A Stainless Steel Rat Is Born

Chapter 9

"What... what..." I said, or something very like this. The arresting officer was not impressed by my ready wit. "Put on your coat. You are coming with us." In a daze I stumbled across the room and did just as he commanded. I should leave the coat here, I knew that, but I had no will to resist. When they searched it they would find the mask and key, everything else that would betray me. And what about the money? They hadn't mentioned the bag.

As soon as my arm was through the sleeve the policeman snapped a handcuff on my wrist and clicked the other end to his own wrist. I was going nowhere without them. There was little or nothing I could do - not with the gun wielder three steps behind us.

Out the door we went and along the corridor, to the elevator, then down to the lobby. At least the detective had the courtesy to stand close to me so the handcuffs were not obvious. A large black and ominous groundcar was parked in the middle of the no-parking zone. The driver didn't even bother to glance in our direction. Though as soon as we had climbed in and the door closed, he pulled away.

I could think of nothing to say - nor were my companions in a conversational mood. In silence we rolled through the rainy streets, past police headquarters which was unexpected, to stop before the Bit O'Heaven Federal Building. The Feds! My heart dropped. I had been correct in assuming that breaking the clues and catching me had certainly been beyond the intelligence of the local police.

But I had not reckoned upon the planetary investigation agencies. By hindsight - which is not very satisfying - I saw my error. After years of absence The Bishop strikes again. Why? And what does the bit of chesswackery mean? Put the cryptologists on it. Oho, a bit of bragging, scene and date of the next crime revealed. Keep it Federal and out of the hands of the local and incompetent police. Watch the cash with the most modern of electronic surveillance techniques. Track the criminal to see if others are involved.. Then pounce.

My state of black depression was so great that I could scarcely walk. I swayed when our little procession stopped before a heavy door labeled FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, with DIRECTOR FLYNN in smaller gold letters beneath it. My captors knocked politely and the doorlock buzzed and opened. We filed in. "Here he is, sir." "Fine. Secure him to the chair and I'll take over from here on out." The speaker sat massively behind the massive desk. A big man with sleek black hair, who was made even bigger by the enormous quantity of fat that he was carrying around. His chin, or chins, hung down onto the swelling volume of his chest. The size of his stomach kept him well back from the desk, upon which the fingers of his clasped hands rested like a bundle of stout sausages. He returned my shifty gaze with his steady and steely one. I made no protest as I was guided to the chair, dropped into it, felt the handcuffs being secured to it, heard footsteps recede and the door slam.

"You are in very big trouble," he intoned.

"I don't know what you mean," I said, the impact of my innocence lessened by the squeak and tremor of my voice.

"You know full well what I mean. You have committed the crime of theft tonight, purloining the public purse donated by stone-deaf music lovers. But that is the least of your folly, young man. By your age I can tell that you have also purloined the good name of another. The Bishop.

You are pretending to be something that you are not. Here, take these. " Purloined a good name? What in the galaxy was he talking about? I snatched the keys out of the air by reflex. Gaped at them - then gaped even more broadly at him as I tremblingly unlocked the cuffs.

"You are not..." I gurgled. "I mean, the arrest, this office, the police... You are..." He calmly waited for my next words, a beatific smile on his face.

"You are ... - The Bishop!" "The same. My understanding of the message concealed by your feeble code was that you wanted to meet me. Why?" I started to rise and an immense gun appeared in his hand, aimed between my eyes. I dropped back into the chair. The smile was gone, as was all warmth from his voice.

"I don't like to be imitated, nor do I like to be played with. I am displeased. You now have three minutes to explain this matter before I kill you, then proceed to your hotel room to retrieve the money you stole this evening. Now the first thing that you will reveal is the location of the rest of the money stolen in my name. Speak!" I spoke - or rather I tried to speak but could only sputter helplessly. This had a sobering affect. He might kill me - but he was not going to reduce me to helpless jelly first. I coughed to clear my throat, then spoke.

"I don't think that you are in too much of a hurry to kill me - nor do I believe in your three - minute time limit. If you will cease in your attempts to bully me I shall try to tell you carefally and clearly my motives in this matter. Agreed?" Speaking like this was a calculated risk - but The Bishop was a game player, I knew that now. His expression did not change, but he nodded slightly as though conceding a Pawn move - knowing that he still had my King well in check.

"Thank you. I never thought of you as a cruel man. In fact, when I discovered your existence, I used you as a career model. What you have done, what you have accomplished, is without equal in the history of this world. If I offended you by stealing money in your name I am sorry. I will turn all the money from that robbery over to you at once. But if you will stop to think - it is the only thing that I could do. I had no way of finding you. So I had to arrange things so that you could find me. As you have. I counted upon your curiosity - if not your mercy - not to reveal my identity to the police before you had met me yourself." Another nod granted me another Pawn move. The unwavering barrel of the gun informed me that I was still in check.

"You are the only person alive who knows my identity," he said. "You will now tell me why I should not kill you. Why did you want to contact me?" "I told you - out of admiration. I have decided on a life of crime as the only career open to one of my talents. But I am self-trained and vulnerable. It is my wish to be your acolyte. To study at your knee. To enter the academy of advanced crime in the wilderness of life with you on one end of the log and me on the other. I will pay whatever price you require for this privilege, though I may need a little time to raise more money since I am turning the receipts of my last two operations over to you. There it is. That is who I am. And, if I work hard enough, you are whom I wish to be." The softening gaze, the thoughtful fingers raised to chin meant I was out of check for the moment. But the game wasn't won yet - nor did I wish it to be. I wanted only a draw.

"Why should I believe a word of this?" he asked at last.

"Why should you doubt it? What other possible reason could I have?" "It is not your motives that disturb me. I am thinking about the possibility of someone else's, someone in a position of police responsibility who is using you as a pawn to find me. The man who arrests The Bishop will rise to the top of his chosen profession." I nodded agreement as I thought furiously. Then smiled and relaxed. "Very true - and that must have been the very first thing to come to your mind. Your office in this building either means that you are high in the ranks of law enforcement, so high that you could easily find out if this had been the plan. Or - even more proof of your genius. You have ways and means of penetrating the police at any level, to fool them, and use them to actually arrest me. My congratulations, sir! I knew that you were a genius of crime - but to have done this, why it borders on the fantastic!" He nodded his head slowly, accepting his due. Did I see the muzzle of the gun lowered ever so slightly? Was a drawn game possibly in sight? I rushed on.

"My name is James Bolivar diGriz and I was born a little over seventeen years ago in this very city in the Mother Machree Maternity Hospital for Unemployed Porcuswine herders. The terminal I see before you must access Official flies at every level. Bring up mine! See for yourself if what I have told you is not the truth." I settled back into the chair while he tapped commands on the keyboard. I did nothing to distract him or draw his attention while he read. I was still nervous but worked to affect a surface calm.

Then he was done. He leaned back and looked at me calmly. I didn't see his hands move - but the gun vanished from sight. Drawn game! But the pieces were still on the board and a new game was beginning.

"I believe you, Jim, and thank you for the kind words. But I work alone and wish no disciples. I was prepared to kill you to preserve the secret of my identity. Now I do not think that will be necessary. I will take your word that you will not look for me again - or use my identity for any more crimes." "I grant your requests instantly. I only became The Bishop to draw your attention. But reconsider, I beg of you, my application for membership in your academy of advanced crime!" "There is no such insitution," he said, hauling himself to his feet. "Applications are closed." "Then let me rephrase my request," I said hurriedly, knowing my remaining time was brief. "Let me be personal, if I can, and forgive any distress I may cause. I am young, not yet twenty, and you have been on this planet for over eighty years. I have been only a few years at my chosen work. And, in this brief time, I have discovered that I am truly alone. What I do I must do for myself and by myself. There is no comradeship of crime because all of the criminals I have seen are incompetents. Therefore I must go it alone. If I am lonely - then dare I even guess at the loneliness of your life?" He stood stock-still, one hand resting on the desk, staring at the blank wall, as through a window, at sometiling I could not see. Then he sighed, and with the sound, as though it had released some power that kept him erect, he slumped back into the chair. "You speak the truth, my boy, and only the truth. I do not wish to discuss the matter, but your barb has been driven well home. Nevertheless what is, will be. I am too old a dog to change his ways. I bid you farewell, and thank you for a most interesting week. Been a bit like old times." "Reconsider, please!" "I cannot." "Give me your address - I must send you the money." "Keep it, you earned it. Though in the future earn it under a different identity. Let The Bishop enjoy his retirement. I will add only one thing, a bit of advice. Reconsider your career ambitions. Put your great talents to work in a more sociably acceptable manner. In that way you will avoid the vast loneliness you have already noted." "Never!" I cried aloud. "Never, I would rather rot in jail for the rest of my life than accept a role in the society I nave so overwhelmingly rejected." "You may change your mind." "There is no chance of that," I said to the empty room. The door had closed behind him and he was gone.