"So they were not all friendly together?"
"No. They had met him to complain about his interest. He offered to work with them, but they laughed at him. He said he was from this province and would do what he liked in Londinium. They soon showed him how wrong he was. You know what happened. They tipped him up and pushed him in the well."
"Did none of you try to stop them?"
"I was too scared. The owner would not interfere."
"Was he paying Pyro and Splice for protection?"
"Oh yes. He's terrified of them."
"Pyro and Splice are well known at your bar? And you consider them violent?"
"Yes, sir. Very violent."
"And what about the third man, their companion?"
"He comes in sometimes."
"How do you regard him?" "Someone to avoid very carefully."
"And who is he?"
"I only know he comes from Rome, sir."
"You think he is a leader of the gang?"
"Oh yes. Everybody knows he is; he brought Pyro and Splice and other people over to Britain. They had always worked for him. He runs everything."
"And let's be quite sure-he was the man giving the orders, the night Verovolcus was killed? Did you yourself hear him do that?"
"Yes, he said, 'Do the deed, boys!' And so they did."
"Did he go out into the yard where the well was?"
"No, he just sat at the table where he was. And smiled," Flavia Fronta shuddered. "That was horrible…"
"I'm sorry I have to ask you to remember. Now, when this man gave them that order, Pyro and Splice knew exactly what to do? They must have discussed it beforehand?"
"Yes. The man could not believe it was happening to him. I'll never forget the look in his eyes…" Her expression of pity for Verovolcus seemed genuine. The Atrebatans glanced at each other, nervous of the chilling, deliberate violence she described. They had all known Verovolcus, presumably.
I pursed my lips. "This organizer is an evil man. We badly need to know who he is. It is a shame you have no idea of his name."
"Oh don't I?" the woman asked, enjoying herself.
I paused. "You told me all you know is that he comes from Rome."
"That's right," said Flavia Fronta. "But I do know his name."
For a blissful moment, I thought she was going to tell me. No such luck. Working in a downtown bar had taught the lady basic self-preservation. She gave me a whimsical smile. "Now go on-you must think I'm daft! If you stick Pyro and Splice in court, then yes, I'll give evidence. After I'm safe in my own little wine shop, far away down south, then I'll tell you who the big man is."
I managed to keep my temper. I did wonder whether to hand over this self-satisfied baggage to Amicus. But I came from Rome; I knew how tough women could be. She was just the sort to become his first non-responsive victim and thwart us.
"You're very wise," I told her with admiration. "Let me give you a warning, however. Pyro is dead. He died last night; it seems this gang have a long reach, and they got to him even in the official residence." She looked worried. "If anything happens to Splice now-or if he confesses voluntarily when tortured-you will be left with no bargaining power." She looked really worried. "King Togidubnus will have no need for gratitude; there will be no wine bar in the south. If I were in your shoes…" I glanced down, and yes, the Atrebatans had bought the frowsty dame a pair of new patterned footgear in which to cram her misshapen hooves. "Then I would cooperate at once."
Flavia Fronta was watching me thoughtfully.
"We are going to find this man anyway," I bragged. Maybe it was even true. "But speed matters. That's where your help could be invaluable." She was still silent. I shrugged. "Of course, it is your choice."
Never underrate the appeal of choice for those whose lives have, until then, lacked any chance of it. Flavia Fronta half covered her mouth with a nervous hand. Then she whispered, "His name is Florius."
XXXIX
Florius! So this was the Balbinus mob again.
Florius must be the second man Petronius was hunting, the one he had already chased for a long time. It had seemed personaclass="underline" well, he and Florius certainly had reasons for a feud. Petro had slept with the little Florius wife-which led to the breakdown not of their marriage, but his own.
I racked my brains to remember what I knew. I had met Florius-back in the days when he seemed like a worthless and harmless hanger-on. His marriage to a gangster's daughter was incongruous; Florius, a shambling, feeble, untidy bundle who spent his days at the races, gave the impression that he had been chosen as Balbina Milvia's bridegroom simply because he was a soft pudding the family could push around. It had looked like a ploy to protect her father's money. If her papa were arrested, his property would be forfeit, but Roman law has a fine respect for marriage; if Milvia's dowry chests were labeled "sheets and coverlets for the bride and her future children" they would probably be sacrosanct.
Petronius and I had chased down Balbinus, whose vicious gangs had been terrorizing Rome. We eliminated him, incurring the hatred of his widow. Petro then complicated everything when he decided to bed dear little Milvia. She was ten years younger than him and thought he was serious; she even talked of them marrying. Florius cannot have taken that well-if he knew-which he probably did, because Milvia was dim enough to tell him everything. If she hadn't, her spiteful mother would have done. I had heard that the mother then made the married couple stick together (to protect the money), but life in their house must have been a strain ever since.
If Florius really had been a soft blob, there would have been no problem. But I could remember watching how he straightened up after his father-in-law died. His moment had come. Florius immediately started plotting to take over. Remnants of the Balbinus organization still existed, though weakened. Florius would be welcomed. Underworld associates love crime lords' relatives; they have a big sense of history. His mother-in-law, Flaccida, was hoping to regenerate the family empire, and when Petronius Longus rebuffed pretty Milvia, even Milvia may then have supported Florius' new career. Being married to the top enforcer would suit her. She had always claimed to be unaware of her late father's occupation-but she loved the money.
Florius threw himself into racketeering. His dead father-in-law had shown him how to do it. His rise must have been swift. The description of that third man ordering Pyro and Splice to dispose of Verovolcus, while he was callously sitting tight, showed a totally different character from the vague lump absorbed in his betting tokens whom I had first met. Florius was now a full villain.
I myself saved up tangling with crime lords for special occasions, days when I wished to toy with suicide. But Petronius presumably kept his eye on the reviving gang. He wanted to finish what he and I had started. He was planning to obliterate them. They probably knew his intentions.
I feared for him in Britain. Here, Petronius stood on his own. At least in Rome, with the seven vigiles cohorts in support, he had had some chance. The best backup on offer in Londinium was me. And I had only just learned of the predicament. With the old Balbinus mob, a mere hour Was enough for them to pounce and tear a victim apart.
So Florius was here. That meant Petronius Longus was virtually stand-ing at the gateway to Hades, ready to tramp in after the guide with the downturned torch.
???
What was I to do? Find him. Tell him Florius was in Britain.
I guessed he knew. I hoped he did. That was probably why he had been sent here himself. So, find him and give him some cover-but where would he be?