‘Good thinking! A bucket and a large sponge would be wonderful, please.’ We would clean up as we went. Petro and I had fathered babies; we could look after a prisoner hygienically. A regime of squalor has been known to work, but Helena was right; this was our house.

Our first conversations with him were civilised.

‘Anacrites sent you—agreed? How long have you known him?’

‘Couldn’t say.’

‘I can check the payroll. I have contacts.’

‘Couple of years.’

‘Who is the other fellow I’ve been seeing with you? A brother of yours, I’m thinking.’

‘Could be.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Gone to see his wife.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Where he lives.’

‘Don’t be funny with us. You two look like twins.’

‘And you two look like donkey-fuckers.’

‘I’ll overlook that, but don’t push us. Do you have a name?’

‘Can’t tell you.’

‘Are you from Melita?’

‘Where?’

‘Small island.’ Ma had a Melitan lodger once. Thinking about it, at close quarters, this man was not olive-skinned, hairy or stumpy enough. He was hard to place—not from the East, but not from as far north as Gaul or Britain either.

‘Don’t insult me. I’m from Latium,’ he claimed.

‘You don’t look like it.’

‘How would you know?’ A generation back, on Mother’s side, I was from Latium myself. His accent was right: Latin, though countrified. This was almost the first occasion I had heard him speak. Three-quarters of Rome sounded just the same.

‘What part of Latium?’

‘Can’t tell you.’

‘Could be anywhere from Tibur to Tarracina. Lanuvium? Praeneste? Antium? Come on, what’s the harm? Be specific.’

Silence.

‘At least he never says, Find out yourself!’ Petronius weighed in. ‘He’s being wise. That only leads to a big kicking.’

‘Not our style.’

‘No; we’re soft little cupids.’

‘So far.’ I think we knew we were on the cusp of surprising ourselves.

‘He doesn’t like you, Falco. Perhaps he has a point. Let me talk to him. I expect he wants to deal with a professional.’

‘Just don’t thump him. You’ll defile my house.’

‘Who needs to touch him? He’s going to be sensible. Aren’t you, sunshine? Tell us your name now.’

‘Find out yourself.’

Oh dear. Well, Petronius Longus had warned him.

We left him soon afterwards. It was dinnertime. For us.

41

We continued. One at a time, then in tandem. Long pauses. Short pauses. For the agent, existence became concentrated on events in this small room. When Petronius and I left the door open briefly, so he heard a child’s cry or a rattle of pots in the distance, it must have seemed otherworldly.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Can’t tell you.’

‘Won’t, you mean. Why did Anacrites order you to watch my house?’

‘Only he knows.’