Stone Cold

'My informant hoped the newly arrived representative from Rome would be objective,' he explained, 'but left the note unsigned just in case.'

'High places?' she echoed dully. Anything to keep his mind off her fraud. 'You think the traffic might be going through Marcia's villa?'

'It crossed my mind.'

'Then it was a very short journey,' she said. 'You know Marcia's history, Orbilio. After what happened to her, she's hardly likely to inflict the same hell on others, is she?'

'You've obviously never heard of victims repeating their own abuse?'

There's no embarrassing way to get rich, Marcia had said. And what he said was true. Victims of cruelty, whether physical, emotional or sexual, often visited the same torture on others, although for what reason Claudia could not say. Comfort in a pattern repeated? Justification on the grounds that it had done them no harm?

'It would go some way towards explaining her interest in my case load,' he added, 'not to mention her ordering Tarbel to go through my papers.'

At last it became clear what the big Base had been doing on the landing yesterday morning, watched by wily old Koros behind the tapestry. Why he wasn't in armour. Why he'd felt distaste at what he was doing. For a man used to combat, snooping was not a fair fight.

'A little over a week ago, around the time this doll got dropped, I happened to witness a child's abduction,' Marcus said. 'And incidentally did nothing to save her.'

No, no, no. This wasn't right. Not the man who'd dedicated his whole life to weighing in with the warships, careering down with the cavalry and loosing off with the legionaries.

'Marcus Cornelius, there is no way you'd stand idly by and watch a child become meat for a bunch of perverts.'

'It wasn't for the want of trying,' he said thickly, and suddenly she understood the deep lines round his mouth, the frown lines on his forehead, the purple hollows beneath his eyes. 'But whichever way you look at it, Claudia, the bastards got clean away. They killed the nightwatchman, threw his body in the river where it still hasn't been found, but, yes, it was my fault they slipped through.'

She stared at the doll in his hands, soiled and despoiled like the child he had failed, and felt sick. The hands that held it were shaking, she noticed. Shaking from rage and impotence, worry and shame, but, Croesus, couldn't he see that none of this was his fault? One day, she supposed dully, he would realize that these bastards held no respect for human life. That they'd have slit his throat without hesitation and that dead he'd be no help to that child either. At least he could prevent others from falling into the same filthy hands! But events were too fresh, the guilt far too raw, for him to see the full picture…

'Have you-' She cleared her throat and started again. 'Have you seen Hercules?' she asked brightly. The less he dwelled on what he believed to be his own inadequacies, the quicker his objectivity would return. 'Or rather Herakles, if you happen to speak "Paris".'

Orbilio seemed to wake from a very deep sleep. 'H-Herakles?'

'Last week, I came across our drop-dead-handsome sculptor scouring for a role model for his hero. At first, when he told me he was looking for Herakles, I assumed he was referring to a dog, although, funnily enough, it appears I am right.'

The doll had disappeared into the folds of his long patrician tunic, she noticed, as they cut across the lawn. The man was nothing if not professional.

'See?'

Herakles stood straight backed and square shouldered on his podium, lion pelt slung nonchalantly over his shoulders, olive-wood club in one hand, the golden girdle of the Amazon queen (Labour No. 9) in the other, as he stared across to the villa. A wayward marble fringe was poised for eternity about to flop over his forehead, and, although his strong j aw was set in determination, there was a twinkle behind his dark painted eyes.

'But… that's me,’ Orbilio gasped.

'Woof woof.' Although wolf might be a more appropriate description. 'You're mass produced, of course. At least your body is, but that's all right, considering you're already mass producing yourself all over Santonum-'

'Does it ever occur to you that you might be wrong occasionally?'

'Never. Now take a look at Medusa.'

'One look from Medusa and men turned to stone.' Orbilio let out a loud sigh. 'I suppose it's too much to hope Paris fashioned her in your image?'

'Be careful what you wish for,' Claudia said. 'But luckily for you, that's me over there.'

She pointed to Venus, and since the statue was too far away for him to recognize Stella rising from the foam surrounded by cherubs Claudia swept on towards the monster with the face of a beautiful woman but whose hair was a writhing mass of serpents. Orbilio sucked in his cheeks.

'Does Marcia know?'

Her trademark expression had been captured in stony perfection.

'The lady's objections, I believe, have been voiced. Especially in connection with the statue's location.'

He looked up at the tree that was shading Medusa and could no longer keep his face straight. 'A medlar. Ouch! And Marcia's objections, presumably, were along the lines that the snakes are painted purple and green, rather than the blonde tones she likes to pass off as natural?'

'It wasn't the colours she took exception to,' Claudia quipped back. 'More that they don't hissssss like the real ones.' She turned and lifted her eyes to his, and the laughter died on her tongue. 'Orbilio, I want to do a deal with the Security Police.'

'Interesting,' he murmured, brushing a few specks of soil from the sleeve of his tunic. 'Go on.'

'It's about the Scarecrow and these missing girls. I presume you've heard about them?'

'I'd show you my file notes,' he said, and she detected an irritating twinkle at the back of his eye, 'only I've written them up in Greek. Five young women in the prime of their life have gone missing, yes. What about them?'

'The deal,' she said firmly. 'I mean, we are talking murder here?'

'It's beginning to look that way.'

Goddammit, the bastard was hedging. She ploughed on. 'And murder beats fraud on the Naughty Scale?'

'Usually… '

Don't commit yourself. 'So, if I was to help you catch a mass murderer and save lots of young women's lives, that would surely count in my favour?'

He folded his arms over his chest. 'Keep going

Janus, Croesus, the snake was making her grovel! 'I propose an exchange,' she said crisply. 'I help you track down their killer-'

"This isn't my case,' he cut in. 'I'm not involved at any level.'

'No, but solving the murder of five innocent women wouldn't exactly be a black mark on your record?'

'True.' He stroked his jaw thoughtfully. 'So let me get this straight. You make Padi's prediction come true by turning me into a local hero and… and I do what, exactly, in return?'

She took a deep breath and held it for a count of three. 'You drop your investigation into my business affairs.'

'Very well.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I said, yes. Agreed.' He held out his hand. 'It's a deal.'

'Are you serious?'

'Would I lie to you?'

'Marcus Cornelius, you could talk the Ferryman into rowing you to Atlantis instead of Hades and still not pay the damn fare.'

'I take that as a compliment,' he said, with a firm shake of her hand.

Yes, it was a deal, Claudia thought, turning away to follow the marble path as it twisted its way through beds of mallow and hibiscus. Unless one happens to be a member of the Security Police…

That handshake. Far too slick. No negotiation, no questions, no verbal arm-twisting? He'd given in too quickly, which meant either he was slipping in his old age or he was turning even wilier. The answer, she concluded, as he caught up with her by the statue of Saturn, was that wolves had nothing on Marcus Cornelius.