Amen to that, I thought grimly.
‘Is it possible the evidence was faked?’
‘Anything’s possible.’
‘But you believe it?’
A grave smile. ‘I have no reason to discount it on the basis of the information available to me.’
I began to wish I had Bevan beside me; he was better able to probe ALEX in a logical fashion. But I had been determined to speak to ALEX alone that night, without anyone else knowing.
‘I can’t accept it,’ I said.
A slow nod. ‘I understand that, Kate. If I were in your position, I expect I should feel the same way.’
There was a look of great sympathy on his face. I reminded myself that he could not see me, that ‘he’ was just a pattern of electrons on a phosphorescent screen.
‘Where have they taken her?’
Now there was a much longer pause while ALEX remained motionless. He suddenly looked to be what he really was: an artefact, an image, no more.
‘Beijing,’ he announced finally. ‘She’s joined the court of Prince Ixtlilpopoca under house arrest there.’
It was not a surprising choice. The Aztecs had succeeded in subsuming China into their empire thirty years before by a combination of strategic marriages into the Manchu dynasty and the military defeat of an unpopular republican government. Ixtlilpopoca was Motecuhzoma’s second son, and the Forbidden City had been used as a place of exile for unwanted royal personages before.
‘Do you know how long she is to be kept in exile?’
More deliberation. ‘No time limit has been specified, as far as I’m aware.’
His image was so clear I could almost count the hairs in his beard. Yet his movements seemed slightly more laboured, his responses marginally slower, than in the past.
I barely registered this though, being more preoccupied with thoughts of Victoria in her exile. She would not like the winters in that part of China, but at least her existence would be comfortable if restricted. It might have been worse.
‘I need to know something else,’ I said. ‘What’s happened to Extepan?’
A further contemplative silence. ‘My last record of his whereabouts dates from eight days ago. He accompanied his uncle, Tetzahuitl, to Tenochtitlan.’
‘You’ve no record of him since then?’
‘No.’
This was completely unexpected. With a tremor in my voice, I said, ‘Is he dead?’
‘Highly unlikely. It’s more probable his movements are classified. Unrecorded. For security reasons.’
I mulled this over. On the screen, ALEX’s image flickered briefly. Remembering Bevan’s earlier warning, I said hastily, ‘There’s one other thing.’
‘I’m here to help you if I can, Kate.’
‘It’s Bevan. Can I trust him?’
He seemed to frown. ‘Can you be more specific, Kate?’
‘I want to know if he’s working for the Aztecs.’
A long consideration.
‘There’s no indication that he’s one of their agents.’
‘Is it possible?’
‘I have no evidence to suggest it.’
‘Is he involved with any other group?’
Another pause. ‘None that I’m aware of.’
I sighed. Having ALEX as an oracle was more frustrating than anything when he could only reveal an absence of evidence.
‘Does he really have a mother who’s recently died?’
‘I can confirm that. He returned to London seven hours ago following her funeral. Would you like to see her medical records?’
‘That won’t be necessary. ALEX, I have to go.’
‘It’s been a pleasure talking to you again, Kate.’
‘And to you,’ I said automatically.
But before I could move to switch off the terminal, a voice behind me said, ‘How very touching.’
I spun around.
Maxixca stood there with an armed escort.
‘We suspected someone had gained access to our network. It is most gratifying to discover we were not wrong.’
There was nothing I could say.
‘Isn’t that your ex-husband? I must say he looks more alert than when I last encountered—’
I lunged for him. Two guards grabbed me and pulled me away.
Maxixca was bleeding from a long scratchmark on his cheek.
‘Really,’ he said, ‘this is most undignified behaviour for a princess of the realm. I thought you English always bore misfortunes with a brave face and a stiff upper lip.’
Again I strained forward, but the guards held me in check.
On the screen, ALEX was still staring out at me, the perfect image of the real person, memento and memento mori.
Maxixca pulled the disk from the slot. The image died.
‘He’s still there,’ I goaded him. ‘You’ve simply switched him off.’
With a smile of triumph, Maxixca dropped the disk to the carpeted floor and crushed it under his boot heel.
Seven
I was riding Adamant alone in Parliament Park a week later when I became aware that another rider was shadowing me behind a line of trees. It was none of the security guards, who habitually followed me on horseback, but someone else – on Archimedes.
I pulled Adamant up and waited. The sun was bright overhead, but the other rider was in the shadow of a stand of sycamores.
‘You seem to be getting the better of him these days,’ he remarked as he trotted forward.
It was Extepan.
He brought Archimedes right up to me so that both colts were close enough to nuzzle one another.
‘Hello, Catherine.’
He was dressed in blue jeans and a brown leather windcheater – the first time I had seen him in civilian clothes. He looked somehow brand new to my eyes.
‘You’re back.’
‘I returned early this morning. They told me you were here.’
It was hard to know what to say. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Home. And away.’ He steadied Archimedes, patting his neck. ‘I must admit it’s good to be here again. Who could wish for a more perfect English summer’s day?’
Despite a confusion of feelings, I smiled; I couldn’t help myself.
‘Are you back in your former capacity?’ I asked.
‘You mean as governor? Of course. I’ll have to get into uniform soon enough.’
Part of me was vastly relieved to hear this. After destroying the disk, Maxixca had had me confined to my suite for three days, but there were no reprisals. A large escort now kept track of all my movements, but otherwise I had been left in peace.
‘Shall we walk the horses?’ he said.
We rode together in silence along the bridleway near the river. Crack willows had been planted on the Embankment, their silvery leaves fluttering like paper in the morning breeze. Beyond the park, some derelicts had lit a fire among the rubble in New Palace Yard to roast a few of the pigeons that roosted in the tumbledown Parliament building.
Presently Extepan said, ‘Do you want to talk about Victoria?’
I eyed him. ‘Was it your doing?’
‘It was necessary for me to sign the deportation papers,’ he admitted.
‘She’s innocent. I know it.’
‘I’m very sorry it happened. For what it’s worth, you have my word that she will be looked after. No harm will come to her.’
‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in my appealing to you to reinvestigate the charges against her?’