I assume that's you," I told Lemnus cheerily, just as he stopped being a timid weasel, flicked open a folding knife, and lashed out at me. I had expected trouble. I elbowed his arm up and just escaped slashing. Lemnus barged out of the cell past me, but I had my boot out at ankle level. He crashed to the floor. I would have disarmed and overpowered him, but the doorkeeper had turned back and jumped on me. She was still after that half-denarius, and prepared to fight dirty for it. I freed myself from being choked and gave her a kneejerk that doubled her up, squealing. The Cretan had legged it again at top speed. As I followed, women appeared from all directions. The madam had been right. they were all highly trained, trained to get in my way. I shouldered aside a desert princess, squashed her pale friend against a doorpost, deflected one fury with my hip and another with my forearm. Lemnus had bolted out of doors and when I burst back on to the quay he had vanished from view. However, men were staring towards a public latrine as if a fugitive might have rushed in there, so I raced inside too. There were five men taking philosophy breaks, all strangers, all immersed in their tasks. No sign of Lemnus. No other exit. It would have been rude to run in, then run straight out again. I took a seat. Enthroned on a spare spot, I recovered my breath, growling quietly. Nobody took any notice. There is always one loser who talks to himself. At least there was a benefit in chasing a suspect in a high grade imperial area. since Claudius and his successors might be caught short while inspecting harbour facilities, the twenty-seater latrine was fit for an emperor. The five-to-a-side seating benches were marble-clad, with the smoothest possible edges on their beautifully designed holes. The room was an airy rectangle, with windows on two sides so passers-by could look in and spot their friends; if Lemnus did come in here, maybe he had vaulted out of a window. The cleansing water ran in channels that never flooded. The sponges on sticks were plentiful. A slave mopped up drips and splashes. What's more, he wore a neat tunic and was discreet about expecting tips. The conversation among the porters and negotiators was banal, but after a long morning out I had better things to do than chat. Informers normally have to manage without relief. In an empire that prides itself on high class hygiene, bodily retention forms the main challenge for men in my profession. Slugging it out in fights or making your tax declaration creative is a cinch by comparison. I sat lost in thought about the bad aspects of my work, the traditional musings of a man who has entered a lavatory alone. A couple of people left. Two new ones entered. Suddenly I heard my name. Why hello, Falco," This was the other traditional drawback. the idiot who insists he must talk to you. I looked up to see a white haired, elderly fusspot, being very particular about checking that his seat was clean and dry. Caninus. It was natural to run into the sea biscuit at Portus, though of course I felt annoyed. When navy men have the opportunity to enjoy decent facilities on firm ground, instead of being hung out over the stern of a prancing ship in a fierce wind, they tend to take their time. Caninus now looked set in here for days, and I was stuck with him. In latrine etiquette, the others present were now able to relapse into private contemplation, while they pitied me for being spotted. I was forced to be pleasant. Caninus! Hail."
Not your usual drop-in, Falco?" I shook my head. Just passing through." This is an old army joke, but the navy seemed to know it too.
So!" breezed the nautical menace with a meaningful glare. Were you involved in that activity at the Damson Flower this morning, Falco?"
Confidential," I warned, to no avail.
Yes, I thought you must have been. A ransom that went wrong, I hear?"
You must have your narks in all the right places."
Was it connected with that case you mentioned? The missing scribe?"
Diocles is supposedly up for ransom." I saw no harm in the admission, even though the four other men present were now listening intently while pretending not to. I think it was a try-on; nobody has kidnapped him. I just wonder how the speculators knew he had disappeared, and that people were sufficiently anxious about him to respond to a demand for money."
You were asking me about Cilicians," said Caninus. Traditional behaviour. They sit in taverns and brothels, on the look out. Exactly how pirates used to work. picking up news of ships with decent cargoes that they would subsequently follow out of harbour and assail."
Now the bastards stand at bar counters, listening out for recently landed rich men, who have wives or daughters with them," I agreed. As a professional courtesy I lowered my voice. You didn't tell me, last time we met, that you were in port to follow up this racket."
Oh, didn't I?" Caninus was offhand. You never said it impinged on your missing scribe."
