"Harry Harrison - SSR 02 - The Stainless Steel Rat's Revenge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

that situation as soon as possible.
"Pas Ratunkowy," someone shouted and I stirred to life as I remembered
this was my cover name. I waved hesitantly and one of the guards stomped and
clacked over to me. I do believe that he had metal plates on his heels to
increase the militaristic effect. I looked forward to getting a pair of these
boots as well: I was beginning to like Cliaand.
"You Pas Ratunkowy?"
"I am he, sir, at your service," I answered in his native tongue, being
careful to keep a foreign accent.
"Get your luggage. Come with me."
He spun about and I had the temerity to call after him.
"But, sir, bags are too heavy to carry all at once."
This time he impaled me with a cold, withering look and fingered his
gaussrifle suggestively. "Cart," he finally snarled and stabbed a finger at
the far side of the prison yard. I humbly went after cart. This was a drably
efficient motorized platform that rolled along on small wheels. I quickly
loaded my bags onto it and looked for my guide. He stood by a now open door
with his finger even closer to the trigger than before. The electric motor
whined at top speed and I galloped after the thing towards the door.
The inspection began.
How easy that is to say. But it is one of those simple statements like "I
dropped the atom bomb and it went off." This was the most detailed and
thorough inspection I had ever experienced and I was exceedingly happy that I
had found that lockpick first.
There were ten men waiting in the smooth-walled, antiseptically white
room. Six took my baggage while the other four took me. The first thing they
did was strip me mother naked and drop me onto a fluoroscope. A magnifying
one. Seconds later they were conferring over a blown-up print of the fillings
in my teeth. There was a mutual decision that one of them was unduly large and
had a rather unusual shape. A sinister looking array of dental gadgetry
emerged and they had the filling out in an instant. While the tooth was being
refilled with enamel--I'll say that much for them--the original filling was
being zapped by a spectroscope. They seemed neither depressed nor elated when
its metallic content proved to be that of an accepted dental alloy. The search
went on.
While my tender pink person was being probed one of the inquisitors
produced a file of papers. Most of these were psigrams sent out after my
landing application had been received. They had consulted Fazzoletto-Mouchoir
Ltd., my employers, and had all the details of my job. It is a good thing that
this was legitimate. I responded correctly to all the questions, inserting
random sounds only twice when the physical examination probed a tender spot.
This appeared to go well; at least the file was closed and put aside.
While this was going on I had been catching glimpses of the fate of my
bags. They suffered more than I did. Each of them had been opened and emptied,
the contents spread out on the white tables, and the bag was then methodically
taken to pieces. To little pieces. The seams were cut open, the fastening
removed, the handles dissected. And the resulting rubbish put in plastic bags,
labeled and saved. No doubt for a later and most detailed inspection. My
clothing was given only a perfunctory examination then pushed aside. I soon
found out why. I would not be seeing it again until I left the planet.