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

the car before she had finished talking and standing in front of her, blocking
her way, holding her most gently by the arms.
"Angelina, I will tell you this but once and probably never again the rest
of my life. So listen well and remember. At one time I was the best crook in
the galaxy, before I was conned into the Special Corps to help catch other
erodes. And I caught you. Not only were you a crook but a mastermind criminal
as well and a cheerfully sadistic murderess. " I felt her body shiver in my
hands and held her tighter. "It has to be said, because that is what you were.
You aren't any more. You had reasons to be that way and the reasons have been
removed and some unhappy quirks in your otherwise pristine cortex have been
straightened out. And now I love you. But I want to remember that I loved you
even then during your unreconstructed days, which is saying a lot. So if I
buck at the harness now, or am difficult to deal with in the mornings, just
remember that and make allowances. Is it a deal?"
It apparently was. She dropped the bag--on my toe, but I dared not flinch-
-and wrapped her arms around me and was kissing me and knocked me over into
the deep grass and I had a jolly time kissing her right back. The newlywed
effect I suppose you would call it, great fun . . .
We froze, rigid, as a pair of flywheel cycles moaned and skidded to a stop
by our car. Only the police used these since they move a good deal faster than
the peat-powered steamers. They are tricycle affairs with a great heavy
flywheel encased between the rear wheels. They plugged them in at night so
their motor-generators could run the flywheel up to top speed. During the day
the flywheel generated electricity to drive the motors in each wheel. Very
efficient and smog-free. Very dangerous.
"This is the car, Fodder!" one of the police shouted out over the constant
moan of the flywheels.
"I'll call it in. They can't have gone far. We sure have them trapped
now!"
Nothing infuriates me like the bland assurances of petty officials. Oh
yes, really trapped now. I growled deep in my throat as the other uniformed
incompetent poked his nose around the car and gaped at our cozy cuddle in the
grass. He was still gaping when I lunged an arm up and around his neck with a
tight squeeze on his throat and pulled him down to join us. It was fun to
watch his tongue come out and his eyes pop and his head turn red but Angelina
spoiled it. She whipped off his helmet and rapped him smartly--and accurately-
-on the temple with the heel of her shoe. He turned off and I let him drop.
"And you talk about me," my bride whispered. "You've got more than a touch
of the old sadist in your own makeup."
"I called it in. Everybody knows. We've sure got than now . . ." the
enthusiastic remaining officer said, but his voice rattled to a stop when he
looked down the muzzle of his associate's riot gun. Angelina dug a sleep
capsule out of her bag and snapped it under his nose.
"And now what, boss?" she asked, smiling happily at the two black-
uniformed, brass-buttoned figures by the side of the road.
"I have been thinking," I said, and rubbed my jaw and frowned with deep
concentration to prove it. "We have had over four months of worry-less
holiday, but all good things must end. We could extend our leave. But it would
be hectic to say the least and people would get hurt and you--while that is a
fine shape--it is not quite the shape for flight aid pursuit and general