The Stainless Steel Rat for President ssr-5

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The Stainless Steel Rat for President ssr-5 Page 11

by Harry Harrison


  I paced and muttered while the duke clicked his little wheels and nattered cabalistically to himself. When he finally turned around with the decoded message I was there, behind him, leaning over his shoulder, unmindful of any breach of etiquette. Had they made it through to the castle? I could feel the tension draining away as I read.

  MARQU~ZZ RESPONDING WELL TO MEDICAL ATTENTION. BOLIVAR AND JAMES UNHARMED. PLEASE ISSUE ORDERS.

  I ATW HAHipn All was well! The boys had done their job and brought de Torres home. I had seen the medical setup in the castle so I knew that once the doctors and machines had pounced on him he would be all right. And Angelina had taken over in my absence. I could now afford to relax. And I did. By pouring another brandy.

  “Good news indeed,” the duke quavered. “What will your next course of action be?” “A careful one. We were lucky to get out alive, walking into the lion’s den like that. We won’t let that happen again. This campaign must be planned step by step, run like a military operation. Whenever I, and the marquez, appear in public we are going to be guarded like the crown jewels.” “Yes, the crown jewels. What a tragedy. I remember it like yesterday, when Zapilote had just taken office.” Yesterday? That was a good hundred and seventy-five years ago! The General-President wasn’t the only one on geriatric drugs. “He promised a rule of law and like fools we believed him. I’ll guard the crown jewels he said. Never been seen since. Must have sold them, I know his type...” He rambled on some more like this and I tuned out. What was the next step? Getting out of Primoroso and back to the safety of the castle would be a good beginning. But how? I could think of nothing, my mind was empty, my limbs fatigued. I was also half-smashed on the brandy, which might have had something to do with my lack of inspiration. But there must be a special law of destiny that looks after stainless steel rats and other miscreants. Because at that very moment, while I and the duke were both muttering to ourselves through the brandy fumes, salvation was on its way. In the form of a timid knock on the door, repeated again when there was no response.

  “Eh, what?” the duke said, rousing from his senile alcoholic revery. “Come in, come in.” The door to the study trembled open and the butler, old enough to be the duke’s father, stumbled through.

  “It is not my wish to disturb Your Grace,” he tremoloed in fine imitation of his master, “but today is Thursday.” “Is there any particular reason why you are giving me this report on the calendar?” the duke asked, head hobbling in wonderment.

  “Yes, Your Grace. You ordered me to inform you of this fact every Thursday at least a half an hour before they arrived.” “Merdal” His Grace snarled quite gracefully, his rictus of anger revealing a fine set of artificial white choppers. “They’ll be here soon.” “They?” I shook my head, feeling I had missed something important.

  “Every Thursday. Can’t avoid it. Government order. And the fees go against taxes. Tour of noble homes. Filthy offworld tourists trampling through these hallowed halls made sacred by generations ofPenosos...” There was more like this-but I wasn’t listening. Tourists! Here! All fatigue and most of the effects of the brandy vanished on the instant. Escape from my predicament had just been offered to me on a gilded platter. The silver bell was on the table and I tinkled it loudly, which brought both the attention of the duke and the return of the butler.

  “Do I understand that you will soon have oafish oflworld tourists shambling through this castle?” “Indeed, Sir Hector. What terrible times these are, “ “They certainly are. How many will there be in the party?” “There is usually a coach-load from Puerto Azul. Between forty and fifty.” “Invasion of proletarians,” the duke adumbrated.

  “What precautions do you take to see that they don’t lift the ducal silver and paw the paintings?” “A number of footmen accompany the party at all times.” “Made to order,” I chortled, rubbing my hands together briskly as I turned to the duke. “Might I enlist the aid of your staff to assist me in departing this fine castle without drawing any police attention?” “Of course, anything for the next President of ParaisoAqui.” He lurched to his feet and placed his hand over his heart, then nodded to the butler who did the same.

  “To the next President of Paraiso-aqui,” they intoned fervently and I bowed my head at the honor. This little ceremony over with, they were more than ready to help.

  “One question first.” Their gray heads nodded eagerly. “Is there a secret passage leading out of this castle?” “There is a secret passage leading out of every castle!” the duke said, startled at my ignorance. “Ours comes up in a building across the road. Dug by the third duke. Used to be a brothel there.” He smiled faintly, perhaps trying to remember what girls were like.

  “Excellent. Then here is my plan. A footman’s uniform will be obtained for me and I will don it. I will then accompany the tourists and choose one to replace. It will be a simple matter for me to then exit with the tourists whose presence will guarantee my safety.” “But your clothes...” the duke protested. “I’ll use the tourist’s clothes.” “Your beard?” “Will be shaved off.” By this time the duke had caught on to the idea and was cackling with glee. “How intelligent you are. Hector. You were so stupid as a child I never believed you would ever stop drooling. And the secret passage, of course, we use that to dump the tourist’s body into a refuse barrel.” “No bodies!” I said sharply. “If the tourist is killed the investigation will surely reveal that he vanished here. There can be no suspicion. I’ll give the man an injection that will affect his memory. When the police find him wandering around, smelling strongly of ron, which I’m sure you can arrange, he will remember nothing of the events of this day. In addition to sloshing him with cheap booze you will also stuff this wad of money into his pocket so there will be no suspicion of robbery. The authorities will laugh and return him to the resort and that will be the end of it.” “I wish we could kill somebody,” the duke pouted.

  “Later. After the election. Meanwhile I must get that uniform. “ By the time I had stripped off the beard yet another time-it was getting a bit ratty after this treatment-and pulled on the knee breeches and other servile clothing, the tourists had arrived. I could hear them chattering like demented squirrels as I slipped into the ranks of the servants. The staff had been told of the plan-and they all proved to be exceedingly well-trained. Not one eye turned in my direction as we plodded in silence after the bare-kneed, loudly dressed, camerabearing tourist brigade.

  “... trebonegan eksemplon de la pentroj de la ekskrementepoko de pasinta jarcento...” the guide rattled on, pointing out the badly painted and worse hung portraits that littered the walls. The tourists looked at the paintings and I looked at them, closing in on my kill. Most of the ofiworlders came in octogenarian pairs and these I ignored. There were some single women trudging along but I passed these by as well, not being up to an instant sex change. Then I spotted my prey. Alone, male, almost my size, wearing purple shorts, a gold lace shirt, and a bored scowl. He had a camera around his neck and a straw bag on his arm bearing the printed message I BEEN TO PUERTO AZUL AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS CRUMMY BAG. He would do-oh yes he would! I walked close behind him and when the crowd turned to look at yet one more bad painting I tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He wheeled about, scowl deepening. I bent to whisper in his ear.

  “Please don’t tell the others, but there is a free bottle of ron for you. Gift of the duke. One per tourist party. You are the chosen one today. Please follow me.” And he did. Being very careful that the others did not notice him go. Oh, avarice, what crimes are committed in thy name.

  “In here, sir.” I opened the study door, and there was the butler holding a silver tray complete with rum bottle. The tourist yakked enthusiastically and extended his arm. I hit it with a slaphypo, then closed the door as he crumpled to the carpet. The duke looked on happily, no doubt seeing this minor triumph as the harbinger of a better age. Who knows, perhaps it was.

  I mixed with the crowd, unnoticed in the rush for seats on the bus. A bored p
oliceman counted heads as we streamed from the castle, made a check mark in his book and signaled the driver. The bus doors closed, the air conditioner came on at the same time as the canned music, and we rolled down the road.

  The woman in the seat next to me glared at me suspiciously. “I ain’t never seen you before,” she said.

  Chapter 18

  Had I been discovered already? If I silenced her the unconscious body would surely draw attention to me. What could I do? While all these consideiations rushed around in my skull I fought a little rearguard action to gain some time.

  “Well I ain’t never seen you before either!” was my snappy rejoinder.

  “Now ain’t that something,” she simpered, and I realized that what I had thought was suspicion was really passionand that I was in the process of being picked up. “My name’s Joyella and I come from Phigerinadon II...” The sentence ended in an interogative silence and I seized the clue.

  “Isn’t that a coincidence. My name is Wurble and I come from Blodgett.” “What’s a coincidence about that?” “Both planets are in the same galaxy.” She greeted this limp sally with a whinny of delight and I knew that I had made a friend. Joyella’s only problem was that she was getting a little long in the tooth and was lonely. A bit of understanding on my part went a long way and I nodded and tssked through the rest of the journey, as I heard all about life in the accounting department of Lushflush, the robot lavatory attendant factory where she worked. It was late afternoon when we rolled back into the tourist haven of Puerto Azul. Since leaving the duke it had been an alcoholfree day so we nipped into the bar for a couple of tall cold ones. We had had a good day and I slipped out of Joyella’s life, ignoring the tremble of her lower lip, before things got too complicated. I shouldered my repellent tourist bag, now well Blled with my own equipment, waved goodby, and vanished into the twilight. Next step; getting out of this place. Jorge would know a way.

  Except that Jorge appeared to be in a little trouble himself.

  100 I suspected this when I saw the black car drawn up before the doorway of his apartment building. The man slumped behind the wheel wore dark glasses. There were lots of other tenants in the apartment building, it could be any one of them. Then why were the hairs on the nape of my neck trying to rise up out of my shirt collar? My hunches had been right too often in the past to ignore one this time. It would not hurt to take a few precautions. I palmed a slaphypo as I took a map out of my bag. I strolled over to the car and leaned in the window.

  “Excuse me old buddy, but I’m looking for this here place. I hear they got good booze and really nifty girls there...” “No parolas, me, Esperanto...” “Can’t understand a word, old buddy. But just look at the map. “ I opened it under his nose and he pushed it away-then slumped in slumber as the needle went home. I leaned his head back in the corner as though he were resting. With my flank secured I turned to the apartment building. Just as two of the Ultimados emerged dragging a much-battered Jorge between them. I stepped forward and halted in front of them. “Say, that man looks sick!” I said.

  “Out of the way, fool,” the big one said, reaching out to push me aside.

  “You’re attacking a helpless tourist!” I shouted, chopping him hard on the side of the neck, then stepping back so his unconscious body could hit the pavement with a satisfactory thud.

  The other Ultimado was trying to pull his gun, but Jorge was making this difficult by hanging onto his arm. I settled this little difficulty by chopping the nerve in the man’s arm so the gun dropped from his limp fingers. Since this must have hurt I had mercy and rendered him unconscious with a quick uppercut.

  “I am very happy to see you,” Jorge said, trying not to sway too much. He reached into his bloodied mouth and pulled out a tooth, which he stared at gloomily before throwing it away. Then he kicked the unconscious thug hard in the ribs. “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “We’ll take the car.” “Where are we going?” “You tell me.” I opened the rear door of the police car and stuffed the two unconscious men onto the floor. “Get in with thc~mm “ T nri}f*rf*f Fin u~ htWM hiinkine ranirllv and did nnf” really seem to be with it. I closed the door behind him, pushed the dozing driver over, then accelerated away. “Any particular direction we should go?” There was only silence from the rear seat. I looked back to see that Jorge was just as unconscious as the others. They must have given him quite a going over.

  “Which leaves everything up to you, James. Again,” I told myself, which observation didn’t do much good. I was tired and depressed and had been running from the police for far too long now. There was no point in bringing this crew back into town, so I turned onto the coast highway and rolled along in the gathering dusk. Before it got too dark I pulled off onto the shoulder, then bound and gagged the Ultimados with their own clothing. A few cars whirred by, but none of them stopped. I was dragging the last body into the shrubbery when Jorge stirred and groaned. I rooted around in the bag until I found the medkit which I set for a combination stimulant and pain-killer. I gave him a shot, and it looked so good I gave myself one too.

  “Do you feel any better?” I asked as he sat up and stretched. “I do. I must thank you, for everything.” “Do you have any idea of what we should do next to get out of here?” He looked around. “Where is here?” “Coast road. A few Ks south of Puerto Azul.” “Can you fly a jet copter?” “I can fly anything. Why do you ask-do you have one in your pocket?” “No, but there is a small private airfield a short distance down the coast. There are craft of all sizes there. Of course it is guarded and there are alarms...” My snort was not one of anger, but rather more like that of a warhorse about to go into battle. My fatigue was gone, I was flying from the uppers, and looking forward to one last quick round of breaking and entering and mugging before taking off for home. It had really been a busy couple of days.

  Jorge tried to help, but I instructed him to remain in the car since he would only be in my way. I shorted the alarm in the barbed-wire fence, went over it silent as a snake-and within ten minutes came strolling back to unlock the gate.

  “You make it look so simple,” Jorge said with justified admiration as we drove into the field.

  “Each man to his trade,” I murmured deprecatorily. “I’m sure that I would make a rotten tourist guide. Now we will leave the car here out of sight, and take that sport copter. Don’t trip over the bodies, that’s right.” By the time he had his seatbelt buckled I had hot-wired the ignition, fired up the engines and turned on the navigation circuitry. I tapped the illuminated map projection.

  “We’ll head for Primoroso-then turn sharply here over the Barrier and on to the marquez’s castle. Are you ready?” He nodded and we lifted into the air.

  It was an easy flight. Not a single blip appeared on our radar and there wasn’t even a disturbance when we crossed the Barrier. I maintained radio silence until Castle de la Rosa appeared on the screen, then identified myself and brought the ship in. The landing pad was brightly lit, and in this welcoming illumination there awaited the three most important people in the galaxy. Important to me, that is.

  I dropped from the copter and, with a quick wave to my sons, embraced their mother in such a satisfactory fashion that they clapped encouragement.

  “I’ve been missing that,” Angelina said, holding me away at arm’s length. “They haven’t hurt you, have they? If they have, this planet is going to be littered with corpses very quickly.” “Desist, my love! If anything the opposite is true. I have cut a mean swath through the ranks of the enemy, have won many a fiercely fought contest, have gained us new friends and comrades, cheated at cards, and generally kept myself quite busy while I have been away. How has it been here?” “Very quiet. The marquez is recovering nicely, so the boys and I have used the opportunity to make detailed plans.” “Plans of what?” The drugs were wearing off, fatigue struck and I stifled a yawn.

  “Plans for you to conduct the crookedest election campaign in the history of electoral politics. It will be
a watershed of illegality, a monument of chicanery, a cacophony of corruption.” Jorge stared with disbelief as the rest of us cheered iinl-hiKliaitifallv

  Chapter 19

  We sat on the balcony in the glorious morning sunlight, the ruins of our breakfast whisked away by silent servants, sipping a last bit of coffee Jo hold everything down. It was Angelina, ever practical, who finally touched her lips daintily with her napkin and got down to work.

  “While you were away I took the opportunity of going through the marquez’s library. One of his predecessors had the hobby of collecting universities. There must be nearly a thousand of them.” This is not an ordinary hobby, and might even be called an eccentric one. Though it is certainly easy enough to do if you have the money. Not that a university itself costs that much; one of them will fit on a solid-state disc that you can hold on the palm of your hand. It shouldn’t cost more than a bottle of rum. The expense comes in traveling about the galaxy, to all of the out-of-the-way planets, to root around in secondhand memory shops and find any old universities that they might have.

  “I went through all the university libraries and crossreferenced everything that I could find cataloged on illicit elections and dirty politics. There were plenty of listings, but all of the books I dipped into just complained about this sort ofnastiness and how to prevent it without going into details.” “Most unsatisfactory.” “Indeed. Until I ran this incredibly ancient university. The chip was cracked and gray with age, the name of the school itself illegible. It was so old it might actually have come from Earth. In any case the library was almost intact, and in it I found the book that we will use as our bible. I did a printout of it.” She took a heavy sheaf of typescript from the floor, and passed it over to me.

  “How to Win Elections,” I read. “Subtitled, Or How to Vote the Cemetery, by Seamus O’Neill. What can that subtide possibly mean?” “Read on. It is a technique that we will be using soon ourselves, where every name from every tombstone is entered into the voting register.” I read on as instructed-and my enthusiasm grew with every sentence.

 

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