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

"You will be issued with good Cliaand clothing," one of my inquisitors
announced. "It is pleasure to wear." I doubted that very much but kept my
silence.
"Is this religious symbol," another asked, holding the photograph in his
fingertips at arm's length.
"It is a picture of my wife."
"Only religious symbols permitted."
"She is like an angel to me."
They puzzled over this one lot awhile, then reluctantly admitted the
picture. Not that I would be able to have anything as deadly as the original.
It was whisked away and a photographic copy returned. Angelina seemed to be
scowling in this print or perhaps that was only my imagination.
"All at your personal items, identification and so on will be returned to
you when you leave," I was coldly informed.
"While on Cliaand you will wear local dress and observe local customs.
Your personal items are there." Three very utilitarian and ugly pieces of
luggage were indicated. "Here is your identification card." I grabbed at it,
happy to be assured of my existence, still naked and beginning to get a chill.
"What is in this locked case?" an inspector called out, a ring of
expectancy in his voice like that of abound catching the scent. They all
stopped work and came over as the incriminating case was held out for my
inspection. Their expressions indicated that whatever answer I gave would be
admission of crime to be followed by the death penalty. I permitted myself to
cringe back and roll my eyes.
"Sirs, I have done nothing wrong . . ." I cried.
"What is it?"
"Military weapons--"
There were stifled cries and one of them looked around as though for a gun
to execute me on the spot. I stammered on.
"But, sirs, you must understand. These are the reason I came to your
hospitable planet. My firm, Fazzoletto-Mouchoir Ltd., is an old and much
respected manufacturer in the field of military electronics. These are
samples. Some most delicate. Only to be opened in the presence of an armament
specialist."
 "I am armament specialist," one of them said, stepping forward. I had
noted him earlier because of his bald head and a sinister scar that drew up
one eye in a perpetual wink.
"Please to meet you, sir. I am Pas Ratunkowy." He was unimpressed by my
name and did not offer his. "If I can have my key ring I will open said case
and display to you its contents."
A camera was swung into place to record the entire operation, before I was
permitted to proceed. I unlocked the case and flipped back the lid. The
armament specialist glared down at the various components in their padded
niches. I explained.
"My firm is the originator and sole manufacturer of the memory line of
proximity fuses. No other line is as compact as ours, none as versatile." I
used tweezers to take a fuse from a holder. It was no larger than a pinhead. '
"This is the most minuscule, designed to be used in a weapon as small as a
handgun. Firing activates the fuse which will then detonate the charge in the
slug when it comes near a target of predetermined size. This other fuse is the