On a warm, clear morning in June, Alexia and Alfred walked hand in hand along their father. Alexander had warned them that when they were out on the streets, alone or together, they were never to be separated. They were not to trust strangers or enter unfamiliar places. Alfred understood the warning, but not its gravity. He knew about kidnappings and child abusers, but he thought such things only happened to poor children. Until a few days ago, when he went to an art gallery with his cousins, Alexia told him that they too were in danger.

They were looking at a painting of a lonely young woman reaching out towards a house in the distance. Alfred was fascinated by the desolation of the scene. She is helpless, Alexia whispered as they held hands, helpless like us. Alfred asked why, and Alexia replied that it was because they were so small. Alexia's simple answer gave him a surge of sudden self-awareness and he tightened his grip. Alexia moaned and pulled her hand away, but Alfred immediately grabbed her again. Alexia moaned again, feigning anger. Alfred knew that Alexia was upset because she always raised her eyebrows in a very strange way. The expressiveness of her eyebrows contrasted with the relative expressionlessness of her face that he had become accustomed to seeing in his sister and father. To ease the situation, he lowered his force. Alexia's eyebrows returned to their original position, and both twins walked to the next work; to an indeterminate place next to their father and Oswell.

With no better entertainment, both were distracted by watching the indistinguishable insects that flitted along the roadside, around a thin row of bushes that flourished in the lee of a high, stony wall. From time to time, Alexia would point her hand or head at a bug she recognised to tell him a curiosity. Oswell noted that her knowledge was encyclopaedic and joked with Alexander that Alexia might run for prime minister and compete against Thatcher[1] for Downing Street[2]. The elders began to talk about Thatcher.

"I spoke to Mike last night. One million for the pre-campaign and two million for the campaign," said Alexander.

Oswell lit a cigar from his jacket.

"My money is in your hands, Sasha. Do whatever you consider because I trust your family talent to get people to vote for the right party. Is there any word on voting intentions?"

"The Institute has sent me some election polls and it looks like it is; that the scales are tipping towards us." Alexander glanced at his children, who were crouched around a flower pot.

"Good." Oswell exhaled a thick breath of humour. "I need Thatcher in government. I need her new economic policy. Without her, we won't make our business much more profitable."

"What did James tell you?"

"He stays at the training centre. The course I invented has worked and we already have enough demand to set up new editions in more picturesque locations and on our continent."

"Alexia, don't pull up the plant!" Alexander ordered in Dutch.

"I just wanted to show Alfred the roots," Alexia explained uncompromisingly in the same language.

"Alexia, show your brother the plant without weeding a garden that is not yours," Alexander replied in English.

Oswell laughed.

"Well, well. I'd better not take up any more of your time, lest the young lady make her own floral Guernica in an oversight." He threw the cigar to the ground and put it out with the toe of his shoe.

"I'm sorry. We were talking about the training courses."

"I just had to tell you that I've decided to hire a couple of beardless youngsters as heads of research for my lab at the country house in Raccoon City. They're both from James' class."

"Are you sure?"

"Why not? We need new blood. Kids willing to sell their asses for a decent salary in exchange for living with their mouths shut. Besides, we've run out of reliable people. Bailey is still in Africa and the rest are concentrated in Bonn. We need to start thinking about who and how we're going to hire the new batch of employees to serve at the Paris headquarters. Or do we?"

"I'll put Rachel in touch with the Institute to work on confidentiality contracts and profiling."

"We need more people and Thatcher has to win. I don't like the way the latest round of T-virus research is going."

Alexia pushed aside a patch of earth to reveal the roots of an orchid to her brother. Their father didn't seem to be paying attention, so they dug a little deeper and inadvertently pulled out half of the root bundle. In trying to reposition the stem, Alexia was knocked off balance and collided with Alfred. They both fell backwards onto the ground. They heard footsteps behind them.

"Alfred. Alexia." Alexander named them behind his back.

They both stood up passively. Oswell smiled in amusement.

"Don't be too hard on them, Sasha. They're just little sissies. It's the destiny of the little brats to disregard their father." Oswell winked.

"Put the plant back," he resolved without further consequence. "They know exactly what they're doing," he muttered.

"Cursed be the one who ignores the meaning of his actions."

Notes:

[1] Margaret Thatcher, elected Prime Minister of the United Kingdom in 1979 for the Conservative Party.

[2] 10 Downing Street in London. Official residence of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.