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

nastiness. Shall we return to the service from which we fled?"
"I was hoping you would say that. Morning sickness and bank robbery just
don't seem to mix. It will be fun to get back."
"Particularly since they will be so glad to see us. Considering that they
turned down our request for leave and we had to steal that mail ship."
"Not to mention all the expense money we have stolen because we couldn't
touch our bank accounts."
"Right. Follow me and we'll do this with style."
We stripped off their uniforms and gently laid the snoring peace officers
in the rear of the car. One had pink polk-a-dot underwear while the other's
was utilitarian black--but trimmed with lace. Which might have been local
custom of dress but gave me second thoughts about the police on Kamata and I
was glad we were leaving. Uniformed, helmeted, and goggled we hummed merrily
down the road on our flywheel cycles waving to all the tanks and trucks that
roared by the other way. Before there were too many screams and shouts of
discovery I braked in the center of the road and signaled an armored car to a
stop. Angelina swung her cycle behind them so that they would not find the
sight of a pregnant police officer too distracting.
"Got them cornered!" I shouted. "But they have a radio so keep this off
the net. Follow me."
"Lead on!" the driver shouted, his mate nodding agreement while thoughts
of rewards, fame, medals danced dazzlingly before their eyes. I led them to a
deserted track into the woods that ended at a small lake complete with
ramshackle boathouse and dock.
I braked, waved them to a stop, touched my finger to my lips and tiptoed
back to their car. The driver lowered the side window and looked out
expectantly.
"Breathe this," I said and flipped a gas grenade through the opening.
There was a cloud of smoke followed by gasps followed by two more silent
uniformed figures snoring in the grass.
"Going to take a quick peek at their underwear?" Angelina asked.
"No. I want to maintain some illusions, even if they are false."
The cycles rolled merrily down the dock and off into the water where they
steamed and short-circuited and made a lot of bubbles. As soon as the armored
car had aired out we boarded and drove away. Angelina found the driver's
untouched lunch and cheerfully consumed it. I avoided most of the main roads
and headed back to the city where the command post was located at the central
police station. I wanted to go where the big action was.
We parked in the underground garage, deserted now, and took the elevator
to the tower. The building was almost empty, except for the command center,
and I found an unoccupied office nearby and left Angelina there. Innocently
amusing herself with the sealed--but easily opened--confidential files, I
lowered my goggles into place and staged a dusty, exhausted entrance to
control. I was ignored. The man I wanted to see was pacing the floor sucking
on a long dead pipe. I rushed up and saluted.
"Sir, are you Mr. Inskipp?"
"Yar," he muttered, his attention still on the great wall chart that
theoretically showed the condition of the chase.
"Someone to see you, sir."
"What? What?" be said, still distracted. Harold Peters Inskipp, director