Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [54]
Observing the two of them, Basil had combined the best of both traits. As Hansa Chairman, he had supreme self-confidence and knew how to achieve grand things. But he did not waste his fortunes on mansions and jewelry; he devoted his energies to other things.
Now, Basil paced his quarters high up in the Hansa pyramid, looking through glass walls to the filtered sunlight that reflected from the torch-capped domes and cupolas of the WhisperPalace. On the display screens, King Frederick clasped General Lanyan's shoulders and turned the uniformed man around to present him to the cheering audience. The loud applause prevented many from hearing the King's words, but Basil spotted the repeated mistake right away.
"I give you General Kurt Lanson! The greatest of my generals and a man whom I consider to be a personal friend." The people cheered, and Basil seethed, embarrassed. The General bowed his head and pretended not to notice, taking the Old King's error with good grace.
"Enough is enough," Basil muttered. "Things must change." He sent a signal, calling for his expediter, Franz Pellidor, and his group of hand-picked operatives.
When the men arrived in the upper headquarters level, blond Pellidor squared his shoulders and stood in front of his team, looking expectantly at the Chairman.
Basil ran a well-manicured finger over his lower lip, pondering the best way to implement his ideas. Finally, he issued quiet orders for the operatives to begin their work. "You will take whatever action is necessary. We must get the newly chosen Prince in training immediately. I hope we haven't waited too long already."
"We understand, sir," said Mr. Pellidor. The expediter didn't flinch or flush. Basil would not have expected otherwise.
He thought of the previous heir-candidate, Prince Adam, who had proven too unruly and disrespectful of the careful house of political cards built by the Hansa. Basil had been forced to eliminate young Adam before ever letting the public know of his existence.
He lowered his voice, speaking mostly to himself as the operatives turned to depart. "Let's pray that this new candidate proves more tractable, or we will be in deep trouble indeed."
25 RAYMOND AGUERRA
Raymond made his way back toward the apartment complex with a jaunty step, pleased at how much he had accomplished during the dark and quiet hours.
In the early dawn, the air smelled damp but fresh as the city awakened. His muscles were tired from heaving crates at a distribution center's loading dock, and his sweaty clothes smelled of oily smoke from a poorly tuned lifter engine that had filled the hangar bay with noxious fumes. But he had made a good haul and had used his meager under-the-table wages to acquire some packaged food, a new shirt, and even an electronic puzzle for his little brother Michael.
Now Raymond was anxious to get back to his apartment and clean up. He didn't usually come home this late. He hoped to have an hour or so to nap, or at least get breakfast before he went to school. His mother would already be up, and he liked to be there to help her with the boys, but he had earned enough last night to make up for a bit of tardiness. He clutched the satchel to his side, happy.
He came upon a scene of complete disaster.
When he turned the corner into the residential district, the unfolding scene of chaos, flames, and emergency vehicles brought him up short. His curiosity gave way to dread as he began to run down the street. Flames curled into the sky. A pillar