The Stainless Steel Rat for President

"I get a feeling you don't like this guy. Dad," Bolivar said.

"You're going to make him angry. If he has his way you won't get a single vote," James added.

I stood and went over to my discarded doctor outfit and removed the most ornate medal from it. I bade James rise and pinned it to his broad chest and we all cheered.

"That is an award for clear-eyed vision, my son. You have, as they say, hit the nail squarely on the head." "Well, thanks, I'll wear it always. Even in the shower. But would you like to clarify a bit just how you can win by losing massively?" "I'm afraid that must remain a secret between myself and your mother, for at least a little while longer. No word of my plans must be breathed aloud, even within these castle walls. You shall know, first thing after the returns for the voting come tomorrow. If you can figure out by then just what I am up to-why you get another medal,"

Chapter 28

Election day began with a bang.

The explosion blew out a number of windows in the castle and jolted me in an instant from a deep slumber to a painfully wide-awake condition. I stood by the bed, alertly poised on the balls of my feet, my hands extended in the best karate position.

"Aren't you cold, just standing there like that?" Angelina asked from the warm depths of the covers.

"Yes, now that I think about it, I am," I shivered and dived back in. As I was reaching for her the phone rang and I reached for it instead.

"Must have been a big one," Bolivar said, "because the defense screen is set to take out any offensive action when it is five Ks away. Aerial bomb. Big as a house. Computer back-tracked its trajectory then launched a missile at whatever dropped it. The second explosion was too far away to be heard." "Thanks for the info," I said, smacking my lips at the sudden bad taste in my mouth. I stood up and wearily pulled on my robe.

"You didn't expect him to exactly send you flowers, not after all the awful names you called him, did you?" Angelina said.

"No. But I didn't want any more lives lost." I looked out at the gray of dawn and felt rather gray myself.

"The new president will stop all the killings forever-that's the way you have to look at it. Now order up some food. It's going to be a busy day. " As indeed it was. After a satisfying but rapid breakfast, followed by a quick check that my beard was firmly in place, I was off to the level meadow behind the castle. All of the cows had been ejected to make room for the tents. The marquez himself was supervising the operation as they were unloaded from the trucks.

"Good morning. Hector. As you have ordered, the tents are here and are being erected. There is much wonder among the workers-on my part as well-just why we need a carnival at this time. Is it to celebrate the election? Do you think we will win?" "All will be explained in a few hours, my dear Marqu6z. But I dare not breathe a syllable now. But you can tell your men that they can make the job easier by not bothering to erect the grandstands." "Just empty tents?" "That's it." .".

I left him with a look of befuddled bemusement on his face. I was to see that expression more and more as the day wore on. Though they were all to polite to say so, I had the feeling after a few hours that most of the people on the castle staff thought that I was mad. Crazy as a rat, that's what! I laughed a quick chuckle-chuckle under my breath, and went on with the preparations for the day.

The first order of official business was of course registering my own vote. The polling place for the district was in the small town of Tortosa, a few kilometers outside the marquez's estate. We went there in a convoy of polished cars, election flags flapping in the breeze of our passage. Our arrival was timed for nine in the morning when the polling booth was to be opened. We drove into the central square just as the clock in the town hall was clanging out the hour. A line of prospective voters already stretched across the square. "A good turnout," de Torres said.

"A good turnout of ward heelers as well," I said, pointing.

There was a large gang of Zapilote's followers grouped about before the entrance to the hall. They waved drab banners with the official colors, sickly green and mud brown, of Zapilote's Happy Buzzard party. They had already worked their way down the line, pinning a Happy Buzzard button on each of the waiting voters.

"We're on stage," I said as my followers grouped behind me. My faithful watchdog, Rodriguez, stood close, as did Bolivar and James. All three were unarmed-but very dangerous. I nodded to Angelina who carried the camera and recording apparatus. "This is it. Roll the camera. Action." With heavy tread we marched across the square to face the local mayor, a toady of Zapilote's of course, and the chief of police. They looked nervous and fingered their sidearms.