Perfiditas (14 page)

‘Have you any proof?’ I could see him pleading silently with me not to have.

‘Shedloads. Confessions, electronic, witnesses, documentary – the lot. But before we can start drawing the loop tight, your legate has to be out of there.’

‘I’m in, obviously.’ Lucius started to breathe again.

‘We don’t want to expose you yet – you’re too useful where you are, containing the fallout from Superbus. Petronax is not stupid, so our timing has to be ultra-precise.’

‘Tell me what I need to do.’

Albinus ran through the procedure with Lucius. They rehearsed it several times until they were second-perfect. Lucius would have no problem imitating Petronax’s voice: he’d entertained us several times with his impression of the latter’s ratty little squeak.

I took Lucius aside for a few minutes to outline the next phase to him privately. He found it difficult to accept at first and grumbled that it would take hours afterward to reset everything, but of course he would be ready as soon as he received the operational order.

‘I trust you, Carina. You scare me shitless with some of the risks you take, but I admit you’ve never had an operation fail yet.’

‘I’m touched, Lucius.’

‘Yes, I know.’

Later that night, we assembled in the basement garage at Apollo’s house. The troops were all ready, to be led by Flavius dressed as a senior centurion. Weird to see him back in his uniform. Well, it wasn’t his, of course. Philippus had an excellent source of military matériel. Flavius and I exchanged looks as we inspected the security vehicle. It was absolutely genuine. Somebody had a nice little operation selling off military property. This was starting to bug me; something to look into afterwards.

I could hardly bear watching them go off without me, but I knew Flavius and his team would do it. I walked all around the house, up and down both sets of stairs, into every room. I walked around the garden twice. Apollo came and fetched me, pressed me down onto the white cushion seat in the atrium. Without saying a word, he handed me a small glass of brandy and stood over me while I drank it. He made me eat a plate of tiny, exquisite bites prepared by his chef. In the end, he sat with me and waited.

Eighty-seven minutes after they’d left, the interphone rang. I jumped up and ran down to the underground garage. The long wheelbase came to a halt by the service door into the house. Flavius leapt out. He nodded and grinned. I ran to the back and tore at the door. I couldn’t open it. My fingers were numb. A strong hand gently removed mine and tugged the door open. Somebody brought a flashlight. A still figure lay slumped on the floor of the vehicle, light catching on the chains on his wrists and ankles. I held my breath.

‘No, he’s alive.’ Flav’s voice cut through the fog that had invaded my brain. Somebody brought a stretcher and Conrad’s body was gently lifted out.

The medic hovered over him doing checks. ‘Take him upstairs to the sick bay,’ he said, ignoring everybody. I followed, determined to see and know everything.

The medic did a more detailed examination, grunting as he read the screen on the scanner he ran over Conrad’s unconscious body. He gave him a shot and fixed up a drip. He pulled a blanket up over Conrad, turned the light out and shooed us out.

‘Well?’ asked Apollodorus.

‘He’s dehydrated, undernourished and exhausted,’ the medic answered dispassionately. ‘They’ve worked him over systematically and I would say over several days. General bruising, concentrated to kidney, stomach and groin areas. Two cracked ribs, though. I can’t find any major internal injuries. I’ll leave him to rest tonight and examine him again in the morning. He should sleep at least twelve hours. Leaving the chains on tonight won’t hurt him. You’ll disturb him more trying to remove them now.’

I moved from foot to foot; I fidgeted with everything near my hands; I bit the skin either side of my nails. I wanted to touch Conrad, to feel he was alive. I was so wired I could have sprung on anybody. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye as Apollodorus nodded to the medic, but it was too late to do anything about it. I felt the needle prick then fell unconscious.

I woke up early the next morning in my own bed. My eyes struggled open in a head full of cotton balls. I shook it to clear it and reached over for a drink of water. The black writing stared out of the white paper; one word: “Sorry”.

Sorry? I’d kill him! How dared he?

I leapt up, threw on my clothes and rushed along to the sickbay. The clock showed just gone seven. The nurse looked startled as I pushed in. Conrad was still out cold. His skin colour had improved from grey to white emphasising the bruises. The cut and burn marks were livid, but starting to pucker. I stroked his forehead gently and kissed it. He didn’t stir. I sat by his bed, right by his head and waited.

Somebody brought me a tray with coffee, pastries and fruit. I devoured them – I hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime. Flavius looked in after nine, but there was no change.

I felt Apollo first rather than heard him. ‘Don’t say it,’ I said between my teeth.

Silence.

‘What were you playing at?’ I growled, not looking at him.

Silence.

‘Well?’

‘You commanded me not to say it, so I didn’t.’

‘Gah!’

‘I’m sorry to have tricked you, but I knew you would have stayed at his bedside awake all night to nobody’s benefit. If you weren’t so cross, you must admit it was the logical thing.’

I rolled my shoulders further inwards and drew my face in, my lips tightened.

‘Don’t,’ he said, running his finger across my cheek. ‘It spoils your face, and it wouldn’t be the best thing for him to see when he wakes.’

I came near to hating Apollo when he was so reasonable and so right.

A little while later, Conrad stirred. I leapt up, but he was still fast asleep. Around half ten, the medic came in. I turned my shoulder to him, trying to look offended. He just ignored me and did some checks. I must have looked desperate.

He took pity on me. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.’ He smiled at me. ‘I mean it. Sleep is the very best thing for him right now. If he wakes, just buzz me.’ He handed me the remote.

I was dozing when I heard a noise of stirring plus clinking of chains. Conrad opened his eyes, blinked at the light, his eyes chased around, scanning for danger. He found me and settled there. His pupils were tiny in the hazel irises.

‘Carina?’ he whispered.

I leaned over and touched an unmarked patch on his face with my fingers. A dark red-purple bruise with an open diagonal slash covered most of the right cheek. I couldn’t say anything. He gave a ghost of a smile and winced. Involuntary tears fell out of the outside corners of each of his eyes and streaked down the sides of his face.

‘Drink,’ he rasped.

Juno, I was a fool. I grabbed the closed plascard mug of water and raised it to his lips. His mouth was torn. He sipped carefully through the straw. What had they done to him? I felt the soft roll of a tear escape my own eye and quickly wiped it away. Conrad would need me strong.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He stopped abruptly halfway, grunted and let it go slowly. I took a square from the pile of gauze on the bedside table, poured water on it, and gently patted his eyelids and lips.

‘I thought they were going to kill me,’ he rasped.

‘They were, and soon,’ I said and turned my face away. I didn’t want him to see my agony at that thought. I cursed Governor Sentoria for letting this happen. She was such a coward, sitting on the fence. Well, she’d be out of a job soon, I vowed.

He stared at the ceiling. ‘We’ve been well and truly had, haven’t we?’

‘Yes. They were clever and determined. They must have been planning it for months, even a year.’

He tried to move and found the chains.

I laid my hands on his arms to stop him pulling against the shackles.

‘You needed the sleep first,’ I said. ‘I’ll ring and have them removed, if you’re up to it.’

‘Who? Where are we?’

‘Don’t have a hissy fit, will you?’

‘Tell me.’

‘At Apollodorus’s house.’

He closed his eyes and said a very rude word.

I buzzed and people descended. The medic, whose name I eventually learned was Balius, came to do more interminable checks. He asked all kinds of questions. Justus took notes of every answer Conrad gave. Flavius hovered at the bedhead, a grim expression on his face, like he was Conrad’s bodyguard. Conrad managed to sit up but even though Balius and the nurse were careful, he couldn’t help but wince. The pink that had started to reappear in his face vanished back to white, and sweat broke out on his forehead. Somebody brought sandwiches which I broke into tiny pieces and he devoured despite his ruined mouth followed by another full cup of water. Blood oozed from the deep crack in his lip. After that, he looked tired but better. Balius refused to take the drip out.

Apollodorus arrived shortly afterwards with Philippus, who carried a bag of tools and piece of solid wood clad with metal on one side.

‘Welcome to my house, Legate Mitelus,’ drawled Apollo at his most urbane. I nearly threw up at his smugness. He didn’t spare me a look, but focused on Conrad like a prize he’d won. He waved to shoo superfluous bodies out. Flavius and I stayed put.

‘No doubt you will be a lot more comfortable
sans
manacles. Philippus will deal with this now, if you are up to it.’ He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

‘Please proceed,’ Conrad answered, barely concealing his chagrin. He radiated anger and awkwardness in equal proportions.

Balius wiped some coloured liquid around the flesh under Conrad’s manacles which I later learned was a local anaesthetic. Philippus inserted pads under the metal rings. Using giant bolt cutters, he cut the steel chains which made a loud cracking sound, and then approached the first wrist.

‘I apologise if this is painful. I will be as quick as I can.’

Conrad nodded curtly.

He didn’t show any reaction during the grim procedure, but I saw the blood weeping from the inevitable cuts and abrasions. Balius came back and bound up the wrists and ankles and gave Conrad another shot. Thankfully, he drifted back to sleep.

‘Well, I’ll give it to him, he was courageous during what must have been a very painful experience,’ Philippus admitted to me shortly after. ‘Most would have screamed or fainted. Those bastards at the Transulium are using a new armoured steel.’ He rubbed the metal almost admiringly. ‘I wonder how they cast that for restraints?’

‘Nothing like practical research on a half-comatose beaten-up victim is there?’

‘Aw, give over, Pulcheria. Bitter doesn’t suit you.’ He grinned at me, trying to cheer me up, I thought. ‘We got him out. What more do you want?’

I tried to ignore the heat of the flush invading my face.

‘Ah, is that how it is?’

He burst out laughing as he walked away.

XIX

Conrad woke later in the afternoon. I buzzed, and Flavius appeared with a tray of minced up food. Dried bloodstains showed through Conrad’s wrist bandages. He moved his arms and hands stiffly like somebody miming a robot. His jaw worked slowly as he ate. It must have been agony. Some of the purple bruises were starting to turn dull yellow. He looked less haggard, but wore a tense, wary expression on his face.

When we’d finished, nobody spoke. I fished the pyramid out of my waist bag and settled back for the storm to blow.

‘How in Hades did you get that out?’ Conrad growled.

He narrowed his eyes when I described how I’d used simple aluminium foil.

‘I extracted the tracker chip, obviously.’

‘Gods, you are a piece.’ He looked away, studying the cream wall. I didn’t know if he approved my ingenuity or condemned the theft.

‘So, report.’

I gave him a rundown, including my proscription and Flavius’s escape. He shut his eyes momentarily and winced when I’d told him how narrowly we’d escaped being shot right outside Apollodorus’s gate. ‘So,’ Conrad said, ‘How deep are you two in here?

His expression was grim. Flavius and I exchanged a glance.

‘It was my decision to reactivate the Pulcheria contacts,’ I said, ‘and I accept that I may by now be beyond—’

Flavius interrupted, ‘No, you’re not taking the blame. It was my idea to ask Apollodorus to help us.’

‘Maybe, but I accepted it on our behalf.’

‘Very entertaining, but what payback have you committed to?’ Conrad asked dryly, now back in full legate mode.

‘There is none,’ I said softly.

‘Don’t be so naïve, Carina.’

‘Why don’t you just accept it?’ I flared. ‘Sir,’ I added.

‘Oh, please!’ He looked at me as if I were five years old.

I took a breath to launch another volley, but Flavius interrupted me. ‘If I may?’

My turn to shrug. I stood up and walked over to the corner of the room, plunked myself on the upright chair, crossed my arms, and glowered at both of them.

‘Apollodorus is a complex individual,’ Flavius began. ‘His motives are not always as you would expect.’

‘He’s a criminal, heading an illegal organisation,’ shot back the legate.

‘Undoubtedly yes, and certainly no.’

‘Explain.’ Conrad looked suspiciously at him.

‘You know, Legate, that the Pulcheria organisation was a construct to flush out the drug pushers from the West seven years ago.’

‘A fact I was not made aware of until the end,’ Conrad remarked.

‘Nevertheless,’ Flavius continued, ‘that was its
raison d’être
. However, it proved very profitable on its own account, especially the fully legal side of the house.’ I saw him pause, smile, and shake his head in memory. ‘In fact, the, er, more dubious activities, while giving us the essential street cred, were in fact cross-subsidised by the legal ones. I admit there were some short cuts and infringements, but the core business was not criminal.’

‘So I am to infer that instead of it being dissolved, as ordered,’ Conrad said, looking across at me, ‘it continued?’

Silence expanded to fill the room.

I cleared my throat. ‘I couldn’t abandon my people like that, on some freaky whim. They worked hard for me and trusted me.’

‘A bunch of criminals? How very touching!’

‘Well, screw you.’

Flavius looked horrified and took a step towards me, but I waved him away.

‘This bunch of criminals just saved your ass. And not a nanosecond too soon. Why can’t you accept that other people and organisations can do some good when they’re not official or military? You’ve been in uniform too long.’

‘And you’ve forgotten how to wear yours.’

Flavius busied himself with finding a drink and taking frequent sips from the glass. He must have thought he’d entered a war zone. Wisely, he carried on as if nothing had happened.

‘The exit plan had been in place for some weeks, and Apollodorus carried it out impeccably. All our people received severance payments for a new life, but a number stayed to help build the new Foundation. It
is
a powerful organisation, but it pays its taxes, settles its disputes behind closed doors and doesn’t cause any political ripples.’

‘You defend it so well, Flavius. I presume you’re thinking of resuming your career here?’ came the sarcastic question.

‘No, Legate, not at all. We parted ways at the end of the operation when I joined the PGSF. But it doesn’t make me blind to either the organisation’s capacities or my good memories of that time.’

‘And you, Carina?’

‘Are you crazy?’

He raised an eyebrow and looked down his nose at me.

‘Sorry,’ I muttered. Trying to fight down the flush creeping up my neck, I said, ‘If I still have a place then naturally I want to stay with the PGSF. Like Flavius, I can’t deny I found certain attraction in the values and ways of doing things here. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it.’

He looked at me as if I were a poisonous snake.

‘But it’s not my way now. Everything changed after the original operation. I’ve followed due process for too long.’

‘So you damn well should,’ he answered in a terse, but not hostile tone. I couldn’t read his expression. I didn’t say anything, but I sensed the storm had blown out.

‘Very well. So what do we know and where are we?’

I glanced over at him, met his eyes briefly, but he merely nodded to me as a senior to a junior. No sign of anything more. I guess it was safer for us both at present.

We slipped back into PGSF formal operating procedure: I gave him a SITREP but, as I progressed through status, intelligence, transport, effective, personnel and so on, it sounded more and more bizarre. He absorbed the threat against the imperatrix and the state almost without reaction: it was what he was trained for, what he would die for. He struggled to tap notes into a small el-pad Flavius had handed him. I could almost see his mind working to analyse and propose counteraction.

‘As for their plans after deposing Silvia…it defies all logic,’ he said. He looked into the distance, and I saw from the way he narrowed his eyes he was processing the implications and struggling with them.

‘Setting Darius up as a puppet with a Council of Regency would be unstable politically as well as cruel to him personally,’ I said. ‘Can you imagine how frightened and lonely he’d feel with both you and Silvia gone?’

‘Bastards.’

As he brought his hand up to his face, I saw it was shaking. I wondered if he was thinking back to his own brutal political baptism at that age.

‘Conrad, I…’

‘What?’

‘I’m not sure I can find the right words for this next thing, so forgive me.’

‘There’s more? Well, spit it out.’

‘The girls, Stella and Hallie…’ I reached for his hand.

‘Yes?’

‘They were going to kill them in the ancient Roman way of disposing of daughters of political enemies.’ I couldn’t say the word rape. I looked away, tears running down my face. I’d seen Conrad furious on many occasions, but this time his face hardened into something else. For a second, he looked like a savage beast. It vanished and a cold, smooth shell spread over him.

‘Petronax is mine,’ he stated flatly.

I waited for a few moments. ‘What happened to due process?’

‘Operational accidents happen,’ he replied curtly. Nobody would reproach him for that, whatever Petronax’s body looked like afterwards.

I glanced at my watch, a vanity of silver and diamonds set in a black leather wristband. ‘Hades, I’m three minutes late for our schedule.’ I walked over to the far side of the room and dialled Daniel. It was a relief to move on.

‘Hi.’ Long pause. ‘Good. Look, I may have a solution, but I have to run through it with some people.’ Pause. ‘Yesterday.’ I could feel ears in the room straining to listen. ‘Much as usual, only grouchier.’ I couldn’t keep from glancing at Conrad, hard as I tried. ‘Fine, Daniel. Keep the four-hour rota going and let me have any names. I’ll be issuing operational orders within the next twenty-four hours.’ Pause. ‘Yes. Out.’

Conrad opened his mouth but, before he could say anything, the doctor strode into the room.

‘We need to change the dressings, so if you’re ready we’ll start. Your fan club can take a hike.’ I grabbed the crystal, praying that Balius hadn’t seen it.

As we trudged towards the atrium, Flavius said, ‘Have you thought through the consequences of putting Apollodorus’s orders before the legate’s?’

‘Yes, but Apollodorus is adamant on this. He suspects the legate’s motives, understandably so. He won’t let his people be exposed or end up on some PGSF alert list.’

Flavius shrugged as if conceding the point. How difficult it was to walk this tightrope.

‘I understand your concern, Flav. But the legate is unfit for duty. Lucius can’t make any kind of move, we know Somna and Sepunia are locked up, and Daniel’s holed up in the palace.’ We reached the atrium doorway. I stopped and looked at him. ‘You have any better ideas?’

I wanted to update Apollodorus on the next phase. I couldn’t find a natural opening in our conversation – I was sure he was avoiding it – so I plunged straight in.

‘I plan to move straight after the Senate meeting tomorrow, so I’ll issue orders this evening. I need to have the legate primed and into the palace after the orders meeting. Can we be ready?’

‘My dear, all you need do is ask and it will happen.’

I giggled.

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry, Apollo, but you sounded like the genie of the lamp.’

His eyes glinted. ‘One day,
ma chère
, you will push me too far.’

So Apollodorus knew French and used it naturally.

‘Sorry – that was impertinent. Forgive me, please?’ I peeked up at him in the most appealing way possible.

He sighed. ‘You know I always do.’

‘Where would I be without you?’

‘Floating in the public sewer, probably, or tucked up in a nice little prison somewhere. Not that you don’t deserve it.’

Apollodorus swept into Conrad’s room with me in his wake. Flavius was already there, sitting by the bed, notepad in hand, discussing something with Conrad. I regretted wearing my trademark black leather and long boots. Despite the air conditioning, I felt warm and uncomfortable. Apollodorus was in black, in an over-elaborate stitched business suit. Organ grinder and monkey, but which was which?

Conrad looked coolly at us both as we sat down.

‘Balius tells me you have made excellent progress, Conradus Mitelus,’ Apollo said. ‘This is naturally to be celebrated. However, he is concerned about your general debility and recommends continuing rest and recovery.’

Conrad drew breath to speak, but his words didn’t get out of the starting blocks.

‘Naturally enough,’ Apollo continued, ‘you will wish to be involved in events going forward, and I wonder if you could help us out with a delicate matter?’

Patronised, but curious, Conrad bit. He completely ignored me and looked only at Apollo. ‘What are you proposing?’

‘No doubt Pulcheria has explained the difficult situation at the palace. It is an unpleasant thought, but no one, not even the inestimable Major Stern, can be completely sure of Darius Apulius’s safety in these, shall we say, treacherous times.’

All three PGSF in the room winced.

‘The child needs a competent adult he trusts and who is tied to him, preferably by blood, to be with him twenty-four hours a day, particularly as the operation steps up. Somebody prepared to die or kill for him. Pulcheria tells me you are the only person whom she trusts to do this.’

Conrad wouldn’t look at me. Stubborn Tella pride.

Apollo spread his hands in a self-deprecating manner. ‘Are you prepared to do this?’

‘And if I’m not?’

‘Then we will continue to care for you here until you are completely well and beyond, if required.’ I shivered at Apollo’s slow and deliberate delivery, radiating quiet menace. He could be so unpleasant so politely.

Watching them staring each other out reminded me of when they met for the first time on the floor of Goldlights, the club I’d built for the undercover operation seven years ago. Even then, they’d been instantly mutually hostile.

‘Apollodorus, would you and Flavius please leave the legate and me to talk for a few minutes?’

‘But of course.’ He closed the door silently as he and Flavius left.

‘You’ve served me up nicely on toast, haven’t you? Proud of yourself, are you?’ Conrad said bitterly. ‘Either way, you’ve pushed me out of it.’ He slumped back in the bed, exhausted after battling Apollodorus.

I had to get him out of here, to safety if there was such a thing now. Against everything I knew, some gut instinct made me distrust Apollodorus as far as Conrad was concerned. It would only take one more spark of antagonism between the men, and Apollodorus would snap.

I sat on the bed and took Conrad’s hand in mine. ‘Conrad, listen to me.’ I waited until he opened his eyes. ‘You’re unfit for duty. I’m no medic, but you look like shit. You can hardly walk to the bathroom, and your head is full of sedatives and painkillers. Would you consider yourself capable of exercising proper judgement? We’re up against a crucial time window and you’re not ready for it. If you know of any other available operational officer or unit, maybe you could let me have their details?’

Silence.

‘No, I thought not. I’m running this operation with a very competent team, but that has a different approach from PGSF. Apollodorus is under no obligation to help me, you or anybody else. However, he has been my friend for many years. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but there it is.’

‘I don’t trust him.’

I laid my hand on his arm. He didn’t shrug it off. ‘Look, Darius needs you now and so do the girls. The next forty-eight hours are going to be hugely disruptive. They
must
have somebody with them they trust, who is exclusively dedicated to them. Silvia may have to act and not be able to look out for them. You can’t leave them to their staff, however loyal.’

He stared at me, the green washing out the brown in his eyes. He searched my face then sighed. ‘Oh, all right, I’ll dance to your tune. Tell me what to do.’ He was a proud man and had conceded a lot.