‘And is there any way for me to override this?’
‘None that I’m aware of. It’s a perfectly reasonable security precaution, wouldn’t you agree?’
Bevan turned to me. ‘Did you get the gist of that?’
‘I think so.’
‘We’re burglars, see. We’ve opened the front door and got into the house, but all the valuables are stored in a safe with a combination lock whose number we don’t know.’
‘I understand. Surely there must be some system for finding out?’
‘You heard what he said. No chance.’
‘You could try. Please.’
‘Do you know any more than you’re telling me?’
I shook my head.
He looked unconvinced, but turned back to the console.
For the next half hour or so, he battled with the keyboard and attempted to coax, trick and force information from ALEX. ALEX remained polite and even friendly, but it was to no avail.
‘Forget it,’ Bevan said at last, slumping back in the chair.
From the screen, ALEX looked benevolently on.
‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘At least you tried. Let’s forget it for tonight.’
As he moved to switch off the terminal, I said casually, ‘You can leave it on. I think I’d just like to talk to ALEX alone for a while.’
He flicked the switch and the screen went blank.
‘You wrote it all down. It should be easy for you.’
Was he suspicious of me? He swallowed a yawn and stood up.
‘I really appreciate all your help,’ I said.
Without replying, he slouched off to his apartment.
I waited for ten minutes, then crept over to the door and quietly locked it. Switching on the terminal again, I painstakingly went through the routine I had scribbled down.
I was only half-way through when the screen started flashing OPERATOR ERROR. I started again, and achieved the same result. After the third abortive attempt, I knew there was no alternative but to go back to Bevan.
I unlocked the door, knocked, and opened it. Bevan was sitting in an armchair in a pool of yellow light from a table-lamp, his head wreathed in blue smoke.
‘Not so easy, is it?’
‘I don’t understand where I went wrong,’ I admitted.
‘You’re bound to miss things when you’re a novice. Think you could drive a car just by watching someone and writing it all down?’
‘I want you to bring ALEX back.’
‘Need to have a heart-to-heart, do you?’
I nodded.
He crushed out his cigarette. ‘All right, then.’
Filled with gratitude, I returned to the suite and punched the REPLAY button on the player. Even before the music began, Bevan had reactivated ALEX.
‘So, then,’ he said to me. ‘What now?’
If I asked him to leave now, would he go? Did I have any justification for doing so?
I took a deep breath, a sigh in reverse, and said, ‘The codeword’s axolotl.’
Bevan grinned. He was sitting in the swivel chair like some dissolute Buddha, his belly poking out between the straining buttons of his shirt. He spun round and spoke the word into the microphone.
On the screen, ALEX smiled.
‘Now I can accommodate you,’ he said. ‘Tell me what information you require.’
Over the next two hours, we delved deep into the Aztec informational network. Bevan had ALEX summon up a host of data from classified files – details of troop dispositions throughout the country, an inventory of armaments, a level-by-level plan of the complex, which included surprise confirmation that none of our rooms were monitored, either by sound or vision. The information came up on the screen in the form of bar charts, Venn diagrams, full-colour graphics and simple lists which scrolled slowly past our avid eyes. There was far too much to absorb in one sitting, but I noted down what I could.
I marvelled at the ingenuity of the programmers who had created the simulacrum. It was easy to understand why Alex had attached such importance to the disk. The information which his electronic counterpart could obtain seemed limitless.
Dawn was beginning to break before Bevan finally shut down the terminal. Though exhausted, I was also exhilarated.
‘What are we going to do with all this data?’ I wondered aloud.
‘Leave it with me,’ Bevan said. ‘Maybe I can pass it on to interested parties.’
I studied him in the half-light. ‘Have you got contacts?’
‘Easier for me to move around than you, isn’t it?’
‘Is there an opposition movement here?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
‘Tell me, Bevan.’
‘You said you’d trust me, didn’t you?’
‘I have done.’
But he refused to be drawn, despite all my efforts. I had no contacts myself, and I didn’t want to leave the notes in my suite in case they were found. So, reluctantly, I relinquished them.
Five
The complex was an even larger building than it appeared from outside, with subterranean levels housing swimming pools, steam baths and gymnasia. There were also numerous tlachtli courts where the ancient native ball game was played in a spirit of fierce competitiveness. Formerly the game had had a deep religious significance, with the fate of cities or entire nations resting on its outcome. Nowadays it was played on soft surfaces and competitors were allowed to wear protective elbow-and knee-pads. Despite this, injuries were still common, so keen was the desire to win. It ranked second only to soccer as the Aztecs’ favourite sport.
I had requested a tour of the complex only the previous day, and Extepan had promptly arranged it. Victoria accompanied me as Chicomeztli led us through the lower levels of the subsidiary pyramids where the married officers were housed with their wives and families. Libraries, cinemas and recreation rooms were provided for them on every level. No less well cared-for were the unmarried men, who like their married counterparts enjoyed the favours of the auianime, the courtesans whose honoured status had finally been sanctioned by the Catholic Church in the early years of Motecuhzoma’s reign. There was little to distinguish the auianime from legitimate wives except that the former were more mindful of their appearance, taking great care with their makeup and favouring the traditional huipil blouse and long native skirts rather than the European styles which had been fashionable for most of the century.
Every apartment in the complex had access to tier-gardens, each one planted not only with flowers and shrubs but also vegetables from every part of the world, biomodified to thrive in the British climate. There were ornamental pools and miniature waterfalls, terraces and arcades, grassy spaces with loitering peacocks and sheltered intimate arbours, all of them testament to the Aztec passion for gardens, which exceeded even that of the English. It was remarkable to think that the entire edifice, gardens and all, had been constructed in the space of three years.
The complex housed perhaps five thousand people, and it included many civil servants, recently drafted in by Extepan to help smooth the transition to the new civilian government. Most were British nationals, and Chicomeztli proudly told us that they were allowed exactly the same amenities as the governor’s men. Privately I wondered whether this included access to the auianime and the steam baths, where all sorts of intimacies were reputedly conducted.
We returned to the central pyramid, and Chicomeztli led Victoria and me into a dim room. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that it was an Aztec chapel, one of many in the complex.
It was a small room, with a stained-glass window showing the Virgin of the Hill of the Star receiving her revelation from God. We were deep in the heart of the pyramid, and the window was a fake, a back-lit coloured screen set into a solid wall. The chapel itself was austerely furnished in white stucco and earthen tiles. There were brackets for candles and vases holding fresh flowers. Even when full, its bare benches could have accommodated no more than fifty people.