The Mammoth Book of Locked-Room Mysteries And Impossible Crimes

imagine in a prominent position along the Appian Way.”

“You spoil me.”

The door cranked open and two hefty bearers pushed her into the pale pink dawn light. The barking escalated, and some of the dogs started baying. The sound, she realized with a chill, was caused by impatience. Their desire to get underway.

“Max?” Surely he wouldn’t kill her? Not Max.

But Max clicked his fingers, and the bearers manhandled her into the courtyard, where eight fat city men in short tunics milled around. None looked in Claudia’s direction. Terror gripped at her throat.

“Please-” She could hardly breathe. “Help me. For gods’ sake, one of you, help me!”

Last night, these men were her friends. Business colleagues. They’d laughed at her jokes, given her contracts for rich, vintage wine.

A vice tightened round her ribcage. Oh, sweet Juno in heaven. It’s not that they can’t hear me. It’s not that they imagine I’m drunk. They’re not helping, for the simple reason they’re busy. Checking spears and arrows and slings… And when they do glance around, it’s not a terrified girl that they’re seeing. They’re simply assessing the strength of their prey.

The true horror of Max’s hunting parties slammed into her, filleting every bone from her body. Finally she understood what had happened to Soni.

Why he was way out in front of the others.

The slave, goddammit, was the quarry.

That’s why Max only wanted the one. Only ever the one…

“You’ll never get away with it,” she cried, as the cart bumped over the lawns. Past the peacocks. Past the watercourses. Past the shimmering man-made lakes rimmed with reeds.

“Wrong,” Max replied, as they approached the wooded hunting grounds. Behind, the bearers loped along at a steady rhythm, their dogs straining at the leash. “All over the Empire, you’ll find men bored with a quarter century’s peace. Sons of warriors who’ve only ever heard about the clash of weapons, the bittersweet fear of hand-to-hand combat. And since they’ve never ridden into battle themselves, they hunt boar, they hunt stag, they hunt bear for their thrills and to affirm their manhood. Unfortunately, with some, that’s not enough.” Slowly, he reined in the horses. “Some seek a further dimension.”

Aegean blue eyes scanned her face.

“Can you imagine how much these men are prepared to pay to hunt humans? Thousands, Claudia. Thousands upon thousands, and you know the best part? There’s an unlimited market out there. Oh, I know you’re going to tell me your clever friend, Marcus is on to me. He’s suspected me for some time, but what can he prove? Nothing! Not one bloody thing.”

Drawing a broad hunting knife, he cut through her bonds in a businesslike fashion. For how many others, she wondered, had he done this?

“You have intelligence, cunning and resilience, Claudia Seferius, you will be a worthy adversary.” Max took her trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Your tomb will do you credit, I promise.”

Claudia spat in his face. “Go to hell.”

“I probably shall,” he agreed. “Now then. We always give the quarry a chance. Here’s a slingshot, a javelin and a short stabbing dagger. Try,” he whispered, glancing at the businessmen, “to take at least one of them with you.”

Breath was too precious to waste on this son-of-a-bitch, her mind whirled like a cap in the wind. The estate was fenced in; the gates closed behind them; guards were posted; and ferocious spikes topped the perimeter fence. What the hell chance did she have?

“We normally give a count of a hundred,” he said, “but seeing as how you’re a woman, I think two hundred is fair-”

Though she had weapons in her hands Claudia made no effort to kill him. He’d be prepared, would only injure her, consigning her to a lingering death. She had no choice. She set off- a victim of the very men on whom, only last night, she had wished this particular fate.

Behind her, she could hear Max counting aloud. “Sixteen. Seventeen.”

Father Mars. Mighty Jupiter. Can you hear me up on Olympus? Can you help?

“Twenty-two. Twenty-three.”

“Nobody move, you’re surrounded.”

For a second, Claudia’s heart stopped beating.

“Drop your weapons, put your hands in the air.”

Then the breath shot out of her lungs. That was no Olympian deity. That baritone was quite unmistakable, even through the shell he used as his loudspeaker-

As one, fifty archers stepped out from the bushes, their arrowtips aimed at the group. Almost before the daggers and javelins had crashed to the ground, eight men began babbling. Explaining. Exonerating. Bribing.

“You all right?”

Claudia hadn’t realized she had collapsed, until a strong hand pulled her up. Even then, her knees were so weak, the only way to stay upright was with his arm tight round her waist.

“Nothing better than a run in the country,” she said, and it was odd, but her teeth were still chattering.

Orbilio grinned, and brushed the hair from her eyes with his thumb.

“I thought they’d run you out of town,” she said.

“I was expecting some form of trouble,” he replied. “Which is why I brought back-up.” He paused. “It took a little persuading, but eventually one of Max’s heavies told us of Max’s plans for you. Hence the trap we were able to lay overnight.”

Behind him, pleading, protesting, terrified merchants were rounded up – men of substance, yet men of no substance at all – while the bearers tried to explain how they were under duress to obey, that they got drunk to blot out the horror, that if they didn’t participate, they would become the next quarry. For many years afterwards Claudia was able to recall, with bloodcurdling clarity, everyone’s clamouring at once. While not one word of remorse fell from their lips.

“You know this won’t come to trial?” Orbilio said, steadying her with his grip. “Senior politicians and influential businessmen on slave hunts? The scandal would de-stabilize the Empire in no time, Augustus wouldn’t risk it.”

“They’ll get off?” The prospect of these scum swaggering free was almost too much to bear.

“No, no!” Orbilio was certain of that. “It’s suicide for these boys,” he said, leaving unspoken the fact that, in at least two cases, the exit would require a certain assistance.

The soldiers, meanwhile, were being none too gentle with their captives, yet throughout the whole ignominious defeat, one man had said nothing. Outmanned and outnumbered, Max surrendered at once, quietly and without fuss, and stood, hands bound in front of him, as his rich clientele and his poor bullied bearers were kicked in to the cart.

His passive acceptance alone should have alerted them.