‘Compulsory letter-writer,’ I put in. ‘Dealer from Antium. Found stone dead in a tomb—hands cut off and hideous rites committed—after a squabble with some marsh-waders known as the Claudii.’

I thought Anacrites twitched. ‘Oh you were involved with that?’ It was disingenuous; he knew it, and looked shifty. ‘I pulled back the case from Laeta. He should never have been involved. In fact, I’m glad I’ve seen you tonight, Falco. I need a handover review. Shall we say mid-morning tomorrow at my office? Bring your vigiles friend.’

So not only was he pinching our case from Petro and me, the unmitigated bastard wanted to pick our brains to help him solve it.

‘Petronius Longus works the night shift,’ I said curtly. ‘He needs his mornings for sleep. You can have us at the start of the evening, Anacrites, or go begging.’

That would give us two time to liaise first.

‘As you wish,’ responded the spy; he managed to make out I was surly and unreasonable, while he was all sweetness and toleration.

I was burning with frustration, but just then the door of the room crashed open and in flew Albia. ‘I heard there was a visitor. Oh!’ She must have been hoping for Aelianus.

‘This is Tiberius Claudius Anacrites, the Emperor’s chief of intelligence,’ Helena told her, using over-formality to rile him. ‘You met him at Saturnalia.’

‘Oh yes.’ A friend of her parents: Albia lost interest.

‘Why Falco,’ the spy then exclaimed. ‘Your foster-daughter is growing into a fine young lady!’ This was the kind of indefinable threat he had taken to throwing at me. If I ever caught him so much as saying good morning to Albia unsupervised, I would truss him with poultry string and pay to have him cooked in a baker’s oven. By the slow-roast method.

‘Flavia Albia has led a sheltered life and is extremely shy.’ Helena always supported the girl, though sometimes gently teased her. ‘But she will be a delicate ornament to womanhood any day now.’

‘Well,’ Anacrites answered silkily, ‘you must bring Flavia Albia with you—oh how silly; I didn’t mention this—we have so much catching up to do! I absolutely insist you come to my house for dinner. The formal invitation will be here the minute I can make arrangements.’

I did not bother to decline. But King Mithridates of Pontus had the right idea: the only way I would eat at the spy’s house was if I had first spent three months taking antidotes against all known poisons.