“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.
“The attack is over,” de Torres said, and the weight was removed from my back. I stood and dusted off my trousers and regained my chair. The marqubz nodded approval. “Just a small demonstration. Rodriguez is my master-at-arms. I sent for him after he became planetary martial arts champion, as well as winning first place in the small arms competition. I have never regretted that decision.” “Nor will I,” I said, looking at the now motionless form of my new protector. “I appreciate the thought. And I am pretty sure that he will have plenty to do once the campaign begins. Which will be within a few days. We must catch Zapilote off-balance and keep him that way. We will begin with an election irally.” “And just what is that?” de Torres asked.
“A form of religious revival meeting where speeches are made, babies kissed, free food and drink consumed by the potential voters. A mixture of carnival, worship and bribery. We will make promises, attack the present regime, and see to it that we have excellent press coverage.” The marqu6z shook his head. “It will be suicide. There will be guns, assassination attempts. Zapilote will not let us get away with it. I know the man. He is perfectly capable of dropping a tactical atom bomb on this rally to make sure he gets rid of us. He would take out an entire city to make sure he eliminated the competition.” I smiled and nodded. “I agree completely. Therefore we will not hold the rally in Primoroso, or Ciudad Aguilella or any of the other major cities. Instead we shall hold the first meeting in the small and undistinguished seaside resort of Puerto Azul.” “Why there?” The marquez was puzzled. Angelina caught on instantly and clapped her hands with pleasure.
“It will be held there because that little town is stuffed full of offplanet tourists. This will guarantee our protection since he cannot permit any of them to be hurt. Nor will he commit any violence in their presence. It is the perfect place for a rally. My husband is certainly using his brains.” I nodded my thanks for the compliment, as well as for the fact that she had not added ‘for a change’.
“How do we get there without being blown up on the way?” James asked. This was indeed a problem. “A good question. Do we go by road or by air?” “Air would be wisest,” the marquez said. “Once past the Barrier, Zapilote’s forces control the roads. We would have to fight our way through. But he has only a few fighter planes and no other air force to speak of. He has never needed one. He controls all the air traffic, owns all the aircraft, other than the few copters and transports that our people have.” “But he could mount an air attack?” “It is conceivable. There are police gunships in addition to the fighters.” “We’ll take precautions.” I pointed at Bolivar. “Make a note to use the MES to amolifv some weapon systems and early warning detection apparatus. If they do try anything funny we’ll get them first. “ “As good as done. Dad-1 mean President.” “All right. The next order of business is a venue for the colligation...” “You’re not even a politician yet,” Angelina said, “but you’re talking like one already.” “Sorry. It must be catching. I mean, at what place will we hold the rally?” “There is a large stadium in Puerto Azul,” de Torres said. “That is where the bull fights are held every Sunday.” “Bull fights?” I asked. It sounded nasty.
“Yes. It is an interesting taurine event. It features mutated bulls wearing boxing gloves... “ “Sounds nice. We must go some time. But for the present we need the stadium for our rally. Which must be kept a secret until the last moment. Any suggestions?” “Let Jorge arrange it,” Angelina said. “He was a tourist guide there so he will know whom to contact. We’ll book it in the name of a front organization, a folklorico display for the tourists or something like that.” “Perfect. Then we swoop down during the day, stay in one of the tourist hotels, make speeches on street corners, distribute free tickets to all the voters. And the campaign is launched. Any more suggestions? No? Then I declare this meeting closed and suggest we all repair to the garden for a drink before lunch.” “Champagne,” the marquez announced firmly. “To toast a successful campaign. And to mark the end to this era of misrule.”
Chapter 20
Our little armada left at dawn, four jetcopters and an ancient fixed-wing aircraft that was stuffed full of our campaign supplies. The sun shone, the day was perfect-until a few minutes after we crossed the Barrier when two blips appeared at the very limit of our radar detection screen.
“They’re on a convergent track. Dad,” Bolivar said, running the reading through the computer. He was in charge of the detection instrumentation; his brother manned our defenses. I looked at the approaching blips and turned on the radio.
“This is the MarquBz de la Rosa flight calling two aircraft now approaching our position. Please identify yourse
lf.” I waited impatiently for a reply but the airwaves were silent. The blips closed in quickly. “Blow them out of the air before they can fire at us!” the marquez said, fists clenched, glaring at the screen. I shook my head.
“They must attack us first. The cameras are recording all this and I want the record absolutely clear that if there is any violence that we were merely defending ourselves.” “Those words will make a fine epitaph for our tombstones. They are within range!” “They’ve fired missiles!” James announced, touching buttons in quick succession. “Counter-missiles launched. Look there, about two o’clock, you’ll see the result.” Sudden white clouds burst into silent existence, then fell behind us as the flight moved on.
“Attack craft turning away,” Bolivar said. They were all looking at me. I could not speak. “They’re escaping, almost out of range.” The marqugz’s harsh words broke the silence. “Fire! Take them out.” James’s finger was poised over the firing button and it slammed down by reflex at the order. I turned away and looked out of the forward windows. Trying not see the two 109 gouts of red flame exploding off to one side. I was aware of Angelina behind me, her hands on my arms, her voice so low that only I could hear it.
“I understand-and I love you for it. But you must understand our feelings as well. They tried to murder us. And would have tried it again if they had not been stopped. It was self-defense.” I worked to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “I understand only too well. But that’s not the way I want it, not the way existence should be. The killing...” “Will be over after the election. That’s why you are running for president. To replace the man who ordered this action.” •There was no point in any further discussion. I suppose we were both right from our own points of view. The paid killers who had flown those craft would kill no longer. And Angelina was right-the only way to permanently end this violence was to win the election.
“Let me look at my speech again,” I said. “I want to get it memorized perfectly.” Angelina turned away in silence-but her parting kiss on my cheek spoke volumes.
That was the last of our airborne problems. The blue ocean soon came into view, then the white buildings of Puerto Azul. The campaign fleet circled above the field while our copter with the detection instruments made a sweep of the area. When all of the instrument readings were zero, we came in. I pointed to the row of pink tourist rental cars lined up at the edge of the field.
“Everything in order so far. Let’s roll!” And roll we did, rolling the votemobile out of the open tail of the cargo plane. This had been the marquez’s most luxurious saloon. It still was-plus a few additions. It was now a brilliant white with red-lettered HARAPO FOR PRESIDENT on one side, and HARAPO’S THE ONE! on the other. An overpowered PA system played martial music while it was on the move, and there was an elevated platform where the rear seat had been. The marquez and I would ride there, waving at the crowd, with nothing between us and them except thin air. And an invisible force field that would block any laser beams aimed at us, would slow and stop bullets as well.
Within a few minutes our equipment and supplies were loaded into the rental cars and our little victory parade rolled “Let’s do it in style,” I said. “Let them know that a new day is beginning!” A flick of a switch changed the ear-shattering broadcast from marching music to our presidential theme song. We rolled towards the city with its inspiring words booming out around us.
Glory, glory to the workers! Glory, glory to the peasants! Down with Zapdote’s bullies, Harapo’s marching on!
I can’t claim that it was the world’s most inspiring lyric, but I doubt if any of the voters would even notice the sprung rhythm as they listened to the shocking words. It was probably a shooting offense to speak out against Zapilote in public. Which meant that even this revolting song would surely capture the listeners’ undivided attention.
We got it too, as soon as we left the highway and started driving through the suburbs. Silent, frightened eyes watched us as we rolled by. Only the children cheered and ran alongside when we passed out bags of candy attached to HARAPO RULES OK! flags. Once they ate the candy, they shouted and waved the flags in hopes of getting more. It was only when we swung into the main thoroughfare that we found our first trouble.
A large black police car blocked our way. Filled with scowling uglies who fingered riot guns in a singularly menacing manner. Our little cavalcade stopped and Bolivar walked forward, smiling ingratiatingly, to face the unsmiling officer who stood beside the car.
“Harapo for president,” Bolivar said as he pinned an election button on the officer’s chest. The man ripped it off and threw it to the ground.
“Go back. Get out of here. You cannot pass.” “Pray tell me why not?” Bolivar asked, offering more badges to the policemen who sneered and pushed them away. Behind him Angelina had descended from the car as well, and was passing out more candy and flags to the crowds of children. “You do not have a parade permit,” the policeman snarled.
“We are not a parade. Just a few old friends out for a drive...” “If I say you are a parade, you are a parade. Now I give you exactly ten seconds to turn around and get out of here or else.” “Or else what?” “Or else I’m going to shoot you-that’s what!” A hush fell at these words-and within an instant the street was empty, just a few tattered flags lying on the ground to show that anyone had ever been there. With her audience gone, Angelina went around the police personnel carrier, and offered her flags to the of Beers there.
“You are going to shoot us-for no reason?” Bolivar said, turning his profile towards us and hamming it up something terrible. Knowing that the whole scene was being recorded. “You would shoot helpless citizens of your own country-you who are sworn to uphold the law!” He fell back and gasped. “Your time is up. All right men-ready-aim—..” A single policeman raised his gun, then slumped down to join his cataleptic companions. Because in addition to the flags Angelina had been passing out sleep gas capsules.
“Fire!” the officer said-and nothing happened. He turned and gasped-then tried to tear his pistol out of its holster. Another broken capsule puffed out its invisible message and he dropped out of sight to join his troops.
As he vanished there was a muffled cheer from the surrounding buildings and the children reappeared, shouting and waving their flags with joy. This time there were more than a few adults with them. There were echoing ha-has of jolly laughter as we pinned a Harapo button onto each police uniform, put a Harapo flag into each dozing hand. After this, happy volunteers rolled aside the vehicle with its unconscious minions of the law; cheers were raised again as the parade continued. More than candy was being given out now. Attached to the flags were the crisp green rectangles of Election Money. Each bill could be exchanged for a bottle of wine and a fried bean sandwich at the evening rally. Things were really beginning to come together.
But Zapilote was still trying to take them apart. As we drove into the center of the city the crowds grew larger, the cheering louder. The marqu6z and I stood in the back of the car, waving, while the election anthem rolled out in eardestroying waves. The stalwart form of my watchdog, Rodriguez, walked alongside the slowly moving vehicle, his grim face grimmer than usual because I had made him leave his recoilless caliber 50 automatic at home. This precaution had been a wise one because I saw him scratching at his empty armpit just as a number of bullets impacted the force field. It was disconcerting to see them suddenly appear before my face, moving slower and slower until they stopped.
“He’s in that window on the second floor!” Rodriguez said, pointing. I saw a flash of movement that vanished as I looked. “Go get him!” I said.
Rodriguez buried himself through the crowd like a surfer through the waves-then on into the building. I ordered the car to stop as I reached out and caught the still-hot slugs as they oozed out of the force field. Dropping them on the floor at my feet. I touched my lapel microphone and spoke.
“Did you get that on tape?” I asked, then looked at James in the follo
wing car. He raised the camera and patted it as his radioed voice whispered in my earplug receiver. “In the can. Dad!” “Good. Keep shooting. We have just had an assassination attempt and our faithful watchdog has gone after the gunman. There he is now.” Rodriguez had emerged from the building, a long-barreled weapon in one hand, dragging an unconscious man by the other. The crowd murmured and tried to see what was happening as he pushed through them. I switched on the public address system to distract their attention.
“Lady and gentleman voters of Puerto Azul! It has been my great pleasure to come here to meet you, and I sincerely hope that I will see you all at the monster rally tonight. There will be talks, entertainment, free wine, and bean sandwiches, ice cream for the kiddies and a hundred door prizes, yes indeed. You do not have to pay to participate. But a hundred lucky winners will each take home a dartboard with complete set of darts-and these will not be ordinary dartboards, nosiree. Each of these dartboards has a face on it for a target-and I ask you whose face is it? That’s right-you can throw darts at the ugly mush of the old dictator himself, Julio ‘The Monster’ Zapilote!” As you can imagine that produced a gasp or two and drew everyone’s attention. A few of them looked skywards as though they expected a lightning bolt from the heavens to strike and slay me. The car door opened and Rodriguez pushed . the assassin and his gun in onto the floor. I nodded when he rolled the unconscious man over and pointed to his dark ela. sses. Mv arnniififtd vnipp mll~dd r]ii[aaain “Now you may call that pretty strong talk-but I mean it. I’m hopping mad. I came here to conduct a peaceful election campaign and what happens? Why I get shot at, that’s what happens!” I let the gasp and murmur roll by then turned up the power. “I’m firnous I tell you. Right here in my hand I have one of the bullets that were just fired at me. Right at my feet I have the gunman and his rifle. And you know something funny-even though he was shooting at me from inside that building, this gunman is wearing dark glasses...” The crowd roared and surged forward; I signaled the car to start moving again.
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