The Stainless Steel Rat for President

Chapter 5

I slammed the door shut again and hurled myself aside. Just as another burst of firing stitched a neat row of holes through the paneling of the door where I had been standing.

"This will not do much for the tourist trade," I muttered, as I crawled on my belly to the balcony. Now that I knew that these boys were playing for keeps, I draped the helmet over the gunbarrel and poked it forward cautiously. Quick shots sounded from the adjoining balcony and the helmet jumped and clattered at my feet. Short-tempered. I put it on again and tried to ignore the shining dents.

"You should not be so greedy, James," I said. "You are paying now for your little luncheon break." Harsh words, but true enough—and I deserved them. When I am right, which is very often, I admit it. But when I am wrong I admit that as well. A criminal who tries to fool himself is very quickly an ex-criminal and is either two meters underground or looking out at the sky through the bars in front of his window.

"Moment of contrition has passed. Now—how do you get out of this. Think hard." I thought. Both my flanks were held by the enemy and time was running out. Time to open a new flank. I hurried into the bathroom, just as automatic fire penetrated the front door once again. The shower seemed the best bet at this time of day. I didn't want to cause any accidents to innocent bystanders. I took out the debonder, switched it on, then quickly ran it in a circle over the bottom of the shower pan.

The molecular debonder has been called a disintegrator ray, which is not true. It does not destroy any material at all. It simply works on the molecular bonds that hold all matter together, lessening their charges for a brief instant. When this happens the binding energy that binds the molecules of matter to each other no longer holds them together. Simple enough, isn't it?

The bottom of the shower pan, and the floor beneath it, fell away and smashed down into the shower of the apartment directly below. As I dropped through after it I heard the apartment door behind me crash open. The wisest thing to do now was to keep moving. I did. Out of the bathroom and into the sitting room where I found a trembling female tourist from our ship. She was frantically punching a number into the phone. She looked up at me and screamed.

"Cana, caballero, Espanol, ron!" I called out hoarsely, exhausting my knowledge of the local language at the same time. She screamed and fainted. Wonderful. I eased the door open a crack; the hall was empty.

It was time for speed, not caution. I went down the hall at a dead run, brushing past a gaggle of tourists, and on into the corridor that led to the service stairs. I always check the layout of a new building when I first arrive and, not for the first time, I was glad that I had this habit. The door to the service stairs was just where I had seen it last and I was about to pull it open when I heard the thunder of running feet inside. They were ahead of me! But the sound began to die away. I took a chance and opened the door a crack. Wide enough to see uniformed backs vanishing down the stairs. Perfect!

I vanished after them.

The sergeant leading the pack shouted encouragement at the soldiers as they ran, stumbling on the stairs in their heavy boots. I scurried down after them, stayed just behind them, then merged with the pack as the stragglers slowed, gasping for breath. We all staggered out on the ground floor in a shambling run to join the other soldiers and police milling about here. It was simplicity itself to work my way out to the edge of the mob, then to slip away between the buildings.

A few minutes later I found myself whistling cheerily as I stowed the uniform and equipment in a bin behind the hotel kitchen. Once this had been done I became a simple tourist again, one of the goggle-eyed horde that milled about and shouted to one another for information about what was going on. Some of the guides and hotel workers were attempting to calm them, but I stayed well away from any of the locals, no matter how innocent they appeared to be. I joined some tourists on the beach, and if I strolled further down the sunny sands than they did, who was to say no? A headland pushed out to form a bay here, and when I walked around it I was safely out of sight of the hotel and all of the disturbance I had so unwittingly caused.

By this time I was pleasantly tired. An easy climb up the bank brought me to the edge of the jungle. I sat down gratefully in the shade of a large tree, out of sight of the beach below, and enjoyed the changing colors of the twilight. The sun dropped into the ocean, without the slightest hiss, and darkness slowly descended. So did I. The grass was soft, the jungle free of tropical insects; my eyes closed and I slept the sleep of the innocent and the just.

It was either the ron or the exercise, or both, for I didn't stir until the rising sun struck color from the sky above. I yawned, stretched—and listened to the rumble of my empty stomach. It was time to return. But before I did, I emptied my pockets of all my illegal equipment and buried the items at the base of a large tree. Then, innocent and unshaven I made my way back to the hotel complex.

With the same amount of precaution I had used in leaving it. After all I had gone through I did not want to get a hole blown through me by some trigger-happy recruit. The only way to get off this planet was to surrender to the authorities. But I wanted to do that on my own terms.

The restaurant was the ideal place. I approached it under the cover of the ornamental shrubbery, out of sight of the policemen stamping up and down before the entrance, and slipped in through an open window. A few early risers were already tucking into their breakfasts and I intended to do the same. I filled a plate from the buffet, poured a glass of juice and a cup of coffee, and was well into the same before one of the waiters noticed me and did a trembling take. As he hurried off I took my coffee and moved to another table that was closer to the other diners.

"What was all that trouble about yesterday?" I asked an elderly couple who were shoveling down eggs as though the last hen alive had just died.

"Won't tell us, that's what. Not a word," he said between bites. She nodded agreement, never slowing. "Not good enough I told them. Didn't pay my money to watch a gunfight. Money back I told them, next ship out." Before I could think of a witty answer there was a struggle in the doorway as a half-dozen policemen pushed their way through and ran to my table. Guns pointed.

"If you make a move, we fire!" one of them shouted.

"Waiter!" I called out loudly. "Get the manager! Get somebody, quickly! Tell him to come at once!" I sipped my coffee as the uniformed mob pushed close.

"You will come with us," an officer said.

"Why?" I asked quietly, aware of the watching tourists and hotel employees.

Two of the cops grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me to my feet. I did not resist, though it took a decided effort of will. More men were approaching and I recognized one of them. Our guide.

"Jorge!" I shouted. "What is the meaning of this? Who are these strangely dressed men?"

"They are police," he said, wringing his hands together and looking very unhappy. "They wish to talk to you."

"Fine. They can talk to me right here. I'm a tourist and I have my rights." There was a good deal of shouting then in Espanol, backed by the conversational hum of the gathering tourists. Everything was going fine. Jorge turned back to me, looking even more unhappy.

"I'm sorry, I can do nothing. They wish you to go with them."

"Kidnapped!" I shouted: "A poor tourist kidnapped by fake police! Call the government, call the tourist board, call my consul! You'll pay for this—I'll sue this two-bit planet into bankruptcy if you let this happen." The onlookers murmured in agreement and they might even have let me go if a tall officer had not pushed through the crowd. He was steely of eye and firm of glance, and immediately took charge of the matter.

"Do not worry my good sir, you are not under arrest, goodness no. Release him at once!" The restraining hands dropped away. He smiled and turned to me, and when he spoke it was as much for the benefit of the watching tourists as for mine.

"It seems there was an accident yesterday and these men believe that you witnessed it…"

"I didn't see anything. And who are you?"

"My name is Oliveira, Captain Oliveira. I am pleased to hear that you saw nothing. Would you then be kind enough to come with me and tell me what you didn't see. There were innocent victims of the accident and I'm sure that you would want to help them. Don't you?" His smile was so sincere, his logic so impeccable that now I was beginning to look like the broken cog in the wheels of justice. I was just as reasonable.

"Glad to help. But where are we going? I want to leave a message for my wife." For an instant there was cold anger beneath Oliveira's warm smile.

"To central police headquarters..."

"Fine. Hey, you," I waved a waiter over. "As soon as I go I want you to go up and see my wife in twenty-ten. Tell her what happened. Tell her I'll be back for lunch. Do you hear that, folks?" I raised my voice so every tourist within earshot knew what was happening. "I'm going to help these kind policemen in an accident investigation. Maybe they'll tell me what all the noise was about around here yesterday. I'll come back by lunchtime and let you know all about it. Let's go Captain Oliveira." I moved towards the door so fast that they had to hurry to follow me. I had done what I could; now it was up to the police. If I suffered any unfortunate accidents everyone present would know who was to blame.

There were dark looks and mutterings in tongues as we all jammed into a patrol car. After this it was screaming sirens and screeching tires as we hurtled up the road away from the beach, past the airport and on into the city beyond. Captain Oliveira did not travel with us. I saw him speed ahead in another car. Undoubtedly to prepare a reception for me. But I laugh at fear and danger! I laughed aloud to prove this and the policemen looked at me as though I were mad. Maybe I was—to come here in the first place. But it was a little late for second thoughts. I practiced breathing exercises and relaxing techniques and was feeling very fit indeed when we drove through an open gate and on into a grim-looking courtyard.

What followed was pretty much routine, a routine, that is, that I had experienced far too often before. I was stripped to the skin and my clothes whisked away to be searched. My fair body was x-rayed and a dentist, with a terminal case of garlic breath, examined my teeth closely. Just for a change there were no devices concealed there, or anywhere else on my person. When this ritual was completed I was given a cotton robe and a pair of scuffs to wear. With a stout policeman on each side I was hurried into the presence of Captain Oliveira. All pretense of politeness had vanished. His voice was cold and his gaze penetrating.

"Who are you?" he said.

"A simple tourist abused by your bullies..."

"Cargata!" he growled, and I memorized the word, sure that it was a bit of local profanity that would come in bandy. "You were observed talking to a wanted criminal and were given a message by this person. When you were questioned by an officer performing his duty you assaulted him. When other policemen came to question you about this you assaulted them as well. This is a peaceful world and we will not allow this kind of violence. More police and troops were sent to arrest you before you caused any more violence—but you did assault more men and cause more violence. You will now tell me who you are and what you are doing here-and what the message was you received from the local criminals."

"No," I said firmly, my expression now just as coldly angry as his was. "I came to your miserable planet for a holiday. I was attacked and defended myself. I was a combat marine for a number of years so I know exactly how that should be done." I had had this fact inserted in my identification just in case of circumstances like this one. "I don't know why your thugs attacked me—nor do I care. They tried to kill me and I fought back. I then waited until it was quieter before I reappeared and surrendered. Now you can release me. I have nothing more to say."

"No!" he shouted, losing his temper and hammering his fists on the desk. "You will tell me the truth or I will beat it out of you…"

"You're an idiot, Oliveira. All of those tourists know that I am in police custody. Touch one hair of my head and there goes your tourist industry. Forever. Now I am prepared to make a single statement. Just once. And I want a lie detector when I do it..."

"That chair you are sitting in is a lie detector. Speak!" I'm glad I hadn't known that while I was lying! Now all I had to do was watch how I phrased my statement.

"Good. Now, for the record. I was given a book by someone I had never seen before, I have not seen this person since, so I could not have received any information from her. I don't know who she is or why she contacted me. Period. End of statement. Now get my clothes because I am getting out of here." I stood and faced him in silence. His expression did not change, but I could see an artery throbbing furiously in his temple. He was possessed with anger—but he was smart. He had to kill me or let me go. That was all the choice he had and he knew it. When he finally spoke it was in a low and controlled voice. But I believed every word that he said.

"I'm releasing you. You will be returned to your hotel and you will pack your bags. My men will stay with you. They will take you and your wife to the space terminal to leave on the next flight. You will go away and you will never come back. Because if you do return to this planet I will kill you on sight. You are involved in something dirty here. I don't know what it is—nor do I care. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly, Captain. And I want to leave this planet just as much as you want me to go." However I didn't add that I wanted to come back just as strongly. The captain and I were going. to meet again.