Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [184]
Interrupting Basil's careful study of the Prince's activities, Mr. Pellidor entered the private alcove. The Chairman swallowed a sigh. Any moment of peace, however brief, was a precious respite. An interruption always came before long.
The expediter carried paperwork and an electronic report. Pellidor looked not exactly smug, but at least satisfied. He paused until Basil acknowledged him, then he spoke, intentionally keeping his voice low and confidential as he glanced at the surveillance screen, though the Prince could not possibly hear anything in his soundproofed instruction room.
"Mr. Chairman, all loose ends are now wrapped up with the young man's family." Pellidor extended the reports.
Basil set them on a low table. He took Pellidor at his word; the man had never failed him before. "Including Esteban Aguerra?" Raymond's father had changed his name and voluntarily converted to Islam after settling down on the new colony. "Was he difficult to find?"
Mr. Pellidor shook his head. "My men have just returned from Ramah. Quite a peaceful planet, I'm told. They reported no special problems."
Basil sipped his coffee again, savoring the sharp cardamom taste. "Good."
On the screen he saw Peter apparently arguing with the Teacher compy. Frowning, he waved Mr. Pellidor to silence as he enhanced the sound to listen in on the conversation. With so much at stake, Basil intended to watch this Prince very closely to make sure no deviation was allowed to go too far.
Peter was their best hope for a well-trained, pliable successor.
Raymond Aguerra had recovered quickly from his induction into the Whisper Palace. Though he still grieved for the tragic loss of his mother and brothers, it must seem to him as if a miracle had occurred. But, like a suddenly spoiled teenager, Raymond had of late begun to show signs of unruliness and resistance, as if some deep unconscious part of him had already realized what lay in store.
Keeping the reports and documentation at hand, Basil dismissed Mr. Pellidor and turned back to the observation screens. OX had displayed text across the computerized writing desk, and on the wall he projected a facsimile of the actual document. "This, Prince Peter, is the Charter of the Terran Hanseatic League. You must familiarize yourself with every amendment and all provisos."
"I already studied that in school," Raymond said, uninterested.
"Yes, but you must know it in your heart, understand the words and the concepts, give it a prominent position in your thoughts. This document is the basis by which you will rule as King."
"Will I be given a test?" Frowning, Raymond looked at the words on his screen.
"No, but you may need to use pertinent quotations from time to time."
The young man stood up and impatiently walked around the training room, but he found nothing else to capture his interest. "I thought you said I would never go out in public without my speeches written for me."
"True," OX admitted. "All of your public comments will be carefully scripted."
"Then you can 'carefully script' any quotations you want me to use." Rudely, he switched off the screen. "I want to do something else."
Watching the young man's behavior, Basil frowned in frustration, then became resigned. He remembered the debacle of the previous candidate, Prince Adam. Five years ago, that young man had seemed perfect, passing every test. The Hansa executive council had unanimously chosen him, yet the ungrateful youth had soured during his instruction, even threatened to expose Basil and the underhanded activities of the Hansa—as if anybody cared! So very foolish.
Basil had led an emergency meeting of the Hansa council, and the members had determined, reluctantly, that Prince Adam could not be salvaged. At any time during his staged reign, his intransigence