Flaccus broke eye contact and moved a pen from one side of the desk to the other. ‘I was told first thing this morning. A tragic accident with a fishbone. What has that to do with -’

‘Fuck the fishbone,’ I said. ‘He was murdered, and you know it. Or if you don’t then your pal here certainly does.’

‘I know nothing of the kind,’ Isidorus said. We’d been speaking Latin, of course, but he’d obviously understood, even if he did speak now in Greek. ‘And I find the implication totally insulting.’

I ignored him; my business at present was with the governor. Whatever his private situation was, officially he represented Rome, and I wasn’t about to let him forget it. ‘He was murdered because he’d arranged to talk to me this morning about the scam that this bastard here’ – I stabbed a finger at Isidorus – ‘has going to blackmail you about your involvement with Macro and the Gemellus plot.’

Flaccus’s face had gone ashen. ‘I had nothing to do with the Gemellus plot! Corvinus, you’re raving!’

‘Yeah, I know you didn’t,’ I said. ‘Because the fucking thing never existed.’

Flaccus looked blank. ‘Nonsense! Of course it did! I may not have been involved, but -’

‘Believe me, pal. Not that it matters one hoot, because the emperor thinks it did, but it was a fabrication from beginning to end to get rid of Gemellus, Silanus and Macro.’

The governor sat down suddenly, like someone had cut his strings. ‘What?’ he said. ‘Who by? And how do you know -?’

‘I can’t go into that,’ I said. ‘Take it from me, though, that it was a complete ringer from the outset.’

He stared at me, and his mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Mika had told me Nikos thought Flaccus was losing his grip; I could see now that he might be right. Mind you, he had cause.

‘This is nonsense!’ Isidorus snapped: he was speaking Latin now. ‘You said yourself, Governor: the man’s raving!’ He turned his mad-dog eyes on me and the hairs rose on my neck.

‘I agree.’ Flaccus was making a visible effort to pull himself together. ‘I agree. Corvinus, go home, you’re obviously unwell. I’ll have someone -’

‘I’m fine and you know it,’ I said. ‘And I’ll go when I’m finished. Now. Anything I can say about this piece of dirt here you know already, so I won’t bother: he’s a blackmailer, a traitor, a killer and an all-round dangerous scumbag, but that’s your concern, and if you want to keep taking his side and go to hell in a handcart then that’s fine by me, it’s your funeral.’ He flinched but didn’t answer. ‘Still, I’m telling you formally that your aide, Atilius Glabrio, was in the pay of whoever your friend here works for in Rome, that he had been for the last sixteen months at least, and that it was his job to put the skids under you and supply him with the manufactured evidence. Think about it.’ I paused; right, it had registered okay, Flaccus wasn’t stupid. ‘I’m also asking you formally, Governor, for what it’s worth, to open an official investigation into his death. Now spit in my eye.’

Flaccus glanced at Isidorus. He was sweating, and a tic had started up on his jaw. ‘I really don’t think,’ he said, ‘that an investigation is either necessary or possible. Of course if -’

‘Fine,’ I said, turning for the door. ‘Like I say, it’s your funeral. Possibly literally. Just don’t tell me later I didn’t warn you.’

‘Corvinus!’ That was Isidorus. I turned back. ‘Alexandria’s a dangerous place these days. Perhaps it might be safer for you and your family if you put all this nonsense completely out of your mind.’

I counted to five before I let myself move or answer. If I hadn’t the guy’s teeth would’ve been all over the floor and I’d’ve legitimately been on the first boat out.

‘Look, pal,’ I said softly. ‘You’ve tried twice and not succeeded, maybe through luck but never mind that. You want to try a third time? Because if you do, and it doesn’t come off again, then you’d better run far and fast, because I swear by every god in the pantheon that I’ll come after you and slit your fucking throat. Yours personally, no shilly-shallying, no questions asked, no quarter given. Understand?’

I got a look from those eyes that made my skin crawl, but the message had gone home. I meant it, and he knew I meant it. He didn’t answer.

‘Corvinus, I -’ That was the governor, but it was all that he said. If ever I saw the face of a dead man walking then Flaccus’s was it. Still, like I’d told him, he’d made the choice and if he wanted to stick with it then it was his funeral. He’d get no tears of sympathy from me.

I went downstairs and out, past the frozen tableau in the entrance hall.

So that was that: masks off, lines drawn. What I could do now I didn’t know; maybe I might be as well going back to Rome in any case because there wasn’t a lot left for me here except -

I stopped. Cineas.

He wouldn’t know as much as Glabrio, sure, but he was better than nothing. And I needed a live witness. If our merchant pal was still alive: with Glabrio dead I wouldn’t’ve put the odds on that being better than even. Still, it was worth a try, and his warehouse was only a short walk away.

I’d been wrong about Isidorus. Oh, no, nothing to do with his involvement, just the man himself: the guy was clever, sure, but he was a fanatic, and with that sort of bastard you don’t expect logical thought. He’d wreck Alexandria without a second thought if it got him where he wanted to go, and he wouldn’t think about little things like consequences or collateral damage. That was something else I’d got against Flaccus: the man was a Roman governor, he was far from stupid, and whatever his personal circumstances were letting a rabid animal like that have virtual control of local government policy was sheer -

Oh, shit!

Flaccus knew about the Lepidus/Agrippina plot!

He had to; it was the only explanation why he should be going so far out on a limb to back Isidorus, because it was the last throw he could make. Oh, he wasn’t necessarily actively involved – or I couldn’t see a role for him, anyway – but a change of emperor to one more sympathetic was his only chance of political survival. Probably, after the hash he’d made of things and the worse hash he looked like making over the next couple of months, of his physical survival too. Which meant that Isidorus knew, because he’d’ve had to be the one who told him. Which in turn meant that I’d got another clear link between X and the imperials.

I found the street with Cineas’s warehouse on it. Okay so far: the place was open and everything seemed normal. Maybe I was going to be lucky after all. There weren’t any slaves outside this time, so I made my way indoors and headed for the office.

No Cineas, but the clerks were there. After the circumstances of my last visit I wasn’t surprised to see two or three gaping mouths and a lot of fingers suddenly busy with abacus beads.

The head clerk got up slowly and came over. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said. ‘How can I help you?’

Stiff as hell.

‘I was hoping to see Cineas,’ I said.

‘I’m afraid the master’s gone to Athens. He left yesterday morning.’

The day after we’d talked. Bugger. ‘This would be a sudden decision, would it, sunshine?’

‘Yes, sir. Very. But he may have had word from our agent there about something that needed his urgent personal attention.’