"How, when I'm not sure myself?"
"Oh, you're sure. You think Peter is financing some of this from Andrew's pension. You think he's embezzling from his brother."
"I doubt Peter would call it embezzling."
"What would he call it, then?"
"In Peter's mind, Ender's probably buying government bonds issued by the Hegemony. So when the Hegemon rules the world, Ender will get four percent per year, tax free."
"Even I know that would be a lousy investment."
"From a financial point of view. Mrs. Wiggin, Peter has the use of more money than the scant dues the few dues-paying nations still pay to the Hegemony."
"The dues go up and down," said Theresa.
"He tells you?"
"John Paul is closer to these things. When the world is worried about war, money flows into the Hegemony. Not a lot, just a little extra."
"When I first got here there were Peter, you two, and the soldiers I brought with me. A couple of secretaries. And a lot of debt. Yet Peter always had enough money to send us out in the choppers we brought with us. Money for fuel, money for ammunition."
"Bean, what will be gained if you accuse Peter of embezzling Ender's pension? You know Peter isn't making himself rich with it."
"No, but he is making himself Hegemon. Ender might need that money someday."
"Ender will never come back to Earth, Bean. How valuable will money be on the new world he's going to colonize? What harm is it causing?"
"So you're all right with Peter cheating his brother."
"If he's doing that. Which I doubt." Theresa's smile was tight and her eyes flashed just a little. Mother bear, guarding cub.
"Protect the son who's here, even if he's cheating the son who's gone."
"Why don't you go back to your place and take care of your own child instead of meddling with mine?"
"And the pioneers circle the wagons to protect from the arrows of the Native Americans."
"I like you, Bean. I'm also worried about you. I'll miss you when you die. I'll do my best to help Petra get through the hard times ahead. But keep your hippo-sized hands off my son. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders, in case you didn't notice."
"I think maybe I won't have that interview with Peter this morning after all."
"Delighted to be of service," said Theresa.
"Do avoid telling him I stopped by, will you?"
"With pleasure. In fact, I've already forgotten that you're here." She turned back to the computer and typed again. Bean rather hoped she was typing meaningless words and strings of letters because she was too angry to be writing anything intelligible. He even thought of peeking, just to see. But Theresa was a good friend who happened to be protective of her son. No reason to turn her into an enemy.
He sauntered away, his long legs carrying him much farther, much faster than a man walking so slowly should have gone. And even though he wasn't moving quickly, he still felt his heart pump faster. Just to walk down a corridor, it's as if he were jogging a little.
How much time? Not as much as I had yesterday.
Theresa watched him go and thought: I love that boy for being so loyal to Ender. And he's absolutely right to suspect Peter. It's just the sort of thing he'd do. For all I know, Peter got us back onto full salary at the University, too, only he didn't tell us and he's cashing our checks.
Then again, maybe he's secretly getting paid by China or America or some other country that values his services as Hegemon.
Unless they value his services as Lincoln. Or...as Martel. If he was really writing the Martel essays. Such a thing smacked of Peter's propaganda methods, but the writing sounded nothing like him, and it could hardly be Valentine this time. Had he found another surrogate writer?
Maybe somebody was contributing in a big way to "Martel's" cause and Peter was pocketing the money to advance his own.