When Popillius had left, Hilaris broke his silence. He offered thoughtfully, "He is inexperienced in these matters-but he will learn fast."

"Do we think he is behind all this?" asked Frontinus.

"No, he seems to lack the depth to be running things alone."

"There are two main operators, in partnership," I put in. "Though Popillius seems to have made himself too obvious to be one."

Hilaris smiled. "I take it you have conferred about the gang leaders with Lucius Petronius?" So Petro's cover had been blown.

"He is just the man you want for this," I said loyally Neither of the senior officials seemed upset. They both had the sense to see he was an asset. Pettiness about whether the vigiles had the right to send him here would be taken up later, if at all. If he made a significant contribution to the action, there would be no reprisal. Of course, if we failed to make headway, Petro's secret interference would be blamed.

Frontinus looked at me. "Find out who hired Popillius, if you can."

I hurried off to tail him as he left.

I kept my distance, following Popillius all the way back to his rented house near the forum. It had struck me that associates might have been waiting to meet up with him outside the residence, but he was not approached. On foot, walking steadily, he returned straight home. I strolled twice around the block, to give him time to relax, then I went in.

He was sitting alone in the courtyard at the same table as yesterday morning, busily writing on a scroll. "Falco!"

I hauled a bench over to him, though he had not invited me to sit. "We need to talk," I said informally like a barrister colleague who had come to bargain pleas. Popillius leaned his chin on one hand and listened. He was no young fool. I had yet to decide if Hilaris was right, that Popillius lacked presence. Looking lightweight could be a cover; he could be thoroughly corrupt.

I gazed at him. "This is a new kind of venture for you. Am I right?" No acknowledgment. "You're getting in deep. But do you know what the mire is?"

Popillius feigned mild surprise. "Two clients, held in custody, without charge."

"Shocking," I answered. Then I stiffened. "It's a routine situation. What's unusual is the speed with which you popped up screeching outrage. A pair of crooks have been pulled in. That's all. Anyone would think this was a grand political show trial involving famous men with big careers and full coffers." Popillius opened his mouth to speak. "Don't give me the sweet line," I said, "about all free Romans being entitled to the best representation they can afford. Your clients are two professional enforcers preying on society, in the pay of an organized gang."

The lawyer's expression did not change. However, he moved his hand down from his chin.

"I don't exaggerate, Popillius. If you want a distressing view of their handiwork, there is a smashed-up corpse on the ferry jetty. Go and have a look. Find out what kind of people are employing you." I kept my voice level. "What I want to know is: when you took on Splice and Pyro, did you know their game?"

Popillius glanced down at his documents. Pyro and Splice must have proper formal names. He would be using those.

"Are you a salary hack, working full-time for mobsters?" I demanded.

"That's a sick question, Falco!"

"You're in a sick situation. Let's suppose you really did come out to Britain to do harmless commercial case law," I chivvied him. "Today somebody hired you, and you accepted the fee. This is a simple extrication from custody. Justice for the freeborn. Exemplary legal point; their morals don't come into it. Yours perhaps should. Because next time you are used by your principals-as you will be-the job will be more murky. After that, you will belong to them. I don't suggest they will have you working on perjury, perversion of justice, and suborning witnesses in your very first month, but believe me, that will come."

"These are wild accusations, Falco."

"No. We have at least two really filthy murders here. Your banged-up clients are intimately linked to one killing; our witness saw them do the deed. I myself can place them at the premises of the second victim-a baker who had been harried by extortionists-just after he disappeared and while his building was being torched."

Popillius gazed at me quietly, though I reckon he was thinking hard. My guess was, the killings were news to him.

He had had the full training. He was inscrutable. I would have liked to grab that scroll off him, to see what he had been writing. Notes on how Frontinus had rebuffed him? Suggestions of how the formal examination might turn out? Or simply listing his hourly charges to whatever cash-rich bastard would be paying for his time?

So was Popillius an amateur whom they had had to hire in a hurry, the best Britain could offer to a gangster who encountered an unexpected problem? Or had they brought him here and positioned him as their legal representative? Worst of all-and looking at the quiet swine, it still seemed an open question-was he one of the gang leaders himself?

"I have heard you out, Falco," declared Popillius, his tone as steady as my own had been.

I stood up. "Who is paying you to act for Pyro and Splice?" His eyes, hazel behind light lashes, flickered slightly "Confidential, I'm afraid."

"Criminals."

"That is slander."

"Only if it is untrue. There are more cells waiting for associates, remember."

"Only if they have done something wrong, surely?" he sneered. "I leave you to your conscience, then."

I did as I said. It presupposed he had a conscience. I saw no sign of it.

XXXIV

Organized crime lords have most things working in their favor. In the cynical world that Petro and I inhabited, we knew that the crime lords would always win. They had money on their side. In Rome, the vigiles and the Urban Cohorts struggled constantly to maintain an uneasy peace. Without their aid, even in the provinces, the governor did have one way to fight back. He used it. Right at the start, Frontinus decided to bring in the official torturer.

I knew these craftsmen existed on the staff of overseas embassies. I had imagined they were a last resort. The speed with which the decision was made here did shock me.

"Amicus!" Hilaris named him to me, in a hollow tone. Frontinus had formally approved using this man, but we had been charged with briefing him.

"The Befriender? A nickname, I take it?"

"I never like to ask." Hilaris chuckled briefly, though he seemed serious. "I always feel that involving him is like taking a wagon with a broken spoke to the wheelwright. I expect Amicus to look at the job-the suspects, I mean-then to shake his head and tell me, 'Procurator, you have a real problem here.'"

"Don't tell me he inspects the bugger waiting for him in the cell, then vanishes for an hour, gone to collect materials'…?"

Hilaris shuddered. "I leave him to it, at that stage." He was a kindly man. "I always hope the mere threat of Amicus will make them gasp and give in."

"And do they?"

"Rarely. He is rather good."

We needed him, then.

As soon as Amicus appeared, I saw exactly what Helena's tender-conscienced uncle meant. The torturer looked as if he had forced himself to leave another job-a more interesting job, one that had been properly booked into his schedule, unlike our last-minute, problematic one. His sleeves were rolled up and there were stains down his tunic (what from?). He heard our request with the tired, slightly put-upon air of a man dealing with idiots. Had there been a fee, he would have overcharged. Since he was on the governor's payroll, that did not apply.

"Professional criminals can be difficult," he remarked, wanting us to know how lucky we were to have his skills.