ODE TO A BANKER

`Don't blame yourself,' I said, two-faced as -a businessman myself. (It was surely not coincidence that the bankers liked to congregate in a place named for Janus?) `Apparently, he had secured that loan of his on his old mother's house. She will be distraught to lose both her son and her home – but I dare say it is out of the question for the bank to forget his debt?'

Then Lucrio surprised me. `The contract was already torn up, Falco.'

`Kind-heartedness? Is there profit in that attitude?' I scoffed.

`No – but Avienus had cleared the debt.'

I was shocked. I could not believe it. I remembered what Lucrio had told me previously. If Avienus had paid up, he must have found the money through another loan. So when that fell due, his widowed mother would just be pursued by some new lender. `Do you know who remortgaged him?'

`He maintained,' Lucrio said thoughtfully, `that there was no covering loan. He just produced the cash. We don't quibble over that! He must have had a windfall, mustn't he?'

`Did you,' I asked, `have a succinct personal word with him, before he paid?'

`Regularly.' Lucrio knew I was suggesting he had used threats. `Very quiet and calm. Thoroughly professional. I hope, Falco, you are not slandering my business methods by implying harsh tactics?'

`You don't employ enforcers?'

`Not allowed,' he assured me smoothly. `Legally in Rome, to ask a third party to collect debts, counts as passing on the loan to them… We keep ours in the family. Besides, our preference is only to deal with those we know, and know we can trust to pay.'

`Yet Avienus had great difficulty with his debt.'

`A temporary embarrassment. He did pay. That proves my point. He was a highly-valued member of our circle,' said the freedman unblushingly. `We are very sad to lose him from among our customers.'

That settled it for me. I was now convinced this lying deviant sent Avienus to his death.

I went and saw Nothokleptes. He was at his barber's again. I, was starting to think he slept there in the chair overnight. It would save paying rent. He would like that.

The barber had two customers waiting so in the traditional manner of his trade he was slowing down. Nothokleptes drew me aside and let another man take the chair.

`Have you heard,' I asked quietly, `that a client of the Aurelian Bank committed suicide rather strangely on the Probus Bridge?'

`Word was going around the Forum first thing this morning.' Nothokleptes smiled in a sad Egyptian way. `Suicide, was it? Very ancient traditions apply in Greek banking, Falco.'

`Apparently! You warned me about Lucrio. I had the impression you regard him as dangerous – so would he ever use enforcers?'

`Of course he does.' For once Nothokleptes actually signalled his barber to back away and leave us to talk in private.

`He pretended it's virtually illegal.'

`It virtually is.' Nothokleptes was so calm about it, I wondered if he used enforcers himself. I did not ask.

`Right! I meant, really violent ones.'

`He would call them "firm", Falco.'

`So firm they would be prepared to make ghastly examples of defaulting clients?'

`Oh, no banker ever hurts defaulting clients,' Nothokleptes reproved me. `He wants them to come back and pay.'

I persuaded him to talk to me more generally about how bankers – or at least Greek bankers – worked. Nothokleptes painted a picture of Athenian secrecy, often involving tax avoidance, the hidden economy, and the disguising of their real wealth by the elite. As he saw it – in his self-righteous Egyptian way – his rivals had notoriously tight-knit networking relationships with clients who were treated almost as family members. Much of what he knew had come to light as a result of court cases involving fraud – significant in itself.

`Of course the biggest scandal ever was the Opisthodomos fire – the Treasurers of Athene had a clandestine arrangement where they illegally loaned sacred funds to bankers. They were planning to use the "borrowed" cash to make huge profits. They failed to realise the expected yield, could not replace the capital, and to hide the fraud, the Opisthodomos – where the money was supposed to be secured untouched – was burnt. The priests were jailed for that.'

`And the bankers?'

Nothokleptes shrugged and grinned.

`But I suppose the bankers could not entirely be blamed, Nothokleptes. The priests chose to steal the funds and to use banking confidentiality to hide their own misappropriation of the sacred treasure.'

`Right, Falco. And the poor bankers were innocents, misled by their awe for their religious clients.'

I laughed. `And has the Aurelian ever made mistakes?'

`It would be slander to say so!'

`Would you say then,' I asked, `that the Aurelian is straight?' Nothokleptes hardly paused. `It once had a rough reputation – Lysa and Chrysippus started out here as ropy old loan sharks, in essence.

There has been talk. Lucrio is generally considered hard but straight.' `How hard?'