I had my own tensions. From the moment Helena understood how serious the position was for Petronius, she made me responsible for saving him. Her dark eyes beseeched me to do something. I had to look away. If there had been anything I could have done, it would have been in hand.
Officialdom had finally swung into action. I could not decide if I approved, but it was reassuring to have some movement that was independent of the gangsters. The governor took personal control. He had men very quietly searching every known place connected to the Jupiter empire. Unlike the usual noisy raids conducted by government agencies, the troops went in in small groups, lacking only fur slippers to deaden their footfall. One at a time, they picked through all the bars and other premises that had overt links with the enforcers. The Norbanus house and the villa downstream had already been gone over and sealed.
Piecing together evidence for the gang's past routine, Frontinus now reckoned they used to collect their gains in the warehouse on the wharf for security, then Florius would come from the villa to transport it downstream in his small boat. A larger oceangoing craft probably nosed up the estuary and took money-chests on board from the villa's landing stage, before making for Italy. Since Petro's search party yesterday evening had found nothing at the villa, it must all have been sent overseas quite recently and would not yet have reached Rome. The navy, the grandly named British Fleet that patrolled the northern waters, had been alerted, though it might be too late to intercept the latest consignment. A cordon was now in place between Britain and Gaul, though realistically the gang might yet slip through. A message was signaled back home to the vigiles. Both Rome and Ostia would be on the alert. It would be a pleasant irony if Florius and Norbanus were brought down through charges relating to import tax. But the penalty would only be a heavy fine, so that would not suit Petronius.
We knew Florius was still in Britain. We assumed Norbanus was. Petro's most favored venue for apprehending them was the warehouse where the baker had been killed. His customs contacts said it had been deserted, but he clung to his theory. The governor believed he could apprehend the fly-by-nights at the brothel. That was his bet as the place where, at the very last minute, my sister would be exchanged for Petronius.
"Seems fair," agreed Petronius, in his dry tone. He looked at me, with an expression I remembered from when centurions gave us information we distrusted, back in the legions years ago. He thought the governor was way off Florius would know now that Petronius had had the brothel under surveillance; he was unlikely ever to reappear there.
Petronius and I continued to wait at the residence. We had stopped honing our swords.
The next message arrived in the early evening. This time they did not use Popillius, but a driver who jumped off a passing delivery cart and grabbed the residence steward by the neck of his tunic. In a hoarse whisper, the slave was told, "The swap will be at Caesar's Baths! Longus is to come in an hour. Tell him-alone and unarmed. Try anything, and the woman gets it!" The man vanished, leaving the steward almost uncertain that anything had happened. Luckily he still had the sense to report it straightaway.
There was no question of Petronius going solo. Nor could he go unarmed. He was a big lad, with a distinctive build; we had ruled out sending in a decoy. This was it.
Provincial governors do not jump to attention just because some lowlife makes the call. Julius Frontinus surveyed the evidence cautiously, before he too decided this was genuine. "It's right away from the river if they intend making a getaway. But it is near the Norbanus house; maybe they hid Maia Favonia somewhere we missed." He drew himself up. "Maybe she was at these baths, or at the bar adjacent to them, all along."
Petro and I let it pass. We knew we would not be sent directly to the place where they were holding Maia. Petronius would be drawn to a meet, probably via several staging posts, then Maia would be brought to the last spot-if the gang believed the situation safe.
"I'd like to put a search party into those baths." Luckily Frontinus worked out for himself that that would jeopardize everything. "We just have time to assemble the support team at the venue," he told us. "We shall be in place ready, before you two arrive."
We nodded. We both still wore our old skeptical expression. I saw Helena gazing at us curiously.
When almost an hour had passed, Petronius and I combed our hair like boys going out to a party, checked our belts and bootstraps, and solemnly gave each other the legionaries' salute. We set off together, side by side. Behind us at a safe distance came Helena in her aunt's carrying chair, which would bring Maia home if we achieved the exchange. My role was to watch what happened-and find some way to rescue Petronius straight after the swap.
We walked steadily, shoulder to shoulder. We paid no great attention to whether we were followed or observed; we knew we would be tailed by the governor's men and we expected the gang to have lookouts too. We traveled at a pace that gave messengers time to nobble us. This happened as soon as we turned left on the Decumanus, heading for the bridge over the stream.
It was the dogman who stepped out in our way. With his group of skinny, mangy hunting curs careering around his legs, he was unmistakable. "Is one of you Petronius?"
We stopped and Petro acknowledged his name courteously.
"Listen to this then." His long-nosed hounds nuzzled us, gently slobbering on our tunics and bootstraps. "I was told to tell you, 'The meet has been changed. Go to the Shower of Gold.' Does it make sense?"
"Oh yes." Petronius was almost cheerful. He had bet me the first assignation was a bluff. Luckily I had agreed, so I lost no money. We had enough at stake.
The governor and his men would sit around outside Caesar's Baths, trying to hide behind bollards and drinking troughs. Petronius would be forced to abandon their support and walk into trouble at some other location.
We executed an infantry turn in two smart stages. Anyone watching should have been impressed by our precision marching. Now instead of heading northwest we were heading southeast. We walked back past the chair, dividing one each side, and nodded politely to Helena as she stared out at us anxiously.
"New venue. Don't worry. We expected it."
We then passed a troubled fellow, the governor's tail, who was trying to make himself invisible in a doorway while he panicked about our change of plan.
"Shower of Gold next!" announced Petronius loudly, hoping the man would realize we were not just going back home for a forgotten neckerchief: someone ought to inform the governor that things were more complicated than he had hoped. There could be several of these redirections yet.
We reached the narrow side road where we had to turn off, then all too soon we halted at the entrance to the tavern's own filthy byway. It was unlit and lying silent. We could see the Shower of Gold halfway along, its door outlined by a faint gleam of lamplight. We stood there, observing. Nothing moved.
Now we were in a predicament we both dreaded: stuck at one end of a deserted alley, with dusk falling rapidly, in the certain knowledge that someone was waiting somewhere down that alley, intending to surprise and kill us. This was an ambush. It had to be. These situations always are.
LII
It was a still evening, with a pervasive cloud cover. It felt cool. The storm had reduced the sultry temperature, but you could still go without a cloak and be comfortable. Dampness was taking over, however. Mist from the nearby river and marshes made our skin and hair sticky. In Britain in late August nightfall varies with the weather. Had it been fine, we would still have had plenty of light. But rain was hovering nearby. In the narrow entry we peered through murk at shadows that could be hiding any kind of trouble.