Icejacked

Londinium

I was texting Julie exact flight details as I wandered down to breakfast and walked slap into Leddicus on the stairs. He grinned and gave my shoulder a friendly punch, a trait he had picked up from me. He then started wiggling his thumbs, imitating my very slow texting skills.

“Oi! Cut that out.” I was pleased to see him in better humour. “This is your get-out-of-jail-free text.”

“I’m going to jail?”

“Yes, if you don’t hurry up!”

We didn’t linger over breakfast, and we were soon on our way to the airport in the hotel courtesy coach, which Leddicus insisted on calling “a very big car.” The coach meandered from hotel to hotel, and the coach gradually filled with those who, like us, were airport bound. We made slow progress, stop-starting through the early morning Roman traffic.

I had checked in online and printed off our boarding passes, so there were no holdups at check-in. We were flying Cheapojet. How I hate these discount airlines, but, as I’m not on a limitless budget, I must grin and bear it.

Walking past the newsstands, I was relieved to see no pictures of Leddicus, once again confirming the fickleness of the press and its customers. Leddicus was excited about flying, and he was beginning to get hyper again, so I avoided buying him anything caffeine impregnated as I purchased some drinks while we waited.

“No coffee for you.” I joined him at the table where he was guarding the cases. “Apple juice okay?” Leddicus nodded. “That’s good. That’s what you’ve got.”

“It’s not called Londinium anymore. Just plain old now.”

“I think I heard about it once from a Roman centurion who bought some of my materials for his family. He had been stationed there for a short while.”

“It’s a lot bigger now, huge in fact. Fifteen million people live there.”

“It must be very busy.”

“Certainly is. Lots of traffic jams. Never quiet. Julie has offered to take us sightseeing if you fancy it.”

His big smile said yes before he vocalised it. “That’s good. Very good.”

“It’s very different from Rome. Even though it was a Roman base, you can’t see much of their influence.”

Takeoff; once again, thrilled Leddicus, and he stared out of the window in fascination and awe. He calmed once we were above the clouds, so I thought I would have a little fun and introduce him to Coke. He made the strangest face, just like a child when he first samples a new taste or texture. He was unsure at first, but the sweetness sold it to him.

I was rambling on about how much money the company made from selling Coke all over the world when the mention of finance sent him off on a completely different track.

“I am so upset I could not deliver those letters, and I have not done any business for my father and family.”

I was sorry that, yet again, he was disturbed by something that was so long ago and far away and about which he could do nothing. But I guess that’s the way the mind works when it can’t quite grasp the present reality.

“I did take some orders for cloth in Malet. It was a good order. I hope the messenger I used managed to get the details back home, and I hope my family made a good profit.”

I was only half-listening, but my keen interest in history caught the tail end of what he said. “How did you send word to your family about that transaction in Malet?”

Leddicus regularly surprised me. This was one of those times. He suddenly went into a strange mood and clammed up. A slightly fearful look was on his face.

“What’s wrong? What’s worrying you?” I urged, but he looked out of the window and began curling the flight magazine into a tight tube.

“Leddicus, what’s up?”

“I do not want to get people into trouble,” he said.

“Of course not, but help me out here. Why would people get into trouble for taking information from Malet?”

He didn’t answer. He stared out of the window for a couple minutes and then, looking decidedly glum, turned to me.

“I really do no want to get people into trouble,” he said hesitantly.

“I don’t understand how someone could get into trouble for taking a message?”

“The thing is—” He stopped and looked at me. His eyes were wide.

“It’s okay. Go on.”

“The thing is that there are official slaves from Caesar’s palace who carry messages for the emperor to high officials around the empire. Some of them are in the way. Because I, too, am in the way, I know them through my father, who was a centurion. I knew who would be going where and when. For a few denarii, these slaves carry messages for other people.”

“Sounds like a great arrangement to me.”

“I met one of these slaves at a meeting, and he was happy to do me the favour of taking my message along with the message from the emperor. But you do not understand. They are on official empire business, and they would be in bad trouble if anyone found out they were carrying messages for my father.”

“Ahh, now I get it. Moonlighting.”

“What!”

“It loosely means doing other work when you should be doing the work for which you are paid.”

Leddicus nodded solemnly. “Yes, that is exactly it.”

“I’m sure he’ll have been okay. Try not to worry. Even though it’s very recent to you …” I tailed off, not wanting to finish the statement.

Fortunately, he was distracted as the landing gear clunked into position. Leddicus immediately looked out of the window and gazed at the patchwork quilt of countryside unfolding below him.

Cheapojet flights often disembarked directly onto the tarmac. This was one of those times. Leddicus stood looking up at the aircraft with his mouth open.

“One of the smaller ones.” I gently took hold of his elbow and steered him toward the terminal buildings.

Stanstead was heaving with midweek passengers, and the cases took forty minutes to arrive on the conveyor belt. We waited and waited until it seemed that everyone else had taken his cases and moved on. I was beginning to think my fears were bearing fruit. Then I spotted our cases, mine battered and his pristine, jerking drunkenly toward us. I sighed with relief as we headed for passport control.

A grim-faced clerk sitting in the booth made a point of looking very carefully at the travel documents, especially Leddicus’s. My heart was skipping a beat with visions of being held for hours. But he was just being thorough and eventually handed back the paperwork with a curt nod.

We walked into the main arrivals area. There to welcome us was a smiling, waving Julie Bright. “Hey, what was the holdup? I’ve been here for hours!” She said with mock fierceness. Then she hugged Leddicus warmly and shook my hand. “I’m so pleased it’s not Heathrow. I’ve spent many unhappy hours hunting down my lost car in those endless car parks. Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

Julie was not talking much at first as she navigated through the various roundabouts, but we were soon out of the airport and into the heavy lunchtime M11 traffic.

“I’ve booked you into quite an upmarket hotel. It’s not exactly, but it’s near here, so it’s very handy.”

“Thanks for that. Good to know it’s close. Why is the traffic so heavy?” I asked.

“M11 is always a nightmare, apart from late evening.”

“Needs more lanes, doesn’t it?”

Julie laughed. “Then there would be even more traffic. Anyway, Joe Simmons is already at the hotel. I’ve given him some background, and he’s done a stack of preparation and planning. I can’t believe what he’s achieved in such a short time. He’s keen to meet you both. Are you okay with that? To meet up straightaway? Or are you too tired from the journey?”

“Fine by me. Just give me a jug of coffee, and I’ll be ready. Okay with you, Leddicus?”

“Whatever pleases you, Gerhardt. Thank you, Julie, for sorting it all out and coming to get us.”

“My pleasure!”

“Did you sort it all out with your talk machine?” Leddicus put his hand to his ear.

“,” I said automatically.

“That’s right. I wonder what we did without them.” She turned into the hotel car park.

I wondered how they set up such meetings in Roman times. I wondered what had happened to the slave carrying the message for Leddicus.

Julie parked, and we piled out of the car and headed for reception.

“I think you’ll like Joe. He’s not your usual PR chap, more honest than most.”

We checked in, threw the cases into our rooms, and arrived in reception in record time. Julie was sitting on a plush sofa, deep in conversation. As soon as she saw us, she stood up and did introductions. Joe Simmons stood up. He was slightly built and had a huge shock of pure white hair. He seemed friendly, but had eyes that took in every detail. I was sure he was assessing the business situation even as he smiled and shook our hands.

We made our way to the hotel restaurant. A very smart, attentive Polish waiter ushered us to what seemed to me to be one of the best tables in the place and handed round, large, leather-bound menus. The wide variety bemused Leddicus, but Julie was soon walking him through the choices. No prizes for guessing what he eventually chose. It was fish, of course. He couldn’t get enough of it. We all put in our requests, and Joe ordered a bottle of expensive wine.

Once the orders were placed and the wine uncorked, Mr. Simmons got straight down to business. Julie didn’t get involved in the conversation, at least not the one between Joe and me. She and Leddicus were chatting away like old friends. I tried to pay attention to what both Joe and Julie were saying, but failed on both counts. Joe thought I wasnt interested. I mentally pulled myself together and apologised to Joe, giving him a feeble excuse about being a little tired. I then gave him my full attention as he explained the facts and figures on what seemed to be a new business empire focused around Leddicus.

Joe had planned a month-long tour to many of the major cities. The tour included seminars, discussion forums, university lectures, and small group sessions. My head spun as he showed me the prices he was charging for the pleasure of our company. To me, they were exorbitant, but he assured me everyone was being agreed without complaint, and the tour was almost fully booked. All expenses were taken care of: hotel, travel, and food. He was taking a cut, which did not appear to be excessive, but I was being paid a very generous fee as project manager.

It took a great amount of willpower for me to stay in my seat. I wanted to jump onto my chair, punch the air, and yell, “Yes!” Instead, I nodded sagely and said to Joe, “Thank you. You have thought of everything.”

My thoughts were racing. I was calculating madly. With my research allowance from St. Gallen University, the contract I had with Archiv, and this, I would be financially comfortable for the foreseeable future. I ran a very brief summary past Leddicus as we all tucked into the biggest bowl of fruit I had ever seen outside of a market. Thanks to Leddicus, someone had allowed him to decide on dessert for all of us. As he piled his plate with grapes and melon, he smiled from me to Julie and back again.

“It’s all good to me.” He sliced off a chunk of pineapple. I wasn’t sure if he meant the tour or the food.

“Joe, I think Leddicus should have his own bank account and be included formally in the contract?” Julie said this kindly, but her tone left no room for doubt on my part or Joe’s that this had better take place or there would be trouble.

What a bossy, interfering girl.

But Joe just nodded thoughtfully and agreed.

“Yes, yes, of course. I will draw up the final version today. It will be ready for review and signature tomorrow.” Joe bent down to his briefcase and slid in the wedge of papers. He then topped up our wine and raised his glass. “To a successful tour!” He beamed. We clinked our glasses together and smiled at each other a little self-consciously.

The whole afternoon had drifted away most pleasantly. With good food, excellent wine, and the possibility of a big, fat cheque winging its way to my account, I sighed with contentment. The restaurant, which at one point was almost empty, was now starting to fill up again with evening diners, many of them suited, booted, and tapping away on their smartphones. I assumed they were businessmen, certainly not out for a romantic evening. We moved from the restaurant to the coffee lounge. Apart from us, everyone seemed to be on their own, clicking away on laptops or talking loudly on mobiles, oblivious of their surroundings as they set up their next big deal.

With coffee over, Joe Simmons took his leave. “Good to meet you, Gerhardt, Leddicus.” He shook our hands warmly. “Julie, I’ll call you tomorrow. We can arrange where to meet to get sign-off for the contracts.”

He strode off toward the car park, and we were left adrift in a sea of clinking coffee cups, beeping laptops, buzzing phones, and the gentle lilt of canned classical music. Leddicus yawned, and I stood up to stretch my legs.

“Is the hotel to your liking?” Julie asked Leddicus.

“It is most wonderful. It’s all a little … well, it’s overwhelming.”

“What are your plans for this evening, Gerhardt?” Julie got to her feet.

“I must write my copy for Archiv, or I will miss the deadline. I have some uni work to catch up on. Perhaps, Leddicus, you could watch TV?”

“Fine by me.” He was always eager to please.

She signalled to the waiter for the bill. He was at her side in an instant.

“The man who left, he paid already, ma’am.”

She smiled at him and gave him a tip. I couldn’t quite see why. “Would you like me to show you round tomorrow?”

It wasn’t my first time in , but a local guide always made things easier, even if that guide was Julie Bright. I smiled. “Yes, that would be most helpful. Shall we see you around nine thirty tomorrow. Is that Thursday? I’m losing track of time.”

“Fine by me.” She turned to Leddicus. “Do you really want to just watch TV? Are you hungry? I don’t know Brentford too well, but I know a couple good places to eat if you would like a change of scene.”

Leddicus did not need asking twice. “I am a bit hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” I said.

“Gerhardt, I don’t mind entertaining Leddicus for a couple hours while you do your work.”

And there it was again. The trap snapped tight. I didn’t want to let Leddicus out of my sight with anyone, especially not to the care of Julie Bright. But I felt at a loss to explain why. Without seeming small-minded, I could not come up with a good enough reason to prevent this unwelcome outing. Yet again, I was painted into a corner.

“I guess that’s okay. He is a grown man of two thousand and thirty, so I’m sure he can look after himself.” I smiled weakly.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “He’ll be just fine, and I’ll bring him safely back to the hotel.” Her tone was relaxed, but carried a hint of condescension. Leddicus was already heading off toward the exit. Julie patted me on the shoulder. “He’ll be fine. See you in the morning.” She followed Leddicus through the revolving doors.

Everyone was happy except me. I headed off to my room and laptop with an inexplicable sense of foreboding.

***

Eduardo read the document for the third time, checking and rechecking every detail. He attached his slightly adjusted version to an e-mail and began to type.

Joseph, There are no loopholes in this that I can see. Is there no time to run it past a lawyer for a last sweep to make sure it is watertight? Are you sure you can’t delay the meeting? E

He clicked send and then turned his attention to the growing manuscript. There was no e-mail from Shynder today, but no matter. There was more than enough research material to keep him busy.

Forty-five minutes later, a response pinged into his inbox.

Eduardo, I have already done that. Have you forgotten Charles? I had him check every line. Fear not. It is watertight. I confirm my e-mail is encrypted. No worries on that score. J