XL

I slept badly. My tooth hurt. And when you most need rest, it refuses to come.

I felt events were either running towards a climax or, more likely, shooting out of my control. The palace project was well in hand. I had identified enough of what had been going wrong for officials to screw things back in line. It could be done painlessly. With both Pomponius and Marcellinus dead, the two architects could jointly be blamed in reports for inefficiency and the theft of site materials. Magnus' part in trying to trace losses would support my recommendation that he be given greater authority. A new title might help, say prefect of the works. Cyprianus would act as deputy. Strephon could be given a chance to lead the designers; he might develop well. If Magnus was correct that the clerk, Gaius, was honest, he could be made the senior; the others could be smartened up or replaced, so cost control and programming would then be pulled back on target. That was fine.

I still wanted to identify for sure who killed the two dead architects and why. Other deaths on site were either natural events or safety issues; firm management would help stop unnecessary accidents.

I still wanted to safeguard my sister, in a way that would deter Anacrites permanently.

I still wanted to find Gloccus and Cotta.

Shocking death stays with you. Bloody sights affect your dreams. When I did drift off to sleep, nightmares that sprang from the killings here, oddly combined with low moments from my own past, leapt from my tired imagination. Waylaid by terror, I woke, needing to sit up and detach myself. Helena, unused to riding long distances, slumbered deeply at my side. I had to stay awake, knowing the nightmares would stalk me if I relaxed again. By the morning, I felt grim.

Justinus appeared as fresh as a bird during my late breakfast. He was even sober enough to notice my silence.

"I've been out on reconnaissance. Everyone thought "Stupenda"

I was lodging in a dive near the Calleva Gate, Falco. Not so, apparently. I searched, but she was not there." "How do they contact her about bookings?"

"She comes to see them."

"So are they confident that she is still on for tonight?"

"Apparently."

I ate my bread gloomily. Helena, who was feeding the baby while seated on a leather box-backed couch, looked over. "What's wrong, Marcus?"

"Something's not right. Perella does not act this way. If she was sent by Anacrites specifically to eliminate Marcellinus who knows why? -then her normal behaviour pattern would be: stake out the ground; move in for the kill; then vanish."

"Well, she has disappeared," said Justinus, though Helena stayed silent.

"I meant, vanish from the whole area. Probably from the province."

Justinus pushed back his dark floppy hair. "You suspect that Perella has not yet carried out her full mission?"

"That's one theory," I replied cautiously. "One I don't want to think about. Let's stick with the hope that promising she will dance for the boys tonight is just a ruse to give her time and space to make a getaway."

"She must be stuck. People can only leave this province by sea," Justinus pointed out. "You're at the mercy of tides and sailing ships for a fast exit."

I managed a grin. "Sounds as if you've thought about this."

"Every minute since we arrived, Falco!"

I drained a cup of lukewarm flavoured wine, checking with Helena that she was ready to leave for the palace. "I'll spend a day at the site, Quintus. You can come if you like, if you've nothing on here. There's not much to lose now if people realise you're on my team."

"I would like to see the palace, after travelling all this way."

"We can take it easy, then return to Novio this evening, when the floor show is due to begin."

"Wonderful."

I grinned at Helena. "Your brother, who has graceful manners, manages to pretend he'll be happy chaperoned by a chaste older man."

"Oh who's that, then?" asked Helena dryly. "I thought he was going with you, Falco."

Justinus, who knew how to look innocent, roused himself as if to go and fetch his travelling gear. Then he paused. "Is this the moment to mention someone you're looking for?"

"Not Gloccus and Cotta?"

"No. You told me about that supervisor, the hard man I was not to approach alone."

"Mandumerus? The gang leader Pomponius wanted to dangle from a man-made tree?"

Justinus nodded. "I think I saw him. I'm sure it must be him. He fitted your description he was among the Britons from the site, heavily patterned with woad and a real ugly brute."

"When was this, Quintus?" Helena put in.

"The same night Marcus came over and mentioned him." That would be the night Pomponius was killed.

"Why not tell me earlier?"

"I haven't seen you since. I went out for a drink, after you had left." Justinus managed to sound casual. And he was conveniently forgetting that he saw me last night. My assistants were growing casual. This could all go wrong.

"A drink?" asked his sister. "Or mooning at that bar girl?"

"Oh she just reminds me of my own dear Claudia," he lied.

Then he described what had happened. As he sat supping what he alleged was a modest beaker of diluted beverage, a man who resembled my description of Mandumerus had entered the bar.

"Is this your favourite joint? Where Virginia gives the men the eye, and more, while Stupenda issues promises of what life is like among the gods? What's it called the Maggot's Arse?"

"The Rainbow Trout," said Justinus primly.

"Very nice. I do love fish."

"Do you want to know about the Mandumerus lookalike or not?"

"Absolutely. What are you waiting for?"

"He seemed to have just come from out of town I can't say why exactly I thought that. Something about the way he plumped himself down as if he was either exhausted or really fired up."

"What "Give me a drink, I'm desperate!", you mean?"

"More or less his words, Marcus. The other men huddled round him. I won't say they lowered their voices, because they didn't say much; they just exchanged rather significant glances."

"Were they keeping things from you as a stranger?"

"General caution, I would say."

"And is this the bar where the Britons drink?"

"Yes. It's none too pleasant."

"But you and Larius fit in!" I sneered. "So had you seen this man before?"

"I think so. What caught my attention this time,"Justinus said, 'was one quick gesture he made to his cronies as he sat down."

"Go on?"

"He put one hand around his throat and imitated somebody choking eyes bulging and tongue out." Justinus copied it: the universal mime for being throttled or suffocated.

Or strangled, as Pomponius had been that night.

back at the palace later, I detected an uneasy atmosphere. Verovolcus and his men must have returned last night, having found no sign of Perella. Naturally word snaked around the site huts that Marcellinus had been slaughtered in his bed. No doubt those who had benefited personally from his constant home refurbishments were looking now to other scams to enhance their income. That would take up some of their time. The rest was given over to shinning up the scaffold on the old house, whence they leaned over showing their underwear, or in most cases their lack of it, while they whistled at passing women.

They were targeting one in particular: my nursemaid Camilla Hyspale. "Oh Marcus Didius, those rude men are insulting me!"

"Try minding Julia indoors out of sight, then."

"Of course, Marcus Didius." That was strangely obedient. Had Maia taken the girl in hand?

"Beyond my scope," Maia reported in an undertone. "She's being nice because she hopes you will let her go out and spend this evening with a friend."

"What fn end