"My information is that His Gracious and Ever to Be Beloved Emperor Cleon I has decided to appoint a new Chief Gardener. This is the first new appointee in nearly a quarter of a century."
"And if so?"
"Do you see no significance?"
Andorin thought for a moment. "I am not a favorite of your gods. I don't see any significance."
"If you have a new Chief Gardener, Andorin, the situation is the same as having a new administrator of any other type-the same as if you had a new First Minister or a new Emperor. The new Chief Gardener will certainly want his own staff. He will force into retirement what he considers dead wood and will hire younger gardeners by the hundreds."
"That's possible."
"It's more than possible. It's certain. Exactly that happened when the present Chief Gardener was appointed and the same when his predecessor was appointed and so on. Hundreds of strangers from the Outer Worlds-"
"Why from the Outer Worlds?"
"Use your brains-if you have any, Andorin. What do Trantorians know about gardening when they've lived under domes all their lives, tending potted plants, zoos, and carefully arranged crops of grains and fruit trees? What do they know about life in the wild?"
"Ahhh. Now I understand."
"So there will be these strangers flooding the grounds. They will be carefully checked, I presume, but they won't be as tightly screened as they would be if they were Trantorians. And that means, surely, that we should be able to supply just a few of our own people, with false identifications, and get them inside. Even if some are screened out, a few might make it-a few must make it. Our people will enter, despite the supertight security established since the failed coup in the early days of First Minister Seldon." (He virtually spat out the name, as he always did.) "We'll finally have our chance."
Now it was Andorin who felt dizzy, as if he'd fallen into a spinning vortex. "It seems odd for me to say so, Chief, but there is something to this 'gods' business after all, because I have been waiting to tell you something that I now see fits in perfectly."
Namarti stared at the other suspiciously and looked around the room, as though he suddenly feared for security. But such fear was groundless. The room was located deep in an old-fashioned residential complex and was well shielded. No one could overhear and no one, even with detailed directions, could find it easily-nor get through the layers of protection provided by loyal members of the organization.
Namarti said, "What are you talking about?"
"I've found a man for you. A young man-very naive. A quite likable fellow, the kind you feel you can trust as soon as you see him. He's got an open face, wide-open eyes; he's lived in Dahl; he's an enthusiast for equality; he thinks Joranum was the greatest thing since Dahlite cokeicers; and I'm sure we can easily talk him into doing anything for the cause."
"For the cause?" said Namarti, whose suspicions were not in the least alleviated. "Is he one of us?"
"Actually, he's not one of anything. He's got some vague notions in his head that Joranum wanted sector equality."
"That was his lure. Sure."
"It's ours, too, but the kid believes it. He talks about equality and popular participation in government. He even mentioned democracy."
Namarti snickered. "In twenty thousand years, democracy has never been used for very long without falling apart."
"Yes, but that's not our concern. It's what drives the young man and I tell you, Chief, I knew we had our tool just about the moment I saw him, but I didn't know how we could possibly use him. Now I know. We can get him onto the Imperial Palace grounds as a gardener."
"How? Does he know anything about gardening?"
"No. I'm sure he doesn't. He's never worked at anything but unskilled labor. He's operating a hauler right now and I think that he had to be taught how to do that. Still, if we can get him in as a gardener's helper, if he just knows how to hold a pair of shears, then we've got it."
"Got what?"
"Got someone who can approach anyone we wish-and do so without raising the flutter of a suspicion-and get close enough to strike. I'm telling you he simply exudes a kind of honorable stupidity, a kind of foolish virtue that inspires confidence."
"And he'll do what we tell him to do?"
"Absolutely."
"How did you meet this person?"
"It wasn't I. It was Manella who really spotted him."
"Who?"
"Manella. Manella Dubanqua."
"Oh. That friend of yours." Namarti's face twisted into a look of prissy disapproval.
"She's the friend of many people," said Andorin tolerantly. "That's one of the things that makes her so useful. She can weigh a man quickly and with very little to go on. She talked to this fellow because she was attracted to him at sight-and I assure you that Manella is not one who is usually attracted by anything but the bottom line-so, you see, this man is rather unusual. She talked to this fellow-his name is Planchet, by the way-and then told me, 'I have a live one for you, Gleb.' I'll trust her on the matter of live ones any day of the week."
Namarti said slyly, "And what do you think this wonderful tool of yours would do once he had the run of the grounds, eh, Andorin?"
Andorin took a deep breath. "What else? If we do everything right, he will dispose of our dear Emperor Cleon, First of that Name, for us."
Namarti's face blazed into anger. "What? Are you mad? Why should we want to kill Cleon? He's our hold on the government. He's the facade behind which we can rule. He's our passport to legitimacy. Where are your brains? We need him as a figurehead. He won't interfere with us and we'll be stronger for his existence."