"Harry Harrison - SSR 03 - The Stainless Steel Rat Saves The " - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

The Stainless Steel Rat Saves the World
Chapter 1

"You are a crook, James Bolivar diGriz," Inskipp said, making animal
noises deep in his throat while shaking the sheaf of papers viciously in my
direction. I leaned back against the sideboard in his office, a picture of
shocked sincerity.
"I am innocent," I sobbed. "A victim of a campaign of cold, calculating
lies." I had his humidor behind my back and by touch alone--I really am good
at this sort of thing--I felt for the lock.
"Embezzlement, swindling and worse--the reports are still coming in. You
have been cheating your own organization, our Special Corps, your own buddies-
-"
"Never!" I cried, lockpick busy in my fingers.
"They don't call you Slippery Jim for nothing!"
"A mistake, a childish nickname. As a baby my mother found me slippery
when she soaped me in the bath." The humidor sprang open, and my nose twitched
at the aroma of fragrant leaf.
"Do you know how much you have stolen?" His face was bright red now, and
his eyes were beginning to bulge in a highly unattractive manner.
"Me? Steal? I would rather die first!" I declaimed movingly as I slipped
out a handful of the incredibly expensive cigars destined for visiting VIP's.
I could put them to a far more important use by smoking them myself. I am
forced to admit that my attention was more on the purloined tobacco than on
Inskipp's tedious complaints so I did not at first notice the change in his
voice. Then I suddenly realized that I could barely hear his words--not that I
really wanted to in any case. It wasn't that he was whispering; it was more as
though there were a volume control in his throat that had suddenly been turned
down.
"Speak up, Inskipp," I told him firmly. "Or are you suddenly beset with
guilt over these false accusations?"
I stepped away from the sideboard, half-turning as I moved in order to
mask the fact that I was slipping about 100 credits' worth of exotic tobacco
into my pocket. He rattled on weakly, ignoring me, shaking the papers
soundlessly now.
"Aren't you feeling well?"
I asked this with a certain amount of real concern because he was
beginning to sound rather distant. He did not turn his head to look at me when
I moved but instead kept staring at the place where I had been, nattering away
in an inaudible voice. And he was looking pale. I blinked and looked again.
Not pale, transparent.
The back of his chair was very definitely becoming visible through his
head.
"Stop it!" I shouted, but he did not appear to hear. "What games are you
playing? Is this some sort of three-D projection to fool me? Why bother?
Slippery Jim's not the kind who can be footed, ha ha!"
Walking quickly across the room, I put out my hand and poked my index
finger into his forehead. It went in--there was slight resistance--and be did
not seem to mind in the least. But when I withdrew it, there was a slight
popping sound and he vanished completely while the sheaf of papers, now