“These are the microwave transmitters that shoot the signals around the planet for rebroadcast to the satellites that

  are out of line of sight.”

  “And here are the two channels coming out of the program section, radio here—TV here …”

  “They go through these cables located in this conduit—which just happens to have an access door in the basement of the building…”

  “Here!” I added, stabbing down a finger and we all smiled and nodded like fools. “But this will need a sophisticated circuit interrupter that will be small and hard to spot, yet will still enable us to cut off their signals and substitute our own whenever we wish. Now where could we possibly find devices

  I;G, ,bn,2’

  120 The Stainless Steel Rat for President

  James took one from his pocket. Bolivar took out the other.

  “Boys, I’m proud of you,” I said, and I meant every word of it. The interrupters were flat cannisters, each small enough to fit on the palm of my hand, with a switch and a bundle of thin wires at one end.

  “Self-powered,” Bolivar said. “Atomic batteries. Run for

  years. This lead goes to an outside aerial, while these are spliced into the interior circuits. That’s all there is to it. When the correct signal is received the material that Zapilote’s technicians are sending out is cut off and whatever signal we

  are broadcasting will go out in its place. They will think that they are sending out their news reports—but instead they will be broadcasting ours.” .,,

  “That’s good,” I said. “But only for a one shot. Once their broadcasts have been sabotaged they will shut down and search until they find these. We will have to go though the whole thing again when we make a second broadcast on election eve. And it will be much harder to set this thing up a second time.”

  James opened a box while I talked and took out two goodsized hunks of electronic apparatus. “We thought you might have that possibility in mind. So we put these together. They’re dummies, full of circuit boards and wiring, that we attach in a slightly more obvious location. They have only one function. If they are disturbed or examined in any way, a thermite device inside is actuated that will then burn them to slag.”

  “A neat bit of misdirection that will certainly work. Now let’s get out there and do the job so we can sleep peacefully tonight. “

  “Dad, Bolivar and I can take care of this ourselves. You must be tired , . . “

  “I am. Of being a politician. You wouldn’t deprive me of a chance for a little excitement, would you?”

  “They would if I could have my way,” Angelina said, speaking for the first time. “But I know you too well. So get out there with your delinquent children and crawl around in the sewers or whatever it is you enjoy doing. But don’t expect me to wait up for you.”

  I kissed her firmly for her understanding and we exited into the night. By way of the back stairs and an unmarked car. Nor were we followed. We parked a street away from Broadcasting Center, then made our way into it. I mean we

  The Stainless Steel Rat for President 121

  didn’t exactly go through the front door, but we did penetrate without too much trouble from the alarm system. We shorted it out and entered unseen through a basement window. After that it was just a matter of Bnding the right doorway. The sub-basements were filled with fully automated machinery and empty at this time of night. There was one supervisor at his station, but he was easily avoided. The hookup was a simple one, with the dummy circuit boxes concealed by a partition, while the real bits of circuitry were put under the wire bundle and sealed into the flooring.

  “Perfect,” I said, dusting off my hands and admiring the result of our labors. “Let us now return for a refreshing drink and a look at the substitute programs that our minions are

  now preparing.”

  Getting out unseen was just as easily accomplished as had been our entrance. Our car was waiting and there was no one in sight.

  I opened the car door and the light came on.

  There was a man sitting there, pointing a large pistol at my head and smiling at the same time. Someone very disgustingly familiar.

  “So you are Hector Harapo now, and no longer a simple offworld tourist,” Captain Oliveira said, “I warned you at our last meeting not to return to this planet. Now that you have been so rash as to come back you can only blame yourself for the conseniiences.”

  Chapter 22

  As he spoke these words the street was bathed with eyesearing light. It was a trap—and well sprung. “There were searchlights on top of the buildings and troops pouring out of the doorways. All we could do was surrender.

  “Please don’t shoot!” I shouted. “We surrender. Surrender,

  my men, that is an order. Douchan qounboula!” I hoped that the boys would remember this repellent alien language—and they did! Although their hands were in the air, like mine, they could still actuate their smoke bomb releases by crossing their wrists—which I had just ordered them to do. The last thing I saw was the cheering sight of them vanishing in the roiling clouds that sprang up all around them.

  I buried myself aside just as Oliveira fired. The bullet whistled by so close that I felt my hair stir in the breeze of its

  passage. Before he could fire again I flipped one of my own smoke bombs into the car, following it instantly with a sleep capsule.

  I doubt if ten seconds had passed since the moment that I had opened the car door. In that brief time things had changed drastically. The street was filled with vision-obscuring smoke and loud with shouted orders, whistles blowing, the roar of engines and the hoarse cries of attacking men.

  “Add more smoke and mix it with sleeping gas!” I called out in the same alien language. “I’m going to start a diversion with this car—then you both make a break for it!” If I could draw all the attention to myself the boys might have a chance. I groped my way into the car, pushed Oliveira’s limp body aside, then started the engine. As I kicked it into

  gear I twisted the wheel away from the boys and stamped down hard on the accelerator. The car jumped forward, picking up speed, the smoke thinned—then vanished to be replaced

  122

  The Stainless Steel Rat for President 123

  by searing light. I squinted against the glare and saw that I was about to run down a squad of terrified soldiers.

  I dragged on the wheel and missed them by centimeters, still moving at top speed, to plow headlong into an armored

  car.

  It made quite an impact in more ways than one. I found myself bouncing off the windshield and dropping back into the seat. My nose had taken a good knock and was bleeding nicely down the front of my shirt. My brains had been thumped just as well as my nose and I felt that my head was wobbling on my neck. Thinking was difficult and I had just about enough intelligence left to realize that more smoke and sleeping gas would be a good idea. I was hurling the bombs out of the window when the door to the armored car opened just before me. I threw a few smoke and gas grenades in there by reflex.

  And all the while I was holding my breath. I had stopped breathing the instant the rush of blood had washed out my

  nose plugs. If I took a single breath now I would be just as sound asleep as the soldiers and police. But unlike them I would probably wake up dead.

  The burning in my chest drove away the groggy sensations

  as I crawled out of the car on my hands and knees. As I stood up I banged my injured nose into something very hard. It took every effort of will not to gasp in a lungful of the gas-filled air. The object moved as I touched it and I realized that it was the open door of the armored car. Transportation. I climbed painfully into it, pushing aside the invisible body that was blocking the entrance. There were more slumped bodies underfoot and I had to climb over them.

  And I had to breathe. But I didn’t dare. I groped forward and slammed my head against hard metal. It took an endless period of running my fingers over it before I realized that it

  was the base of a seat. The driver’s seat, mounted high in the front of the car. My groping fingers found the floor-mounted gear shift. It was vibrating—the engine was still running!

  I jammed it into gear. The armored car heaved itself forward and began to grind my car into bits. I cursed and pushed and managed to get the thing into reverse. Everything shook about like crazy then we started moving backwards—1 had to breathe!

  There was light again. I stuck my head out of the door and hnTwd that tinp.
  124 The Stainless Steel Rat for President

  smoke. I fought not to breathe, but I could not win. I sucked in a shuddering lungfill of air.

  Nothing happened. Nothing bad that is, the air itself was pleasure beyond description. We were out of the gas. And things were going very well outside I saw as I slammed the door shut. Smoke and confusion, men and vehicles moving in all directions. My own armored car just one among many drawing away from the smoke and gas. Moving backwards, slowly and steadily out of the area. The driver fell to the floor with a satisfying thud when I hauled at him. I was still gasping in the life-restoring air as I climbed into his seat and took over the controls.

  My sons were out there in. the smoke and confusion and would need every bit of help they could get. I stopped the armored car and checked over the maze of controls before

  me. One was labeled forward turret, which sounded optimistic. I actuated the circuit, swung the guns to maximum elevation, flipped off the safety and pressed the trigger.

  It made a very satisfying roar. The car bucked, empty casings rattled down by my feet and I saw troops diving for cover. Perfect! Now for an exciting exit. Still in reverse I jammed down on the accelerator.

  A rearvision screen showed the street behind me, rushing forward at an incredible pace. It was hard to steer in reverse and I found the car weaving from side to side. I jammed down on the horn, flashed the lights and made what I hoped

  was an interesting exit, A squad of soldiers appeared on the screen, diving for cover as I roared by. Then I was past them and at a crossroads. I cut sharp on the wheel, skidded to a stop, then jammed the thing into forward gear. Before I could move three more armored cars charged by in front of

  my car. I smiled at the interesting skidding and crashing as they collided with another vehicle that had been trying to follow me. Before they could sort themselves out I stepped hard on the accelerator and drove happily away from all the chaos I had caused.

  And all of this time I kept my thoughts away from James and Bolivar back there in the darkness. They would be all right; they had to be all right. I had heard no gunfire from the cloud of smoke. The boys were conscious while the enemy was not. I had created a diversion, there was endless confusion, a number of ways for them to get away. They were smart and strong and would get out of this mess.

  The Stainless Steel Rat for President 125

  Then why was I worried sick and dripping with sweat?

  Because I was thinking like a father, not a ruthless interstellar agent. They were my sons and I had got them into this. A black wave of guilt and depression swept over me; I could not keep it at bay. I drove slowly through the dark and empty streets until I finally forced a measure of control through my weepy brain lobes.

  “Enough of this, diGriz. Now that you have had a good suffer and a brisk rattle of guilt and self-chastisement—stop it!” I spoke aloud since I can always hear myself better that way. Rather than listening to a thin, tiny inner voice I would much rather hear a big, hearty external one. I sat up straighter and gripped the wheel firmly. “That’s better. Moaning and thrashing about and getting yourself in more trouble won’t help the boys any. Your task now is to get away safely and back to work and that is all you can do. Now move it.”

  I moved. Taking as direct route as I could to our hotel. Stopping in a dimly lit street a few blocks short of my destination and abandoning the pilfered vehicle. There was a service entrance, now locked, that admitted me to the hotel at the touch of a picklock. My luck still held out and I rode the service elevator up to our floor without being seen. Angelina opened the door as I approached. “You look a mess. Are you hurt?” “Not really. Just bruised and weary. And …” I just did not know how to go on. But my expression must have given me away.

  “The boys. What’s happened to them?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure they’re all right. We went different

  ways. Let me in and I’ll tell you what happened.” I told her. Slowly and accurately over large sips of wellaged ron. She sat in cold silence as I talked. Not moving or speaking until I had finished. Then she nodded.

  “Racked with guilt, aren’t you? It oozes out of your pores like perspiration.” “I am! My fault. I did it, got them into it …” “Shut up,” she suggested, then leaned forward and kissed

  me on the cheek. “We’re all adults and we go into these things with our eyes open. Not only didn’t you lead them to destruction, you put yourself in the enemies’ gunsights to give them a chance to get away. You did all that you could. Now all we can do is wait. After I natch un that renulsivelv

  126 The Stainless Steel Rat for President

  bloody nose of yours. I was putting off taking care of it until

  you had enough ron inside of you.”

  I said ouch a few times while she cleaned and bandaged my nose. Then the waiting began. Angelina, who rarely drank other than on social occasions, accepted a glass of ron and sipped at it. There was no conversation. We looked up every time a siren went by in the street outside. And tried not to stare at the clock all of the time. I emptied my glass and reached for the bottle.

  “Would you like some more …”

  The buzzing of the phone cut through my words. Angelina

  was answering it before I could move, switching on the conference function as she lifted the receiver.

  “James here,” the welcome voice said, and a wave of relief rushed through me. “No problem getting away. Changed uniforms with a soldier. But I can’t come back to the hotel looking like this.”

  “We’ll pick you up,” Angelina said. “How is Bolivar?” When there was no instant answer the tension was back. Multiplied tenfold. He only hesitated for a moment, but that brief time was message enough.

  “I think they have him. I saw police in gas masks driving off in a great hurry. They were the only ones who left the

  scene. I stayed around as long as I could, until the smoke cleared and they were starting to form the units up. He didn’t call, did he?” “No. I would have told you.” “I know. I’m sorry …”

  “You shouldn’t be. You did everything that you could. Now we’ll have to make plans to get you back here. Then we’ll just have to wait for news of Bolivar. They won’t have banned him. I’m sure that he’s all right.”

  Her voice was calm, controlled. Yet I was looking into her eyes when she spoke and I knew that she was screaming inside.

  Chapter 23

  I closed the ron bottle and put it away; this was the time for a clear head. However I did open a bottle of wine to wash down a fried bean and sausage sandwich since beans are a well known brain food. I think. Angelina went to pick up James while I stared at the telephone. And tried to produce intelligent thoughts about the night’s events. By the time they had returned I had reached some highly logical and most unattractive conclusions.

  “There were no phone calls,” I said as they came through the door.

  “If that’s food I’ll have some,” James said, pouring himself a small glass of wine. I was happy that the twins took after their mother in their alcoholic interest, not after their boozer of a father.

  “I’ve made some plans,” I announced. “They will guarantee Bolivar’s return.” Angelina nodded agreement.

  “Good. We break into the central jail, shoot down everyone

  we meet, then release him.”

  “No. That’s what they are expecting us to do. Someone on the enemy team is out-thinking us. We walked into a trap tonight because we were careless. We have been one jump ahead of them so far—and we thought that it would continue to go on like that. But the honeymoon is over. We now have to out-think their out-thinker and do the unexpected.” “Which is what?” Angelina asked.

  “Hit them where they don’t expect us. Take a prisoner whom we know they will have to trade for Bolivar.” “Who?” “Zapilote himself. No one else will do.”

  James was so surprised that he actually stopped eating. Which meant he was very surprised indeed. Angelina had far.

  more control.

  128 The Stainless Steel Rat for President

  “You wouldn’t care to explain the tortuous logic that led to that conclusion?” she said.

  “I’ll be happy to. Somebody on their side has brains. It might very well be Colonel Oliveira. After all he was the one waiting in the car when we returned. Until we find out anything difierent we must assume that he is our enemy number one. He has been keeping careful track of our operation and has managed to put himself in our shoes. He knows that we must publicize our campaign if we are ever going to get the votes. Nothing of our first meeting with the press was reported, so logically we must then take steps to see that the future will be different. He had no idea of what we would do—but he guessed very accurately where we would strike. Broadcast Center. Then he laid a trap that worked—because he succeeded in capturing Bolivar, If he has been right so far he will still be right in assuming that an attempt will be made to free the prisoner. Therefore we can be sure that Bolivar will not be in the local prison. And we can also be sure that the building will be one big trap. We shall stay away from it. And change all the rules of the game. With Zapilote as a hostage Bolivar will have to be released and the score will be nil nil.”

  “All right so far,” Angelina said. “But have you given any thought about ways and means of getting our hands on Zapilote?”

  “I have. I am going to get a few hours sleep so I will be fresh for the morning. I will then make certain preparations before I pop over to the capital and look in on the GeneralPresident.”