The Stainless Steel Rat for President

Chapter 12

I was swallowing a mouthful of wine when de Torres spoke these fateful words. I coughed and choked, then finally pulled myself together. "You won't be president?" I managed to finally gasp out. "I don't understand."

"My reasons are simple. I have no experience with planetary rule and would not know where to begin. Nor could I leave my estates here in the hands of others. I have devoted my whole life to their development. All of these are sound reasons, but are secondary to my most important reason. There is another, far better qualified than I. Though I cannot deny that I am tempted by the post, and the opportunity to bring down the despicable Zapilote, I must step down in favor of one more eminently qualified."

"Do I know this paragon?"

"You do. It is yourself." Now it was my turn to sit and think—and be tempted. And it was indeed a temptation! A suitable challenge for a man of my persuasion. But there were barriers.

"But I am not a citizen of this planet," I protested.

"Does that make a difference?"

"Usually. But..." I foundered and sank on that but. As an immense idea sprang full-blown into my brain. It was all there, complete and shining, and presented with the compliments of my subconscious. Which must have been cooking up this masterpiece for some time. But there were details that had to be checked first.

"May I ask a few questions before I give you my answer?"

"By all means."

"Do you have any rustic relatives, well connected but shy by nature, stay-at-homes who prefer their own withdrawn company to those of the outer world?"

"Remarkable!" The marquez shook his head in wonderment as he refilled our glasses but again. "You have just described my grandnephew. Hector Harapo, in a most exact manner. He is Sir Hector of course, a Knight of the Beeday, a minor order. His small estate borders mine—yet it must be ten years since I saw him last. He does nothing but read scientific books in order to develop new strains of bizcocho berries. The truth is that he is not worldly-wise at all, and were it not for my aid he would have been bankrupt years ago.

"He sounds ideal for our purposes. Of what age is he?"

"Roughly yours. About the same build, though he has an immense black beard."

"The beard will be the easiest part. Now, one more question if I may. Would you agree to be vice-president if Sir Hector ran for president? He would do all the work, but you would add the weight of your authority to his campaign."

"Yes, I would be agreeable to that. But I must warn you, as fine a man as he is. Hector is not presidential material."

"I could argue that—I have seen presidential elections where ancient actors and proven crooks have been elected, but that is not the point now. What we must do, if you agree, is that in the name of common decency we must commit what some might consider to be a crime. But you must judge for yourself. What I would like to do is to pull the wool over the voters' eyes in the slightest manner. It will be as nothing compared to Zapilote's electoral crimes. I think that it is possible to run another man in Hector's place. A man of noble birth, shrewd, experienced, hard, determined..."

As I talked his eyes opened wider and wider, his smile grew broader and broader, until he could no longer contain himself and interrupted me with a shout. "Yourself!"

"None other," I said, humbly.

"It is ideal! I can think of no one better suited."

"But there will be difficulties. We must agree on our political platform before we enter into any alliance. You may not like some of the reforms I intend to carry through if elected."

The marquez waved aside any possible disagreement with a flip of one noble hand. "Nonsense. All men of honor and standing agree on this sort of thing. I know by your title that we will have no problems."

"I don't think it is going to be quite that simple. For instance, what if I were to advocate splitting up the large estates and giving them to the peasants?"

"I would shoot you on the spot," he said with cold simplicity.

"Lucky that I don't believe in that myself!" Which wasn't quite truthful. But I could see where land reform, all kinds of reform, would be a long and slow process on this planet. We would have to start with basics; the longest journey begins with but a single step, as the shoe salesman said. "No land reform, of course. I just said that to mention some of the political questions that we will be asked if this is an absolutely free election. Now there are one or two little reforms that we will have to consider in order to get the popular vote. They are things that I know we don't like in theory, but we must make a few concessions in order to get people to vote for us."

"For example?" de Torres asked, most suspiciously, memory of those divided estates still in mind.

"Well, for example, we must allow universal suffrage, one man, one vote, and that includes women…"

"Women! They can't have the same rights as men!"

"Would you care to say that to my wife?"

"No." He rubbed his jaw, deep in gloomy thought. "Nor my wife either. These are dangerous and revolutionary thoughts, but I suppose we must entertain them."

"If we don't the other side will. In order to win we must support the habeas corpus, abolish torture and the secret police, support public health, give free milk to babies and divorces to alienated couples. We must recognize the dignity of man—and woman—and enact laws to protect those rights."

In the end he nodded agreement. "I suppose that you are right. All of my workers enjoy those benefits, so it might be argued that the public at large deserves them too. I can see where this political business can get very complicated."

"You can bet your sweet title it is. So let us get down to work and prepare a party platform."

"Are we having a party on a platform?"

"No. A platform is a statement of the things we intend to accomplish after we have been elected. A party in this context is the political organization that we will form to see that we will be elected."

"That sounds reasonable. And what is the name of our party?" As he asked the answer sprang fullblown to mind.

"It shall be called the NPWP, the Nobles and Peasants and Workers Party."

"Nip-wip; has a nice ring to it. So let it be."

It was the beginning of a memorable evening. Another bottle of priceless wine was cracked and we sat, heads together like the conspirators that we were, making our detailed plans. The marquez was no dummy about life on Paraiso-Aqui, and he knew everyone worth knowing as well. He had food sent in when we became hungry and the session continued far into the night. By morning we were thick as thieves, with all the details worked out, and we retired with feelings of virtue at a job well done.

I told Angelina what had been accomplished while we breakfasted in bed in regal style. But de Torres was no slugabed like me. By the time I appeared he already had the wheels well in motion. He had dispatched his estate manager at dawn to take over operation of Sir Hector's estate—and had the befuddled knight returned in the same car. You could only admire energy like this. I could see that de Torres would be quite an asset during the election. I met Hector, who had little idea of what was happening, and just sat stroking his great black beard and muttering to himself. A good beard and easy enough to duplicate from photographs. I hoped he would appreciate what good works I would be doing in his name!

It was then that our first emergency struck. I was actually considering a morning drink, to give me an appetite for lunch, when de Torres came stamping out of his study.

"Something is happening," he said. "An emergency message is on its way. Come with me." I hurried after him to the elevator, where I had my first look at one of the mechanical artifacts I would soon learn to appreciate. The operator closed the bronze gate behind us, and turned to his valves.

Valves? I must have spoken aloud because de Torres smiled and waved proudly in their direction as the ornate cage of the elevator shuddered slightly, then began to smoothly rise.

"I see you are impressed—nor do I blame you. In the cities you see nothing but shoddy electronics and weak little motors. But in the country we know how to build things better. The forests supply our fuel, the steam plant produces the unleashed energy to pump the water. Hydraulic systems are indestructible. See how smoothly we mount on the piston that supports this cage!"

"A wonder!" I said, and meant it. The cylinder must be buried deep in the foundation, the piston at least a hundred meters long. I hoped their metallurgy was up to it. I watched the water drip slowly from the row of valves and sighed with relief when the gate finally opened.

I had more mechanical joys in store. No simple radio or telephone room awaited us. Instead there was an exhausting climb up a circular staircase to a turret room that stood high above the rest of the castle. A half-dozen men labored here, amidst the hot smell of metal and the hiss of escaping steam. Thick pipes came up through the floor to feed a hulking black engine studded with wheels, levers and gauges. This machine was silent for the moment and all attention was upon the man who stood squinting through a powerful telescope, shouting out numbers.

"Seven... two... niner... four... unsure... end of line. Send a repeat for that last phrase." The machine operator began industriously working his handles. The device groaned, hissed and clanked as tall pistons pushed shining steel rods up and down. I followed their movements upwards through the wrought-iron-framed glass roof, and farther up still to the top of the spire where great metal arms jerked and waved.

"I see you are impressed by our semaphore," de Torres said proudly.

"Impressed is far too mild a word," I said truthfully. "How far has this message come?"

"All the way from the coast, relayed from station to station. It is a private enterprise of the larger landowners. We are in constant communication with one another in this manner. The code we use is secret, known to but a handful of us. This message began with a highly urgent signal in clear, which is why I brought you. I feel in my bones that it is concerned with our mutual affairs. Aha, here we are." The faulty line had been retransmitted and transcribed, the completed message rushed to the marquez. He frowned down at the rows of numbers, then waved me after him to a chamber built into one wall. A high window threw light onto a carved desk, upon which he spread out the message. From his wallet he took a cipher wheel, set it to a number, then spun the actuator.

"It will go faster," he said, "if you transcribe as I decode." I wrote out the message as he gave it to me and the knot of tension in my midriff grew as letter followed letter. When it was finished he leaned over my shoulder and read in silence.

ELECTION LAWS SECRETLY CHANGED AND PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATES MUST REGISTER BY SIX TONIGHT IN PRIMOROSO—JORGE

"The trouble is already starting," I said. "Zapilote must have got wind of our plans and is moving to stop us before we even get off the ground. What is Primoroso?"

"Our capital city—and Zapilote's stronghold. The man is impossible to beat! If we try to register we will be arrested, and if we don't show up he wins the election by default."

"Never say die before the fight, de Torres. Can we reach Primoroso in time?"

"Easily. My jet copter will take us there in less than three hours."

"How many will it hold?"

"Five, including the pilot."

"The perfect number. You and me. Bolivar and James."

"But your sons are so young. I have armed men—"

"Young in years but wise in experience. You will see for yourself what they can do. Now if you will roll out your craft, I'll get the boys and make a few other arrangements." I was rooting around in the depths of the storage compartments in the car when Angelina tapped me on the shoulder.

"You are not leaving me behind while you dash off all over the place."

"Indeed I'm not," I said, dropping an armload of equipment and turning to embrace her. "Yours is the most important task since you must stay here and hold our flank. As soon as we are gone you must set up the defenses. As well as firing up the detection apparatus. If we have to come back in a hurry, I look forward to returning to a stoutly defended position. I know nothing of the castle's defenses'—but I know a lot about ours, and know that I can rely upon them. And upon you."

She tilted her head most attractively to the side and looked at me quizzically. "You're not inventing all of this on the spot to get me out of the action, are you, diGriz?"

"Never!" I protested mightily, not daring to admit that she had seized instantly upon the truth. "This is going to be a hit-and-run raid, and we will need you in support here. There will be plenty of work for all of us before this rigged election runs to its crooked end. Now please help me find the makeup box. I need a large and black beard for instant use."

She thought hard, then nodded reluctantly. "All right. But you better not be lying to me. If you get burned in this operation I'll kill you for it." Which is a perfect example of female logic that I knew better than to draw to her attention.

Thirty minutes later I was kissing her goodbye through the muffling shrouds of the fake beard, and working hard to conceal my pleasure. Good things were going to happen! Round one in the big election campaign was about to begin.