Campaign

“That smug bastard’s done it again.” Penelope made a fist and the small gem in the wall went dark, taking the wall-sized image of the dwarf’s press conference coverage with it. She banged her warm brown fist on the table, her blonde-tipped, brown hair falling in waves around her face as she dropped her forehead to fist, hiding her hazel eyes. “He just laid out the entire transportation plan we just finalized last night.”

“We can fix this.” The elf with charcoal-grey skin, bright violet eyes, and long, straight, snow-white hair pulled into a severe braid took a step toward the desk. “We should go to the press, back door, ‘unnamed inside source’, let them know our campaign has a leak, and Ironstrike is taking our policies public before we can.”

“Really, Agatha? You’re my campaign manager, and I thought you were my friend. That will make me look weak and incompetent, and whiny to boot. I may not have your experience, but I know that’s not how the game is played. It’s a dirty game, I get that — but you — find the leak!”

“Yes, Ms. Gonzales,” Agatha said with a slight bow.

“I’m sorry I snapped. Please, let’s just continue to be Aggie and Pen. I don’t know what I’d do in this town without you.” Penelope raised her head to give Agatha an apologetic smile.

Agatha stepped around the desk and put an arm around Penelope’s shoulders.“You’ll always be little Pen.”

Penelope leaned her head against Agatha’s shoulder. It brought back memories of childhood, when Agatha was her teacher, substitute parent, and frequent partner in crime, sneaking in forbidden sweets for her. “Why does everything have to change?”

“That’s just the way the universe works,” the elf said, petting Penelope’s hair. “Besides, if nothing changed, you wouldn’t be the first human to get this close to nomination for Premier, would you?”

“We have good ideas, at least. If not, Ironstrike wouldn’t be rolling them out as his own.” Penelope chuckled. “He’s been in the game for what, five, six decades? He certainly knows how to work the media.”

“But,” Agatha said, “he wouldn’t know a good policy or decision if it bit him on the ass. Deva Singh, his manager, has to be involved. Still, if he does win the nomination, he would be a fool not to choose you for VP.”

Penelope sat up and straightened her back. “Find out who’s been talking to the Ironstrike campaign and uncover all their communications. I don’t care if it’s a speech writer winking at one of his interns, anything that ties any member of my campaign to his, dig up everything.”

“We won’t have any legal standing to—”

“Doesn’t matter. Get it done. I know you have technical and magical contacts that skirt the edges of legality. Use them if you have to. We have to find the mole.”

“I’ll hire a PI. That way, any possibly less-than-legal actions they take won’t blow back on you. I’ll make sure whoever I hire has complete access to all my communications for the last year and inform them they are to report directly to you.”

“Agatha, come on. I know it isn’t you.”

“But I have more communication with the Ironstrike campaign than anyone else around here.” She crossed her arms. “It’s only fair.”

Penelope nodded. “Fine. What’s on the agenda?”

“Final hearing with the Parliamentary vetting board at eleven, then you’re free until the fundraiser at the Met Gallery, eighteen-hundred.” Agatha pursed her lips. “I can’t join you for the hearing, I think I’ll reach out to Deva, take her to lunch, see if I can get some information from her about who’s been talking. I’ll record our conversation for the PI, too.”

“Thanks.” Penelope stood, moved her hand in a small gesture that made the gem in the wall pulse once before a section of the wall became a mirror. “I should get myself squared away before the hearing.”

Penelope’s phone rang and she answered as Agatha left her office. “Good morning, Ms. Underhill. … Sure, Janey. … Uh-huh … right … thank you. That seriously calms my nerves. See you at eleven.”

##

Deva Singh’s phone rang. The number was unlisted, but she answered with, “What do you have for me?”

The deep voice on the other end, warped with some sort of magitech said, “Word is that the Gonzales hearing is a formality, the vetting committee has already decided she’s cleared. Her campaign manager floated the possibility of Vice Premier under Ironstrike, and she didn’t turn it down.”

Before Deva could respond the other party disconnected the call. Her tail twitched, and her horns itched. She looked in the mirror at her deep red skin, jet-black hair, and red eyes in black sclera. She wondered how she ended up working in politics. It was far outside what she thought she’d be doing when she got her PhD in Social Work.

Her office door opened, and a red-headed dwarf wearing a bespoke suit stepped in. “What is it, lass? Wondering again how you ended up in Capitol City?” He had lines around his brown eyes, and shots of grey at his temples. His beard was in a four-plait braid with a green ribbon run through it.

“Morning, Hank. Something like that.” She sighed. “Our secret benefactor called again.”

“What’s the word?”

“Vetting is a done deal, and Agatha Blackstone floated the idea of the VP to Gonzales. She didn’t turn it down.”

“She has great ideas, but not the political capital to get it done.” He smoothed his beard. “As soon as she drops her candidacy, I’m offering her the position.”

Deva’s phone rang again, and she answered on speaker. “This is Singh, you’re on speaker.”

“Hey, Deva, Agatha. Are you free for lunch? I want to pick your brain on something.”

“Sure. Orcish at Mama Magthurg’s at twelve?”

“Spicy noodles sounds good. See you there. My treat.”

Deva disconnected. “She wants to know who the mole is.”

“Any luck on that front?” the dwarf asked.

“Nothing yet.” She turned off the mirror and turned to look down at the dwarf from her two meter-vantage. “Does using her plans to flesh out your own not feel dirty to you?”

“No … yeah … a little. But that’s how the game is played.” He straightened his suit that didn’t need it, and said, “Keep looking. If we find the mole before they do, we’ll tell her. She doesn’t need that sort of disloyalty in her camp.”

“And you acting on that disloyalty? What’s that?”

“Politics, lass. Pure politics.” He checked the time. “I’m sitting in on Ms. Gonzales’ vetting hearing, so I better go.”

Deva nodded. “Later, Hank.”

##

Agatha and Deva sat in the back of Mama Magthurg’s, enjoying their spicy noodles. Agatha looked across the booth at the demon across from her. “You know what I’m going to ask.”

“I know,” Deva said. “We hired a PI, but she’s run into a dead-end. None of the calls are long enough to trace with tech or magic.”

“But they’re coming straight to you?” Agatha asked.

“Yeah. And my phone is tapped in order to trap him or her.”

“Him or her?”

“The voice is distorted.”

“I just got off the phone with a PI myself. We’re probably going to tap everyone’s communications.” Agatha frowned. “I doubt it’ll help, though. They’re probably using a burner phone.”

“Do you think Ms. Gonzales has a chance at the nomination?” the demon asked.

“Not really. I’m just involved in her campaign because I’ve watched her grow up, and I know the kind of person she is.” Agatha’s smile was sad. “She wants to help people, really help them, and that doesn’t translate well to political clout.”

Deva cleared her throat. “This isn’t a promise or anything of the sort, but Hank is making noises about offering her the Vice Premier role. She’d be able to do a lot of good there and gain the political clout to carry her further.”

“As if she’d be young enough to run as Premier after Ironstrike serves three full terms.” Agatha shook her head. “She’s already fifty, and in twenty-one years she won’t be taken seriously as a candidate.”

Deva shrugged. “Anyway, I thought I’d put it out there, so you aren’t blindsided when Hank calls.”

Agatha chuckled. “I told her this morning that he’d do well to have her as his VP choice.”

“Wait, this morning?” Deva leaned forward. “Who else was there?”

“Just Pen and myself.”

Deva looked at Agatha in shock. “Her office must be bugged. The mystery caller told me about it just before you called.”

“Shit. I’ll send the PI over to scour her office now. Maybe the bug will tell us who the mole is.” Agatha dropped a couple large bills on the table and left in a hurry, making a call on her phone as she went.

No sooner had Agatha disappeared around the corner than Deva’s phone rang. The mystery caller again. “Make your move tomorrow morning. The human’s going to highlight wand control at her fundraiser tonight, which will push her right out of the running.” The caller hung up before Deva could say anything.

##

The fundraiser was a bust. Penelope laid out the only policy that Ironstrike hadn’t stolen from her, wand control. She explained in detail how wands beyond cantrip power would be regulated in the same way guns were, in order to keep them out of the same hands that they wanted to keep guns from.

It was hot-button topic, and not something any politician hoping for election should broach. She knew it could backfire, and it did. Still, she played the role well until the event ended. She sat on a table and sighed. “That could’ve gone better.”

Agatha didn’t have an answer for her. She’d advised against bringing it up until after election. “I don’t know what to tell you, Pen.”

“I do. Throw in the towel, Aggie. We’re done. I don’t have the backing to stay in the race.” Penelope lay back on the table and laughed. “Now, I can relax. I might even sleep in until six or seven tomorrow.”

“Deva said that your office might be bugged, not that it matters much now.” Agatha sat on the table next to Penelope and stroked her hair. “I sent the PI to your office to find the bug. Maybe that’ll tell us who the mole is … was.”

“You don’t have to,” Penelope said. “I already know.”

Agatha stiffened beside her. “What?”

“I’m not stupid, Aggie.”

“What do you mean?”

Penelope sat up. “It was stupid idea, anyway. A human mayor of a predominantly human, orc, and halfling middle-sized city running for Premier? Never happen in a million years.”

“But—,” Agatha sputtered, “I’m not—”

“Shh, I’m the one telling the story now. It doesn’t help if that human has some more liberal views on social matters than the centerline of the party. I’m just happy our policies have gained the kind of traction they have with Ironstrike’s campaign, however ill-gotten they may be.”

When Penelope was silent for nearly a minute, Agatha asked, “But … who’s the mole?”

“Hmm?”

Agatha stared at Penelope, who raised an eyebrow. “You?”

Penelope nodded.

“You were so convincing that you were angry Ironstrike was stealing your plans.”

“I was angry,” she said, “but not because of that. I was angry that he could spin those as his plans and everyone gobbled it up, but nothing I ever said in twenty years in office, or testifying in front of Parliament, ever got anyone’s attention.”

“They don’t know how smart you are, Pen. That’s on them.” Agatha patted her on the shoulder.

Penelope stood and stretched. “My work here is done.”

“Not so fast,” Agatha said. The look on her face reminded Penelope of her childhood when Agatha was her tutor.

“What, ma’am?”

“You’ll no doubt be hearing from Ironstrike. Deva told me that it wasn’t a promise, but Hank was ‘making noises’ about you as VP pick. He doesn’t make those decisions on his own. It was Deva’s way of letting me know you were about to be tapped.”

“I guess I could do that,” Penelope said, “after I sleep in for one day at least.”

“But what about Premier? If he does three terms, you’ll be—”

“I know how old I’ll be. Aggie, let me tell you a little secret. My only goal in running in the primaries was to get the party to focus on what matters to the constituents and get out of the political navel gazing they’ve fallen into in the past three decades.

“I don’t have the political weight to get the party talking about things like improving transportation infrastructure or expanding healthcare access. Hank does. I knew those issues would strike a chord in the party and beyond, and get voters fired up. I was right. And Hank has the media skills to make it count.”