The Stainless Steel Rat for President

"It's working," Bolivar said, as he finished a call on the radio. "That was the tenth precinct in Primoroso. We caught them packing the ballot box. One of the newsmen got it all on 173 tape and there is going to be a recount. We're really lucky that so many newsmen came for this election." "Luck, my son, is never a matter of chance." I humbly averted my eyes. "There are forty-three freelance newsmen here because that was the most I could hire at short notice. Their fares have been paid, they are enjoying their holidayand anything they may make by selling their material is found money." "I should have known," he said. "If there is any crooked way of getting a thing done my dad will think of it!" I slapped him on the shoulder and turned away, too filled with emotion to speak. Praise like this is more precious than pearls. ~ By midaftemoon the fat was really in the fire. We were fighting a rear-guard action and barely holding our own. In some of the smaller towns we knew that we had lost since Zapilote's supporters had simply closed the polls at gunpoint and substituted their own stuffed boxes. We had to let them get away with it. It was the big population centers that counted and we were still managing to hold our own there. With any luck it might be a fairly honest ballot, with a final vote that represented the will of the people.

As the reports came in the marquez began to grow more and more depressed. He cracked his knuckles pensively and shook his head in anger.

"This is no way to go about it! We do nothing on our own! Our people just sit around looking at the wall until it is too late. Only after the illegal acts have been committed do they go into action. We can never win unless we hit them first and hit them hard. Why don't we just shoot all the Zapilote supporters?" "My dear marquez, we have to win in the way we are doing it now. Otherwise it would not be a democratic election." "I'm beginning not to like this democracy of yours. It is too much work. It is much easier to tell the peasants what to do. They like it that way. We know that you will make a better president than that piece of filth Zapilote. So let's just make you president and let it go that." I sighed deeply. Gonzales de Torres, the Marquez de la Rosa, had an attitude towards the world that went with his name. He would never understand the reality of democracy. I had to count upon his kindness and personal code of values to get his cooperation.