by C. R. Daems
Walker found several men to carry the boxes into the room and decided to wait and watch. Scherer sat watching with an amused look.
“Maxine, you, Commander Cooper, and I will run these forms through the Election Counting Machines and verify the count. Then we will select one out of every ten forms and review the information manually—”
“Why would you do that!” Walker shouted, getting up from the chair she was sitting on. I held my finger to my lips.
“You are here to watch, not talk. You’re an observer.”
It took five hours, including a break to eat, to run all the forms. The results agreed with the certified results.
“Now the fun part. From each box select one form out of ten and examine it closely. If you find something that looks different or out of the ordinary tell me,” I said to Maxine and Cooper as I reached for a box, lifted out a stack, counted nine, and laid the next on one side and continued the process until I finished the box. Then I went to the pile of forms I had selected as a sample. It was a straightforward form. The names of the five candidates were listed with a box to the left of their name. A sixth box had Correction and after a box a line to write the name you wanted or to add a candidate who wasn’t on the ballot. I immediately noted an anomaly—over half were corrections and the corrections were all the same: A Conservative to an Expansionist.
“Cooper, Maxine, pull all the forms with a correction from Conservative to Expansionist,” I said as Walker came out of her seat.
“You can’t do that—”
“Sergeant George, take Director Walker in custody pending a formal review of misconduct in office,” I said, watching the woman try to pull out of George’s grip on her arm. “Sergeant, you are authorized to use whatever force necessary to restrain her.” I waited for Walker to stop struggling. “Yes, Director Walker, I can and I have. The only question in my mind is whether you were an accomplice in the plot to murder Delegate McDonald and fix the election in Holland’s favor or just a pawn in it for the money.”
“McDonald’s death was an accident!” she screamed. “I was…bribed to make sure Holland won.” She was sobbing now and all the fight had gone out of her body.
“Who approached you?” I asked. “The more cooperative you are the more lenient the court is likely to be. You don’t want to be mixed up with their crimes.”
“A lawyer, Mr. Bob Marsh,” she said while drying her eyes on her sleeve. “I was desperate…I had run up a great deal of debt…” She went on to explain how she had bought a new house, new furniture, new car, and new clothes when she was appointed director of elections two years ago and subsequently made some bad investments that had her on the verge of losing everything, including her job. I didn’t point out she had now lost everything, including her freedom.
It took an additional two days and nights to verify that Mr. Cortney, a Conservative, had won the election. I certified the result along with a man named Mr. Reeves, who had been designated the new Director of Elections.
* * *
The following day we made an unannounced visit to the law offices of Martinez, Saunders, and Vaughn. As we stepped out of the elevator on the tenth floor, a young man greeted us.
“Welcome to the offices of Martinez, Saunders, and Vaughn,” he said, trying to decide who he should be addressing and becoming increasingly nervous with the size of the group and the six dangerous-looking men who were surveying the area.
“Mr. Marsh,” I said and the young man’s eyes snapped back to me.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asked but the look in his eyes said he knew the answer was no, but we were going to see him anyway. “He’s the third office on the left. Who should I say is calling?”
“Don’t bother, he wouldn’t know me.” I held up my P1A badge until his head bobbed like it was on a spring. We proceeded down the carpeted hallway past a glassed-in conference room where ten heads turned in our direction as we passed. At the third door, I opened it and entered.
“Good morning, Mr. Marsh. I’m Miss Paulus, Director of UAS Committee Security,” I said, looking around the office, which was moderately large, with an expensive wooden desk, several light-blue padded armchairs, sidebar with drinks, and a built-in cabinet containing a variety of law books. “I’m afraid Mrs. Walker’s election fraud has been discovered.”
“I had nothing to do with any election fraud,” he said and smiled. “And I want an attorney present before I answer any questions.”
“Sorry, you don’t get an attorney unless you answer my questions.” I held up my P1A placard. “If you don’t answer my questions you will automatically be guilty of interfering with my investigation and go directly to Stonewall. You can appeal from inside Stonewall, but it will be your word against the Committee’s director of security. Guess how that will go.” I heard Scherer snort. “First question, who paid you to bribe Mrs. Walker?” I asked and walked over to one of the two chairs and sat. Scherer joined me a minute later. Marsh appeared to be having trouble synchronizing his vocal cords, lips, and mind as his eyes darted around the people in the room. Finally, he sat back down and looked toward me.
“I don’t know,” he finally said.
“That’s a shame. I’m told Stonewall isn’t a nice place.” I stood. “Sergeant George, take Mr. Marsh into custody and see him safely onto the Aeolus. We will be his transportation to his new home.”
“I don’t know,” Marsh repeated. “She insisted I meet her at a bar. Said she would give me a thousand credits for advice on a political matter. That was over two years ago. She agreed to pay me twenty-five thousand a year to monitor the political candidates here on Black Water. I was to have a background investigation on each major candidate and to keep her advised on who were the leading in the polls. Three months ago, she told me to approach Mrs. Walker and offer her five hundred thousand credits to fix the election. I would get two hundred and fifty thousand if she agreed, and she gave me information about Walker’s situation. But she didn’t give me her name. She said to call her Nyx.”
“What did she look like?”
“Cold, with vacant eyes. I would have done anything she told me, money or not. Except for the eyes, she looked different each time we met, and we met in places that weren’t well lit.”
“Give me the dates you met with her,” I said.
Marsh went back to his desk and pulled out a tablet. After a minute searching it, he handed me his tablet. On the screen was a calendar and each appointment with Nyx listed, date, time, and place.
“Thank you, Mr. Marsh. If this information leads to the people I’m after, you and Mrs. Walker may avoid Stonewall and have a chance at a trial.”
* * *
I thought we had accomplished all we could at Black Water and it had been worth the effort.
“Cooper, I like you to see if you and whoever you designate can identify the woman who Marsh has been meeting with. Use your best computer person to collect the arriving ships five days before his meeting date and five days after that date. If you capture any probable images show them to Marsh. I believe he will help as it’s in his best interest—Stonewall if he’s not helpful and local trial if he helps. You can and should keep your new boss in the loop. He knows I may ask the local NIA stations for help.”
“We’ll find her, Director. It’s fun to be doing something for you again,” she said and gave my hand a squeeze.
* * *
You’ve probably given the UnCab another reason to hate you and Bennett and me another reason to like you,” Scherer said, grinning. Ballard, Maxine, and I were sitting in her conference room back on the Aeolus “Do you think Marsh’s information will help?”
“There’s a good chance Commander Cooper will be able to identify Marsh’s woman handler. If so we can probably trace her back to Eastar and maybe identify her. From the sound of her dealings with Marsh, she may have direct ties to the UnCab or be one of the cabal.” I mentally crossed my fingers. I might be slowing the Expansionists’ efforts to wi
n a majority but they would eventually kill me if I gave them enough tries.
“Do you think they will try again on this trip?” Scherer asked. She didn’t appear afraid; if she was, she could make the choice to stay on the ship and just return to Eastar.
“The Core group has given them little choice. If I remain after they gain power, I could continue to overturn their illegal wins. Better to do it before they get power and before I do too much damage, or worse, discover who they are.”
“Just interested in your logic. It has been interesting watching our director work and how you are using P1A authority. I think you’re abusing it, like you did with the kidnappers.” She raised a hand. “But no one will object—in a sense, it’s the lesser of two evils.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
New Zheng: It’s Personal
The trip to New Zheng took a little under four days. With no crew duties, I spent a lot of time with Scherer, Ballard, and Maxine. Scherer had studied political science in college and managed to secure aide positions with several politicians during her first eight working years.
“I learned more about what not to do during speeches, rallies, and debates with the first three candidates I worked for. None of them were ever real contenders. They spent most of their time apologizing for things they did or said or trying to dance around their foibles prior to running for office,” Scherer said during one of our lunch meetings. “Wannabes with no talent. Usually, their families had connections and money which allowed them to get into the race but they were bulldogs trying to run with greyhounds.” She smiled. “Those were…interesting years, a mixture of excitement, frustration, and amusement. The next eight were better. By that time, I had enough experience to qualify as a consultant, with the lesser-known candidates at first, but after a few successes I was working the top contenders. Then I decided to enter the race. I certainly knew all the dos and don’ts. I started with local positions to gain experience. Six years later I won a seat as an Oxax delegate and was elected as the Majority Leader six years after that.”
Ballard had spent his youth in the marines and then in the elite commando group. During that time, he participated in nine armed revolts. He retired early and joined the Committee as a senior c-agent in the personal protection unit and took the lead position when the head of that group retired four years ago.
“Being a commando was exciting for an idealistic, macho youth eager to prove himself the best of the best,” Ballard said, smiling at some long-ago scene. “At first I saw myself a part of a group saving democracy from armed thugs. Then I realized they were just men and women who thought the current government corrupt or cruel and they could do better. And although they were using violence to achieve their goal, many of our governments were created exactly that way. After a while, it was just a career and I concluded the current governments were generally better than the rebel groups. It was only by chance that I learned of the Committee’s security program. We were out celebrating a friend’s promotion when we bumped into several c-agents also out celebrating. I met a lieutenant with the group and we became friends. A year later he talked me into applying for a senior-level opening. I did and was accepted.” He laughed. “We thought we were doing a fantastic job until a wisp of a woman with no combat experience showed up.” Still grinning, he held up his hand to stop me from commenting. “Our trouble was our backgrounds—combat units. We think in those terms—armed assaults—and not in terms of planned assassinations. And in terms of strong men, when attacks require people who are thoughtful as well as having martial skills. Ma’am, I’m glad you don’t like promotions and new assignments.”
Maxine reminded me of Banner. They had a great deal in common. Not just that they knew where they wanted to go and had a plan on how to get there, but what they needed to do to be successful.
“I never went to college. Thought all that book learning a waste of time. So I joined the army looking for excitement and a chance to travel. I got little of either, although I qualified for a combat unit. A friend of mine told me about Committee Security. I applied and qualified but only because my friend told me what I had to do to pass their requirements. It took me two years of hard work before I felt ready. I haven’t gotten a lot of action with the Committee but I like the work and feel it’s important. And I like the idea of running my own department, so I’m in training trying to understand the issues, what will be expected, and how to be my best.”
I laughed. “You are studying under a woman who hates promotions and change and being in charge.”
“And who all of us ambitious people want to emulate,” Maxine said, smiling.
* * *
Commander Morrison met us planet-side and gave me a prize-winning smile when I exited the shuttle.
“Good day, Director Paulus. Congratulations on your appointment as Director of Committee Security…and thank you for recommending I continue as head of the NIA station.”
“Thank you, and you’re welcome. I thought the investigation of Commander Gardner’s activities was both fair and comprehensive,” I said, remembering back to my visit to New Zheng, Commander Gardner’s quick retirement, and the broken station he had left behind. “Commander Weaver told me you were doing a good job.”
Morrison smiled. “I alerted Mr. Jackson of your arrival, and he said he would be available. I wasn’t sure of your plans on arrival.”
“Very good, Commander. Now would be a good time,” I said.
This time Ballard had arranged for two shuttles since the capital’s administrative headquarters complex housed the election’s group and had a shuttle landing area. It was a thirty-minute trip to the other side of the city. Morrison and Jackson had prepared building security for our arrival and we had no delays—Director Jackson was immediately available when we reached his office on the twelfth floor.
“Good afternoon, Majority Leader Scherer, Director Paulus,” Jackson said as I entered his plush office with Scherer, Ballard, Maxine, and another c-agent. “To what do I owe this…honor?”
“I’m here as a guest of Director Paulus, acting strictly as an observer,” Scherer said and nodded to me.
“I’m here to look into the suspicious death of Mr. Chapman, a Conservative, and the election of Miss McBride,” I said and got the knee-jerk reaction I expected.
“That was ruled an accident,” Jackson said as if that settled the issue.
“Would you explain what procedure is followed when a delegate dies prematurely?” I asked, ignoring Jackson’s remark.
“We have a special election,” he said.
“Who’s eligible?”
“Only the people in the district involved.”
“And how are the ballots processed?”
“The person uses one of the election machines and a form is printed as a backup.”
“And how long are the printed backup forms maintained?” I asked.
“Eight years.”
“And what happens to the machine records?”
“It’s stored with the backup forms.”
“Excellent, I like to examine the forms from the election of Miss McBride,” I said.
“The results were certified by me after reviewing the backups and the machine records.” He rose, and his face rigid with anger.
“Good, then there shouldn’t be a problem,” I said, then added, “Mr. Jackson, this is a P1A request issued by the UAS Committee, so let’s forgo the rhetoric about needing a judge’s approval, lawyers, and New Zheng regulations.”
Jackson wasn’t happy, but he did lead us down to the basement where the records were stored and gave me access.
“Mr. Jackson, you or your representative is welcome to stay and observe.” I turned to look at Maxine. “Grab one of those boxes and let’s have a look at what the machine produces.”
Maxine opened one of the boxes, took out a stack, and laid it on the table. I picked up one form and scanned the sheet, then walked over to Jackson, who was still standing.
“Sir, can
you tell me what these numbers represent?”
“The top number is the date the vote was cast, the next the machine number, then the party or person voted for, then the transaction number,” he said in a resigned tone.
“Let me see if I understand. This sheet says on the ninety-seventh day of this year, machine AR2354 recorded a vote for James Hamlin, a Conservative, and it was the machine’s five hundred and sixty-seventh transaction.”
“Correct,” Jackson confirmed.
“Thank you, Mr. Jackson,” I said as I walked over to a chair, sat, and closed my eyes. What would I do to beat the system? I mused. I could assume that the forms in the boxes would verify the vote just in case someone requested an audit. Consequently, the machine would have to be rigged. “Mr. Jackson, I assume there is no way to verify who produced this form,” I said.
“That’s correct. We verify the person using the machine is registered to vote, so the best you could do is verify the number of voters equals the number of forms.”
“Thank you. Commander Morrison, can you get a team of NIA personnel here to help? First, I want to separate the forms by machine number. Then, depending upon the results, we will record the party votes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled and took out his Comm device.
* * *
It took three days working in three four-hour shifts to sort the forms. The result was interesting.
“Mr. Jackson, can you tell me where location D4A9 is located?” I asked after reviewing the results.
“Yes, Sandy Cove, which is located in district four,” he said.
“Well, Sandy Cove had thirty-two thousand people registered to vote and had sixty-three thousand recorded votes. Is there an explanation for the discrepancy?” I asked although I thought I knew the answer.
“Yes, Director Paulus, cheating. Thirty thousand votes sounds about right for Sandy Cove. Sixty thousand would be extremely unusual. And if sixty thousand did vote they should have been recorded.”
“I agree. How does Sandy Cove usually vote?”
“Predominately Conservative and Expansionist equally divided.”
