‘Could be the Rabirii.’ He answered straightaway, now I spelled it out for him. He could have told me in the first place.

‘So have you pulled the Rabirii in for questioning?’

‘Of course not,’ snarled Titianus. ‘They would only deny it. Then their barristers would take my tribune for a drink and suddenly I would lose my job. The Rabirii would visit my old mother and make her cry. If they were particularly annoyed, they’d write foul messages about my sexual habits on a Forum wall.’

I smiled at him gently. ‘I understand. But I expect your ma would give them a seeing to … Mothers tend to be tough. So,’ I nagged, refusing to give up, ‘Titianus, if I want to have a word with the deadly Rabirii, where shall I find these exciting master crooks?’

Titianus spent the next few minutes telling me I was out of my mind, with colourful details of what led to his diagnosis. ‘Are you so bored with life you want to be found in pieces on a rubbish dump?’ Uncle Quintus put his head back around the door, looking interested.

Once the officer simmered down in senatorial company, Quintus spoke sympathetically. ‘It’s very good of you to care so much about Flavia Albia’s welfare, Titianus … Tell me, if you very sensibly wouldn’t go anywhere near these muckers, does the Second Cohort have a man who does? Someone who has annoyed your tribune so much the poor fellow has been deployed as your organised crime liaison officer? I know it’s usual to assign specialist oversight.’

‘That will be a new concept for the Second Cohort!’ I scoffed.

In his clean upper-class accent, Camillus Justinus tutted mild reproof at me, then greased up Titianus who turned out to be a sucker for charm, and soon had us in an office further down the barracks portico where a different vigiles layabout, with a hunted expression and his boots held together with string, told us it was too dangerous for us to know his name.

His name was Juventus. He had scratched it on his metal mess tin. Without actually winking, my uncle subtly let me know he could see it too.

The anonymous one sucked his teeth and confirmed that the Rabirii were the chief local professionals. If anything major happened, they would be behind it; no other gang would dare to invade their territory.

‘They are a family firm, long line of descent from other career criminals – bloody born to it. Embedded in the Esquiline. They rule by fear. It’s nothing to them to batter someone senseless. A lad of ours had his eye put out when he arrested one of their runners for nicking purses – he didn’t know it was a Rabirius associate. Old man Rabirius said he ought to make it his business to know, though in fairness the old bugger did give us a big donation afterwards for the widows and orphans fund.’