David Wishart: Trade Secrets

We were in the atrium again, and the lady had obviously just been having her make-up freshened: the maid was putting away the bits and bobs, and Mamilia herself was done up to the nines.

‘It, uh, might take a little longer than that,’ I said. ‘But it’s important.’

That got me an interested look. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘How intriguing. In that case you had better sit down and we’ll take it from there. That’s all, Chloe. You can go.’

The maid left.

I sat. ‘Your husband sent a shipment of wine and oil to Aleria shortly before he died,’ I said.

‘Yes, that’s right. We did.’ Uh-huh; no pretence, this time, of being ignorant of Correllius’s business affairs, I noticed. And the ‘we’ didn’t escape me, either.

‘You know the ship – the Porpoise – sank just short of the Corsican coast?’ I said.

She frowned. ‘Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. The news came a few days ago. Unfortunate, but these things do happen, and we can stand the loss. So?’

‘There was no wine or oil on board. The amphoras were filled with water.’

‘What?’ She stared at me. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Hundred per cent certain.’ I told her the whole story, barring a mention of Tullius. ‘It was a scam. The cargo had been switched.’

She was quiet for a long time. Then she said, and I could hear her teeth grind: ‘That bastard Doccius.’

Right; no fool, Mamilia. And there was no fluffy softness there, either, none at all. Not a comfortable lady to cross, this one.

I almost felt a pang of sympathy for Publius Doccius. Almost.

‘That was my guess, yeah,’ I said. ‘Him and Publius Fundanius, working together.’

‘Fundanius.’ She sat back in her chair. I could see her thinking. ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘Yes, that would make perfect sense. I’m in your debt, Corvinus. Thank you for telling me.’

‘Actually, Mamilia, I’ve business of my own with Doccius. Not immediately connected with the scam, or not directly. But he has other questions to answer.’

‘Has he, indeed? Then he had better answer them.’ She smiled, and it wasn’t a nice smile, either. She got up. ‘Excuse me a moment. I’ll be right back.’

She went off through the peristyle, and I twiddled my thumbs. A few minutes later, she was back with a couple of heavies who could’ve been brothers to the guy on the front door, and probably were.

‘These two gentlemen are Marcus and Quintus,’ she said. ‘They have my every confidence, and they are fully apprised of the situation. If you were thinking of paying a call on Publius Doccius, who, I understood from what you said during your last visit, is currently with Fundanius at his villa, then they would be delighted to accompany you. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble either getting in or leaving.’

Yeah, I’d believe that: the pair of them looked like they’d stepped straight off a temple pediment showing the Battle of the Titans. The marble aspect of things was about right, too.

‘They have their own instructions, naturally, since I have reasons of my own to make contact with Doccius. But since our interests seem to coincide at this point you’re very welcome to make use of them. Clear, gentlemen?’

‘Yeah, madam. Clear.’ The guy on the right flexed his hands. I could hear the knuckles crack.

‘Off you go, then. As I said, I was just about to go out myself. You’ll forgive me, Corvinus.’

‘No problem,’ I said.

‘Goodbye. And thank you again.’

‘You’re welcome.’

She left, and I looked at the two fugitives from the pediment.

‘Which of you is which?’ I said.

‘I’m Marcus,’ the hand-flexer said. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘Yeah. Likewise.’ Well, at least they’d been nicely brought up. ‘Shall we go?’

‘After you.’

We went.

‘We’re here to see Publius Doccius,’ I said to the old guy on the gate.

He looked doubtfully at my two tame Titans.

‘I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think we have a-’ he began.

I held up a hand. ‘Don’t even think of it, sunshine,’ I said. ‘Just go and tell him. And if your master’s at home then we’ll see him at the same time. Off you go, spit spot.’

He opened his mouth to say something, took another look at Marcus and Quintus standing – looming – behind me, and wisely decided to close it again. Then he hobbled inside, closing the gate behind him.

He was away for a good ten minutes, by which time Mamilia’s lads were definitely chafing. Finally, though, he reappeared.

‘They’ll see you, sir,’ he said. ‘On the terrace, as before. Would you like me to show you the way, or can you find it for yourself?’

Delivered in the most unpressing tones, which was fair enough: I had the distinct impression that Tithonus here would be glad to get shot of us and take up his afternoon snooze where he’d left off.

‘No, that’s OK, pal,’ I said. ‘I think I can remember.’

We went round the corner of the villa. Fundanius and Doccius were sitting at the terrace table, on two of the three chairs; at least, Fundanius was sitting, and Doccius was sprawled, his arm across the chair-back and his feet resting on the third chair, completely at his ease. He grinned and gave us the high wave as we came in sight. Behind me, I heard one of the minders growl softly.

‘Corvinus,’ Fundanius said, and you could’ve used his tone to saw marble. ‘What exactly is the meaning of this, please?’

Not a happy bunny, evidently. Still, I hadn’t expected to be welcomed with open arms, so that was absolutely fine by me.

‘Oh, I think you know,’ I said. ‘To begin with, the little matter of eight hundred amphoras filled with wine and oil belonging to Marcus Correllius, that should be under several fathoms of seawater but aren’t.’

‘I have not the slightest idea what you’re talking about.’

‘You,’ Marcus pointed at Doccius, ‘are dead, pal.’

Doccius’s grin slipped just a little, and he took his feet off the chair.

‘Come on, Fundanius!’ I said. ‘We’ve got Doccius here cold. He arranged the shipment on a boat called the Porpoise , captain Titus Nigrinus, that went down just short of the point of delivery. That should’ve been the end of it with no one any the wiser, only I’ve talked to the crane operator who did the loading. According to him, he dropped some of the amphoras on the quayside and they were full of water.’

‘He’s lying,’ Fundanius said; he hadn’t even blinked. ‘Besides, even if they were, what business is it of mine? Or of yours, for that matter?’

‘Yeah, well, as far as the first bit’s concerned, squirrelling away eight hundred amphoras takes a bit of doing. Laughing boy here’s a natural second-stringer, and I doubt if he could hack it on his own.’ Doccius scowled, and he took his arm from the back of the chair. ‘As for the second part, there was a witness. A guy by the name of Gaius Tullius, an import-export merchant in Rome, who is definitely my business, because he was murdered twelve days back. You heard of him, maybe?’

I could feel them stiffen, and Fundanius’s eyes flicked towards Doccius.

‘No,’ Fundanius said. ‘At least, I haven’t. Publius?’

‘He’s a new one on me,’ Doccius said. ‘And last time I looked this was Ostia, not Rome. Murders in Rome are no concern of ours.’

‘I said he had his business in Rome, pal, not that he was killed there. But then you knew that already, didn’t you?’

Doccius shrugged. ‘It was a logical assumption. Why should I have heard of him? He isn’t anyone I ever had any dealings with.’ He gave Marcus and Quintus a level look. ‘When I worked for that fat slob Correllius, that is.’