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

seemed like a good idea at the time maybe really was a good idea. But right now
I was very sorry I had ever seen the newsflash.
Ceremonial opening of new Mart on Paskonjak . . . planet often called Mintworld
. . . first half-million-credit coins ever issued . . . dignitaries and press
invited.
It had been like the sound of the starting gun to a sprinter.
I was off. A week later I was stepping out of the space terminal on Paskonjak,
bag in hand and forged press credentials in pocket. Even the massed troops and
tough security had not tempered my madness. The machines in my case were immune
from detection by any known security apparatus; the case projected a totally
false image of its contents when radiation hit it. My step had been light, my
smile broad.
Now my face was ashen and my legs trembled with fatigue as I pushed myself to my
feet.
"Look calm, look collected-think innocence."
I swallowed a calm-and-collected pill that was coated with instant uppers. One,
two, three paces to the door, my face flushed with pride, my gait noble, my
conscience pure.
I put on my funky bejeweled spectacles and looked through the door. The
ultrasound image was fuzzy. But clear enough to reveal figures hurrying past.
When they were gone I unlocked the door, slipped through and let it close behind
me.
Saw the rest of my party of journalists being pushed down the corridor by
screaming, gun-waving troops. Turned and marched firmly away in the opposite
direction and around the bend.
The guard stationed there lowered his gun and pointed it at my belt buckle.
"La necesejo estas cc tae?" I said, smiling smarmily.
"What you say? What you doin' here?"
"Indeed?" I snorted through widened nostrils. "Rather short on education,
particularly a knowledge of Esperanto, aren't we? If you must know, speaking in
the vulgar argot of this planet-I was told that the men's room was down here."
"Well it ain't. Da udder way."
"You're too kind."
I turned and strolled diffidently down the hall. Had taker. three steps before
reality penetrated his sluggish synapses.
"Come back here, you!"
I stopped and turned about, pointed past him. "Down that way?" I asked. The gas
projector I had palmed when my back was turned towards him hissed briefly. His
eyes closed and he dropped; I took the gun from his limp hands as he fell by.
Placed it on his sleeping chest since it was of no help to me. Walked briskly
past him and pushed open the door to the emergency stairs. Closed and leaned
against it and breathed very deeply. Then took out the map that had been in the
press kit and poked my finger on the symbol for stairs. Now, down to the
storeroom . . . footsteps sounded below.
Up. Quietly on soft soles. A change of plan was very much in order since the
alarm had sounded, ruling out a simple exit with the crowd. Up, five, six
,flights until the steps ended in a door labeled KROV. Which probably meant roof
in the local language.
There were three different alarms that I disabled before I pushed the door open
and slipped through. Looked around at the usual rooftop clutter; water tanks,