At the station itself, a stained LED screen was flashing the election results, unheeded by a small cluster of derelicts who were slouched in the entranceway, drinking cans of Churchills and Tonatiuh Export, surrounded by supermarket carrier bags which presumably held all their earthly goods.
‘See how the people thrive,’ I said, determined not to let Extepan retain the initiative.
‘It’s their choice,’ he replied. ‘Sufficient rooms were made available for every vagrant in London by converting army barracks and hotels into hostels. These people have exercised their freedom not to accept a permanent home.’
I doubted this, but chose not to argue the point.
We crossed the street unhurriedly at the defunct traffic lights. One very noticeable change since the invasion was that there was now far less traffic on the roads. Petrol for ordinary vehicles was scarce, and solar-powered transport was beyond the reach of ordinary people.
An Aztec personnel carrier was parked in a sidestreet, its lounging occupants seemingly oblivious of the mounds of rubbish and debris surrounding them.
‘Is this diversion meant to impress me?’ I said. ‘It looks to me as if services have broken down completely around here.’
‘That’s the responsibility of the local authority. We have ensured their budgets are adequate, but it is up to them to decide what use they make of their resources.’
A man suddenly lurched out of a sidestreet in front of us.
‘Give us something for a cup of tea,’ he said to me.
He was young, unshaven, a cheap and grimy copy of a chevroned Mexican cloak slung carelessly around him. He reeked of nicotine and alcohol.
‘I’ll take quetzals if you’ve got them. A ten-bob note. Whatever.’
Though he stood close, he was not really looking at either of us. His gaze seemed focused inwards, yet at the same time there was an air of menace about him as he swayed slowly back and forth.
Extepan pressed a ten-quetzal note into his hand. For an instant, his face registered the merest glimmer of surprise at this unexpected bounty. Then it closed down again, and he lurched off, stumbling through the converging security guards as if they didn’t exist.
Extepan said, ‘Most local authorities are paralysed by incompetence and corruption. I hope that one of the first tasks of your new government will be to promote honesty and efficiency.’
‘Of course, the invasion had nothing to do with the breakdown of services.’
He made no response to this, but led me on. We approached a pub called the King’s Arms on the corner of a street. Lights were shining through boarded-up windows which must have lost their glass during the invasion.
‘One of my predecessor’s most unpopular moves was to close all places of entertainment,’ Extepan remarked. ‘One of my first decrees was to extend the licensing hours.’
He still had my arm in his, and now he took my hand.
‘Shall we go in?’
Before I could reply, he led me forward and pushed open the saloon doors.
The bar inside was crowded, the air thick with heat and cigarette smoke. People were sitting at Formica-topped tables which must have come from ordinary kitchens to replace the pub furniture presumably looted during the invasion. A wallscreen showing the evening news was being studiously ignored.
Extepan led me to a space at the bar. Nearby a woman was feeding coins into an arcade machine entitled Ehecatl Express. The game entailed keeping a hang-glider aloft down a canyon filled with jagged rocks, prickly cacti and sinister Caucasian mercenaries who popped out of hiding and tried to blast the noble pilot.
A middle-aged barman appeared. He regarded me with blank suspicion.
‘What’ll it be?’
I suddenly realized that Extepan was gone from my elbow. I looked around. He was nowhere in sight. The drone of conversation in the bar had not noticeably diminished, and no one was obviously looking at me; but I knew that everyone was keenly aware of my presence.
A sense of being trapped began to rise in me. I felt helpless, abandoned. I turned back to the barman. The sounds of electronic gunfire from the arcade machine punctuated the learned analysis of the pundits who were discussing the election results.
‘Do you think I could have a glass of water?’ I heard myself saying.
He looked at me with open contempt, then turned away and went into a back room.
I felt as if every eye in the room was now on me. I did not dare turn around.
‘It’s Montezuma’s Revenge,’ I heard someone call.
The barman returned and put down a glass of water heavily in front of me.
‘Been to a funeral, have we?’ someone else called.
The tone was curious and sarcastic rather than overtly hostile, but I was beginning to be frightened. I was also mortified that someone might recognize me. I lowered my head, trying to huddle into my hood.
‘Mexican takeaway,’ another voice shouted.
Laughter.
‘Had a helping of his tostada, have you?’
Now the laughter was openly snide. Despite this, I became aware that the machine had fallen silent.
‘Leave her alone,’ I heard the woman call. ‘We’ve all got to make our way in this world as best we can. That’s right, love, innit?’
I wanted to flee. I couldn’t bring myself to turn and face the woman, to turn and face any of them. Then I saw, in the mirror behind the bar, Extepan emerging from the Gents. I rushed across to him.
‘Please,’ I said, almost clutching at him. ‘Let’s go.’
‘I think your countrymen are in good spirits,’ he said in English.
‘You ought to know better,’ another woman’s voice called from the back of the room.
I was dimly aware that four of our guards, all armed with automatics, had also entered the pub. I must have been too panicked to notice them. In a blur of shame, I bolted for the door.
Emerging into the rain, I was quickly surrounded by guards. I felt safe again, rescued and protected. From inside the bar there came the sound of further laughter.
Extepan emerged and led me away without another word.
‘There must be some way we can warn them,’ I said to Bevan.
He thought about it, regarding the waiting face of ALEX on the screen.
‘Wouldn’t make much difference, would it? They’re on a hiding to nothing.’
It was the early hours of the morning, and ALEX had just revealed to us that Maxixca was soon to lead the Aztec armies into Scotland, with a view to subduing the entire country. The whole of Wales was now under occupation, and the Aztecs obviously intended to establish full control over all of mainland Britain.
‘Are you suggesting we do nothing?’ I said to Bevan. ‘What about your contacts? Isn’t there someone you can pass the information on to?’
Automatically he took a pack of Raleighs from his pocket, but I glared at him and he put it away.
‘Having information’s one thing. Being able to do something about it is another.’
‘We have a duty to pass it on.’
‘I’m not saying we don’t. Just don’t expect it to make any difference, that’s all. What are we going to tell them? That half the Aztec armies here are about to cross their border? All they’ll be able to do is make for the hills and hope for the best.’
I sighed, giving him my severest look. I didn’t want to waste time arguing with him. ALEX’s image on the screen remained expectant. I felt as if we were ignoring him.
‘Leave it to me,’ Bevan said. ‘I’ll make sure the warning’s passed on.’