“Falco, please! Gaius—my brother-in-law—conducted a skeleton audit. He discovered there had been a steady wastage from the British mines at least since the Year of the Four Emperors. Theft on a grand scale, Falco! Once we heard that, we wanted our evidence secure; my friend the praetor asked my help. Using Sosia Camillina’s bank box was, I regret to say, my own bright idea.”

I told him our new hideout. He looked ill. Petro had taken the silver pig to Lenia’s laundry. We would be banking it in her vat of bleaching pee.

The senator made no comment on either our snaffling his exhibit or its pungent hiding place. What he offered me was much more dangerous.

“Are you busy at the moment?” I was never busy. As an informer I was not that good. “Look Falco, are you interested in helping us? We can’t trust the official machine. Someone must already have talked.”

“What about here?” I interrupted.

“I never mentioned the ingot here. I took Sosia to bank it without telling her why, then forbade her to talk.” He paused. “She’s a good child.” I gestured wry acknowledgement. “Falco, I admit we were careless before we grasped the implications, but if the praetor’s organization leaks we can’t take further risks. Your face seems to fit this job—semi-official and semi-corrupt—”

Sarcastic old beggar! I realized the man had a quietly wicked streak. He was shrewder than he liked to appear. He certainly knew what preoccupied me. He ran one hand over that upright bush of hair, then said awkwardly:

“I had a meeting today at the Palace. I can’t say more than that, but with the Empire to reconstruct after Nero and the civil war those ingots are sorely needed by the Treasury. In our talks your name came up. I understand you had a brother—” My face really set. “Excuse me!” he exclaimed abruptly in that concerned way the occasional aristocrat has, which I never entirely trust. It was an apology; one I ignored. I would not have these people discussing my brother. “Well, would you want the job? My principal will honour your usual rates; I gather you inflated them for me! If you find the missing silver, you can expect a substantial bonus.”

“I’d like to meet your principal!” I snapped. “My idea of a bonus may not be the same as his.”

Decimus Camillus snapped straight back: “My principal’s idea of a bonus is the best you will get!”

I knew it meant working for some snooty secretariat of jumped-up scribes who would slash my expenses given half a chance, but I took the job. I must have been mad. Still, he was Sosia’s uncle, and I felt sorry for his wife.

There was something odd about this case.

“By the way, sir, did you set a slick lynx called Atius Pertinax on my tail?”

He looked annoyed. “No!”