Oh gods, Fusculus, don't say the Cilicians will get away with their part!"
No, Petronius is on that aspect. He's out trying to find that boy, Zeno." I pulled up. Last seen at the Temple of Attis. My uncle had some priest looking after him."
No sign of your uncle," said Fusculus, looking at me carefully.
I scowled. Uncle Fulvius is famous for one thing, running away."
Well, you know Brunnus came yesterday with information from the fleet headquarters. According to him, they don't want their agent exposed." I told Fusculus that in my experience Uncle Fulvius was a grumpy, unhelpful bastard anyway, then I went to see that other reprobate, the Cilician chief.
You are my only hope, Falco! That tribune says I have to give up all my little luxuries." I leaned on the doorframe at Damagoras" cell. So far he had managed to hang on to cushions, rugs, bronze side tables, a portable shrine, and a well padded mattress. There are worse jails, Damagoras. If you want to see a hell hole, try the underground tomb at the Mamertine in Rome." The old pirate shuddered. Nobody gets out of there." My voice was cold. I did!" He gazed at me. You're full of surprises, Falco."
Sometimes I surprise myself. At this moment, knowing that you run organised kidnap rackets, I am surprised to find myself talking to you… You had nothing to say when I approached you for aid before. Why do you want to see me, old man?" I noticed now that Damagoras was thinner and older-looking than when he dealt with me so arrogantly at his villa. Time was running out for him. This cell in the decrepit barracks was no place for his ancient bones, already aching after a long, active life at sea. You still want to find Diocles, Falco?" he asked.
In return, I am to offer you…?"
My old ship's logs. You have them, don't you?"
Evidence." That was stretching it. Only Damagoras himself was implicated in those old sea fights, and only if he admitted that the logs were his. Reference to the Cilicians" violent past was mere colour. But the way Rubella worked, a sympathetic magistrate would be asked to review evidence like this, circumstantial but yet shocking, then his condemnation would send the kidnappers straight to crucifixion or to the arena beasts. Nobody would see a trial. The sailors were men of humble background, unlikely to possess proof of citizenship, and what's more, they were foreigners. Enough said. I came further into the cell. All right, what have you got for me?"
You'll give me the logs?" Damagoras demanded eagerly.
If I find the scribe, I will give you the logs." He was eighty-six. His own activities must be limited and any of his cronies who remained free after Rubella's purge would be kicked out of Italy, so he would lack subordinates. Things were different now, in any case. Damagoras was on a watch list. He leaned forwards from a battered chair. The scribe and I were closer than I may have said." I nodded. Diocles knew a lot about me."
He stayed at your house."
You knew? He was with me for a couple of weeks. When he disappeared, I had my boys find out what had happened."
He is dead, isn't he?"
I reckon so, Falco. That was why I stopped looking." I crouched down in front of Damagoras, elbows on my knees. So what did you find out?"
He really was going to write my memoirs, you know." Damagoras spoke now as if he was describing a good friendship. We went into everything in detail."
I know that. Diocles made copious notes."
You've got his notes?" demanded Damagoras. I gave him a tantalising smile. We got on well. I trusted him, Falco. I told him all about my past, and when he had had a drop to drink, he told me what was on his own mind. He had troubles."
His aunt had been killed. He blamed the fire-fighters, not the vigiles, the builders" guild."
You're right. He had come to Ostia to do something about it."
Is this how he came to grief?"
All I know," said Damagoras, is that he started working for one of the builders. He got himself a job as a carrier for a concrete maker, Lemnus."
Lemnus from Paphos!" I shouted, leaping up. Lemnus, the bow legged Cretan who attacked me at the Damson Flower, then scarpered .. Petronius had reckoned he had a conscience about something… Well, Petro could pull him in now, if he could still find him. Lemnus was freelance, though. Whose contract were they working on?"
I don't know, Falco." Lies. The old pirate was far too busy making sure he did not look too shifty.
Not good enough, Damagoras! Tell me the contractor."
You can't touch the man; he is too big in this town."
Nobody is too big for me." I grabbed Damagoras by the front of his white tunic and hauled him from his chair. He was taller than me, but he quailed. It was the man Diocles blamed for his aunt's death, wasn't it?" I shook him. Damagoras dropped his voice. Shh! He's always hanging around here, he wants the contract to rebuild this station house He drew a finger across the top of his head, to signify stranded hair. Privatus." I let the old man stagger back and find his seat. I believed the story. The scribe's working tunics had been covered with mortar splats. Privatus ran the guild. He made a lot of noise about that. If the builders" guild bootboys had been fatally incompetent, Privatus would seem responsible. Diocles may simply have wanted to expose the guild, but if he talked about his plans, word would have got back. If he complained to Lemnus, Lemnus may have snitched. For Privatus, Diocles spelled awkward trouble. In his personal anguish, Diocles may not have realised how much Privatus had to lose. Threatened with the loss of his social standing in Ostia, the builder might have reacted more viciously than some senator Diocles accused of sleeping around. The scribe had misjudged the danger. But Privatus had contracts all over the place, both at Ostia and Portus. Unless I could identify where Diocles had been employed when he disappeared, there was little hope of discovering his fate. I strode out into the yard. Members of the Fourth were making efforts to clear away abandoned equipment. I left a message for Petronius about Lemnus. Collecting Nux from her long snooze at the bath house, I went home. Life there was normal, the aftermath of tantrums. Little Julia was now sitting very quiet and sucking her thumb with a tear-stained face. Albia looked flushed. Helena looked harassed. As far as I knew, neither woman ever used the threat of waiting until Father came home to dole out punishment… Well, not yet. I asked what Julia had done. She had found the empty note-tablets left by Diocles, and covered the boards with wild scribbles. Because of the risk that they would ruin important case-notes, we had a family rule that the children should only play with writing equipment when they were supervised. There had been incidents with inkwells, for one thing. You could not expect a three-year-old to remember and obey a family rule. Mind you, I would probably be saying the same thing when Julia and Favonia were twenty-five and married. Helena had rescued the tablets. Julia had only defaced the empty ones; the ship's logs and the scribe's notes were safely put away in a chest with the scribe's sword. The only tablet where my daughter spoiled something significant was the one on which Diocles had sketched what we had thought was a board game.