Free Code 13 by Don Brown Page A

even making whatever request he had. The Georgia Political Victory Fund was pro-Talmadge, had spent hundreds of thousands already on public relations maintenance during the off years to keep the senator’s image positive, and would spend millions on attack ads against his opponent as the election approached. AirFlite could bankroll a huge portion of GPVF’s budget.
    But Bobby had to be careful. He knew the right things to say. They’re separate. We have nothing to do with them. We can’t control what they put out or who they support or what they say.
    But the party line was repeated with a nod and a wink, because everybody knew how this worked.
    â€œLook, Richardson. You’re a good friend. I appreciate your support. But I’ve got nothing to do with the political action committees. The Supreme Court in the Citizens United case said corporations could make political contributions. And these super PACs were authorized under that case and can spend whatever they want, but must remain independent of candidates. That’s the law, and I happen to agree with it. Otherwise we’re suppressing people’s First Amendment rights, and the federal government has no right to suppress the First Amendment.
    â€œThe Georgia Political Victory Fund is one of these super PACs, operating under the law, and I’m not connected with them in any way.” Bobby glanced over at Tommy, who nodded his head and gave him a wink and a thumbs-up. “Now, how may I help you today, my friend?”
    â€œLook, Bobby,” DeKlerk said, “I appreciate your help so far on our little drone project down here in Savannah. But there’s an unacceptable holdup that my lawyer has just informed me about.”
    â€œHmm,” Bobby mused. “What kind of a holdup?”
    â€œJack tells me the entire project is dependent on some nameless, midlevel Navy lawyer holed up somewhere in the bowels of the Pentagon, who is supposed to be writing some sort of legal opinion declaring the whole thing legal under some sort of posse— What did you call it, Jack?”
    A pause. Mumbling in the background. Sounded like Patterson’s voice doing the mumbling.
    â€œAh yes,” DeKlerk said. “Some sort of posse comitatus nonsense or something like that.”
    â€œOh yes,” Bobby said. “That means the military can’t perform police functions in the U.S.”
    â€œI’ve never heard of it. And I don’t care about it. I’ve got billions riding on this project. My future depends on it, and frankly, so does yours.” DeKlerk paused for a second. “Still there, Bobby?”
    â€œStill here, Richardson.”
    â€œAnyway, my patience is running thin. Look. A number of us who sent you to the senate sent you there to cut through this ridiculous baloney-of-an-excuse red tape that has made the American governmental bureaucracy so bloated that, frankly, the whole thing should be burned to the ground so we can start over. I need you to get on the phone and call the Secretary of Defense and cut through all the BS and get this done.”
    â€œI understand.”
    â€œWell then, if you understand, then understand this: I want this contract signed, sealed, and delivered no later than one week from today. And if you don’t deliver, Senator, then I’m sure our mutual friend, Joe Don Mack over at GPVF, might have an interest in knowing that. After all, the GPVF is interested in finding candidates who oppose big government and who can cut through red tape and make things happen. Are we clear on this?”
    Silence.
    Bobby looked at Mandela, who sat in the chair across the desk with a raised eyebrow.
    â€œRichardson, I share your frustration. The bureaucracy needs to be reined in so we can pave the way for job creation, like AirFlite is trying to do in Savannah. And I’m behind you.”
    â€œWith respect, Senator,” DeKlerk said, sharpening his tone, “we need