Three Hands In The Fountain

Today I had no time for reading and I was in no mood for sweetmeats. I was oiled and scraped in every pore yet still uneasy with the results. I had been in filthy locations before, but something about descending into sewers to find hacked up human remains left me shuddering. It would have been bad enough even without remembering that I myself had once dropped a man's decayed carcase through a manhole. A couple of years and plenty of heavy rainstorms should have ensured there was no chance I would stumble across unwelcome ghosts. But down there in the Cloaca Maxima I had almost been glad of Anacrites’ irritating, presence to prevent me dwelling on the past.

It was over. There was no need for Helena, ever to find out, I was still unsure how she would react to hearing that her missing uncle Publius had been left lying dead until he was positively fermenting, then shoved in the Cloaca, and shoved there by me… By now I thought I was safe. I had convinced myself I would never have to face her with the truth.

Even so, I must have been brooding. Here at Glaucus' gym I was on home ground. Informers learn that home is where you should never relax. Places where you are known are where bad characters come to find you. And when I noticed the group who were waiting outside for me today, I had already walked past them and given them time to emerge from the doorway of the pastry shop so they were above me on the steps.

I heard the clatter of boots.

I didn't stop. Instead of turning to see who was behind me, I took three running skips then a giant leap down the rest of the steps to pavement level. Then I turned.

There was a large group. I didn't count them. About four or five from the pastry shop, followed by more streaming out of the library. I would have yelled for help, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed the pastry shop proprietor beetling off into the gymnasium.

`Stop right there!' It was worth a try. They did pause slightly.

`You Falco?'

`Certainly not.'

`He's lying.'

'Don't insult me. I'm Gambaronius Philodendronicus, a well-known gauze-pleater of these parts.'

`It's Falco!' Spot on.

This was clearly no genteel outing of philosophy students. These were rough. Street-stroppy. Unfamiliar faces with fighters' eyes, shedding menace like dandruff. I was stuck. I could run; they would catch me. I could make a stand; that was even more stupid. No weapons were visible, but they probably had them concealed under those dark clothes. They were built like men who could do a lot of harm without any help from equipment.

`What do you want?'

`You, if you're Falco.'

`Who sent you?'

`Florius.' They were smiling. It, wasn't pretty, or cheerful.

`Then you've' got the wrong man; you want Petronius Longus.' Naming him was my only chance. He was bigger than me, and there was a faint hope I could somehow warn him.

`We've seen Petronius already,' they sniggered. I went cold. After his night on watch at the Circus he would have been asleep alone at the office. When Petronius was dog-tired he slept like a stone. In the army we used to joke that wild bears could cat him from the feet up and he wouldn't notice until they were tickling him behind the ears.

I knew what kind of punishment squad this was. I had once seen a man who had been beaten up on the orders of Milvia's mother. He was dead when he was discovered. He must have hoped for an end to it long before he actually passed out. These heavies worked for that family; I had no reason to think Milvia's husband was any more scrupulous than her mother. Desperately I tried not to imagine Petro enduring an assault like that.

`Did you kill him?'

'That's for next time.' The terror tactic. Make it hurt, then give the victim days or weeks to think about death coming for him.

They were co-ordinated. The pack had spread; now they were creeping down on two sides to encircle me. I edged backwards slowly. The flight of steps from the gym was steep; I wanted them away from there. I glanced quickly behind me, ready for the off.

When they rushed me, I was looking at one, but I jumped another. Springing forward into the pack, I dived low, and hit him around the knees. It brought him down. I rolled over him and threw myself up a few steps. I got an arm around the neck of a different lump of muscle and bodily dragged him' with me back towards the gym, fighting to put him between me and some of the others. I clung on, using my feet to deter the rest as they weighed in. If they had had knives I would have been done for, but these lads were physical. They were stamping too. I was dodging furiously.

For a few moments I was heading for a short walk to Hades. I took some heavy blows and kicks, but then there was a racket from above us. Help at last.