Гарри Гаррисон - The Golden Years of the Stainless Steel Rat

Nothing happened. I took a deep breath, held it—then used every iota of skill acquired during a lifetime of lockpicking.

It grated slightly—and the door opened.

I was through in an instant, closing and locking it behind me. Listening for footsteps, shouts of alarm.

Nothing. Only then did I look around me. I was in a small storeroom piled high with reams of paper and mounds of forms so dear to the bureaucratic heart. There was enough light from the small window to see clearly. I memorized the layout of the room, then moved one box that blocked a direct path. Enough. Time to go. I was too close to D Day, H Hour, M Minute to get into any trouble now. Silence in the hall. Through the door, lock it, stroll back to the morning room, where a sort of antique fistfight was going on. I was sorry we had to spoil their game. No, I really wasn't. Burin glanced in my direction and I flashed him a sort of conspiratorial wink, or tic, then passed on.

Angelina and I had agreed on absolutely minimum contact this first meeting. And the timing was crucial. It had to be after dark for concealment—but not so late that we had been packed off beddy-byes. On the selected evening I was first through the door after dinner, stumbling swiftly in the direction of the heads. Past that door and up the stairs. I had cut it too close, only seconds left. Lock and relock the door, tread quickly the few steps along the memorized path—my watch ready in my hand.

Grasped in both hands so I could draw the watch strap back and forth across the window lock with a quick sawing motion. This stripped away the surface plastic that covered the far harder plasteel of the flexible saw inside. It rasped noisily until there was a sharp click. I stuffed the watch into my pocket, seized the window, and pulled it open.

Angelina, all in black, black gloves and blackened face, was outside. She pushed the package into my hands. Despite our agreement she could not resist a softly hissed "About time!" as I pushed the window shut.

I retired at once, the bundle concealed in my clothing, pushed under the pillow as I got into bed. I left it there after I had worked the detector out of it.

Soon after the lights were out I began to toss and turn.

"Can't sleep," I moaned. "Insomnia and arthritis got me down. Groan."

I thrashed a bit longer, then rose and stumbled about the room rubbing my leg. Rubbing the controls on the detector as well with gratifying results. There was only a single detector over the door. Which left at least two blank spots in the room out of its field of view. A good night's sleep was now in order, because there was plenty to do on the morrow.

It was almost noon before I went looking for Burin Bache, sat down next to him in the sun porch. He raised his eyebrows quizzically but I did not respond until I had moved about a bit with the detector.

"Great," I said. "Just don't talk too loud. Contact has been made."

"Then you have everything?" He was trembling with excitement.

"Everything. Most of it hidden where they can't find it. Let's go out into the garden in exactly twelve minutes."

"Why?"

"Because concealed in my mouth is an optical laser communicator." I opened my lips to reveal the lens. "I can hear through my hard palate."

"Hear what?" He was mystified.

"The dulcet tones of my dear Angelina, who even now is making her way to the upper floors of that office building that you can just see peeking over the wall in the distance. Untap-pable communication. Let's go."

I leaned back in the deck chair and at the proper moment smiled in the direction of the distant building. My aim didn't have to be too precise since she would have opened up a two-meter receiving lens.

"Good morning, my love."

"Jim, I'm sorry we ever got involved with this insane plan," her voice said squeakily through my head bones.

"Only way out now is full steam ahead."

"I know that. And I didn't enjoy climbing your building— even with molecular grappling gloves and boots."

"But you did it, my love. You are strong and skillful—"

"If you dare add—for a woman of my age—I will skin you alive when you get out!"

"The farthest thought from my mind. What I wanted to ask is—do you think we can take out two instead of one? I have found an old acquaintance here who, truthfully, saved my life once. In an ice cave. I'll tell you about it one day. How about it?"

She hesitated a moment and I could imagine her sweet little frown of concentration. My Angelina does not speak until she is certain.

"Yes, of course. I'll just have to change transportation."

"Good. If you are changing transportation make sure the vehicle is big enough."

"For four?"

"Not really. What I had in mind was well, a figure a little closer to sixty-five. . . ."

"Message breaking up. Repeat last. It came through as sixty-five."

"Right! Bang-on! That is correct!" I tried to sound cheerful and not smarmy. She was not fooled.

"Don't try it on, diGriz—I know you. Sixty-five—that must be every inmate there."

"Correct, my love. Exact number. I would suggest a tourist bus. I did this kind of thing once before and it worked. Locate the bus and I'll get back to you same time tomorrow with more details. Must go—someone coming." I clicked off. We were still unobserved but I wanted Angelina's justified wrath to have twenty-four hours to cool before I talked to her again.

"What happened?" Burin asked. "I could hear you mumble a bit, that's all."

"Gears meshing like clockwork. Couldn't be better. My dear wife is filled with wild enthusiasm for the plan. Particularly its new dimension."

"What—?"

"Details later. Let's go in to lunch now. Don't drink the water."

"Why not?"

"I tested it this morning. Laced with pacifiers, saltpeter and brain-scrambling drugs. That's why the inmates mumble and stagger around so much. I think almost all of them are in far better shape than what we see."

Angelina's anger had cooled when we talked the next day. More than cooled. Her voice, even vibrating buzzily through my ear bones, had a positive chill that brought back memory of the ice cave.

"I have the bus. Bought legally. What else will I need?"

"A bus driver's uniform for yourself to explain your graceful presence behind the wheel. And, well—a few other items—"

"Like what?" Temperature of liquid nitrogen. When I had dictated the list her voice was approaching absolute zero.

"This is the most insane, harebrained, impossible plan that I have ever heard. I shall make every effort to see that it does not fail, that you are not injured and escape in one piece. So I can then personally kill you myself."

"My love—you jest."

"Try me." She clicked off.

Maybe it wasn't such a great idea. But now that I had started down this path I had to go all the way. For the first time I was more depressed than excited. Too much of the drinking water maybe. Then I remembered the medicine I had put into the bundle for just such a moment as this.

Out of sight of the pickup above my door I opened the wall grate and removed the plastic bottle labeled danger—high explosive. In a way it was. One hundred and ten proof and twelve years in the barrel. My good humor returned in a surge.

For six more days Angelina and I had our daily chat by laser. Formal and brief no matter how I tried to be friendly and crack the occasional joke. All this was ignored. My darling was in a temper. With good reason, I sighed. Only thing to do was get on with it.

On the seventh day our conversation was most one-sided. She spoke a single word and disconnected. I turned off the transmitter with my tongue and turned to Burin—who looked much more alert now that he wasn't drinking water with his meals.

"The date is set."