"Why not?" I insisted. "What's so special about that one?"
"The Collector only brought her in today."
"Who's the Collector? I'm sure he's reasonable. Can I speak to him?"
"Gods, where were you spawned? He won't see you. Get out," she ordered.
Pretending to be a polite innocent, I replaced the heavy wedge that had held the door. "Can I come back later?"
"No!" yelled the human fungus.
Knowing I still had to find the girl, I refrained from any retort and left quietly.
Albia was in fact waiting. As I came out half suffocated into the pleasant air, she whimpered. She had not been visibly beaten, though they had stripped her; she shivered in a torn undergarment, yet was clutching the blue dress the Hilaris children had found for her, now folded into a tight parcel that she gripped to her bony chest. Her only possession in the world. Her first decent experience. Maybe the sole reason why she did trust me.
I nodded at her to come with me. We moved to the porch of the bathhouse, where I paused to clear my lungs; I needed to cough heavily or I would retch.
"You stink, my girl." I had been in the brothel for only a moment, but I felt I stank myself. I could wait. There was a decent baths back at the residence, but I needed to make Albia presentable before I returned her to Helena's care. I had to do it for my own sake. "We're going home. It's over now Better get cleaned up first."
Petronius was lounging beside the attendant's booth. Since he was on watch, I ignored him; that was the rule.
It was men's hour at a one-sex-at-a-time baths. There was no way I could send Albia through, and I was certainly not taking her. I persuaded the attendant to give me sponges and a bucket of warm water, then we put the girl in the changing room to wash herself. There were no customers in there at the lockers and at least it saved me having to worry about her slipping through a back entrance.
"If she steals any clothes-"
"She won't." She had her prized blue dress.
A bench ran around the vestibule where tickets were sold. Two young women were seated there, massaging almond oil into their fingernails. They were respectably dressed, with shiny, well-turned-up hair and good postures, yet they gave the impression they were prostitutes. Girlfriends often sit around in pairs, dressed alike, of course, so maybe I slandered them. They seemed to be hanging around on spec, but did not make a pitch even while I was idly awaiting Albia. After watching my negotiations in silence, they both stood up and left.
I walked back out onto the porch again, giving Petro the chance to stroll quietly after me.
"What's going on?" he murmured.
"Helena's protegee." We stood side by side, looking at the street, and spoke matter-of-factly as if we were strangers exchanging polite words while one of us waited for a friend. "I have something to tell you, Lucius." I had to pretend not to know about Maia. "It's about your family-"
"Skip it. I know."
"Ah… We're heartbroken for you. They were lovely girls."
Petronius said nothing. I could feel him enforcing tight self-control. In the end he muttered, "So what brings you here?"
I could play it that way. I wanted his advice. "I think I've just barged into a child prostitute racket."
"You stole that girl out of the brothel, Falco? That could be foolish."
"Helena is sheltering that sad scrap. She was mine in the first place."
"Tell them that! Did they see you?"
"Afraid so. They call it the Old Neighbour. I just met the old neighbor's mummified grandmother."
"She'll make a vicious enemy," Petronius warned.
"I can handle it. You've noticed her?" His reply was a grunt. "Who's the Collector?" I asked.
Petronius gave me a sharp look. "Pimp who collects new bait." He paused. "Dangerous." After a moment, he told me the full rubric. "You know how it works. They prey on vulnerable girls. The Collector's on the streets picking them up. Takes them in, rapes and batters them, makes them believe they are worthless, pretends they have no opinion, fits them up in some drab hole and then works them to death. Only management profit. The punters are charged, overcharged, and robbed. The old bag keeps the new flesh in her filthy claws until it's submissive, then the pimp runs the girls until they drop."
I exclaimed angrily. I tried convincing myself Albia had not been part of this trade previously. When they kidnapped her she knew what was coming, but she took her chance to appeal for help and I got to her just in time.
"So," I demanded slowly. "Longus, my old mucker, are you on observation over the vice game?"
"I am on obbo," he agreed tersely.
"Vice?"
"Vice. And everything else."
"Do I dare ask how come?"
"No, Falco."
"Did you join the Ostia cohort?"
"Doesn't work that way. The Ostia vigiles are not a separate cohort. Ostia is covered by outstationed members of the Rome regulars; the cohorts provide them on rotation. I'm still with the Fourth."
"So is it Rome or Ostia that has taken an interest in Britain?" I asked dryly.
"Both, Falco."
"And the governor does not know?"
"I believe not." Petro's note of uncertainty was rhetoric. He knew all right.
"You are not supposed to be here. What are the vigiles up to, stretching their arms overseas? And secretly?" It must be a secret. If the Prefect of Vigiles asked permission to send men here, the answer would be negative. The army dealt with everything in the provinces. The governor held sole authority; Frontinus would be outraged by this sly maneuver. Even supposing Petro's superiors had sent him-and I assumed they had, since they knew where to write him-if he were caught here working they would disclaim any knowledge of the mission. Arrest would be the least of his problems with Frontinus. "I'll ask again, you reprobate: how come?"
Petronius was standing with his arms folded. I could sense a new dark mood in him, yet he was still himself. Big, generally placid, shrewd, capable, dependable. A pity about his rebuff to my sister, in fact. A shame about her previous rebuffs to him.
"You're playing the muscle at this bathhouse?" I guessed. "But that's a cover?"
"I'm looking for someone," he admitted. "Maybe two men. We know one came out to Britain for sure, and the other's gone missing from Rome. There are henchman involved too, but the operation is to catch the big pair."
"You're talking about a major gang?"
"Yes, real bastards. They caught attention in Ostia, though Rome is their base. We think they have targeted Britain as a new regional market. They have put managers in place, a whole development team, and it looks as if the leaders are currently over here setting things up. So I'm here too."
"You and how many?"
"Me," he said. "Just me." I shivered; maybe he did too.
"Pigshit, Petro." At that point I did turn to look at him. "This is a doomed errand." Petronius Longus, a man of quiet intelligence, did not disagree. "I am with you if you want," I then commented. He could respond, or dump my offer.
"Your presence in this godforsaken province," Petronius confirmed ruefully, "was the sole benefit when I took the job."
"Thanks for that." I stared back at the street again. "I suppose I must not say you could have bloody well told me."
"That's right," returned Petro. "Don't say it."
Who knows what he was thinking, the rogue? At least he seemed pleased that we were now talking. I was pleased myself. "Why you, though?" I asked.
"I know Britain. And it's personal." I was surprised. Petronius Longus was more self-collected normally. "I want to get one of the principals." His voice was dark. "I've been watching him for a long time."
"And there's another out here?"
"New partner. A man we have never identified. We know he exists, but he has kept his face hidden. I'm hoping to put a name to him while I'm here. He should be visible-a Roman setting up an elaborate crime network of a type that never existed in Britain before."