The Stainless Steel Rat for President

Chapter 15

How many hours of freedom did I have left? The answer came back far too quickly. Not many. When it was discovered that both our escape car and the police floater had vanished, the search would surely be intensified. I knew that I had been seen leaving the scene of the action. As soon as this was discovered the search would spiral out from that spot in wider and wider circles. Questions would be asked, houses searched. Garages opened. The car and unconscious men would be found. Then they would know I was driving this car… I added another little increment to my speed. The city walls were just ahead, with the traffic still flowing smoothly through them. I flowed as well, saw the bulk of the Presidio up ahead and turned away from it in the opposite direction. I found myself entering a most attractive district, with tall trees along the road and discreet little shops tucked behind striped awnings. And bars, with tables set out on the pavement where people sipped at colorful drinks. Where, undoubtedly, food was served.

As this thought crossed my mind news of it instantly zipped out through my neural network to the rest of my body. Saliva spurted in my dry mouth and my stomach began grumbling like an active volcano. Not a bite had passed my lips since breakfast! That would have to change. The most obvious next step would be to comfort body and soul with drink and food while I planned the immediate future.

The trees vanished, the street narrowed, the snobbish bars gave way to sleazy joints. Depressed-looking men held up the walls of buildings with slumped shoulders and I chortled with joy.

"Perfect, Jim, just perfect. Opportunity knocks and must be admitted at once." I turned at the next corner and stopped. The neighborhood was ideal for my needs. When I emerged from the car I was so forgetful as to leave the window open, the door unlocked, even the keys dangling beckoningly from the controls. If this machine was not nicked and gone within minutes I would be very surprised. With my trail thus covered for the moment I strolled back towards the bright lights that were just beginning to glow in the dusk.

I'll say this much for Paraiso-Aqui, it has a cuisine that should be known throughout the galaxy. A bottle of chilled wine washed down course after course in an unassuming but absolutely incredible dining establishment. First a tangy soup with albondigas, little meatballs, floating and bobbing in it. This was followed by empanadas, meat-stuffed pastry, a blended green salad mixture called guacamole, then more and more. The restaurant was called The Stuffed Pig and I felt like one myself before I was through. The food was so good that I completely forgot about my predicament until I reached the coffee-brandy-cigar stage. Sighing and puffing I finally managed to force my thoughts back to survival rather than gluttony. I did not care! I could not have profaned that meal by paying attention to anything else. But the food was finished and if I didn't do something soon I would be as well. I sighed and called for the counting.

I had to take it as proven that by this time our escape car, well stuffed with sleeping uglies, had been found. Which meant that my description was now being broadcast in great detail. Happily, at least half of the male population of this part of the city were dressed as I was. And they would still be looking for the man with the black beard. All of these factors would slow things down—but not stop them. I paid, overtipping lavishly, and was ushered by servile waiters back to the reality of harsh existence.

And I really had been thinking ahead. This entire world went to sleep in the midday heat, after gorging themselves comatose on food and drink. They did not wake again until the sun was low. Which meant that the shops would still be open and I could get the items that I would need.

One item at a time. A new hat here, a jacket there, a shirt in a different store. When I had what I needed I stopped for a cool drink as a reward for my labors. Does it come as a surprise that after a visit to the washroom of the establishment a different individual emerged? It does not. The old garments vanished in a dark alley and the only task remaining was to make my way to safety.

Yes, that was all. Alone in the dark and alien city, the euphoria of the day worn off, fatigue settling in, my face badly in need of shaving, my morale at a new low, I sought escape in a dimly lit bar. All men's hands were turned against me.

"You look lonely, handsome stranger." But not all women's! She was sultry and brash, her charms abundantly obvious in the low-cut dress. Solace and a hiding place for the night?

I shook my head no and she cruised away. Not only would Angelina skin me and rub salt into my flayed flesh if she had even a wisp of suspicion of a liaison of this kind but—more realistically—these girls were watched by the police and their pimps were all informers. I had to come up with a far better plan.

While I was trying to think of one it was handed to me on a silver platter. The two men who stood beside me at the bar were talking together, loud enough to be overheard.

"… never showed up, did he?"

"No. I guess something else came up."

"Lets us down, doesn't it? Poker is no good with a player short."

I turned slowly, smiled broadly—and hesitantly tapped the nearest man on the arm.

"Excuse me, I couldn't help overhearing. I'm a stranger in town. All alone. And I do love a game of cards with friends. I don't play very well but, gee, like they say, it's just a friendly game."

The man turned slowly towards me, and if his grin was very much like that of a crocodile who was I to care.

"Why that's great. We're just passing through town ourselves. Just like you, we enjoy a friendly game, a little fun. Why don't you join us?"

This pair were so obviously sharpers that they should have worn placards around their necks. And they wanted to con a con man! It's not every day that you can get blessed like this. And the last thing they wanted was interference from the police. I was led, a lamb for the slaughter, from the bar to a cab and then to their hotel room, where a sultry and most attractive woman admitted us. The evening promised to be a highly entertaining one!

"Sit down, have a drink" one of my hosts said, the smaller of the two. "I'm Adolfo, and this big guy is Santos, and my girl friend here is Renata, and I didn't catch your name?"

"Jaime."

"That's great, Jaime. How about a glass of ron before we start."

"Never said no yet." I was beaming with pleasure, enjoying every minute of this. Renata mixed and served the drinks while Adolfo cracked out some decks of cards and the chips. Santos was big and burly and looked slow but I knew he was not. He was the heavy who took care of any trouble. Adolfo hummed to himself as he opened the first deck of cards and shuffled them, said oops and smiled when he fumbled and the cards splattered onto the table. Ha! I imagine he could shuffle and palm almost as well as I could.

"Cut for deal?" he asked, and we did.

My king was highest and I took the pack. "Dealer's choice OK?" To which they nodded enthusiastically. "Three card draw then, for starters." I shuffled, Santos cut, and the fun began.

The play went smoothly and Renata kept our glasses filled. When she wasn't performing this important function she sat by the window, with the radio turned low, listening to music. While I was delicately led down the garden path. Nothing obvious at first. The play ran fairly except for the fact that when he shuffled Adolfo worked some large cards to the bottom and saw to it that I was dealt these from time to time. This gave me a mild winning streak, I chortled as I raked in the chips.

"Sorry to take your money boys."

"That's how the cards fall," Adolfo said magnanimously. He dealt and the cards flicked into place.

"What do you think of the election?" I asked, picking up my cards and fanning them out. Two pair, tens full on sixes.

"You've got to be joking," Adolfo said. "Cards?"

"One. No, I mean it. I heard that an independent was running against Zapilote." I discarded and drew another ten. I opened my eyes slightly and raised the bet as well. Adolfo matched me and raised. Santos folded. Renata brought me a new drink.

"No way, and I mean no way," Adolfo said. "Anyone runs against The Buzzard is subject to sudden heart attacks. What do you have?"

"Full house."

"So do I. Jacks high. About time I won something. I was afraid you were going to skin us, you and your winning streak."

Me and my losing streak. The cards began to go against me and very soon all of the money in my wallet was gone.

"That's it for me, boys," I said, folding my last hand. "I'm skinned. Unless I dig into my traveling money."

"Up to you, Jaime," Adolfo said casually. "Just a friendly game. But you should have a chance to win something back."

"You're right, what the dickens. Just a friendly game." I went over to my case, where I had placed it on the table in plain sight, and opened it. As I reached into it Santos called out to me, his voice suddenly quite rough.

"Just hold it there, Jaime. Don't take anything out of that case sudden-like if you don't mind." I looked up and saw that he had a large pistol in his hand, which he was leveling at me. And little Adolfo was doing the same thing with another gun. Just to make the scene complete, Renata had produced an equally impressive pistol from someplace, which was also pointed in my direction. I smiled, innocently I hoped, and moved my hands slowly into sight.

"Say, what's going on here?" I asked.

Santos's only answer was to cock his pistol with a snik-click, the tiny sound loud in the silence of the room.