‘Is that it?’
‘Is what it?’
‘I’ve been patient with you, Bevan. I’ve let you take all the information we’ve obtained from ALEX to do with as you please.
It’s time you told me who you’re working for.’
He leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m not working for anybody.’
‘Then who’s getting the intelligence from ALEX?’
He shrugged. ‘Whoever I think it might be useful to.’
‘That’s no answer. I have a right to know. Without me, you wouldn’t have had any of it in the first place.’
Silence.
‘You do realize you have a sovereign obligation to tell me?’
He laughed at this, as I had expected him to.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘it’s easier for me to move around, to whisper in the right people’s ears. That’s how word gets passed along, see? I don’t ask questions, I just do a bit of gossiping where I think it’ll work best.’
I waited.
‘What do you think we’re dealing with here? A secret army hiding underground, just waiting for the word so they can break out and free the country? Fat chance.’
‘I’m well aware of the military situation,’ I said testily. ‘That’s not the point. I’ve put my trust in you, and I want to be satisfied the information is reaching the right people. I want to know who we’re helping.’
‘Take it from me, it’s a good cause.’
‘That won’t do, Bevan.’
On the screen, ALEX was still waiting, heartbreakingly like my real husband. I noticed that Bevan had switched off the microphone.
‘Listen,’ he said, ‘the main business for you should be survival. You’ve got to keep your hands clean, let others do the dirty work. You should be used to that.’
I couldn’t believe his effrontery. I rounded on him.
‘How dare you! I’ve always been prepared to do as much as anyone else. My interests are the same as the great mass of ordinary people.’
He gave a laboured nod. ‘Ordinary people, right you are. The poor sodding masses.’
‘What the devil is that supposed to mean?’
He lit a cigarette. ‘Maybe you’re not so much of a democrat as you think.’
I was on my feet. ‘I won’t have you speaking to me like that! Get out!’
He rose, looking completely unruffled by my fury. Hoisting his trousers, he walked out.
I stood there in the silence for a long time, still furious, thinking that I had every right to pursue him and demand he apologize. I had never encountered such bare-faced cheek.
My anger subsided only slowly. What a perfectly awful day it had been! First the humiliation of the pub, now this. I felt as if those I cared about despised me. And perhaps with some reason. Didn’t my reaction to Bevan merely prove my snobbery and immaturity? Both Alex and my father had been in awe of my temper; when wounded, I reacted with a righteous outrage. It was not an attractive side of my character.
ALEX was a picture of composure on the screen. I switched on the microphone.
‘ALEX?’
‘Yes, Kate?’
‘I miss you so much.’
‘I’m sure you do. If I were real, I’d give you a big bear’s hug.’
It was a pet expression of the real Alex, and I was delighted to hear it. Only the slight pause before all of his responses prevented me from surrendering to the illusion that he was the real person.
‘Do you have any information on his whereabouts?’ I asked.
‘There’s been no change since we last spoke. No data. I’m sorry, Kate.’
I asked the question each time we spoke, and the answer was always the same.
‘How many of his memories did he give you?’
‘As many as he could to produce an effective simulacrum. He took great pleasure in personalizing me, Kate.’
‘Do you remember when you proposed to me?’
A longer pause. ‘It was during your second year in Cambridge. April Fool’s Day. I turned up that morning with a first edition of Motecuhzoma Xocoyotzin’s Dialogues, which you needed for your Comparative History exam.’
‘You also brought a bottle of tequila to toast the occasion.’
‘As I recall, we drank it with cherryade.’
I laughed.
‘You wouldn’t take my proposal seriously at first. You thought it was just an April fool.’
‘I drove home the next day to tell my father. I had a terrible hangover.’
‘I joined you later, never expecting the old man would agree to it. I don’t believe I’ve ever been quite so nervous.’
‘That night you and your BSA ended up in a village pond.’
ALEX laughed. ‘High spirits. That car was brand new, you know. It took me ages to recover from the shock. The repair bill was astronomical.’
‘Reminiscing, are we?’
I spun around. Bevan was standing there.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Had an idea, didn’t I?’
My response was stony silence. Bevan ignored it.
‘How about we use your friend there to muddy the waters? We’ll get him to plant a bit of false information. We could add a few Scottish armies, move their dispositions around, make sure it’s fed into the system so we can create a little havoc.’
I remained silent but moved aside so that he could sit down at the console.
Previously he had argued against tampering with the files in case our interference became obvious to the Aztecs. Stiffly, I reminded him of this.
‘Time’s ripe now,’ he told me. ‘Let’s do a little – what do they call it? – creative counterfeiting. No point in having a weapon unless you use it, is there?’
Seven
Richard was crowned at Westminster Abbey on Christmas Day. Neither Victoria nor I attended the ceremony, though we watched it on the television in my suite with Bevan and Chicomeztli. I knew that Victoria would have dearly loved to be present, given a free choice, but I hoped that by our absence we would make plain that we did not sanction the occasion.
The entire proceedings were conducted with due reverence to the ancient traditions of our country, Richard, in ermine, sitting enthroned while the Archbishop of Canterbury placed the crown on his head. He was unable to prevent a smile of pure pleasure escaping him at that moment. As if further to legitimize the ceremony, Motecuhzoma had sent his eldest son and likely successor, Chimalcoyotl, to London. He sat with Extepan and his retinue, a tall man in his early forties, dressed in the rust and gold uniform of the tlacateccatl, one of the two highest ranks in the Aztec army.
I found the television commentary on the event extremely grating. It was provided by a former quiz-show host who had been promoted to become the ‘voice’ of the BBC after the invasion. He lacked the gravitas to do the occasion full justice, and I had, in any case, come to despise all those who had risen to prominence by accommodating themselves to Aztec rule.
Chicomeztli and Bevan said little during the ceremony, Chicomeztli plainly sensing my mood and not wanting to do anything to provoke me, Bevan adopting his usual air of detached amusement, as if to him the whole affair was just theatre.
Constitutionally, Victoria and I were obliged to declare our fealty to Richard, and I had compromised on that score by writing a letter which the Archbishop now read out to the congregation. While emphasizing my loyalty to the Crown and to Richard personally, I also made a point of stressing my hostility to the occupation of our country. I was surprised when this part of the letter was read out: I had not imagined that Extepan would allow it.