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daisies.
    ‘Why are you doing this?’ I said. ‘There’s been plenty of rain.’
    ‘They told me I was to be your gardener and general factotum. That’s what you asked for, wasn’t it? So I’m doing my job.’
    ‘That was just an excuse. I didn’t want anything to happen to you. Are your living quarters all right?’
    ‘Very plush,’ he replied. ‘Key’s on your side of the door, is it?’
    I had asked for Bevan to be given a room next to my suite, and to my surprise the request had been granted. An adjoining door linked his quarters with mine.
    ‘I thought it was the least I could do,’ I said.
    ‘Very considerate of you.’
    He put the can down and took out a pack of Raleigh Full Strength, lighting one.
    ‘If you’d rather go back to Wales, I’ll see if I can arrange it.’
    ‘They’re not going to let me go. They know I’ve been hobnobbing with you lot for a while.’
    I ignored his disparaging tone. ‘You helped us out in Wales, and I’m very grateful. I might be able to pull strings. You must be worried about your mother.’
    ‘She’s used to managing on her own.’
    ‘I’ll do what I can if you want.’
    He took a contemplative pull on his cigarette. ‘You’d like me to stay, wouldn’t you?’
    I was surprised by this – surprised by its accuracy. At the same time, I was reluctant to admit any such need.
    I let him smoke his cigarette, making a show of watching a blackbird root about under a stand of blackcurrant bushes.
    Presently I said, ‘Do you know anything about computers?’
    ‘Ought to, didn’t I? Seeing as how I worked for IBM.’
    ‘Imperial Business Machines?’
    ‘It’s the only IBM I know of.’
    This was hard to credit. He looked more like a labourer than a computer technician.
    ‘You never said.’
    ‘Never asked, did you?’
    An Aztec transporter flew past, the whine of its engines drowning out everything else. When it was gone, Bevan said, ‘They’re hoping I’ll keep an eye on you. Report back to them.’
    ‘The Aztecs?’
    ‘Thing is, they’ve checked my credentials and they know I’m not exactly a royalist.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    He shrugged. ‘Makes no difference now, does it? We’re all in the same boat.’
    What was I to make of this? I was tempted to question him further, but I felt sure he wouldn’t tell me any more.
    ‘I’m going to need someone I can trust,’ I said.
    He spat out a fragment of tobacco.
    ‘Not something you find easy, is it?’
    There really was no limit to his impertinence.
    Governor Extepan was in his mid-twenties, and of mixed Mexican and European stock. Thirty years before, Motecuhzoma hadbroken with Aztec tradition by taking a Spanish noblewoman as his wife, though she had later been killed by a Catalan bomb while visiting Valencia after the Aztec conquest of Iberia. Extepan was taller than most of his countrymen, and Spanish rather than Mexican in his looks.
    He greeted me in his private quarters high in the central pyramid. Outside it was another rainy afternoon, and he stood flanked by Maxixca and Chicomeztli before a real coal fire in a large hearth. The fire was plainly an affectation since the complex derived ample power for heating from the solar generators atop each of the subsidiary pyramids. Richard was perched at a desk console nearby, a
patolli
game on the screen. He gave me a small wave as I entered but did not get up. It was as if he had already accustomed himself to my presence in his life again.
    Extepan took my hand and inclined his head.
    ‘I trust you are feeling better.’
    His tunic was unbuttoned at the neck, and he had a casual air about him. Maxixca, by contrast, was dressed very correctly and stood with his hands at his back, regarding me with open hostility.
    ‘I’m truly sorry about all the unfortunate circumstances which brought you here,’ he said. ‘We had no idea you were carrying a child. You have my deepest sympathies.’
    To my relief, Richard appeared not to have heard this.