Subsequently, the island became a favorite of Bourbon royalty and, today, of landscape painters and tourists avoiding the more popular attractions of Europe by seeking the main island's black sand beaches or tumultuous terrain.
Jason had all but convinced himself his choice of residences was based on the single means of ingress and egress rather than the island's proximity to Naples, where he knew a certain volcanologist spent a great deal of her time.
He had moved there immediately after a week of debriefing by Mama and the various American intelligence agencies, all of whom owed him a debt they could never admit. Failure to timely access the Breath of the Earth project could have resulted not only in assassination of the president, but political recriminations that would have sent any number of department heads into early and obscure retirement.
In addition to the fee paid him by Narcom, he had asked only that the State Department do what was necessary to ensure that he was no longer wanted by the British Colonial or Italian authorities.
In the first instance, the British Colonial office was all too happy to forget the matter. After all, their Caribbean possessions were one of the world's vacation spots. Even the rumor of violence would frighten the tourists who were the islands' main source of income.
The Italians, understandably thorny when it came to activity by a foreign power on their soil, simply did not acknowledge that any such exercise had taken place at all. No one was certain exactly what had inspired Inspectore
Santi Guiellmo, capo, le Informazioni e la Sicurezza Democratica, to lead men into a shaft closed since antiquity. As was his custom, he had confided in no one. The old archeological site was far too unstable to risk any effort at retrieving the bodies. A simple Mass for the dead was said at the mouth of the hole and the matter officially forgotten.
Although the depth of the sea surrounding Ischia precluded scuba diving, the fishing from Jason's small skiff was successful enough. Dorado and other fish were plentiful, and what he didn't catch was available in the open- air market in Ischia Porto, the island's main town and ferry port. Pangloss seemed relieved that there were no crabs lying on the trays of ice, but the claws of the large prawns gave him pause.
Even with a dog, painful memories lingered.
Otherwise, Pangloss loved the people, color, and, above all, the smells of the market. Jason got the impression the dog would have preferred a car to having to keep his balance between the front wheel and Jason's feet on the floorboard of the Vespa, though.
Daily help was inexpensive and provided a form of company, once the old woman realized the dog was far more friendly than fierce. Her extended family basically adopted Jason, including him in an endless procession of weddings, saints' days, birthdays, and one funeral, all occasions for appropriate gifts to grandchildren, nieces, nephews, cousins, and others of whose relationship he was uncertain. The affiliation also provided him with numerous eyes and ears. Should someone come looking for him, he would know before they found him.
He took Italian lessons twice weekly.
At night he cooked, read, drank wine, or watched bad Italian soaps or, worse, American sitcoms on the rabbit- eared set the previous owners had correctly appraised as not worth taking with them.
Almost by accident one evening, he found the dogeared magazine Adrian had given him, the one containing the condensed version of Eno Calligini's book. Only then did Jason remember he had not finished the misadventures of Severenus Tactus, the one facet of the Breath of the Earth operation still incomplete.
A glass of wine at his elbow, he had begun to read.
JOURNAL OF SEVERENUS TACTUS
Two days I remained in Agrippa's household. I began to despair that he would ever have restored to me what I had lost, for he rarely left the house, instead conferring for hours with men, many of whom I recognized as among the most powerful in Rome.
Late in the afternoon of the second day, I heard his guest depart and set out to speak with my host. I found him at the counting table ^1 of his treasure house. ^2
He looked up as I entered and smiled with a greeting.
I was about to inquire as to what had been done when I saw a small gold stature of Dionysus ^3 on a chest. The same figure had adorned the little temple at which my mother, unlike my father, had worshiped all and many deities. Like most of the household treasures, it had disappeared shortly before my father's death. Without thought, I reached out to examine it.
Agrippa moved with greater celerity than his age would suggest, clasping my wrist in an iron grip.
'That statue belongs to my family,' I protested.
He shook his head. 'There are legions like it. You are mistaken.'
I lunged and knocked the litlle figure upon the floor. On its bottom was my family's mark. ^4
He did not release my wrist but said, 'Your father owed much before he died.'
As though delivered by the gods, the words of my father's shade from Hades only two days past came back to me: In the hand of the servant of the god. Not servants, not gods.
A single servant.
A single god.
Augustus, the emperor, was a god.
Agrippa was his most devoted servant.
In the two years before he died, my father had hoped to do business with the imperial household, to have intercourse with government. It was an ambition never voiced before, nor hoped for.
But, I surmised, it had been one for which he paid dearly.
'You,' I said. 'You took my father's money on a promise to return commerce from the emperor and state. You used your high office to induce him to believe you could do such things.'
Agrippa finally released my wrist. 'As Augustus's confidant I could. Your father was foolish enough to believe I would. Who told you?'
'My father's spirit,' I answered. 'And to him you will answer.'
Agrippa laughed. 'I answer to no one but Caesar. But I shall have a response to the priests who revealed my business to you.'
NOTES
1. Abacus.
2. The villas of many wealthy noble Romans included a treasury, or thesaurus (from the Greek thesauros) within its walls. Usually small and windowless, it would also be where business was transacted.
3. Roman god of wine, equivalent to the Greek Bacchus.
4. This would have been a simple picture, design, or mark not dissimilar to cattle brands in the United States.
Author's Note
The diary stops abruptly here. What may have happened to Severenus Tactus for confronting the second- most- powerful man in early first-century Rome is only a guess. We do know, however, that Agrippa had the Oracle of the Dead (Hades) filled in. Not buried-filled from the inside out, a task that occupied at least two years. We can only suppose that such thorough destruction was not the result of mere efficiency but to ensure that no more of the old general's schemes came to light, or as an example to others who might tend to reveal them.
Of course, we can never know, but this is one answer to the mystery of why Agrippa took such action.
Ischia, Bay of Naples
Jason had put the magazine down.
He had found a place to live and begun to enjoy life.
He was home free.
Almost.
