Four days had passed since Theon died. In an organisation, that counted as eternity. His loyal staff, once completely tight-lipped, were already prepared to criticise him. Pastous himself seemed more confident today, as if his place in the hierarchy had changed. He admitted to Aulus, ’Theon had not been much in evidence. He was going through a bad patch.’
‘Illness?’
The assistant gazed at the ground. ‘Money worries, it was rumoured.’
‘Did he gamble on the horses?’
I had asked this before, when we first met Pastous, and he had avoided the question. This time he was more forthcoming. ‘I believe he did. Men came here looking for him. He disappeared for a few days afterwards. But if there was trouble, I assumed he cleared it up, because he was back at his post when a civic-minded member of the public came to report finding the dumped scrolls.’
‘So how did Theon tackle that?’
‘First priority was to reclaim them. Afterwards, he confirmed that Library policy was to keep all scrolls. And I think - though of course it was done very discreetly - he had a terrific argument with the Director.’
‘Had Philetus sent the scrolls to the rubbish dump?’ Pastous answered my question only with a weary shrug. Staff had given up any hope of loosening the Director’s grip. Philetus was stifling their initiative and their sense of responsibility.
Aulus could always be relied upon to give delicate subjects a big thumping push. ‘Was there any crossover between Theon’s personal money worries and Library finances? I mean, did he -’
‘Certainly not!’ cried Pastous. Fortunately, he liked us enough now not to flounce off in horror.
‘That would have been a terrible scandal,’ I remarked.
I was thinking it was the kind of scandal I had come across too many times - the kind that could have fatal results if it got out of hand.
Leaving Aulus and Pastous to wade through the morass Nibytas had bequeathed to us, I decided to try to tackle Zenon once more about the Museion’s accounts.
He was in the observatory on the roof again. He seemed to hide up there as often as possible, tinkering with equipment. Remembering how he went for me last time, I made sure I kept his sky-scrutinising chair between us. He noticed.
‘Getting anywhere, Falco?’
I sighed dramatically. ’In my dark moments, my enquiries here seem particularly futile. Did Theon kill himself or was he killed? Did Nibytas die of old age? Did young Heras die by accident and if not, who killed him, was he the real target or did they intend to murder someone else? Are any of these deaths linked, and do they have any connection to how the Museion and the Great Library are run? Does it matter? Do I care? Would I ever let a child of mine come here to study in this crazy home of warped minds, with its once-fine reputation apparently now hanging in tatters due to incompetence and maladministration on a monumental scale?’
Zenon looked slightly taken aback. ‘What maladministration have you found?’
I let him wonder. ‘Tell me the truth, Zenon. The figures are a mess, aren’t they? I am not blaming you - I imagine that however hard you struggle to impose sound business practice and prudence, still others - we know who - constantly thwart you.’ He was letting me talk, so I pressed on. ‘I haven’t seen your accounts, but I hear that at the Library things have got so bad, even penny-pinching measures like clearing out old scrolls have been attempted. Somebody is desperate.’
‘I wouldn’t say that, Falco.’
‘If funds are tight, you need a concerted effort to economise. This can’t be co-ordinated properly during a full-blown disagreement about holdings policy. What? - The Director sneaks in behind Theon’s back to clear out old scrolls he reckons are not worth keeping. Theon violently disagrees. The spectre of the Librarian on hands and knees in a rubbish dump, retrieving his stock then wheeling it back here through the filthy streets in handcarts, is quite unedifying.’
‘There is no financial crisis calling for the Director’s measures,’ Zenon protested.
‘It was all pointless, anyway,’ I growled. ‘Savings would have been minimal. Tossing out a few scrolls and closing a few cupboards would never achieve much. Staff still have to be paid for. You still have to maintain your building - not cheap when it is a famous monument, constructed on a fabulous scale, with four-hundred-year-old irreplaceable antique fittings. All that happened was that the staff ended up depressed, feeling that they work for a declining organisation that has lost its prestige and energy.’
‘Calm down,’ said Zenon. ‘All that was just Philetus trying to upset Theon.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Theon refused to be pushed around by a fool.’
‘He objected to short-sighted policy?’
‘He objected to the whole current regime. What can we do? Do you have the power to overturn it?’ asked Zenon, clearly without much faith in me.
‘Depends on the root cause. One man’s ineptitude can always be altered - by removing the man.’
‘Not if he is in a post for life.’
‘Don’t give up. Under Vespasian, incompetents who thought they were fireproof have nevertheless found themselves uplifted to occupy absolutely meaningless positions where they can do no harm.’
‘It will never happen here.’ Under the current Director’s stifling rule, Zenon, like Theon before him, had become a black defeatist. ‘In Alexandria we have our own ways.’
‘Oh that old excuse! “We are special. Everything here is different!’”
‘The Museion is in decline. Fewer true intellectuals come to Alexandria than in its heyday. Little new scholarship occurs. But Philetus represents the future.’
I kept trying. ’Look - ever heard of Antonius Primus? When Vespasian was aiming to become Emperor, Primus was his right-hand man. While Vespasian himself remained safely here in Alexandria, it was Primus who brought the Eastern legions through the Balkans to Italy and defeated their rival, Vitellius. He could have argued he took all the risks and did all the work so he deserved huge recognition. But Primus had no judgement, success went wildly to his head and he was driven by misplaced ambition - any of that sound familiar? He became a liability. It was dealt with. It was - I can tell you, Zenon - dealt with extremely quietly. Who has ever heard of him since? He just disappeared from the scene.’
‘That will never happen here.’
‘Well not if you all keep caving in!’ Zenon’s defeatism was making me depressed too. ‘I suppose Theon was pretty demoralised by those attempts to get rid of unwanted scrolls?’
‘Theon was upset, certainly.’
‘You and Theon were on friendly terms, you said. So what do you know about his personal gambling debts?’
‘Nothing. Well, he sorted it all out.’
‘He paid off the men who were hounding him?’
‘I never heard it got that bad . . .’ Zenon was oblivious to gossip -or that was what he wanted me to think. ‘He had a temporary cash problem - could happen to anyone.’
‘Did you ask Theon how he solved it?’
‘No. People keep their debts to themselves.’
‘Not necessarily - not if they are friends with the man who controls the Museion’s enormous budget!’
‘I resent your insinuation, Falco.’
He would resent my next question even more, because by now I had lost my temper. ‘So is the Museion bankrupt - or merely run by a bunch of monkeys?’
‘Get off my roof, Falco.’
This time, the astronomer was so sad at heart he did not even try to manhandle me. But I knew it was time to leave.
‘How do you feel about being on the list for Theon’s job?’ I called back at him, when I was at the head of the stairs.
‘Vulnerable!’ Zenon retorted with feeling. When I cocked my head in enquiry, even this buttoned-up near-mute lost his laconic style: ‘The rumour machine in the refectory says what happened at the zoo two nights ago was a bungled attempt to reduce the number of candidates! Of course,’ he added bitterly, ‘there are people here who would maintain that murdering academics is ethically more acceptable than getting rid of scrolls! The written word must be preserved at all costs. Mere scholars, however, are untidy and expendable.’