One moment of brightness lightened my gloom. Returning one morning from a ride, I was taken aside by the leader of my escort, an Aztec lieutenant called Zacatlatoa. Without looking at me, he thrust into my hand a vellum envelope. It bore the double-headed eagle of Imperial Russia.
I could hardly wait to get back to the complex. In a shaded nook on the balcony garden, I tore open the letter and removed the single sheet.
It was from Margaret. In the cheery, chatty style so typical of her, she gossiped about the Moscow court, which now included many English refugees from the invasion, asked after my welfare and that of Richard and Victoria – the letter had been written before Victoria’s exile – and finally thanked me for ‘your splendid news, received with great joy and relief by everyone here’.
It was written in her sprawling hand, and signed Anne B. There was no question of its authenticity, and it was gratifying to know that my communication had reached her and eased Russian fears.
I was intrigued by Zacatlatoa, whom I had not encountered before. Was he a member of the underground? If so, he might know whether or not Victoria had really had any part in the bomb plot. However, he was not assigned to my escort again, and with Maxixca in charge, security remained tight, giving me no opportunity to make further enquiries about him without arousing suspicion.
Alone in my suite by day, I resisted Chicomeztli’s attempts to begin organizing my Citizens’ Aid Centre. An office had been set aside for our use, and a team of staff was waiting, but I was too busy sulking and had no capacity for such selfless pursuits. Instead I sat and watched television for much of the day, with a mounting sense of incredulity.
Since the occupation, the Aztecs had reduced the four television channels to a dreary menu of game shows, variety spectaculars and endless serials and soap operas from the Mexican networks. Many of the imports featured white English-speaking casts, but all were Aztec in their sympathies and sensibilities. I made endless jokes about them to the long-suffering Chicomeztli but reserved my most scathing comments for those home-bred celebrities who appeared on banal chat shows in the interests of self-promotion. My fellow citizens, happily thriving under foreign rule. Chicomeztli must have found me sullen and tiresome during this period, but he was too courteous ever to show it.
On the evening of the tenth day, I was sitting alone on the balcony when Bevan put a cup of tea down on the table in front of me.
I looked at him as if he were a ghost. He wore a hand-knitted navy sweater with shapeless bottle-green trousers.
‘You’re back,’ I breathed, fighting an instinct to jump up and hug him.
‘Miss me, did you?’
He looked just the same as ever: overweight, unkempt, half a cigarette tucked behind his ear.
‘Where have you been?’
‘Didn’t they tell you? Land of my fathers.’
‘I thought you’d been taken away. Murdered.’
He spooned sugar into a mug of mahogany tea. ‘Looks like I missed all the excitement.’
I felt a mixture of relief and resentment. ‘You’ve heard about everything that’s happened? The bomb plot and Victoria’s arrest?’
‘All over the news, wasn’t it?’
Was she really involved? Do you know anything?’
He shook his head. ‘Not the type, is she?’
‘They showed me photographs, transcripts of meetings she’s supposed to have had with people involved in the plot.’
‘I saw it in the papers.’
‘It just isn’t possible. If she was involved, I’m sure she would have told me. I would have suspected something.’
Bevan sipped his tea.
‘Do you know anything?’ I said again. Was she really involved with some underground group?’
‘Don’t see it myself.’
‘Then why arrest her?’
‘Obvious they wanted her out of the way, isn’t it?’
‘But why?’
‘You’ve got me there. Hard to imagine.’
Did I detect a sly tone in his voice? Did he, in fact, know of Victoria’s involvement in the plot? I had a strong feeling he wasn’t telling me everything. He had come back as if he had never been away, and all the time I had imagined him arrested tortured, dead.
‘How’s your mother?’ I asked.
‘She passed away two days ago.’
I hadn’t expected this.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘She was eighty-three.’
I searched for something to say. ‘At least you were there. At the end.’
‘Didn’t know a thing about it, did she? She never regained consciousness.’
I was torn between genuine sympathy and the suspicion that none of it was true. It seemed all too convenient that he had been called away on the very day when the assassination attempt was due to take place.
‘I really thought they’d done away with you,’ I said. ‘You didn’t even leave a note.’
‘Wasn’t time, was there? I had to go in a rush.’
‘Maxixca certainly pulled out all the stops for you.’
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘To be honest, I thought it was a set-up to get rid of me at first. But they’re big on the veneration of aged parents and all that. Gave me a room right next to her in Neville Hall, they did, all the mod cons. Let me stay there till she died.’
Neville Hall was the hospital in Abergavenny. I felt that I was being callous in continuing to doubt his honesty; but I no longer had the capacity to take anything at face value.
‘They took Victoria away before I had a chance to speak to her,’ I told him. ‘Maxixca engineered everything. He’s been left in charge here.’
‘Acting governor. Nice for someone as power-crazed as he is.’
‘I don’t know what’s happened to Extepan.’
He put his mug down and reached into his trouser pocket.
‘Maybe we can find out.’
He had the disk in his hand.
‘Took it with me,’ he said. ‘I had a feeling Mad Mash might do one of his security sweeps while we were all out and about. I thought I’d keep it out of harm’s way.’
My suspicions redoubled. ‘How did you know where to find it?’
‘Your pillowcase? Come on. First place you’d look, isn’t it?’
ALEX’s face came to life on the screen. I hesitated, then whispered into the microphone: ‘It’s Catherine.’
He smiled. ‘Kate. Good to talk to you again.’
I was determined not to get involved in small-talk.
‘I’ve got something to ask you,’ I said briskly.
‘Ask away.’
‘Are you aware that Victoria’s been arrested?’
His expression became more sober. ‘I am. You must be terribly upset.’
‘Do you know why she was arrested?’
There was a slight hesitation. ‘The formal charge, according to my information, was subversive activities against the Mexican state and its elected representatives.’
‘I need to know – was she really involved in the plot to kill everyone at Lords?’
A longer pause. ‘Documentary and photographic evidence suggested she was.’
‘Do you believe the evidence?’
‘There appears to be no reason to discount it.’
I considered, then said, ‘From what you know of her, do you think it likely that she would become involved in such a plot?’
Another pause. ‘On the surface, her personality profile does not suggest radical tendencies. But real people are notoriously difficult to fathom and predict.’