“Oh no, he’s not! This planet is going to see an election like it has never seen before!” “What do you mean?” “We are going to find one of the old nobility who can be trusted, who is, hopefully, honest enough to want to run for office. Then we will make him a candidate for president.” “But the election will be rigged!” “You had better believe that. Rigged by me! I’ll teach these backwater-planet election-riggers a thing or two about crooked politics. We’ll win in a landslide.” “Can it be done?” “Just watch. But it is up to you to find us a decent candidate.” He rubbed his jaw and frowned. “I must think.” “Why don’t we lubricate the thought processes with some ron?” “Wonderful. I have aged ron here that is too good for the tourists, if you will excuse my saying so, that you might enjoy. “ I certainly did. I smacked and sipped and made yum-yum noises and we toasted each other and ‘the coming new day and finally got back to work.
“The best people are those who live farthest from the cities,” Jorge said, alcohol and ron having worked their wonders upon his brain, which was now churning away at a great rate. “Deep in the interior of this continent there are the large estates where they raise coffee and wheat and bizcocho berries. The peasants who work there are happy, the overseers kind, the nobility fair. As long as they supply food to the cities and stay out of politics, why Zapilote lets them alone.” “Do you know any of these people?” “I know all of them, of course, since we are all related.” “Can you think of any one of them might help us out?” “Just one. Gonzales de Torres, the Marquez de la Rosa. He is just, honest, fair, upright, handsome, courageous and hates Zapilote.” “He can’t be all bad. How well do you know him?” “He is a third cousin four times removed on my mother’s side. I see him at funerals and weddings and things like that. But I know all about him. There are no secrets in the aristocracy. “ “I have a feeling he is our man. How do we get in touch with him?” “We must obtain a car...” “Already done. Will you come with us?” “I dare not leave my job! It would be too suspicious. But Flavia could guide you. I will give her a message. She will be safer away from this place.” I took a last guzzle of the ron and placed the glass reluctantly back on the table. “Then it’s all set. I’ll take my troops for a ride in the country where we will have a picnic and a siesta. By this time it will be after dark and you will tell me where and when we are to pick her up.” “It will take time to locate her-and I must work today. But if you will come to this building at midnight I will be outside. I will take you to her.” “As good as done.” I started to leave then turned back and pointed to the dust-shrouded bottle of vintage ron. “Once they are opened these ancient beverages tend to spoil. You wouldn’t like me to take care of that for you?” “Take it, I beg you,” he said pressing the bottle upon me. “I have more, I will bring many bottles with me tonight when we meet.” “There are advantages to this planet never mentioned in the tourist brochures. Aged ron and rigged elections. Why this place is a paradise indeed!”
Chapter 9
“Sounds like a great plan. Dad,” the twins said in enthusiastic chorus.
“It would be a lot greater if that foxy Flavia weren’t coming along with us,” Angelina sniffed.
I took a delicate sip of the aged ron and waved my hand in airy dismissal. “Dear wife, my philandering days are long past-even if they only existed in your deliciously suspicious mind. I have eyes for no other! Even the fair Flavia.” Angelina arched her eyebrows at my words, either in disbelief, or appreciation, and I did not question her as to which. Life was quiet and restful at the moment and I intended to savor every fleeting instant. Because it was sure to get very busy in the near future. This was the lull before the storm, the girding of loins before the conflict. We sat in the clearing in the forest, high in the hills above the coast, delightfully full after our rustic picnic. Empty dishes were scattered around us; the sun was dropping, as was the level in the ron bottle. James was dozing. Bolivar tinkering with the car; I lay with my head in Angelina’s lap very much at peace with the world.
“This is the life,” I sighed. “Maybe I ought to retire to some restful planet like this where we can while away our declining years in the sunlight...” “Nonsense,” Angelina said in her most practical voice. “You would be bored to exasperation in less than a day. The only reason you are enjoying yourself now is because you are about to go into action-and you are also half-bombed on that antique ron you have been knocking back all day. “ “You slight me! I’m as sober as a octogenarian teetotaler. I can recite pi to twenty decimal places.” “Say she sells sea shells.” “See shells she sells.” “Wonderful!” She stood up suddenly and my head thudded 44 to the ground. “Time we got going. James, carry your father to the car if he is unable to walk.” James opened a conspiratorial eye and winked at me. I winked back and rolled over. Then did a quick fifty push-ups to start the blood flowing again. And instantly regretted it as flowing blood started a wicked hammering in my head. This ron was potent stuff. I finished the last dregs in the bottle and buried it from me, swearing off it for life. Or at least until tomorrow.
Within short moments we were ready for the road again. James had cleared away the debris and Angelina slipped the soiled dishes back into the picnic basket-through the cleaner slot in the lid where supersonics blasted away every remaining trace of food.
I don’t remember much about the return journey since I managed to sleep most of the way. Harboring my energies, not sleeping off a drunk as Angelina so humorously suggested. Her dainty elbow in my ribs stirred me to life as we swung by Jorge’s apartment. He was waiting in the shadows, darting forward as we stopped and hurling himself in beside us.
“Drive on! Quickly!” he gasped, which Bolivar of course did. “Tragedy has struck! We are lost! Flavia has been captured by the Ultimados!” “When did this happen?” I asked.
“Just a few minutes ago. I had the call just as I was leaving. A carload of them attacked the farm where she was staying.” “Is this farm far away?” “Not very far-a half an hour’s drive perhaps.” “Then we can cut them off before they bring her in.” “Yes-it is possible!” Enthusiasm replaced despair. “Turn left here, quickly. There is only the single road. But I must warn you, they are heavily armed and dangerous.” Jorge looked around at us as though we were mad, as we all burst out laughing at once. Then fell back into our seats as Bolivar gunned the car to roaring life. Armed and dangerous indeed!