“Let me look at my speech again,” I said. “I want to get it memorized perfectly.” Angelina turned away in silence-but her parting kiss on my cheek spoke volumes.
That was the last of our airborne problems. The blue ocean soon came into view, then the white buildings of Puerto Azul. The campaign fleet circled above the field while our copter with the detection instruments made a sweep of the area. When all of the instrument readings were zero, we came in. I pointed to the row of pink tourist rental cars lined up at the edge of the field.
“Everything in order so far. Let’s roll!” And roll we did, rolling the votemobile out of the open tail of the cargo plane. This had been the marquez’s most luxurious saloon. It still was-plus a few additions. It was now a brilliant white with red-lettered HARAPO FOR PRESIDENT on one side, and HARAPO’S THE ONE! on the other. An overpowered PA system played martial music while it was on the move, and there was an elevated platform where the rear seat had been. The marquez and I would ride there, waving at the crowd, with nothing between us and them except thin air. And an invisible force field that would block any laser beams aimed at us, would slow and stop bullets as well.
Within a few minutes our equipment and supplies were loaded into the rental cars and our little victory parade rolled “Let’s do it in style,” I said. “Let them know that a new day is beginning!” A flick of a switch changed the ear-shattering broadcast from marching music to our presidential theme song. We rolled towards the city with its inspiring words booming out around us.
Glory, glory to the workers! Glory, glory to the peasants! Down with Zapdote’s bullies, Harapo’s marching on!
I can’t claim that it was the world’s most inspiring lyric, but I doubt if any of the voters would even notice the sprung rhythm as they listened to the shocking words. It was probably a shooting offense to speak out against Zapilote in public. Which meant that even this revolting song would surely capture the listeners’ undivided attention.
We got it too, as soon as we left the highway and started driving through the suburbs. Silent, frightened eyes watched us as we rolled by. Only the children cheered and ran alongside when we passed out bags of candy attached to HARAPO RULES OK! flags. Once they ate the candy, they shouted and waved the flags in hopes of getting more. It was only when we swung into the main thoroughfare that we found our first trouble.
A large black police car blocked our way. Filled with scowling uglies who fingered riot guns in a singularly menacing manner. Our little cavalcade stopped and Bolivar walked forward, smiling ingratiatingly, to face the unsmiling officer who stood beside the car.
“Harapo for president,” Bolivar said as he pinned an election button on the officer’s chest. The man ripped it off and threw it to the ground.
“Go back. Get out of here. You cannot pass.” “Pray tell me why not?” Bolivar asked, offering more badges to the policemen who sneered and pushed them away. Behind him Angelina had descended from the car as well, and was passing out more candy and flags to the crowds of children. “You do not have a parade permit,” the policeman snarled.
“We are not a parade. Just a few old friends out for a drive...” “If I say you are a parade, you are a parade. Now I give you exactly ten seconds to turn around and get out of here or else.” “Or else what?” “Or else I’m going to shoot you-that’s what!” A hush fell at these words-and within an instant the street was empty, just a few tattered flags lying on the ground to show that anyone had ever been there. With her audience gone, Angelina went around the police personnel carrier, and offered her flags to the of Beers there.
“You are going to shoot us-for no reason?” Bolivar said, turning his profile towards us and hamming it up something terrible. Knowing that the whole scene was being recorded. “You would shoot helpless citizens of your own country-you who are sworn to uphold the law!” He fell back and gasped. “Your time is up. All right men-ready-aim—..” A single policeman raised his gun, then slumped down to join his cataleptic companions. Because in addition to the flags Angelina had been passing out sleep gas capsules.
“Fire!” the officer said-and nothing happened. He turned and gasped-then tried to tear his pistol out of its holster. Another broken capsule puffed out its invisible message and he dropped out of sight to join his troops.
As he vanished there was a muffled cheer from the surrounding buildings and the children reappeared, shouting and waving their flags with joy. This time there were more than a few adults with them. There were echoing ha-has of jolly laughter as we pinned a Harapo button onto each police uniform, put a Harapo flag into each dozing hand. After this, happy volunteers rolled aside the vehicle with its unconscious minions of the law; cheers were raised again as the parade continued. More than candy was being given out now. Attached to the flags were the crisp green rectangles of Election Money. Each bill could be exchanged for a bottle of wine and a fried bean sandwich at the evening rally. Things were really beginning to come together.
But Zapilote was still trying to take them apart. As we drove into the center of the city the crowds grew larger, the cheering louder. The marqu6z and I stood in the back of the car, waving, while the election anthem rolled out in eardestroying waves. The stalwart form of my watchdog, Rodriguez, walked alongside the slowly moving vehicle, his grim face grimmer than usual because I had made him leave his recoilless caliber 50 automatic at home. This precaution had been a wise one because I saw him scratching at his empty armpit just as a number of bullets impacted the force field. It was disconcerting to see them suddenly appear before my face, moving slower and slower until they stopped.
“He’s in that window on the second floor!” Rodriguez said, pointing. I saw a flash of movement that vanished as I looked. “Go get him!” I said.
Rodriguez buried himself through the crowd like a surfer through the waves-then on into the building. I ordered the car to stop as I reached out and caught the still-hot slugs as they oozed out of the force field. Dropping them on the floor at my feet. I touched my lapel microphone and spoke.
“Did you get that on tape?” I asked, then looked at James in the following car. He raised the camera and patted it as his radioed voice whispered in my earplug receiver. “In the can. Dad!” “Good. Keep shooting. We have just had an assassination attempt and our faithful watchdog has gone after the gunman. There he is now.” Rodriguez had emerged from the building, a long-barreled weapon in one hand, dragging an unconscious man by the other. The crowd murmured and tried to see what was happening as he pushed through them. I switched on the public address system to distract their attention.
“Lady and gentleman voters of Puerto Azul! It has been my great pleasure to come here to meet you, and I sincerely hope that I will see you all at the monster rally tonight. There will be talks, entertainment, free wine, and bean sandwiches, ice cream for the kiddies and a hundred door prizes, yes indeed. You do not have to pay to participate. But a hundred lucky winners will each take home a dartboard with complete set of darts-and these will not be ordinary dartboards, nosiree. Each of these dartboards has a face on it for a target-and I ask you whose face is it? That’s right-you can throw darts at the ugly mush of the old dictator himself, Julio ‘The Monster’ Zapilote!” As you can imagine that produced a gasp or two and drew everyone’s attention. A few of them looked skywards as though they expected a lightning bolt from the heavens to strike and slay me. The car door opened and Rodriguez pushed . the assassin and his gun in onto the floor. I nodded when he rolled the unconscious man over and pointed to his dark ela. sses. Mv arnniififtd vnipp mll~dd r]ii[aaain “Now you may call that pretty strong talk-but I mean it. I’m hopping mad. I came here to conduct a peaceful election campaign and what happens? Why I get shot at, that’s what happens!” I let the gasp and murmur roll by then turned up the power. “I’m firnous I tell you. Right here in my hand I have one of the bullets that were just fired at me. Right at my feet I have the gunman and his rifle. And you know something funny-even though he was shooting at me from inside that building, this gunman is wearing dark glasses...” The crowd roared and surged forward; I signaled the car to start moving again.