Deadly Election: Falco: The New Generation - Flavia Albia 3 by Davis Lindsey

Author:Davis, Lindsey [Davis, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2015-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

30

It seemed likely that my work for the Vibius campaign was done. If Faustus needed further help I would give it, but only if he asked. I was curious about the pickle his friend must be in domestically, but now I would retire gracefully.

Faustus and I made no arrangements to meet, though we parted on good terms. He followed Vibius down the Sacred Way. I veered towards the Basilica Aemilia. I made it look casual, as if I had business of my own there. In fact, this was one of those troughs in a case that generally make me want to terminate, and even if I ran into Nothokleptes with something to tell me, I felt I would no longer wish to hear it.

Well, maybe if it was disreputable.

Curses! I had forgotten to ask what Faustus had done with my donkey. Trust a magistrate to pinch your only means of transport, then the swine forgets he borrowed it and you never see it again.

Soon I had other things to think about. As I neared the elegant row of shops at the Porticus of Gaius and Lucius, I was hailed by Cyrus, the auction-house messenger. He said he was taking money to be banked after the Callistus auction; my Aunt Maia had released their earnings to clients, less our fees. We had done well. My father would be pleased. As we always said in the family, it would buy him a new sail for his ridiculously elaborate fishing boat.

Nothokleptes took his time counting the bags of cash. He salted it away, pretending it was going into some high-income fund (in other words, his usual high-fee, low-interest, pension-for-him system). Comforted by the thought of his future profits, he leaned back and asked me, ‘Have you found out what’s going on with the Callisti?’

‘Not entirely. Difficult cashflow, apparently. Why do you ask?’

‘Oh, no reason.’

‘Liar! Tell me your interest. Have they run out of money?’

‘There is plenty, thank you, beloved Isis!’

‘And more, with their gains from the auction.’

‘Are you sending the funds to them at their house or direct to their banker?’ Notho asked, looking eager to know.

‘No idea. Maia Favonia will fix it all up. Why? Do they owe their own banker money?’

‘Oh, he has the family savings in his care. He won’t lose out.’

‘Surprise! So what’s going on?’

‘Can’t say. Client confidentiality.’

I scoffed. ‘Stick that on a satyr’s testicles with rosemary oil, and grill them lightly.’

‘Flavia Albia, your poor mother would shudder to hear you.’

‘She would cheer me on. Give, Notho!’

‘Oh, it’s nothing.’

‘Do I have to drizzle rosemary oil on you and cook you too?’

Notho winced. ‘It’s only that old man Callistus operates in an old-fashioned way. He has never made his sons independent. He is not mean. They can have whatever cash they like, but his banker is only authorised to shell out on a signed requisition from the old man. Even if Callistus Valens goes to the country, which he generally does around now to avoid the heat, he packs off a messenger back to Rome every week to say how much can be released.

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