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table like startled grouse.
    “It means the damn thing is starting to question its own existence!”
    Several heads turned in their direction. Merovech put a hand on her arm.
    “Shhh.”
    “But—”
    “We’re trying not to attract attention, remember?”
    Julie shook him off.
    “Merovech, listen to me. I have some friends coming. They will be here in a few minutes.”
    Merovech sat up, alarmed. His eyes automatically scanned the place for a back way out—an old habit, drummed into him by years of security briefings.
    “What friends?”
    “Other students from my course. They have seen this footage, and they are as concerned about it as I am.”
    Merovech felt his cheeks burning. Oh God, please don’t let any of them be paps.
    “We are going to do something about the monkey,” Julie said. She reached over and placed both of her hands on top of his. “And we need your help.”
     
     
    T EN MINUTES LATER , Merovech found himself in the back of a black Volkswagen van, heading out of the city. The streetlamps threw moving shadows through the driver’s window. Two students occupied the front seats. The back of the van was windowless and bare. Merovech sat on the floor with his back against the wall. For the first time in his life, he felt out of his depth. He didn’t know how far he could trust these people. From the little he’d gleaned from Julie, they were obviously highly politicised. What if they were republican sympathisers? What if they tried to kidnap him for ransom? He had no back-up, no security.
    Julie huddled beside him, her arm hooked in his. He was only here because of her. He didn’t want her running off and getting into trouble; and he hoped he could talk her out of whatever it was she had planned.
    A young man sat opposite them, with dark eyes and a stripe of beard that looked as if it had been drawn on with eyeliner.
    “This is Frank,” Julie said. “He is in charge.”
    Frank wore an army surplus jacket, skinny black jeans and American baseball boots. A large pendant hung from his neck. The fingers on his right hand were stained yellow. He said, “ Tu es sûr qu’on peut lui faire confiance? ”
    Julie put a protective hand on Merovech’s shoulder.
    “Of course we can trust him. He can get us in there. He knows the layout.”
    Frank narrowed his eyes. He switched to English.
    “Is this true?”
    Merovech returned his stare. The enclosed gloom and metal walls of the van were making him uncomfortable.
    “I haven’t agreed to anything.”
    “ Merde .” Frank bit his lip and looked away.
    “What’s the matter?” Julie asked.
    “What’s the matter ?” Frank flung a hand at Merovech. “We are sitting in a stolen van, on the way to committing an illegal act, and you bring along the heir to the British throne ! I mean, putain de merde !” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cheap cigarettes. He extracted one but, as he went to light it, Merovech leaned over and put a hand on his arm.
    “She didn’t bring me. I brought myself.”
    Frank gave him an incredulous squint.
    “And do you know what we are going to do tonight, ‘your highness’?”
    Merovech straightened.
    “Why don’t you tell me?”
    Frank shook him off. He lit the cigarette.
    “We believe your mother’s company has an AI imprisoned on its game servers.”
    “So what?”
    Frank exhaled grey smoke into the cramped space. “We are going to break in and free it.”
    In the rattling semi-darkness, Merovech looked at Julie. The shadow of her hair hid part of her face. Her eyes were fixed on him.
    “You haven’t got a hope,” he said. “The Céleste campus has too much security. You won’t get five metres before the security systems pick you off.”
    Frank coughed on his cigarette. “Oh, you think so?”
    Merovech gave him a level stare.
    “I know so.”
    Frank’s upper lip twitched.
    “Well, we are going, rosbif , whether you like it or not.”
    The van pulled off the main road, onto a pockmarked