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and alliances, the RET had been forced to implement a plan the king himself had devised years ago in the event of his incapacitation.
    His Majesty wanted his estranged identical twin, Prince Broderick, to impersonate him. Plan B, he had called it. B for Broderick.
    The RET had collectively cringed at the idea. All any of them really knew of the prince was that his relationship with his brother had been as volatile as it was strained while they’d grown up, and that Broderick had been estranged from his family ever since the boating accident that killed both their parents when the elder royal twins were in their early twenties.
    It had been known for some time prior to that, that the reigning king and queen had favored Morgan over his ineffective, unproductive sibling. When it was discovered upon their parents’ deaths that Morgan had been named heir-apparent and was crowned king, Broderick hadbought himself a surprisingly modest estate on Majorco and quietly gone into seclusion.
    No one knew if he’d been grieving for his parents or merely licking his wounds. It was as if the man had dropped off the planet. For years Broderick ignored all of King Morgan’s attempts to draw him back into the fold. When Broderick finally did respond to the overtures, he’d returned long enough to cause grief by impersonating his brother to embezzle funds, and King Morgan had sent him packing. After that, the king had heard from him only once—the evening Broderick called to warn him of an assassination attempt that was about to be made on his life and that of Queen Marissa and their children.
    That call had saved their lives, but Broderick had promptly withdrawn once more to the reclusive life he’d chosen to lead. By then he’d already been little more than an afterthought to the public. Because so few knew of the assassination attempt that had taken place those ten long years ago, he had now all but disappeared from the public’s memory. His heroic act, however, had made the men of the RET look at him with less skepticism, but not one of them was totally comfortable with the man presently playing king.
    Broderick could run as hot as lava or as cold as the earth’s poles. He could be cooperative or demanding. But so far he had proven worthy of the confidence his brother had placed in him and been a model king in public.
    King Morgan himself had told Harrison that Broderick would be convincing in the position. He had said that, if worst came to worse, his brother could take over quite ably in the role because, even though Broderick hated him, Broderick had always loved power and would work to foster the image of a great monarch.
    Harrison would never disobey the king’s command.Yet, as much as Harrison respected His Majesty’s opinions, he couldn’t shake the thought that nothing about Broderick was what it appeared to be.
    That was the thought preying through his fitful sleep when the telephone beside his bed jerked him awake at four o’clock the next morning.
    Within seconds of groping for the receiver and grumbling, “Monteque,” he learned that Plan B had been blown wide open.
    Even as his feet hit the floor, the muffle-voiced reporter on the other end of the line was saying that he couldn’t reveal his source, but that the headline would explain everything. Before Harrison could try to demand that source, anyway, his caller told him that he’d just left a copy of the morning paper outside the admiralty’s office. The rest of the copies would be hitting the streets in a little over an hour.
     
    The RET didn’t have a headquarters with a plaque or signage to identify it as such. Since it consisted only of four men whose daily duties kept them in the palace or elsewhere in the capital city of Marlestone, and who met solely when an emergency situation threatened the royal family or its government, the RET met wherever it was expeditious and secure.
    Security was a definite priority with Harrison.
    Half an hour after the