Aztec Century (13 page)

He was immune to my scorn. Not precisely. I’d simply like to ensure that the punishment won’t appear unduly severe to the fair-minded observer.’

I gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘I wasn’t aware you’d previously shown such concern for the sensibilities of conquered peoples.’

An off-hand gesture. ‘We’ve no desire for vengeance since no outrage was in the end committed against us. Extepan here is eager to pursue as enlightened a policy as possible with respect to the people of these islands.’

‘Then, presumably,’ I said with heavy irony, ‘we can rule out torture?’

Tetzahuitl made a disapproving noise. ‘Torture is the resort of those who fear their position is threatened. Besides, we’re not barbarians. Straightforward executions are an obvious option, but they run the risk of making martyrs of these people.’

Not if you kill them in secret,’ I said bitterly.

‘I think public knowledge of the plot is more widespread than even you imagine. It would be impossible to keep such actions secret. A better alternative might be exile. Of course, it would need to be somewhere far away.’

I became aware that Extepan looked uncomfortable, as if he was unsure where Tetzahuitl was leading. I wondered if he was being mocked by the
cihuacoatl
for his liberal tendencies. I almost felt a certain solidarity with him then.

‘So,’ Tetzahuitl said, ‘what considered advice would you give us?’

‘Do you think you can manipulate me so easily?’

‘I’m simply asking your opinion. We’re perfectly free to disregard it.’

‘To you, this is just a game. To me, it’s in deadly earnest. Whoever these people are – and whatever you think, I don’t know who they are – they don’t need me to compromise them. They’re your enemies, not mine.’

Tetzahuitl contemplated the dark wood of the bat. ‘What if we were talking about someone you knew?’

Was this a bluff? I had an ominous feeling it wasn’t.

‘Then I couldn’t possibly give unbiased advice. Of course I would want mercy for them. Who wouldn’t?’

The England innings collapsed after lunch, reaching a total of only 202. The afternoon grew hazy and humid while I sat impatiently through the rest of the match. I could not bring myself to talk to Richard but instead listened to Victoria, who chattered about the concert and the party while sipping wine-and-sodas and nibbling pecans from a tray. I saw no point in mentioning the assassination plot; she would find out about it soon enough.

Tetzahuitl and Extepan maintained every appearance of continuing interest in events on the field. I had imagined I might face interrogation or even arrest for refusing to divulge the source of my knowledge of the bomb plot, but no further pressure had been put on me. Did this mean they were already confident that they had rounded up all the perpetrators? Who would they arrest? I longed for immediate answers but was condemned to sit and wait.

As it turned out, the game could not have had a more exciting climax. The Azanians lost their first four wickets cheaply, then staged a middle-order recovery until they stood at 190 for 5. Defeat loomed for England with their fast bowlers tiring and the Azanian batsmen in command. But then the skies clouded over and Jeremy Quaintrell came in to bowl his particular brand of off-spin. Two wickets fell in his first over, then another in his second, with only six more runs added. The new batsman hit a four with his first delivery, then was yorked by the second. Azania stood at 200, with only one wicket left.

Quaintrell moved in to bowl again. The crowd were chanting more fulsomely now, and beer cans were being clacked metronomically together. The batsman blocked the first delivery. Then the second. The third ball was a full toss which the batsman hit with the meat of his bat. The ball soared away. Six runs seemed certain, and victory for Azania. But a fielder at the boundary came racing out of nowhere to pluck the ball from the air. Azania were all out, giving England victory by two runs.

The crowd swarmed on to the pitch as Quaintrell was raised aloft by his teammates and carried away, the man of the match.

We assembled for the presentation. The match trophy, specially made for the occasion, was a tiny bail of Azanian gold, mounted on an onyx block. It looked incredibly vulgar.

Quaintrell accepted the trophy from Tetzahuitl, then turned and raised it to the crowd. They roared and cheered as he shook it above his head, the conquering hero. All around the ground, flags were being waved to celebrate the victory.

Victoria and I declined to join the others at the after-match dinner, and we were flown back to the complex. Victoria, worn out from her revels, immediately went off to bed. I found Chicomeztli waiting outside the door of my suite.

‘Do you wish me to order a meal for you?’ he asked.

Normally it was Bevan who arranged my meals. There was something in Chicomeztli’s face which made me suspicious. I went inside and unlocked the door to Bevan’s apartment.

It was empty, his balcony window locked, the air fresh-smelling. The apartment had been cleaned and the bedsheets changed. I knew that Bevan normally allowed the cleaning staff in only once a week. He was slovenly in his habits, but there was no sign of his occupancy.

I slid open the door of his wardrobe. That, too, was empty.

Chicomeztli was still waiting patiently at my threshold.

‘Where is he?’ I demanded.

‘Do you mean Bevan?’

‘Of course I mean Bevan! Who else would I mean?’

Chicomeztli shrank back from my anger.

‘His mother is unwell. He has been given compassionate leave to visit her in Wales.’

I glared at him. ‘That’s a lie.’

He shook his head. ‘It is true.’

‘He said nothing to me about having to visit anyone.’

‘The news of her illness only came this morning, after you had left for the cricket tournament. He was given permission to leave immediately, under guard.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘It is true,’ he repeated.

‘His room’s been cleaned out. There’s not a scrap of clothing left.’

‘That is normal practice. It will be laundered while he is away.’

I grabbed him by the arms. ‘Tell me the truth!’

His lazy eye danced wildly as he tried to focus on my face at close range.

‘I saw him leave,’ he insisted. ‘He is to be flown directly to Wales. Emergency arrangements were made.’

I knew him well enough by now to believe that he was telling me the truth – but only as he knew it.

‘Who authorized it?’

‘Maxixca was left in charge here.’

‘Then I want to see him immediately.’

Chicomeztli did not demur. Together we rode the lift to Extepan’s suite.

It was Mia who answered the door. She took our unexpected arrival in her stride, leading us through into Extepan’s office.

Maxixca was seated at Extepan’s desk. He smiled when he saw me.

‘Ah,’ he said, rising. ‘Princess Catherine. What can I do for you?’

He spoke in Nahuatl, his smile supercilious.

‘Where’s Bevan?’ I said in English.

‘Obviously I shouldn’t have expected the usual courtesies,’ he said, again in Nahuatl. ‘Weren’t you informed? His mother is sick, and we sent him off under escort to visit her.’

‘You’re lying.’

Anger suffused his face for an instant, but he controlled it.

‘It’s the truth, I assure you. As unlikely as it may seem to you, I’ve always been prepared to show consideration where personal difficulties or family crises are concerned. See for yourself. Here are the authorization papers.’

He handed me a small sheaf of papers which I scanned briefly. According to the documents, Bevan’s mother had been taken from her home in Trefil to a hospital in Abergavenny after suffering a stroke. She was said to be in a critical condition. I was certain the documents were fakes.

‘What have you done with him?’ I demanded.

Maxixca was tolerance personified. In English he said, ‘He has been taken to visit his mother. It was an emergency, and necessary to act swiftly. You were not available to be informed. I personally arranged the flight. Given that he is your manservant, I would have expected gratitude.’

I couldn’t imagine him doing anything for any of us out of the goodness of his heart. He had obviously been expecting me to arrive.

‘I want to know,’ I said. ‘Has he been killed?’

‘Killed?’ Maxixca affected to look shocked. ‘Why should we want to kill him?’

I had to be careful what I said. In the unlikely event that he was telling the truth, I ran the risk of endangering Bevan by protesting too much. With everything uncertain, I had so little room for manoeuvre.

‘I want to speak to Extepan,’ I said.

Maxixca sat down again, studiously squaring the papers on the desk.

‘Did you hear what I said? I want to speak to Extepan.’

‘I regret that will not be possible.’

‘When is he due back?’

Now he looked smug. ‘You may have a longer wait than you imagine.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘He will not be returning immediately.’

I didn’t like the sound of this. ‘Where is he?’

‘He is not available. I am in charge here.’

He was plainly relishing my discomfiture, and now I began to wonder. Had Extepan already been ousted? Had there been a palace coup, initiated by Tetzahuitl, with Maxixca promoted to Extepan’s position? He still wore his field commander’s uniform, but that was not conclusive in itself. Though Extepan was a son of the emperor and Maxixca’s elder, that would not necessarily protect him: the Aztecs were swift to remove from high office anyone they considered incompetent or simply unsuitable. Was I now speaking to the new Aztec governor of my country?

I refused to give him the satisfaction of asking him directly. I turned and stalked out.

As soon as Chicomeztli and I were alone in the elevator, I said, ‘Where’s Extepan gone?’

He was wary of me. ‘I believe he is returning this evening to Tenochtitlan with the
cihuacoatl
.’

‘Why?’

‘That I cannot say.’

‘Cannot or won’t?’

He shook his head helplessly. ‘I was only informed one hour ago. No details were given.’

‘When is he due back?’

‘I was not told.’

We walked together down the corridor to my suite. At the door I said, ‘Maxixca’s taken over Extepan’s office.’

He nodded. ‘That is normal practice. He is Extepan’s deputy.’

‘What if he’s replaced him? On a permanent basis?’

Chicomeztli looked genuinely alarmed at the idea.

‘No, no,’ he said. ‘I would have been told.’

‘Not necessarily,’ I countered. ‘Not if it’s only just happened.’

I left him at the doorway with this unnerving possibility. But there was a further unwelcome surprise awaiting me that highly unsettling day. Late that night, I rose from bed intending to activate ALEX in the hope that he might be able to tell me what had happened to Bevan and Extepan. But when I searched for the disk in the pillowslip where I had hidden it, I found it gone.

Disaster seems to breed disaster, and the biggest of all was still to come. The following morning I went upstairs to Victoria’s suite. We had lately taken to exercising Archimedes and Adamant most mornings in Parliament Park, and I was eager to find some time alone with her so we could talk. But Chantico told me she had left for the stables an hour before.

Victoria had never been an early riser, especially after a late night out, but I thought nothing of it. Yet when I arrived at our stables, both Archimedes and Adamant were still in their stalls, unsaddled. None of the grooms had seen anything of Victoria that morning.

A profound disquiet overtook me. Immediately I returned to the complex and sought out Maxixca again.

He was inspecting a detachment of guards on the parade ground which fronted the river.

‘Where’s my sister?’ I demanded.

He turned and, without a word, motioned for me to follow him inside. Three guards accompanied us.

We passed through the terrace garden and entered an operations room. Screens flickered untended, showing multiple views of the ground-level entrances to the complex. Maxixca drew himself up to his full height.

‘I’m afraid I have some unpleasant news for you,’ he informed me in English. ‘Princess Victoria has been arrested.’

‘What?’

I could see the pleasure under his show of concern.

‘She was implicated in the plot to cause an explosion at the Lords cricket compound.’

‘That’s absurd!’

‘I assure you it is true.’

‘I don’t believe it. It’s preposterous!’

He made a gesture as if to say that my disbelief flew in the face of the facts.

‘Where’s the evidence?’ I demanded to know.

He went to a console and tapped out a code. I had the feeling that he wanted to demonstrate how firmly he was in command of every aspect of his new authority. Within seconds the machine was spewing out black-and-white facsimiles of photographs and printed documents.

The documents purported to give the dates and times of Victoria’s meetings with persons who were known to be anti-Mexica agents. The photographs showed her sitting in dim rooms or standing in shadowy corridors with other people. Sometimes she was drinking, sometimes laughing, sometimes whispering in someone’s ear. Or so it appeared.

‘What are these?’ I said.

‘Evidence,’ Maxixca replied. ‘Evidence of her guilt.’

‘They could have been taken at a party.’

‘Some were.’ He was continuing to speak English, no doubt to emphasize that he was doing everything he could to accommodate me. ‘The people in the photographs are known partisans of
terrorist organizations. The names in the reports refer to known subversives. Many are already in our custody.’

I was scornful. ‘Most of the people in these photographs look like Aztecs to me. Are you trying to say your own people would plot against you?’

Again I saw the flash of anger in his face. ‘The Aztecs, as you call them, in those photographs are people of non-Mexica races, minorities affiliated with your own subversives who would like nothing better than to grasp power for themselves. White skins are not the only proof of treasonous intentions.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ I said again, ignoring the racial slur. ‘Victoria’s not the type to become involved in any kind of plot. She has no interest in politics at all.’

Silence. A small sigh to indicate the breadth of his patience.

‘She’s my sister. I know her well. I would have suspected something.’

‘Am I expected to take your word for that? You, a declared enemy of our people?’

‘She was terrified when we were first captured. She couldn’t possibly be involved.’

Very deliberately, he took the facsimiles from me and proceeded to leaf through them.

‘Why are you doing this?’ I pleaded. ‘She’s never harmed anyone.’

His disdain was obvious. ‘Perhaps you do not know her as well as you think.’

He removed a photograph. ‘Do you recognize the man she is with?’

I had not studied any of the material carefully, but after some scrutiny I saw that the photograph showed Victoria sitting on a carpeted stairway with Jeremy Quaintrell.

‘He was arrested immediately after the cricket event,’ Maxixca said. ‘He planned to kill all of you with explosives hidden in a hollow cricket bat. Fortunately, we learnt of the plot and had the device made harmless beforehand. Your sister was quite prepared for you all to die.’

‘But she came to Lords!’ I was trying to marshal my thoughts, to piece everything together logically. ‘She wouldn’t have come if she’d known there was going to be an explosion.’

‘She found out we had neutralized the device. She came to try to warn Quaintrell. We made sure she had no opportunity to do so.’

The photograph was poorly lit, grainy, obviously blown up from a smaller print. It might have been taken anywhere, any time, though it must have been recent since Victoria’s hair was short.

‘Photographs are easy to fake,’ I said. ‘Victoria would never involve herself in anything so dangerous. She doesn’t have the stomach for it.’

A patronizing smile. ‘Perhaps you cannot tolerate the idea she was ready to see you and your brother killed.’

‘When is Extepan due back? I demand to speak to him.’

‘I have full authority here.’

‘Did he authorize this?’

‘It was authorized by the
cihuacoatl
.’

I felt myself sag inside. If Tetzahuitl had masterminded everything, then there was nothing I could do.

‘What’s going to happen to her?’ I asked. ‘Have you already had her killed?’

He was incredulous. ‘The plot was unsuccessful. We do not make a habit of executing members of a royal family, even for such grievous escapades as this. The
cihuacoatl
took the view that exile would be sufficient punishment for her – given the uncertain strength of her mental constitution. Subversives are often inadequate individuals.’

‘Where is she being taken to?’

‘Do you really expect me to tell you that?’ He turned away, putting all the facsimiles into a desk drawer. ‘The
cihuacoatl
has taken into account her status. It will be somewhere reasonably civilized.’

‘This is disgraceful! A farce! These are trumped-up charges!’

‘Her flight leaves within the hour. The
cihuacoatl
asked me to permit you to see her one last time. There is a shuttle on the landing pad. If you hurry, you might just catch her.’

Victoria was being flown out of Stansted in a long-distance civilian transporter, destination unspecified. When I arrived at the airport, the craft was already preparing for take-off, and it
was only with great reluctance that I was ferried out to it by an Aztec commander who had obviously been given firm instructions that he shouldn’t allow himself to be bullied by me.

I sat beside him in an open ground-car, which sighed to a halt about twenty yards from the transporter. The gangway had already been withdrawn, and the wings were beginning to glow as excess power from the engines was fed through the conduction channels.

The commander spoke into a radio, and presently a head appeared at one of the windows. It was Victoria.

I waved frantically. She, too, raised a hand. It was hard to see her expression at such a distance, but I was sure she looked anguished, terrified.

‘Let me aboard for a few minutes,’ I said to the commander. ‘I must speak to her.’

‘It’s not possible. The ship is about to take off.’

‘It’s not a scheduled flight. A few minutes would make no difference.’

He shook his head.

‘She’s my sister! A princess of the blood royal! I demand you take me aboard.’