Then Smaragdus dies…
Smaragdus dies. I frowned. This was the tricky bit, the part that didn't fit. Smaragdus's death had been an accident, sure, but the guy had been running scared at the time, I'd bet my last obol on that. With Demetriacus out of the picture what reason would he have? Who was there to run from? Not Memnon: if Felix knew where the guy was hiding already he wouldn't have needed me to lead him to the beach hut, and besides why should Smaragdus be afraid of Felix's agent? Besides, I knew already who'd chased Smaragdus because he'd admitted it himself, as well as to killing Argaius. The visitor must have been Prince Charming; and Prince Charming didn't fit into this setup at all. Not nowhere, not never…
Unless he was Felix's second-string.
The back of my neck prickled. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. The idea had come, but I didn't know why yet. I'd have to work this one out.
Okay. PC is working for Felix, along with Memnon, and both of them are tailing Corvinus. As such, they witness the meeting on the beach and suspect that Smaragdus might be throwing another wobbler by showing me the real cave. That would fit; the guys couldn't be sure where we went, because we took the Alcyone and they couldn't follow. I'd know PC from Argaius's place, sure, but the first time I'd seen Memnon was at the Aphrodisian Gate, when he must have tailed Lysias with the coach. So the pair come to an agreement. As the unknown tail Memnon goes after me while PC waits for Smaragdus to get back. He doesn't make his move straight away; he stays hidden and watches to see what Smaragdus will do next. And what the guy does is pack. Misunderstanding on both sides. As far as Smaragdus is concerned, he's moving to the second hideout up in Acte to avoid future contact with the nosey Roman, but PC doesn't know that. He thinks the bastard is staging yet another double-cross, and he moves in fast. Smaragdus has never seen PC before, his nerves are shot to hell, and he runs. PC makes the reasonable assumption that he's suffering from a bad case of conscience and gives chase to ask him why. Misunderstanding perpetuated, Smaragdus zeroed…
Yeah. That would work. Sure it would. Maybe I was on to something here.
The crowd had begun to thin a little when I turned left at the Eleusinion onto the main drag round the north face of the Rock. I glanced back. Memnon was still with me. Just for the hell of it I waited to see if he'd catch up, but he didn't. Suit yourself, pal, I thought, and carried on walking.
So. With Smaragdus dead Felix is stymied. He has to work on two contradictory assumptions at the same time; one — less likely, but still a possibility — that the sneaky Roman bastard knows where the Baker is, two that he doesn't, but being a sneaky Roman bastard he'll move heaven and earth to find out. So he has PC slug me outside the Scallop and cart me down to a handy cellar where he endeavours to scare the wollocks off me in the hopes that I'll spill any beans I've got just to avoid ending up like Argaius. In the process — for the sake of future security, because killing me is not an option — PC encourages any half-arsed theories I might have as to who's behind the scam. That part was true, at least: if I'd misjudged anyone in the course of this business, it'd been PC. Whatever else he was, PC was no dumbo, that was sure: he'd told me just what he wanted me to know, or think I knew, no more and no less. Okay. So when the strong-arm approach doesn't work and I insist on meeting his boss PC takes the second option. He leaves the cellar and his mate Memnon takes over. Memnon stages a phoney rescue and I'm restored to the bosom of my caring family, full of gratitude and with an idea of the setup as valid as a radish's views on cosmic order.
Yeah. It held together, and it might even be true. The problem was, there were loose ends. I couldn't just dismiss Melanthus and Demetriacus as irrelevant because that would involve more coincidences than even one of Perilla's favourite dramatists allowed: Melanthus was my professional contact over the Baker, he was definitely involved with Demetriacus, and for him to get himself killed just at the most convenient moment was too pat by half.
Unless, of course, Felix had lifted him himself to provide his own authentification of the Baker. And the only reason Demetriacus fitted into all this was his connection with Melanthus. But then if Felix didn't have the statue he'd still need Melanthus; so why get rid of the guy before he'd had a chance to use him? Unless he already had used him. But then why should Felix..?
Ah, hell, there were problems whichever way you played it, and I was giving myself a headache here. Theorising isn't easy when you're sober; maybe I should've stopped at Phoenix's and got expensively smashed after all. Now it was too late to turn back, and home and a jug of my own Setinian was still a long way away.
Time for a change of plan. Up ahead of me a chubby guy was paying off his litter. I broke into a run and grabbed it a yard in front of an Egyptian tourist who'd evidently decided his gilded papyrus sandals wouldn't last out the trip back into town. I was grinning as I settled down among the cushions: Egyptian curses are pretty hot stuff, and this guy was clearly an expert. I'd have to remember that one if Perilla and I ever did the pyramid tour.
Memnon wasn't too pleased either. Especially when I waved goodbye.
35
Forget the quiet afternoon. When I got back it was to find Bessus the Piraeus stevedore waiting for me in the hall where Bathyllus had left him sitting on the door slave's bench and kicking his plebeian heels. Jupiter! Things were moving now with a vengeance!
'You've found Tiny, pal?' I said.
He nodded. 'He showed up first thing this morning, lord. Another loading job. We finished early and I followed him home.'
'Uh-huh.' As I picked up the regulation wine jug and cup from the hall table and led the way through to the atrium I should've been crowing, but I wasn't. I had a nasty feeling about this. Sure, Bessus couldn't have done it any other way, but I suspected that Tiny was a man who valued his privacy. 'He see you, by any chance?'
The guy looked uncomfortable. 'He may have done, lord,' he said at last. 'I didn't think it mattered.'
I groaned. He didn't think it mattered! Oh, great. Fantastic. That put the lid on. Well, it was my own fault, I should have warned him, and there wasn't anything I could do about it now. At least he'd found where the guy lived. I poured and drank.
'You want some wine?' I said.
'Sure.' The stevedore grinned; probably surprised I hadn't chewed his balls off.
I turned to Bathyllus, who'd padded in on my blind side and was pointedly ignoring Bessus. 'Bring us another cup, little guy. And tell Lysias to bring the coach round.'
'Yes, sir. At once, sir.' Stiff as helclass="underline" Bathyllus's standards don't allow for serving Setinian to dock hands. Still, from Zea to the Hippades Gate was quite a walk, unless he'd hitched a lift on a wagon, and the guy's tongue would be trailing the marble. 'Do I take it, then, sir, that you'll be going straight out again?'
'Got it in one, Bathyllus. You win the nuts.' I sank another quarter pint: if I had to go all the way to the Piraeus and back, even by carriage, I needed to get tanked up first. Especially if I was meeting Tiny. 'Is the mistress around, by the way?'