I was scornful. ‘Most of the people in these photographs look like Aztecs to me. Are you trying to say your own people would plot against you?’
Again I saw the flash of anger in his face. ‘The Aztecs, as you call them, in those photographs are people of non-Mexica races, minorities affiliated with your own subversives who would like nothing better than to grasp power for themselves. White skins are not the only proof of treasonous intentions.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ I said again, ignoring the racial slur. ‘Victoria’s not the type to become involved in any kind of plot. She has no interest in politics at all.’
Silence. A small sigh to indicate the breadth of his patience.
‘She’s my sister. I know her well. I would have suspected something.’
‘Am I expected to take your word for that? You, a declared enemy of our people?’
‘She was terrified when we were first captured. She couldn’t possibly be involved.’
Very deliberately, he took the facsimiles from me and proceeded to leaf through them.
‘Why are you doing this?’ I pleaded. ‘She’s never harmed anyone.’
His disdain was obvious. ‘Perhaps you do not know her as well as you think.’
He removed a photograph. ‘Do you recognize the man she is with?’
I had not studied any of the material carefully, but after some scrutiny I saw that the photograph showed Victoria sitting on a carpeted stairway with Jeremy Quaintrell.
‘He was arrested immediately after the cricket event,’ Maxixca said. ‘He planned to kill all of you with explosives hidden in a hollow cricket bat. Fortunately, we learnt of the plot and had the device made harmless beforehand. Your sister was quite prepared for you all to die.’
‘But she came to Lords!’ I was trying to marshal my thoughts, to piece everything together logically. ‘She wouldn’t have come if she’d known there was going to be an explosion.’
‘She found out we had neutralized the device. She came to try to warn Quaintrell. We made sure she had no opportunity to do so.’
The photograph was poorly lit, grainy, obviously blown up from a smaller print. It might have been taken anywhere, any time, though it must have been recent since Victoria’s hair was short.
‘Photographs are easy to fake,’ I said. ‘Victoria would never involve herself in anything so dangerous. She doesn’t have the stomach for it.’
A patronizing smile. ‘Perhaps you cannot tolerate the idea she was ready to see you and your brother killed.’
‘When is Extepan due back? I demand to speak to him.’
‘I have full authority here.’
‘Did he authorize this?’
‘It was authorized by the cihuacoatl.’
I felt myself sag inside. If Tetzahuitl had masterminded everything, then there was nothing I could do.
‘What’s going to happen to her?’ I asked. ‘Have you already had her killed?’
He was incredulous. ‘The plot was unsuccessful. We do not make a habit of executing members of a royal family, even for such grievous escapades as this. The cihuacoatl took the view that exile would be sufficient punishment for her – given the uncertain strength of her mental constitution. Subversives are often inadequate individuals.’
‘Where is she being taken to?’
‘Do you really expect me to tell you that?’ He turned away, putting all the facsimiles into a desk drawer. ‘The cihuacoatl has taken into account her status. It will be somewhere reasonably civilized.’
‘This is disgraceful! A farce! These are trumped-up charges!’
‘Her flight leaves within the hour. The cihuacoatl asked me to permit you to see her one last time. There is a shuttle on the landing pad. If you hurry, you might just catch her.’
Victoria was being flown out of Stansted in a long-distance civilian transporter, destination unspecified. When I arrived at the airport, the craft was already preparing for take-off, and it was only with great reluctance that I was ferried out to it by an Aztec commander who had obviously been given firm instructions that he shouldn’t allow himself to be bullied by me.
I sat beside him in an open ground-car, which sighed to a halt about twenty yards from the transporter. The gangway had already been withdrawn, and the wings were beginning to glow as excess power from the engines was fed through the conduction channels.
The commander spoke into a radio, and presently a head appeared at one of the windows. It was Victoria.
I waved frantically. She, too, raised a hand. It was hard to see her expression at such a distance, but I was sure she looked anguished, terrified.
‘Let me aboard for a few minutes,’ I said to the commander. ‘I must speak to her.’
‘It’s not possible. The ship is about to take off.’
‘It’s not a scheduled flight. A few minutes would make no difference.’
He shook his head.
‘She’s my sister! A princess of the blood royal! I demand you take me aboard.’
‘It’s too late,’ he said emphatically. ‘If you’d come earlier, it might have been possible. But not now.’
The engine-whine grew louder, and the golden glow suffused the entire wings, dazzling us. We had no option but to withdraw to a safe distance. The transporter headed off down the runway, rapidly picking up speed before it lifted off. I cursed Maxixca, whom I was sure had arranged matters so that I would have no opportunity to speak to Victoria.
She was lost to me, already lost. The transporter rose higher, its wing-glow reflected on the low-lying cloud. I watched it a diminishing point of brightness, until it was swallowed up in the grey.
Six
I soon discovered that I did not even have Richard to turn to for solace: he had been dispatched on a goodwill tour of the Caribbean, leaving London on the same flight as Tetzahuitl immediately after the post-match dinner at Lords. I would have feared for his safety had the news bulletins not been full of him reviewing troops and inspecting historic buildings in Havana and Santo Domingo. It seemed improbable that the Aztecs intended to get rid of him when they were giving his tour such publicity. He had been conveniently removed from all the messy aftermath of the Lords débâcle, and I wondered if he knew what had happened to Victoria.
For days afterwards I brooded, feeling impotent and thwarted at every turn. Without Victoria or Bevan, I was friendless, and Extepan’s absence only made matters worse. Because I wanted to give Maxixca no further opportunity to humiliate or frustrate me, I spent much of my time alone in my suite, allowing only Chicomeztli to visit.
He, at least, remained cheerful and was confident that both Bevan and Extepan would return. I believed his optimism was genuine but naïve; he was forced to admit he had no explanation for Extepan’s abrupt departure and no information on when he would be back. Without ALEX, I had no means of getting any answers to the many questions which preoccupied me. What had happened to the disk? Had Maxixca found it? If so, why had he made no mention of it? Things were happening all around me over which I had no control and precious little information.
A week passed. Eight, nine days. Some mornings I took solitary horse rides, alternating on Archimedes and Adamant, venting my frustration in the physicality of the rides. I was obsessed with the injustice which had been done to Victoria, powerless to do anything about it. Some evenings I would sit out in the garden and wonder what had been done to Bevan. He was unlikely to have escaped as lightly as Victoria: princesses could not easily be disposed of without creating a stir, but ordinary men like him could simply vanish, and hardly anyone would notice their passing. A deserted place, a swift bullet, burial in an unmarked grave, and scarcely a ripple would disturb the tide of history. How many thousands, millions, had died in this way?