"He could say he had no choice. Once there was an instruction from Rome, Cornelius was bound to follow up. Still, we made sure his answering report was conveyed discreetly."

I laughed briefly. "I know! Whoever decided to send that report with Camillus Aelianus?"

"He was friendly with Cornelius."

I shook my head. "And with another young man too! Aelianus read the report and I have a nasty feeling he passed on the contents to exactly the wrong person."

Placidus paled. "Quinctius Quadratus?"

I nodded. Placidus hit his palm against his head. "I never thought!"

"It's not your fault. Young Quadratus is everywhere. Clearly it runs in the family."

 

We considered the situation like men of affairs. We looked grave; our talk was measured; we stared hard at the water, pretending to count fish.

"Being involved in many spheres of provincial life is not a crime, of course," Placidus commented.

"No, but at some point being over-busy speaks for itself. A good Roman only flaunts himself if he's trying to get the populace to support him in a ballot—and even then he tries to look as if he hates putting himself forward."

"You picture a man I could vote for, Falco!" he cried admiringly. He was being ironic. So was I, come to that.

"And I'm not picturing Attractus. Everything he does has the smack of personal ambition and family gain."

"But the situation is not being ignored," Placidus tried to console himself.

"That's no guarantee of action. You learned your job on the Palatine. You know how things work. It's a difficult one."

"You are asking me to provide evidence?"

"And you're going to tell me there is none?"

He shrugged wearily. "How do you prove these things, Falco? Businessmen talk among themselves. If they are plotting to force up prices, only they know. They are hardly likely to tell me or you. Half of the small talk will be innuendo anyway. And if challenged, they will deny it all, and look outraged at the suggestion."

"You sound as if you had done ten years as an informer," I told him sadly.

His tone became more embittered. "Obtaining information is easy, Falco! A bit of cheap charm and a few bribes will do the trick for you. You want to try a job where you're taking money from people. That's the hard life!"

I grinned. I was starting to like him. Well, I had the same rule for state officials as I had always had with women: once the situation started getting friendly it was time to leave.

"Just one more thing, Placidus—I had no luck when I tried to see the original correspondence. There seem to be two versions. Am I right that in his report Cornelius told Anacrites you suspected a cartel was being set up, but it was at an early stage and could be contained?"

Placidus frowned slightly. "I didn't see the actual letter."

"But?"

"But that's not quite what he and I agreed."

"Which was?"

"Plans for price-rigging seemed to be at an early stage, certainly—but we were extremely concerned that because of the key personnel and their influence in Baetica, containment would be

very difficult!"

FORTY-SIX

 

The procurator was seriously upset. "You just can't tell, can you? Cornelius and I had agreed the exact opposite of what you say was reported in! I would have sworn Cornelius was absolutely straight. And I would have banked on the proconsul to back him—"

"Calm down—"

"No, I won't! It's too bad, Falco. Some of us really try to do a decent job, but we're thwarted at every turn!"

"You're jumping to conclusions, friend. The wrong ones, I think."

"How can that be?"

"Two reasons, Placidus. First, I never saw any of the letters, so this is just hearsay. And second, while the report from Cornelius was in the custody of Camillus Aelianus, maybe he let it be tampered with."

"Tampered with? You mean, forgery?"

"I realize such words are odious to a conscientious man."

"And Aelianus, you say?"

"Don't be misled by his sweet smile."

"He's just a lad."

"He's twenty-four. A careless age."

"I heard he was some relative of yours?"

"He'll be my first child's uncle in a matter of weeks. That does not mean I shall trust him to rock the cradle unsupervised. He may have been a friend of the upright Cornelius, but he was also thick with the young Annaei—a disreputable crowd. Until they quarreled over a situation on their fathers' estates, he rode with Quinctius Quadratus too. You know this group?"

"Young fellows, some away from home, loose in a provincial capital and looking for a riot. Too much drinking; a lot of athletics and hunting. They're just wanting thrills—particularly if they think their elders won't approve. Quadratus had them dabbling with the cult of Cybele—"

"That's an Eastern religion!"

"Brought here by the Carthaginians. There is a temple in Corduba. At one stage they were all going there, then Annaeus Maximus stopped his sons, the proconsul made some sour remarks to Cornelius, and it tailed off"

"I expect they had second thoughts," I said gravely, "when they heard about the castration rites!"

Placidus laughed.

"Tell me more about Quadratus—he was out here last year?"

"His father sent him, allegedly to supervise their estate."

"Including the eviction of tenants whose faces didn't fit!"

At my sharp retort, Placidus looked purse-lipped. "There was some trouble, I gather." He was being cautious. I signaled that I had heard the full story. He then said, with a bluntness that seemed uncharacteristic, "Quinctius Quadratus is the worst kind, Falco. We've had them all. We've had them rude and overconfident. We've had debauched young tyrants who live in the brothels. We've had fools who can't count, or spell, or compose a sentence in any language, let alone in correspondence-Greek. But when we heard that Quadratus had been wished on us as quaestor, those of us in the know nearly packed up and left."

"What makes him so bad?"

"You can't pin him down. He looks as if he knows what he is doing. He has success written all over him, so it's pointless to complain. He is the sort the world loves—until he comes unstuck."

"Which he may never do!"

"You understand the problem."

"I've worked with a few golden boys." "High-flyers. Most have broken wings."

"I like your style, Placidus. It's good to find a man who doesn't mind sticking his head over the rampart when everyone else is cowering. Or should I say, everyone except the proconsul? Despite everything, Quadratus is on hunting leave, you know."

"I didn't! Well that's one bright spot. His father's influence made the appointment look staged: the proconsul hates anything that looks off-color."

"Quadratus may have a black smudge against his name," I hinted, remembering what the proconsul's clerks had told me about the dead soldiers in Dalmatia. "Then a query about the family's role from Anacrites does not exactly help him maintain a glowing aura—somebody worked a flanker to be proud of," I commented.

Placidus beamed. "Terrible, isn't it?"

"Tragic! But you're stuck with him unless he or his father, or both if possible, can be discredited. That's my job. I'm partway there. I can finger them as ringleaders when the cartel was being mooted last month in Rome—though I can't put up witnesses. Of course they were both on the spot. Even young Quadratus had finished his agricultural clearances and gone home again to triumph in the Senate elections and the jobs lottery."

"Yes. He must have known Cornelius wanted to give up his post; he and his father somehow maneuvered the quaestorship

into their own hands. From here, it looks difficult to see why Rome fell for it."

"The graybeards in the Curia would approve. The family had interests here. The Emperor may have assumed the proconsul would be delighted by his catch."