When Helena and I had needed more spacious living accommodation we moved across the road, keeping my old place to work from. I had let Petronius move in after his wife threw him out for philandering, and even though we were no longer partners, he was still there. Anacrites insisted that we now required somewhere to stash the scrolls we amassed for the Census job, somewhere without Petro glowering at us disapprovingly. What we did not need, as I wasted my breath saying, was to install ourselves among the deadbeats at the Saepta Julia.

He fixed it up without consulting me. That was the kind of partner my mother had stuck me with.

The Saepta is a large enclosure next to the Pantheon and the Election Hall. Its internal arcades in those days-before the great clearances-were home to informers. The ones who lurked there were the slyest and grubbiest. The political creeps. Nero's old crawlers and grasses. No tact and no taste. No ethical standards. The glory of our profession. I wanted nothing to do with any of them, but Anacrites had plunged us right into the middle of their louse-ridden habitat.

The other low class of Saepta Julia wildlife was composed of goldsmiths and jewelers, a clique loosely formed around a group of auctioneers and antique dealers. One of them being my father, from whom it was my habit to keep as far away as possible.

"Welcome to civilization!" crowed Pa, bursting in within five minutes of us arriving back there.

"Get lost, Pa. "

"That's my boy."

My father was a square, heavy man with untamed gray curls and what passed even among women of experience for a charming grin. He had a reputation as a shrewd businessman; that meant he would sooner lie than tell the truth. He had sold more fake Athenian blackware vases than any other auctioneer in Italy. A potter turned them out for him specially.

People said I was like my father, but if they noticed my reaction they only ever said it once.

I knew why he was happy. Every time I was deep in some complex job he would be interrupting with urgent demands that I pop down to his warehouse and help him shift some heavy piece of furniture. With me nearby he was hoping to lay off two porters and the lad who brewed borage tea. What was worse, Pa would make instant friends with every suspect I wanted to keep at a distance, then he would blab my business throughout Rome.

"This calls for drinks," he cried, and rushed away to find some.

"You can tell Ma about this yourself," I growled at Anacrites. That did make him go paler than ever. He must have gathered that my mother had not spoken to my father since the day he ran off with a redhead, leaving Ma to bring up his children. The idea of me working in Pa's vicinity would have her looking for somebody she could hang up by the heels on her smoked-meat hook. By moving into this office Anacrites could well have just terminated his lease at Ma's house, sacrificing some very palatable dinners and risking a far worse wounding than the one after which she saved his life. "I hope you can run fast, Anacrites."

"You're all heart, Falco. Why don't you thank me for finding us this fine billet?"

"I've seen bigger pens for pigs."

It was a first-floor closet that had been abandoned for two years after the previous tenant died in it. When Anacrites made the landlord an offer, he couldn't believe his luck. Every time we moved we banged our elbows. The door didn't close, mice were refusing to give way to us, there was nowhere to pee, and the nearest foodstall was right the other side of the enclosure; it sold moldy rolls that made us bilious.

I had established my own space at a small wooden counter where I could watch the world going by. Anacrites wound himself onto a stool in the darker rear area. His unobtrusive oyster tunic and oiled-back hair merged into the shadows, so only his smooth pale face stood out. He was looking worried, leaning back his head on the partition as if to hide the great cleft of his wound. Memory and logic were both playing tricks on him. All the same, he seemed to have brightened when he joined me in partnership; he gave the peculiar impression he was looking forward to his new active life.

"Don't tell Pa what we're doing for the Census, or the news will be everywhere by dinnertime."

"Well what can I tell him, Falco?" As a spy he had always lacked initiative.

"Internal audit."

"Oh right! That usually makes people lose interest rapidly. What shall we say to suspects?"

"Have to be careful. We don't want them to realize our draconian powers."

"No. They might respond by offering us bribes."

"Which we are far too respectable to accept," I said.

"Not unless the bribes are very handsome indeed," replied Anacrites demurely.

"As with any luck they will be," I chortled back.

"Here we are!" Pa reappeared, carrying an amphora. "I told the vintner you'd call in later to pay for it."

"Oh thanks!" Pa squashed in beside me, and gestured expectantly for the formal introductions he had brushed aside before. "Anacrites, this is my father, the devious miser Didius Favonius. Otherwise known as Geminus; he had to change his name because there were too many angry people after him."

My new partner evidently thought I had introduced him to a fascinating character, some colorful and sought-after Saepta eccentric. Actually they had met before, when we were all involved in searching for goods in a treason case. Neither seemed to remember it.

"You're the lodger," exclaimed my father. Anacrites looked pleased by his local fame.

As Pa poured wine into metal cups, I could tell he was watching us together. I let him stare. Playing games was his idea of fun, not mine.

"So it's Falco & Partner again?"

I pressed out a tired smile. Anacrites sniffed; he had not wanted to be merely " & Partner," but I had insisted on continuity. I was, after all, hoping to ride on straight into a different partnership as soon as possible.

"Settling in?" Pa was pleased to sense an atmosphere.

"It's a bit tight, but we're expecting to be out and about so that shouldn't matter." Anacrites seemed determined to annoy me by engaging Pa in chat. "At least the price is reasonable. Apparently there hasn't been anyone renting for some time."

Pa nodded. He liked to gossip. "Old Potinus had it. Until he cut his throat."

"If he worked here I can see why he did it," I said.

Anacrites was looking around the Villa Potinus nervously, in case there were still bloodstains. Unrepentant, my father winked at me.

Then my partner gave a start. "Internal audit's no good as a cover!" he complained to me in a huff. "No one will believe that, Falco. The internal auditors are meant to examine mistakes in the Palace bureaucracy. They never go out among the public-" He realized I had put one over on him. I was pleased to see he was furious.

"Just testing," I smirked.

"What's this about?" nudged Pa, hating to be left out.

"Confidential!" I answered crushingly.