In any case, I needed to do something about Su Dival. I had to apprehend his killer like I promised I would. And since I had almost no chance of catching 19-10, I had to invent a killer. The Totki were only going to get worse.
I couldn’t just grab some random inmates from the Royal Wing and say, “yeah, they totally killed your former spiritual leader.” That was too convenient and no one would believe me. Not only that, but the inmates would deny it and cause me even more headaches.
It needed to be plausible. It needed to be sensational. Yet it needed to leave something to the imagination.
CHAPTER 24
I woke up the next day and in my living room I saw a red envelope on my table.
Sigh.
Garm had a key to everyone’s apartment in the city. In fact, all the major systems of Belvaille were controlled from City Hall. If she felt like turning off the lights or turning off our oxygen, she could do so whenever she wanted.
When she sent me her new laws and new list of judges, she would put them inside my apartment like this.
I found it disturbing. But maybe that was the Quadrad assassin in her. Or maybe she just really didn’t want to talk to me. Presumably she had gotten word that I had been screaming outside City Hall yesterday and was sending a response.
I opened the envelope and read the paper inside.
You are hereby appointed Secretary of City. You are to head the upcoming elections. Use the Kommilaire to organize voting. Vet the candidates and void any who are unworthy. –Garm
Isn’t that a kick in the nuts? This wasn’t even about me going to see her, but instead it’s a new job. As if I didn’t have enough to do.
And Money Bags couldn’t even give me a single thumb for my efforts?
I could just throw this paper away. What was she going to do, come down from City Hall and talk to me in person? Good!
I didn’t even know what this stuff meant. How could I vet and void someone? Ask them their favorite color and if they didn’t say blue, red, or pink I disqualify them?
There was a second page.
Add these names to the final selection of candidate choices.
And it was the list of dead candidates I had seen at the fundraiser. All of them had a political party affiliation of, “Garm’s Choice.”
What the hell? So I was supposed to kick out live people for whatever reasons and add dead people instead?
As I was stewing, I heard Rendrae talking on the loudspeakers. He was speaking about the election. I couldn’t just ignore this. The election would happen. It would be impossible to prevent at this point.
Either we were going to have fifty regions of the city all voting their own way for their own candidates and then getting into a bloodbath over the results, or I was going to do it.
“Damn,” I said to my living room statues.
“This is your Force for Facts returning with my guest, Hank, our Supreme Kommilaire and newly appointed Secretary of City. So, Hank. Dead candidates,” Rendrae said, smiling at me. “What’s that about?”
I was sitting with Rendrae at the facility they used to broadcast loudspeaker programs. I was on the floor because none of the chairs would support me.
To get the word out, I needed Rendrae. He was the easiest person to talk to and we went way back. Still, he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to take some shots.
“I don’t know, ask Garm.”
I had said I wasn’t going to endorse anyone and I sure as hell wasn’t going to endorse corpses. I got the idea Garm was sticking me with this role to imply her choice was also my choice. But I wasn’t going to be anyone’s pawn. Well, more than usual.
“Ask Garm. That’s an idea, except she never leaves the Gilded Tower and doesn’t grant interviews. At least not to the press.”
“Those candidates wishing to run for Governor or City Council need to register with me. But not when I’m sleeping. Or at the club.”
“That would be the Athletic Gentleman’s Club?”
“Yeah.”
“So if other people decide they want their dead relatives to run for office, is that acceptable?” Rendrae asked seriously.
“No.”
“Why is it Garm can put forth a unique ticket and no one else can? Are her cadavers vastly more talented than other cadavers?”
“She owns the city. If you want some dead people to run for office, buy your own city.”
“What is meant by it being your responsibility to vet candidates?” he asked.
“Well. I guess. Make sure they are okay,” I answered hazily.
“And what would that entail specifically?”
I paused since I wasn’t sure myself. Rendrae always had me on my heels.
“I suppose if I’ve arrested them in the past, then they can’t run. That’s an example.”
“Seems appropriate. So no Governors who hail from the Royal Wing? How will voting be conducted?”
“I’m going to get Delovoa to design us some voting machines,” I said.
“Delovoa?” Rendrae said, honestly startled. “Shouldn’t his resources be spared for more important activities?”
“Yes, they should. But you all want this stupid election so we’re going to have this stupid election.”
CHAPTER 25
The next week was chaotic.
I had MTB read off the ever-changing list of candidates on the loudspeakers as they made themselves known. He had a better speaking voice than I did. The Board prices would jump up 20% or drop the same amount depending on which candidate threw his hat into the ring.
Then candidates would pull out not four hours later, then combine forces, then break up. The loudspeakers were awash in the constant drama of election news.
To slow them down a bit I made a five-page form that I forced each candidate to fill out, and required a thousand thumb, non-refundable fee. I also started putting restrictions on names and party affiliations.
Like, you couldn’t call yourself the “Official Belvaille Party,” it was misleading. And you couldn’t call yourself “Garm’s True Choice.” There was even one group that had the gall to try and call themselves “The Kommilaire,” even though they had nothing to do with us.
Managing the candidate list was turning into a full-time job.
“Why?” Judge Naeb asked suspiciously.
“Because none of the people who are running for Governor actually know how Belvaille works. You’re the longest-serving judge,” I said.
We were in Judge Naeb’s quarters on Courtroom Three Street. They were well-appointed, even a bit tacky, considering he was supposed to be a judge and not a pimp.
He sat at his big desk and openly smoked some drugs in front of me.
“What do I get out of it?” he asked.
“Uh, you’d be Governor.”
“I’m a judge now. I know what a judge does. What’s the Governor do?”
“Probably way more than a judge.”
“Probably,” he mocked.
He looked at me for some time. But I had a great poker face. My face and body didn’t move. It required too much energy. Six hours from now I wouldn’t have twitched a muscle.
“Can I be blunt?” the drug-smoking judge asked, as if he cared about my answer.
“You bet.”
“Why are you approaching me? I never got the sense you particularly liked me or my service to the city.”
“Can I be blunt?” I asked.
He waved his hand for me to continue.
“I don’t think you have served the city. I think you’re a crook who has lined his pockets, obstructed justice, caused me tons of problems, and recently made it legal for people to point guns at me.”
“So why would you want me to be Governor?”