We stopped by the big marble tombstone of the entrepreneur Karl Marx, which provided some shelter from the wind.
‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you,’ I said. ‘About Richard. We need to advise him on his future.’
I was aware that I should have discussed this with Victoria long before, but she had seemed so nervous and vulnerable since our capture that I hadn’t wanted to put any pressure on her.
‘I hardly ever see him,’ she responded. ‘I think he spends most of his days in his games room, playing Serpents and Scorpions.’
Serpents and Scorpions was a popular video game, Richard’s latest enthusiasm.
‘I think we should be doing everything we can to persuade him not to take the crown,’ I said.
Victoria tugged her gloves tighter, not looking at me.
‘What do you think?’ I said.
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of what we should do, Kate. Perhaps it’s better if we do nothing.’
‘What do you mean?’
She wouldn’t meet my eyes. ‘It’s not really our decision, is it? It’s up to the people.’
‘The people?’ I said contemptuously. ‘Do you really think they have a say in the affairs of state under present conditions?’
‘According to the polls, most of them want Richard to become king.’
‘Which polls? Do you mean the ones on the BBC or in the newspapers? Don’t you know they’re all under Aztec control, or at least censorship? What do we know about what the people really want?’
Victoria looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t want to argue with you, Kate. You understand politics better than I do. All I know is that Richard is popular with the people. We all are. You saw how they waved and shouted at us during Father’s funeral.’
The November sky was darkening rapidly now, the breeze carrying drops of rain.
‘So you think he should accept the crown?’ I said.
‘It would cheer the people up. It’s what they want. I can’t see what harm it would do.’
‘It would turn Richard into a puppet of the Aztecs.’
‘Isn’t he one already? Aren’t we all? It’s not as if we have any real power or freedom. And the new civilian government’s going to be approving it as well, aren’t they?’
Victoria was diffident in the face of my vehemence, but I wasn’t being entirely candid with her. According to ALEX, over eighty per cent of the people were indeed in favour of Richard being crowned, and there appeared to be no ulterior motive on the Aztecs’ part, aside from the obvious one that it would show their administration as receptive to the nation’s wishes. Perhaps that was what I found most galling of all.
It began to rain more heavily, so we made our way back to the car. The celebrations were finally over, and Extepan was waiting for us.
‘There is news,’ he said. ‘You have a new civilian government.’
‘That’s hardly a surprise,’ I responded. ‘Am I to take it that Kenneth Parkhouse will be the new Prime Minister?’
Extepan nodded.
‘Somehow, I have a feeling he’s what we deserve.’
We climbed into the hovercar. The Silver Sceptre was a roomy vehicle, and Extepan joined us in the back seat, his waterproof cape dripping rainwater on the carpeted floor.
The car lifted and coasted away on its air skirt.
Conversationally I remarked to Extepan, ‘Victoria thinks you’re morbid in your preoccupation with death.’
Victoria looked mortified, but Extepan was not offended.
‘To the contrary,’ he said, ‘we make Death our friend, we celebrate him and so conquer our fears.’
‘I can’t bear the thought of dying,’ Victoria confessed. ‘Lying cold in my grave, being eaten by worms. It’s horrible. Even the thought of growing old frightens me.’
Extepan took her hand in his. ‘You have many years yet in which to overcome those fears. I think we must first enjoy life if we are later to embrace death with fortitude, yes?’
‘That sounds suspiciously profound,’ I said, not a little waspishly. ‘More words of wisdom from your father?’
He was stung by this, as if I had betrayed a confidence.
‘It was you who initiated the conversation,’ he said sternly. ‘I was simply responding. I understand that today’s events have disappointed you, Catherine, but I don’t see why they should give rise to such personal discourtesy.’
A part of me wanted to apologize, yet I was determined not to.
‘I would rather you had appointed no government at all than one with Kenneth Parkhouse at its head.’
‘We did not appoint them, Catherine. The British people did. The elections were free and fair. They expressed their will.’
‘Considering that you only gave them one choice, that hardly constitutes freedom of choice, does it?’
The car had stopped at a red traffic light.
‘Where are we?’ Extepan asked the driver in Nahuatl.
‘Kentish Town Road,’ came the reply.
‘Since you are so concerned about your people,’ Extepan said to me, ‘perhaps you would like to take the time to see how they are actually living.’
So saying, he unlocked the door on his side and opened it. Before I had a moment to think, he took my wrist and pulled me out.
The security men in the car were aghast. Our car was flanked by armed support vehicles, but Extepan led me past them to the pavement.
‘What are you doing?’ I said.
‘The rain is not too heavy. I think perhaps you and I shall take a little air.’
Guards were piling out of the cars, withdrawing pistols, communicating urgently with one another.
‘Stay in sight but at a distance,’ Extepan called to them in Nahuatl. ‘Well, Catherine, shall we go and see just what conditions your people are living under?’
Taking my arm, he led me off.
Ahead of us was the lopped pebbledash and mirror glass pyramid of the rebuilt Camden Town Underground station. Some of the glass panels were already cracked or sprayed with graffiti such as MEX GO HOME or the blithe and universal WANKERS.
It was an area I had never set foot in before. A thin rain was falling, and the slick pavement shone quicksilver under the temporary streetlights. Everything looked drab and dilapidated under a now-dark sky.
One of the guards passed Extepan a forage cap which he pulled down over his eyes. I drew my hood over my head, tugging the drawstring tight. The effect was to make both of us look relatively anonymous.
I knew he was challenging me, so I made no further protest, even though I considered him rash. The security men kept pace behind us, alert and watchful. They were obviously frantic with concern at this unexpected development, but no one had the authority to challenge Extepan.
Makeshift stalls had been set up along a length of one street which had been reduced to rubble during the invasion. Even though it was late, people were still clustering around them, buying second-hand clothes, cheap Acapulco videos, toy robots doubtless imported en masse from Tlatelolco, their synthesized voices issuing harsh commands and threats in Nahuatl. I remember thinking that our children would grow up knowing the Mexican for ‘Destroy’, ‘Annihilate’, ‘Make a move and I’ll blast you!’ before they had any understanding of how these playtime icons of conquest had come to feature so prominently in their lives.