Women," I commented. Always tricky commodities."
They lie," he said, again baldly. They want to believe they have had a romantic love affair. It was well known, Falco. Women were trouble. The experts at ransoming never took women, if men were available. That way, they avoided untidy consequences."
All the victims here have been women. It is a very particular scam."
Craziness," said Damagoras.
Maybe it will end like the most famous kidnap of all."
Who's that?" demanded Damagoras. He squinted at me keenly, just like a man who thought I had insulted his trade.
Julius Caesar. He promised his captors that as soon as he was ransomed he would come back and crucify them all. He was true to his word."
A noble guest," observed Damagoras. A hard man, very tricky to do business with!" I had distracted him from the Rhodope angle. There seemed nothing to gain from him, so I left.
Cratidas drank at a tavern called the Aquarius. I had a feeling he probably lived there. It was by the Gate of Fortune, which was close to the bank of the Tiber and fairly near to my apartment, so after I rode back, I diverted and found it. I was expecting a verminous hovel where day would be as black as night, and night unspeakable. However, the house with the name of the zodiac water-carrier was a large establishment with a pleasant exterior and several shady interior courtyards. It lacked a river view, but being set back from the bustle of the waterfront made it seem more gracious. Casual trade used the snackbar, standing up at streetside counters on two sides of a corner. The servery there was larger than most, well equipped with shelves of flagons and bowls. The odours from the sunken pots of food inset in the marble counters were less repellent than the low fast feeders in Rome; the bar-girl was neat and clean, and she said I was welcome to pass down a short corridor to the ground floor courtyard area. Here, tourists sat about on benches under pergolas, congratulating themselves on finding such a good hotel, right near the Portus ferries. A businessman who clearly knew the place of old passed through on his way to a room upstairs, led by a burly slave carrying luggage. He was something big in corn; we were in an area of grain measurers and associated government officers. In this slightly unlikely setting, I found Cratidas. He was talking to another man, probably subordinate to him in the Cilician hierarchy. They had seats at a table under a fig tree, where they had established themselves in a way that suggested this courtyard was their private office so the tourists had all better use the other spaces. The tourists had taken the point. Maybe they thought Cratidas owned the Aquarius. In fact, for all I knew, he did. Maybe, though, people avoided him because there was just some thing about Cratidas that told them he was dangerous. I had met worse bullies, certainly more obvious ones, but he carried himself with an air. He was coiled for action. Clearly, he was just looking for an excuse to take offence and he expected to win his fights. That would probably be because he fought dirty, but complaining about his methods would not be much help after he had sliced offyour hand or blinded you. He had scars, including a long knife wound, which had healed years ago in a silvered crease, running from his eyebrow to his jaw. The end of one finger was missing. His companion looked fairly presentable until he laughed; then I saw he had very few teeth. Cratidas was still wearing the long crimson robe he had flaunted when he attacked Gaius and me at the villa; this one was in a dull greenish ensemble. It looked filthy, but the braid on the neck and the edges of the long sleeves included genuine gold thread. I recognised his balding crown and the long multicoloured scarves flung around his thick hairy neck. Nobody would mistake this pair for philosophy teachers. They were rough. Very rough. As I approached, I had heard harsh voices and abrupt, coarse laughter. That was before they noticed me. After that, their hostility hung between us as tangily as woodsmoke.
Nice base you have here! Remember me? I'm Falco." Cratidas turned to his companion and said something in a foreign language. Evidently he did remember, and the recollection caused them both to grin nastily. Sorry to interrupt," I said. Is this a Greek symposium?"
