"Harrison, Harry- The Stainless Steel Rat for President" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

as butterfly, held aloft by a gravity generator, the same kind that powered grav-chutes. A nasty-looking, large-orificed

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78 The Stainless Steel Rat for President

weapon pointed straight at me. I pulled my head back in just in time to grab de Torres's wrist. He had extracted a deadlylooking machine pistol from the folds of his cloak and was about to fire.
"Release me! I'll blow those swine out of the air!" "Don't! I have a better plan. Bolivar, stop the car." I managed to wrestle the marquez's gun away from him. Aside from the fact that I am reluctant to kill anyone, even Zapilote's creatures, I really did have a plan.
"Slow down, then stop. We are all going to get out of the

car and wave our empty hands in the air. If they wanted to shoot they would have done so already. I'm sure that they have something even more rtasty in mind . . . " The marqu6z gasped. "You mean to surrender to these offalЧwithout a fight!"
"Not at all," I reassured him. "We just won't use weapons. I want that floater intactЧbecause that is our ticket out of here. NowЧlet's move it before any ground support arrives." The floater just hovered there above our heads as we climbed out, the gun still aimed. I tried not to look at it and sincerely hoped that my theory was correct. Or we were dead.
"Move away from the car," the amplified voice ordered, and we did so. Only then did it slowly settle to the ground.
The pilot wore the green uniform of the police. The man seated beside him, with the large-caliber gun, was all in black, his eyes concealed by black glasses. He waggled the gun in

our direction.
"Just keep doing what you are doing now," he said. "I don't want to shoot you, believe me." Then he laughed. "Because that is not what we have in mind. No bullet holes. You're all going to burn to death when your defective copter crashes on takeoff. Isn't that nice? But be warned, I'll shoot if I have to. You're not walking away from this one . . ." "I can't bear it! My heart . . ." James gasped, clutching his chest, then collapsing to the ground.
"He has a coronary obfuscation!" Bolivar wailed. "I must give him his medicine!" He bent over his brother's limp body.
"Stay awayЧdon't touch him!" the Ultimado ordered, waving his gun at them.
His attention was off de Torres for the moment, who noticed this and spoiled what should have been a smoothly opera-

The Stainless Steel Rat for President 79

tional plan. The marqu6z roared in anger and dived for the secret policeman.
He had too far to go. The machine-gun blasted and de Torres spun about and fellЧeven as Bolivar moved aside so James could fire. James had drawn his needle gun the instant his brother had come between him and the Ultimado. It spat a cloud of needles that dropped the gunman, then it elevated to send more needles through the open door of the floater, knocking out the pilot before he could aim his own gun.
It was over in an instant. I jumped to the marqu6z's side, tore aside the folds of his cloak.
"Damn! BolivarЧquickЧthe medkit from the floater." There was blood everywhere. I used my dagger to cut

away his sodden clothing. A hole in his leg, not important, a puncture wound in his abdomen. A bad one. Not much that first aid could do here. I sprayed on antibiotic, slapped pres-

sure bandages on the wounds. Turned him a bit and did the same thing to an exit wound in his side. And tried to remember my anatomy. He had been shot in the gut, that was all too obvious, but at first look no important organs seemed to be hit. And the telltale revealed that his vital signs were still good. What was the next step? "BolivarЧcan you fly this thing?" "I can fly anything. Dad. "
"Right. Drag out the pilot and take his place. James, take the marquez's legs. Gentle does it, up into the seat." "Shall I get him to a hospital?" Bolivar asked.
"No, that would just be murdering him. The Ultimados would see to it that he never left the place alive. The only chance he has is to get back to the castle. In behind them, James. These two-seaters will carry three in an emergency..." "But, Dad, you . . ."
"They'll never lift four. Start a saline drip going, watch his vital signs, you know what to doЧnow move. And don't

worry about your old dad. He's been in tight spots before. Lift it!"
They did. They were good lads. As the floater shot up into the air I dragged the pilot across the road and heaved him into the car. The Ultimado followed; I wasn't quite as gentle with him. Someone looked out of a nearby house, then darted back inside. I had to get out of this area quicklyЧan imoor-

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tant first step for any survival plan I might come up with. I could hear the sirens coming this way already.
As I jumped behind the wheel I realized I should have asked Bolivar for a driving lesson. I didn't share his enthusi-

asm for antique machinery. All I could do was gape at the hundreds of polished valves, handles, buttons and gauges. But this was no time to gape! I grabbed the largest handle and pulled.
There was a hideous roar, and an immense black and white cloud enveloped the car; I quickly pushed the handle back. I had blown the stack, used live steam to blast clean the exhaust. I worked more gingerly after that. Not too much later, after I had cleaned the windshield, turned on the lights, radio and music player, I succeeded in feeding steam to the engine and we trundled off down the road.
I took the first turning at random, then the next. The road led gradually up into the foothills and the houses began thinning out. I couldn't hear the sirens any more so I slowed in order to attract less attention. But where could I go? There was no escape from airborne observation. They would be on to me any minute now. Another bend revealed a large home with attached garage. A car had just backed out of the garage and had turned into the road.
I hit the brakes, twisted the wheel, bounced over the curb and across the lawn and skidded into the just-vacated garage. I was still braking as the car slammed into the rear wall with metallic bang.
The steering wheel had caught me on the forehead, so I felt very rubber-legged as I climbed down and staggered out into the fresh air. I really wasn't prepared for any conversation with the large and irate man who stood before me.
"Are you insane? What do you mean driving into my