Perfiditas Page 18

  ‘Can you have the custodes plus about a dozen of our people to step up activity on the outer cordon to give Petronax something to look at? Otherwise he’ll think we’re up to something else.’

  ‘Come in and brief their commander yourself,’ he suggested.

  ‘Good idea.’

  Not such a good idea, as it turned out. I nearly had my head blown off for the second time that day.

  The figure in DJ blues turned round, took one look at me and snatched his pistol out. He shoved the barrel of his pistol to within millimetres of my head.

  Lurio.

  Hades.

  A dozen guards immediately trained assault rifles, safety off, on him.

  ‘Whoa!’ said Daniel. ‘Let’s not do anything rash here.’ Fingers on keyboards stopped, motion stopped, muscles tensed. The only sound came from equipment humming. The only movement came from images on screens.

  ‘Now, Commander, whatever the problem, I suggest you lower your weapon and we talk about it calmly.’

  Daniel sucked at hostage stuff.

  ‘Don’t you know a traitor when you see one, Stern?’ Lurio snarled. He was as hot as a bridgewire detonator and as ready to explode.

  ‘One or two, but I’m not looking at one now,’ Daniel said.

  Lurio kept his eyes trained on me, his forehead creased in concentration. I opened my mouth to deny it, but Lurio gripped his pistol harder and raised the tip nearer my head.

  ‘We were tracking her and one of her associates. They disappeared into a known criminal’s lair and we lost them.’

  ‘Why?’ Daniel said. ‘Why were you tracking her?’

  Oh, shit. Lurio was about to blow my Pulcheria cover, and Daniel would be so mad he’d let Lurio blow my head off.

  Lurio looked astounded. ‘It was your lot that issued the “shoot on sight”. One of my undercover people spotted them in a café down by the docks. Now she’s here in the middle of a Strat8.’

  I desperately wanted to take a deep breath but daren’t make even that movement. Any distraction would cause Lurio to fire almost as an automatic response. Gods, my stomach was twisting like Hydra’s heads waiting for Daniel to diffuse Lurio.

  Daniel rubbed his fingers across his forehead.

  ‘Look, Lurio, I don’t have time for this. We’re at a crucial point of a sensitive operation. If she isn’t on that roof within the next minute, an imperial child will die at the hands of a madman and a real traitor. Your choice.’ His tone was grim.

  ‘Seriously?’ Lurio still looked suspicious.

  ‘Oh, for the gods’ sake, man, stop fucking about like some arse-ache and let us do our job!’

  We entered the roof garden from the top floor door. It was a charming retreat, decorated by living green arches, a grassed area, pots brimming over with flowers, a teak slatted table and chairs, loungers and barbecue area. At the far end, part of the high trellis, normally dripping with white clematis flowers, had been broken away, and the ledge was visible. A small hunched figure sat with her back to us, the tips of her fingers visible each side of her ribcage from crossed arms. We froze. Atria was sitting a few metres away, on the green, her fingers playing with the blades of grass. Her hand signalled she was fine, but the situation was not.

  ‘Well, well,’ came the ratty voice. ‘Look what the wolf sicked up!’ Petronax stepped out of the shadow at the corner of the garden and stood in front of the gap, blocking Hallie. He carried a standard-issue light machine gun in the crook of his arm. Two pistols sat on his hips, one each side; his pockets were bulging with spare magazines.

  He stood legs braced, relaxed and assured, his slim, medium-height figure projecting an imposing presence. Many people were nervous around him, maybe because of the nature of his job, but more instinctively because of some kind of innate nastiness he radiated. I grasped my lower lip between my teeth for a second but quickly plastered on a friendly smile and strode forward like I was greeting my best friend on a Sunday afternoon stroll.

  ‘That’s far enough,’ he barked.

  I stopped immediately, two metres further forward than Atria.

  ‘I’m not falling for any of your little tricks.’

  ‘C’mon, Petronax, I don’t have anything up my sleeve. Look, I don’t have any sleeves.’ I held my hands out each side of my body and rotated my arms slowly, managing a few more centimetres forward.

  Treb and Maelia had each managed to slide a few steps sideways in an arc during my performance. Atria had also shifted forward.

  ‘The next little girlie that takes one step nearer will get a bullet in her head,’ he warned us.

  We stood stock still. ‘Can I stay here?’ I asked. Petronax needed to think he could control me. I was only about halfway between the door and him. I didn’t think I could make it to where he stood before he fired or, worse, pushed Hallie off.

  He nodded.

  ‘What do you want, Petronax?’’

  ‘Oh, I think you know that.’ He spoke in a flat tone, but intense, concentrated. His face was smooth, but his hard little eyes burned. ‘It’s quite straightforward – the end of you and your kind.’

  ‘What do you mean – my kind?’

  ‘You women, always dominating everything. You’re not content, are you?’

  His eyes started to bulge.

  ‘What would you like us to be?’ I asked gently, lifting my hands to accompany my question, easing my foot forward by a few centimetres.

  He snorted. ‘Where decent women should be: out of sight.’

  ‘Well, that might be quite difficult now.’ I looked to see how that went down. No change. ‘We’d find it quite hard to go back, you know,’ I continued. ‘Apulius knew that. His way has kept us safe.’

  I waited. No reaction.

  ‘I know it’s not easy, seeing things differently,’ I sympathised, edging forward. ‘I’ve been an outsider. Sometimes I’ve felt I never belonged, but I’ve gotten used to it.’

  I was so disconnected from that girl in the New York ad agency, I could be on the other side of the universe. But I had to find some link to him. And I needed to buy time so I could move nearer.

  I looked at him beseechingly. ‘Come on, Petronax, put it all behind you and try again,’ I pleaded. I managed another two steps forward.

  ‘You keep away, you slut!’ he shouted, his eyes spewing hatred. ‘You’re all filth, egging us on, betraying us.’

  Ah, now we were there – he was afraid of women. No, he hated us. Viscerally. These “hating men” worked in many cultures to hurt or destroy women, sometimes disguised as professional rivalry, more directly as bullying, rape or plain domestic violence.

  In Roma Nova, we were his worst nightmare.

  And there was no hope.

  His cold ideological shell was breaking down. ‘Caeco and I agreed. Your precious cousin, her family, and then you and yours are next.’

  Calm. I had to stay calm. I took some deep breaths. I inched a little further forward. I was around three metres away from him. I could take him.

  ‘Well, it’s over,’ I said. ‘We’ve picked up Caeco and your other friends. The DJ and our people are all around. Best give it up.’

  ‘I might as well kill you now and push the little creep off the parapet.’

  He raised his assault rifle. In the second before he could steady it to aim, I whipped out one of my carbon knives and sprang at him, slamming him down. The rifle crashed to the ground and rolled away. I shoved the blade up through his chest, aiming for the heart but his breast bone deflected it, jarring my wrist. I threw my knife down, crooked my elbow to drive it into his neck. As I shifted my weight to make the jab, he freed his arm enough to grab his pistol.

  As I heard the shot ring in my ear, heat raced up my arm like a hot poker had been rammed through my flesh. The pain echoed up to my teeth. I gasped, dredging breath back into my lungs.

  He kicked me to one side and sprayed the garden with his light machine gun. He was clutching his chest. Hopefully, the pain would ma
ke him collapse. But he was one of those wiry, tough bastards. He staggered towards the wall. He brought his hand back to shoulder level, elbow bent at an acute angle. Then he gave one quick shove and Hallie was gone.

  XXIII

  A roar of ‘Nooo!’ burst out of my mouth as a flood of red clouded my vision. I sprang up straight from the ground at him, not caring this time. I knocked him down by sheer force against the inner parapet. Splinters of wood and flower petals showered down on us. I hoped I’d smashed his head open and spilled his demented brains.

  Unbelievably, he struggled up, pushing me to one side. He managed to stand upright again, but swayed. Cradling my right arm against my chest, I staggered to my feet. I couldn’t feel the arm, just warm liquid dribbling over the skin. I brought the outer edge of my left hand up to smash down on his throat. I heard a shot. A high velocity shot, a sniper. Petronax dropped on me like a ton of Aquae Caesaris granite, spattering warm brains and blood over me. I lost my balance and collapsed on the ground, cursing.

  The brief high from the pallalgesic working its magic didn’t last. I was trying to hold it together about Hallie’s death, but black depression set in and I wanted to run and hide somewhere safe.

  ‘Hold still, lady.’ I heard the voice of Caecilius, Silvia’s physician, like he was metres away. But he was right there, dressing my wound after removing the bullet. The lump of lead and the extraction tube lay discarded on the grass, along with pads soaked with blood. Mine and Petronax’s. As he finally clicked the fastener on the sling strap, somebody thrust a hot drink into my good hand: ginger and malt. It smelled wonderful as I lifted it to my lips. I hadn’t realised I was so thirsty.

  No way could they have gotten there in time. I dreaded seeing Hallie’s thin broken body, smashed after falling four floors, limbs turned wrong ways, a pool of blood. I bent over and threw up. Caecilius must have heard me retching. He rushed back over and wiped my mouth and face. I drew the back of my hand over my eye sockets, pushing the last tears out. I struggled upright, gave him a quick nod, and walked in the direction of the roof door. More like a waddle than a walk, my legs were cotton wool. I saw Atria sitting up, a medic treating her arm and shoulder. Maelia was lying unconscious on a stretcher, leg splinted, head bandaged.

  ‘Report,’ I said to the senior medic.

  She looked at me. ‘Both non-fatal, one leg wound, concussion, possible fracture, the other flesh wounds, shoulder and arm.’ She spoke with that dispassionate voice they all used.

  I looked Atria. ‘You look pretty bloody!’

  She made a face. ‘Yeah, the stains’ll take ages to wash out.’ Her face tightened. ‘What happened to the little girl?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m…I’m on my way to find out, but what’s the point? The boys didn’t have time to save her before Petronax pushed her over. At least they shot the bastard.’

  She quietly absorbed this and turned her head away, but not before I saw a tear roll down her face.

  I picked my way through the smashed flower pots and wrecked loungers to the door. A figure nearly bumped into me as he burst through the doorway: Flavius.

  ‘Where in Hades have you been?’ I growled at him.

  ‘Hey, settle down. I was coming to fetch you to the lower garden where the others are.’

  ‘Is it very bad?’

  ‘Well, it’s a bit of a mess.’

  A mess? Were they all as devastated and off-balance as I was?

  We emerged through the side of the atrium into the main back garden. The soft lighting from overhead lamps and ground lights placed along the lawn edges and scattered through the beds was designed to create an air of tranquillity and quiet dignity. Not a sign of that now. The lawn was churned up by large-grip wheeled mini-trailers with a wide hammock-style net stretched high between them. One end was ripped away. PGSF guards milled around, several others kneeling or squatting in a group, shouting and laughing.

  What in Hades did they think they were doing? Hot anger exploded through me. I bulled my way through, not caring about my arm. The talking died. I stared down at the figure lying on the ground.

  Livius? His beautiful face was criss-crossed with cuts and scratches, the blond curly hair muddy and his foot flopped over at an awkward angle, but it was him. The circle around him started joshing him again, but he was giving it back as good as he got. Where was Hallie’s body?

  I took some deep breaths preparing to throw questions at anybody in my sights when my commset pulsed in my ear. Damn, I had forgotten to reactivate voice mode.

  ‘Mitela.’

  I listened and a heavy stone settled on my stomach.

  ‘Of course. I’ll be right there.’

  Flavius’s eyebrow rose in question.

  ‘The steward. I’m requested to attend the imperatrix “at my earliest convenience”.’

  Right at that moment, I’d rather have gone to my own funeral.

  I was completely at a loss. Silvia was safe now, but her child was dead. I would be exonerated under the Strat8 rules.

  Screw the rules. For a second, I thought about running. I shifted my weight onto the balls of my feet but then relaxed it back onto my heels, No, that would be the easy way out. Not this time.

  I stared at Flavius. He knew me so well he must have known how useless and anxious I felt. And how guilt-ridden. The old hackneyed farewell fell into my mind: ‘Nos morituri te salutamus’. I took a deep breath and went off to confront my own version of death in the arena.

  I was dressed perfectly for an audience with the imperatrix: hair sweaty and falling in wild strands, black tee and shorts muddy and torn, blood and other dribbles down my neck and arm, and the rest of my flesh scratched and bruised. The only clean part of me was my sling. One of Silvia’s staff handed me a towel to wipe my face, then let me through into her private drawing room.

  Silvia looked unfazed. Her brown eyes were clear, no red rims, no dried tears. Her neutral casuals were neat, her red-brown hair carefully dressed, all in place. I knew she could hide her emotions well, but this was weird.

  I bowed, my stomach hurting and stiff from Petronax’s kick. Before I could stand up fully, she came over, hugged me and murmured, ‘Thank you.’

  What?

  I expected to be arrested for laesa maiestas. At best, I failed to stop the murder of a member of the imperial family; at worst, I was an accessory to child killing.

  ‘For Diana’s sake, come and sit down, Carina. You look exhausted.’

  I hesitated. I studied her face for any sign of hysteria, denial or other imbalance. She continued smiling at me, gesturing me to sit. I perched on the couch next to her. It was blue, soft and comforting. I prayed I wouldn’t leave any stains on it. I shook my head to clear it and steadied myself. Why was she so calm? Where were her attendants? Conrad? Anybody?

  She paused, looked at me, her eyes full of concern. ‘You don’t know, do you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Hallie’s safe. She’s alive.’

  ‘She can’t be,’ I croaked. ‘I saw him push her off.’

  ‘He went to push her off, but Conradus grabbed her off the ledge at that exact moment.’

  Conrad?

  ‘Tell me everything!’ I said.

  While Livius, Flavius and Novius had been inserting the safety net and Paula setting up ropes from the upper windows, Conrad – the supposed invalid – had been busy. Once the two additional PGSF guards had arrived in the children’s quarters, he’d slipped out and made his way to the top floor corridor below the roof garden.

  ‘There’s a sub-parapet that runs around the top of the building,’ Silvia said. ‘The maintenance people use it occasionally. It’s less than a metre wide, so they don’t if they can help it.’

  I’d never heard of it. Or seen it. It must be hidden from normal view by some clever recessing. Even with safety harnesses, it wouldn’t be a popular job going up there: nothing would break your fall for four storeys. Of course, Conrad had known it was there. He would have explored th
e palace thoroughly from his first day there with Silvia, let alone when he was on more formal guard duty. When he’d found it, he’d probably sat on the edge, admiring the view. I closed my eyes for a second or two.

  ‘He brought her back down. She was gripping his neck as if strangling him. Her eyes were bulging and full of tears, and she was shivering. Conradus handed her to me without a word. He grabbed a throw and enveloped her and me in it and pulled us down onto this very sofa. After a few minutes, he stood up, bent over to kiss her head and left.’

  I turned to one side. The tears fell down my face. It was sheer reaction. I felt Silvia’s arm fold around my shoulders.

  ‘I thought we’d lost her.’ I took the handkerchief she offered. It was exquisite – fine lawn edged with lace. The fragile curls and whorls hardly touched each other except by a singe thread – a world away from the blood and brutality of the last few minutes. I couldn’t blow my nose on this piece of delicacy. I sniffed instead.

  ‘No, she’s fine. A bit cold and dazed. Caecilius has given her a mild sedative and she’s sleeping now.’

  ‘I’d like to see her.’

  She held her hand out and I took it in my left. We went down the hallway, arms linked, closer than we’d ever been. We passed the two armed guards stationed outside the children’s suite. They immediately came to attention, but Silvia waved at them to stand easy. I smiled at her casual attitude. While she could be dignified on formal occasions, she was very relaxed in her own home.

  The dimmed light was soothing, a soft pleasure after all the action. Silvia gently pulled me through Hallie’s bedroom door and we snuck in through long drapes that separated dressing from bed area. A guard was sitting in the far corner, but she didn’t have any weapon showing. She stood up as we entered. A nurse by the bed looked up. She half-rose, but Silvia waved them both back down.

  I crept over to the bed. Hallie was fast asleep, arm curled around a yellow rabbit sporting a vapid grin. Her face was a good colour and relaxed, no tension lines. Well, we’d see in the morning. I bent and kissed her forehead, wondering at the resilience of children.