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

pressing in fascinated awe against the windows and glass doors, to watch the
drama unfolding inside. I waved and smiled and a shudder passed through the
nearest as they pushed back in panic from the door. I shot the lock oat,
angling the gun so the bullets shrieked away over their heads, and kicked the
door open. Before exiting myself I threw a screamer out onto the sidewalk and
quickly pushed the stopples into my ears.
The screamer sounded off and everyone began to leave quickly. You have to
leave quickly when you hear one of these things. They send out a mixed brew of
devilish sounds at the decibel level of a major earthquake. Some are audible,
sounds like a magnified fingernail on a blackboard, while others are
supersonic and produce sensations of panic and imminent death. Harmless and
highly effective. The street was otherwise empty when I walked out to the car
that was just pulling up to the curb. My head was throbbing with the
supersonics that got past the plugs and I was more than happy to slip through
the open door and relax while Angelina gunned the machine down the street.
"Everything go all right?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the road as she
whirled around a corner on the outside wheels. Sirens began to sound in the
distance.
"A piece of cake. Smooth as castor oil . . ."
"Your similes leave a lot to be desired."
"Sorry. A touch of indigestion this morning. But my coat is lined with
more money than we could possibly need."
"How nice!" she laughed, and she meant it. That irresistible grin, the
crinkled nose. I longed to nibble it, or at least kiss her, but settled for a
comradely pat on the shoulder since she needed all her concentration for
driving. I popped a stick of gum in my mouth that would remove the red tooth
dye and began to peel off my disguise.
As I changed so did the car. Angelina turned into a side street, slowed
and then found an even quieter street to drive along. There was no one in
sight. She pressed the button.
My, but technology can do some interesting things. The license plate
flipped over to reveal a different number, but that was too simple a trick to
even discuss. Angelina flicked on the windshield wipers as a fine spray of
catalytic fluid sprang out of jets on the front of the car. Wherever it
touched the blue paint turned a bright red. Except for the top of the car
which became transparent so that in a few moments we were sitting in a bubble
top surveying the world around. A good deal of what appeared to be chrome
plated metal dissolved and washed away altering the appearance and even the
make of the car. As soon as this process was complete Angelina sedately turned
a corner and started back in the direction from whence we had come. Her orange
wig was locked away with my disguise and I held the wheel while she put on an
immense pair of goggly sunglasses.
"Where to next?" she asked as a huddle of shrieking police cars tore by in
the opposite direction.
"I was thinking of the shore. Wind, sun, sand, that sort of thing. Healthy
and bracing."
"A little too bracing if you don't mind my saying so." She patted the
rounded bulge of her midriff with a more than satisfied smile. "It's six
months now, going on seven, so I'm not feeling that athletic. Which reminds me
. . ." She flashed me a quick scowl, then turned her attention back to the