"HARRISON, Harry - 08 - The Stainless Steel Rat Sings The Blues (V1.0)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

scanned and delivered by "Auld Reader."
Greets to all at NAL, to Citizen 513, and all bookwarez folks!
This is version 1.0. If you correct errors, please increment by .1 and
redistribute.
The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the Blues
by Harry Harrison
CHAPTER 1
Walking up the wall had not been easy. But walking across the ceiling was
turning out to be completely impossible. Until I realized that I was going about
it the wrong way. It seemed obvious when I thought about it. When I held onto
the ceiling with my hands I could not move my feet. So I switched off the
molebind gloves and swung down, hanging only from the soles of my boots. The
blood rushed to my head-as well it might bringing with it a surge of nausea and
a sensation of great unease.
What was I doing here, hanging upside down from the ceiling of the Mint,
watching the machine below stamp out five-hundred-thousand-credit coins? They
jingled and fell into the waiting baskets-so the answer to that question was
pretty obvious. I nearly fell after them as I cut the power on one foot. f swung
it forward in a giant step and slammed it solidly against the ceiling again as I
turned the binding energy back on. A generator in the boot emitted a field of
the same binding energy that holds molecules together, making my foot, at least
temporarily, a part of the ceiling. As long as the power was on.
A few more long steps and I was over the baskets. I fumbled at my waist, trying
to ignore the dizziness, and pulled out the cord from my oversized belt buckle.
Bending double until could reach up to the ceiling, I pushed the knob at the end
against the plaster and switched it on. The molebind field damped hard and I
released my feet. To hang, swinging, right side up now, while the blood seeped
out of my florid face.
"Come on Jim-no hanging about," I advised myself. "The alarm will go off any
second now."
Right on cue the sirens screamed, the lights blinked, while a gargantuan hooter
thundered through the walls. I did not tell myself that I told me so. No time.
Thumb on the power button so that the immensely strong, almost invisible,
single-molecule cord whirred out of the buckle and dropped me swiftly down. When
my outstretched hands clinked among the coins I stopped. Opened my attachщ case
and dragged it clanking through the coins until it was full of the shining,
shimmering beauties.
Closed and sealed it as the tiny motor buzzed and dragged me up to the ceiling
again. My feet struck and stuck: I switched off power to the lifting lug.
And the door opened below me.
"Somebody coulda come in here!" the guard shouted, his weapon nosing about him.
"The door alarm went off."
"Maybe-but I don't see nothin'," the second guard said.
They looked down and around. But never up. I hoped. Feeling the sweat rolling up
my face. Collecting there. Dropping
I watched with horror as the droplets spattered down onto the guard's helmet.
"Next room!" he shouted, his voice drowning out the splat of perspiration. They
rushed out, the door closed, I walked across the ceiling, crawled down the wall,
slumped with exhaustion on the floor.
"Ten seconds, no more," I admonished. Survival was a harsh taskmaster. What had