Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 105, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 640 & 641, March 1995

I described to him the location of the warehouse on the Tiber. He would bring his wagon and some men to carry off the gold. I would go with them, alone, and when they were safely away they would deliver Spurius into my custody.

“What assurance do I have that the boy will be released? Or for that matter, that I’ll be released?”

“It’s the ransom we want, not you, and not... the boy.” His voice broke oddly. “In an hour’s time, then!” He turned and vanished into the crowd.

I waited for a moment, then spun around, intending to march up to Belbo and at the very least kick his shins. Instead I collided headlong with a large, immovable object — Belbo himself. As I tumbled backwards Belbo caught me and righted me, picking me up as if I were a child.

“I thought you were asleep!” I said.

He laughed. “Pretty good at playing dead, aren’t I? That trick saved my life in the arena once. The other gladiator thought I’d fainted from fear. The fool put his foot on my chest and smiled up at his patron — and the next minute he was tasting dirt and had my sword at his throat!”

“Fascinating. Well, did you follow us or not?”

Belbo hung his head. “I followed, yes. But I lost you early on.”

“Did you see when I got into the wagon?”

“No.”

“Numa’s balls! Then we have no idea where the boy is being kept. There’s nothing to do but wait for Cleon to come for the ransom.” I stared at the uncaring sea and the wheeling gulls above our heads. “Tell me, Belbo, why do the circumstances of his kidnapping have such an odd smell?”

“Do they?”

“I smell something fishy.”

“We are on the waterfront,” said Belbo.

I clapped my hands. “A ray of light descends from the heavens to pierce the fog!”

He stared at the clear sky above and wrinkled his brow.

“I mean, Belbo, that I suddenly perceive the truth... I think.” But I still had a very, very bad feeling about the situation.

“Do you understand? It’s absolutely essential that you and your men make no attempt to follow when Cleon carts off the gold.”

The centurion Marcus looked at me skeptically. “And you with it! What’s to keep you from running off with these pirates — and the gold?”

“Quintus Fabius entrusted me with handling the ransom. That should be enough for you.”

“And he entrusted me with certain instructions as well.” Marcus crossed his brawny arms, bristling with black and gray hairs.

“Look here, Marcus. I think I know these men’s intentions. If I’m right, the boy is perfectly safe—”

Marcus snorted. “Ha! Honor among pirates!”

“Perfectly safe,” I continued, “as long as the ransom proceeds exactly as they wish. And also, if I’m right, you’ll be able to retrieve the ransom easily enough afterwards. If you attempt to follow, or foil the transaction as it happens, then it’s you who’ll be putting the boy’s life at risk, along with my own.”

Marcus chewed his cheeks and wrinkled his nose.

“If you don’t do as I ask,” I went on, “and something happens to the boy, consider how Quintus Fabius will react. Well? Cleon and his men will be here any moment. What do you say?”

Marcus muttered what I took to be his assent, then turned as one of his gladiators trotted up to us. “Four men and a wagon, sir, coming this way!”

Marcus raised his arm. His men disappeared into the shadows of the warehouse. There was a tap on my shoulder.

“What about me?” asked Belbo. “Shall I try to follow again, like I did this morning?”

I shook my head and looked nervously at the open door of the warehouse.

“But you’ll be in danger. A man needs a bodyguard. Make them take both of us.”

“Hush, Belbo! Go hide with the others. Now!” I pushed him with both hands and realized I would probably have better luck pushing over a yew tree. At last he gave way and lumbered off looking unhappy.

A moment later Cleon appeared at the open door, followed by the wagon with its driver and two other young men. Like Cleon, they looked Greek to me.

I showed him to the chests of gold and opened the lid of each one in turn. Even in the dim light, the glitter seemed to dazzle him. He grinned and looked a little embarrassed. “So much! I wondered what it would look like, but I couldn’t picture it. I kept trying to imagine ten thousand golden minnows...”

He shook his head as if to clear it and set to work with his companions loading the heavy chests into the wagon. A group of bloodthirsty pirates might be expected to dance a gleeful jig at the proximity of so much booty, but they went about their work in a somber, almost fretful manner.

The labor done, Cleon wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow and indicated a long, narrow space between the trunks in the bed of the wagon. “Room enough for you to lie down, I think.” He looked uneasily into the shadows of the warehouse and raised his voice. “And I’ll say it again: No one had better follow us. We have watchers posted along the way. They’ll know if anyone comes after us. If anything happens to arouse our suspicions, anything at all, I can’t be responsible for the outcome. Understood?” He posed the question to the empty air as much as to me.