Jorge tried to help, but I instructed him to remain in the car since he would only be in my way. I shorted the alarm in the barbed-wire fence, went over it silent as a snake-and within ten minutes came strolling back to unlock the gate.
“You make it look so simple,” Jorge said with justified admiration as we drove into the field.
“Each man to his trade,” I murmured deprecatorily. “I’m sure that I would make a rotten tourist guide. Now we will leave the car here out of sight, and take that sport copter. Don’t trip over the bodies, that’s right.” By the time he had his seatbelt buckled I had hot-wired the ignition, fired up the engines and turned on the navigation circuitry. I tapped the illuminated map projection.
“We’ll head for Primoroso-then turn sharply here over the Barrier and on to the marquez’s castle. Are you ready?” He nodded and we lifted into the air.
It was an easy flight. Not a single blip appeared on our radar and there wasn’t even a disturbance when we crossed the Barrier. I maintained radio silence until Castle de la Rosa appeared on the screen, then identified myself and brought the ship in. The landing pad was brightly lit, and in this welcoming illumination there awaited the three most important people in the galaxy. Important to me, that is.
I dropped from the copter and, with a quick wave to my sons, embraced their mother in such a satisfactory fashion that they clapped encouragement.
“I’ve been missing that,” Angelina said, holding me away at arm’s length. “They haven’t hurt you, have they? If they have, this planet is going to be littered with corpses very quickly.” “Desist, my love! If anything the opposite is true. I have cut a mean swath through the ranks of the enemy, have won many a fiercely fought contest, have gained us new friends and comrades, cheated at cards, and generally kept myself quite busy while I have been away. How has it been here?” “Very quiet. The marquez is recovering nicely, so the boys and I have used the opportunity to make detailed plans.” “Plans of what?” The drugs were wearing off, fatigue struck and I stifled a yawn.
“Plans for you to conduct the crookedest election campaign in the history of electoral politics. It will be a watershed of illegality, a monument of chicanery, a cacophony of corruption.” Jorge stared with disbelief as the rest of us cheered iinl-hiKliaitifallv
Chapter 19
We sat on the balcony in the glorious morning sunlight, the ruins of our breakfast whisked away by silent servants, sipping a last bit of coffee Jo hold everything down. It was Angelina, ever practical, who finally touched her lips daintily with her napkin and got down to work.
“While you were away I took the opportunity of going through the marquez’s library. One of his predecessors had the hobby of collecting universities. There must be nearly a thousand of them.” This is not an ordinary hobby, and might even be called an eccentric one. Though it is certainly easy enough to do if you have the money. Not that a university itself costs that much; one of them will fit on a solid-state disc that you can hold on the palm of your hand. It shouldn’t cost more than a bottle of rum. The expense comes in traveling about the galaxy, to all of the out-of-the-way planets, to root around in secondhand memory shops and find any old universities that they might have.
“I went through all the university libraries and crossreferenced everything that I could find cataloged on illicit elections and dirty politics. There were plenty of listings, but all of the books I dipped into just complained about this sort ofnastiness and how to prevent it without going into details.” “Most unsatisfactory.” “Indeed. Until I ran this incredibly ancient university. The chip was cracked and gray with age, the name of the school itself illegible. It was so old it might actually have come from Earth. In any case the library was almost intact, and in it I found the book that we will use as our bible. I did a printout of it.” She took a heavy sheaf of typescript from the floor, and passed it over to me.
“How to Win Elections,” I read. “Subtitled, Or How to Vote the Cemetery, by Seamus O’Neill. What can that subtide possibly mean?” “Read on. It is a technique that we will be using soon ourselves, where every name from every tombstone is entered into the voting register.” I read on as instructed-and my enthusiasm grew with every sentence.
“Joy!” I said. “Simply incredible. The man’s a genius. You are a genius as well, my sweet, for discovering this. We cannot fail.” “Nor shall we. The boys have already begun preparations and we should be able to launch the campaign within a week. Barring unforseen accidents the election is as good as in the bag. And our biggest asset will be General-President Zapilote himself.” “You wouldn’t care to explain that. Perhaps I’m being a little dense today...” “He will aid us because of the way he has run his campaigns in the past. Since he controls all the media he has simply gone through the reflex of a campaign. Recorded speeches on television, sycophantic praise in the newspapers, and an overwhelming vote from the electronic polling booths which are rigged to give him ninety percent of the votes no matter how they are cast. “ “And that is going to help us?” “Of course,” she said sweetly, smiling indulgently at me as one would upon a moronic child. “We shall electronically usurp the television, print our own editions of the newspapers-and rig the polling booths on the side of righteousness.” Well you can’t argue with anything like that. I could only nod in agreement, finish my coffee, then retire to the makeup box and put on my black Harapo beard. While I was doing this I did a speed read through O’Neill’s book. It was a revelation. If he were alive today he would surely be elected galactic president; if there were no such title he would have to invent it. My previous reference book for political chicanery was The Education of a Prince by Mac OVelly. But this was a nursery primer compared to O’Neill’s masterpiece. When I was bearded and costumed for my Harapo role I summoned a consul of war. The campaign was about to begin. My family gathered around in eager anticipation, and only de Torres looked concerned about the future.
“This meetine is called to order.” I announced. “As oresidential candidate of the Nobles and Peasants and Workers Party, I intend to make a few appointments. Bolivar, you are secretary of the new party. So please fire up your recorder and take notes. James is rally organizer-which job I will explain in a momeat. It is my hope that Angelina diGriz will accept the position of campaign manager, which position also includes the task of getting out the women’s vote as well. Do you accept?” I counted the nodding heads and nodded in return. “Good. That appears to take care of the appointments.” “Not quite,” de Torres said. “I have another and most important one to make, if I might?” “Of course-you’re the vice-presidential candidate. If I’ve missed something, please let me know.” He clapped his hands and the door opened. A slight and unassuming man entered and bowed slightly in our direction.
“This is Edwin Rodriguez,” de Torres said. “He will be the presidential bodyguard and will accompany you everywhere. We must not have a repeat of the near-disaster that happened in Primoroso. Rodriguez will guard you, detect and eliminate assassins and generally look after your good health.” I looked the man up and down and tried not to smile. “Thank you, marquez. But while I appreciate the thought I can take care of myself. And I’m afraid this youth might get hurt...” “Rodriquez,” the marquez said. “An assassin at the window!” My ears rang from the sound of the shots-and I realized that I was lying on the floor under the table and that Rodriguez was kneeling on my back. There was a sizeable and smoking revolver in his hand which was pointed at the window. Most of which had been blown away by the flurry of well-placed shots.