“You’re insane,” Angelina said calmly. “I won’t let you do it.” She shifted position and a gun suddenly appeared in her hand aimed at me. “That blow on the nose must have addled

  your brains as well. Go get some sleep while James and I work out another plan that won’t be quite as suicidal. ” “You would shoot me to save my life? While not denigrating the process in any way, I am forced to admit that the operation of the female mind continues to baffle me. Now put the gun away and relax. It is not suicide I am planning but a well thought-out operation that will extricate both Bolivar and myself from their clutches. Some details are still vague, but I’m sure that they will be clearer after a night’s rest. ” They were. I woke up at dawn with a flow chart of the operation firmly printed on my frontal lobes. It could not fail!

  The Stainless Steel Rat for President t29

  My good humor continued through my shower and breakfast and the flight to Primoroso and right up to the moment when I was strolling across Freedom Square. It only left me when I entered the grim gates of the Presidio and was stopped by the guard. It was far too late to back out now so I hashed on, good humor or no.

  “Where’s your pass?” he growled.

  “Pass? I need no pass, you microcephalic moron, I am here to see the GeneralPresident at the specific request of Colonel Oliveira.”

  “I am sorry. The Colonel left no orders when he came in…”

  “Oliveira is here now? Better and better. Get him on the phone. And quickly—if you value your life and sanity.” He was shaking as he punched a number into the phone. The plate lit up and I could see Olivelra’s sadistic face on the

  screen. Before the guard could speak I pushed him aside and leaned close.

  “Oliveira,” I snarled. “I’m at the front entrance. Aren’t you interested in seeing me?”

  He did a beautiful take; I should have brought a camera. He had undoubtedly expected a number of possible reactions to the events of the previous evening—but this one was certainly not included. He finally got his eyes back in his head and the blood back into his skin and screeched into the phone.

  “Hold that man …”

  I broke the connection and sat down in the guard’s chair. “See how delighted he was?” I took out a cigar and lit it and had barely puffed out the first cloud of smoke before Oliveira came plunging down the stairs with a squad of soldiers at his heels.

  “You took one of my men last night,” I said, blowing smoke into his face. “I’ve come to order his release.”

  As can be easily imagined he did not take kindly at all to this treatment. I made no resistance when the soldiers seized

  me and hustled me deep into the bowels of the building. Oliveira personally supervised the security procedures, watching closely as I was stripped, searched. X-rayed, body-scanned and purged. He knew that there had to be method in my madness of surrendering to him—but he could not figure out what it was. Then he had the entire security procedure done

  a second time just in case. Of course they found nothing.

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  When it was all finished I was given thin slippers and a paper prison suit, then chained heavily at my anides and wrists. Only after this had been done did he have me dragged to the interrogation room and thrown into a hard chair. He stood over me, slapping a weighted club against the palm of his hand. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I am General James diGriz of the Paramilitary Organization of Political Investigation. You may call me sir. ” He struck me sharply across the shin with the club. It should have hurt a good deal. I didn’t even notice it. One thing that the examination hadn’t shown was that I had been filled to the gills with neocain, a very potent painkiller. I might not feel very good wheft it wore off, but for the present nothing could get through.

  “No lies and no more of your not so ftinny jokes. Who are

  you. The truth this time.”

  “I’ve already told you. My name and organization. We of POOPI make it our life’s work to right wrongs, to aid in the political growth of backward planets, to help honest politicians like Harapo. To supervize the downfall of criminals like Zapilote.”

  He struck me again and again and I just sat there and watched him. “Does it give you pleasure to do that?” I finally asked. “If so you must be a very sick man.”

  He raised the club higher—then threw it away. What good is it to be a bully and a sadist if your victim doesn’t even notice it? I nodded approval.

  “Now that you have stopped we can converse like adults. My organization is giving aid to Harapo, as I told you. Last night you succeeded in capturing one of my operatives. That will not do. I want him released at once.”

  “Never! We have him and now we have you and you are both as good as dead …”

  “More threats? You really are a stupid man.” I stood up,

  very slowly, since it took a greal deal of effort because of the heavy chains. “I shall just have to go over your head. I will

  see Zapilote now.”

  “I’ll kill you!” he frothed, grabbing up the club again and raising it over his head.

  “If you do, Zapilote will have you shot on the spot. My organization will continue to work without me and he will lose the election. Because of your stupidity. Is that what you want?”

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  He stood there, club raised, trembling, lusting to beat my brains out, but knowing that if he did that he might very well be dead as well. In the end he had to lower it. I nodded approval.

  “That’s better. We will now go to see the GeneralPresident

  so I can tell him of a compromise plan that I am sure will please him.” “What is it?”

  “You will discover that if he permits your presence during

  our discussion. Call him.”

  Oliveira was neatly impaled on the horns of a dilemma, and I enjoyed watching him twitch there. He wanted to kill me, or at least to maim me—but he didn’t dare. What I had said about Zapilote was true. In the end he realized that and stamped out of the room, I dropped back into the chair and looked gloomily at the bruises that were beginning to appear

  on my body and tried not to think what I was going to feel like when the neocain wore off. There was a suspicious soft spot on the side of my chest where a rib or two was broken. It was then that I decided that something really loathsome had to happen to Colonel Oliveira before this affair was through. While I was brooding over his fate he returhed with

  a squad of soldiers.

  I was hauled to my feet. The soldiers formed a solid wall around me as we marched off down the hall, up a stairway,

  very tiring, and through a number of anterooms to face a pair of large gilt doors. It had armed guards, weapons ready, stationed on each side. We were getting close to the holy of holies. The doors swung wide, my personal bodyguards pushed

  me forward, staying so close that I had to peek over their shoulders to assure myself that we were indeed in the Presence. The GeneralPresident squatted in a chair like a loathsome toad, his bandy arms resting on an immense desk.

  “Tell me about this person,” Zapilote said. Still as frogmouthed and ugly as the first time I had met him. If he recognized me as a beardless Harapo he wasn’t letting on.

  “He gave his name as General James diGriz,” Oliveira said. “And claims to represent an organization named POOPI …” “I’ll have you shot if you are trying to make bad jokes!” “No, please, it is true your excellency!” I enjoyed watching the colonel sweat and tremble. “There must be some truth in what he says. This Paramilitary Organization of Political Investieation that he talks about could exist. Without a rioiiht hp in

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  an ofiplanet agent. He came here first some months ago disguised as a tourist, to make contact with a traitor organization in Puerto Azul. I had him deported before he could cause any more trouble. He has since returned here illegally and is very high up in the Harapo organization that is causing

  us … some little problems …” “I will kill Harapo. Hang him. With his own intestines!” “Yes, all of the traitors, every one of them, lots of intestines!” Oliveira slavered. “Guts galore …”

  “Close your mouth, Oliveira, or you’ll be first.” There was

  a crackling sound as Oliveira slammed his mouth shut. I think he broke a tooth. Zapilote was glaring at me now, his beady red eyes trying to burn holds through me. “So you work for Harapo. You cause me all kinds of troubles. Now, before I kill you, tell me why you came here.” “To make an agreement with you …” “I do not deal with traitors. Take him out and shoot him.” The soldiers closed in, seizing me. It wasn’t going quite as I had planned. “Wait!” I shouted. “Listen to me first. Would I have come here, alone and unarmed without a reason? That would be suicide. I came here in order to tell you …” What? I hadn’t the slightest idea. But he was listening. What I had to tell him had to be important. What would interest him? What does a paranoid dictator care about? Paranoia! “I have come to tell you that there is a traitor very close to you. Plotting against you.” “Who?”

  I had his attention now. He was on his feet, leaning across the desk. “Mrmtrmbimble …” I mumbled. “What?”

  “Shall I speak his name aloud, here? With these men listening?”

  “Speak up? Who is it? Tell me!” he frothed, coming around the desk,

  “I’ll tell you,” I said, bending my knees and tensing my muscles. “Someone very close to you who wants to kill you…”

  And as I spoke the words I hurled myself forward. Smashing into the guards who stood between us, knocking them aside. Staggering with the weight of the chains, dragging my

  arms up. My outstretched hands could barely reach his face; one fingernail brushed his skin.

  Then the blows struck my head and body, driving me to

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  the ground where the soldiers began to kick me. I was only vaguely aware of Oliveira stopping them, bending over and dragging me to my feet. Soldiers held me tightly; I could barely breathe. Oliveira had his pistol out and the cold muzzle was pushed between my eyes.

  “Speak!” he commanded. “One last time before I blow

  your brains out. Who wants to kill the GeneralPresident?” “I do,” I said hoarsely through my bruised throat. “I want to kill him and I have just done so. Don’t you see that scratch on his face, the drops of blood?”

  Zapilote raised his hand to his cheek and touched it, then looked at the red stain on his fingers.

  “You searched me!” I shouted, “But you did not find the

  weapon. This nail, this fingernail, cut to a point. And coated with four-hour virus. Zapilote has been infected and will be dead within that time. You’re dead now. old man. Dead!”

  Chapter 24

  As you can well imagine, that made quite an impression on everyone present. Particularly Zapilote. His parchment skin went even whiter and he staggered back clutching at his face. You would think that after having lived for over two centuries he would have had enough of it. He hadn’t. He must have got into the habit. I spoke sharply now, too well aware of the gun against my head.

  “You’re dead Zapilote—if you don’t get the antidote in time. Now get this idiot with the gun away from me!” Zapilote staggered forward and reached up to seize Oliveira’s

  ear, twisting it savagely as he hauled the man aside. The colonel shrieked and dropped the gun—which luckily didn’t

  go off—and clapped his hands to the now-bloody ear. Zapilote shouldered him aside and stood before me.

  “Get him on his knees!” Zapilote ordered, and the soldiers kicked me in the legs and forced me down. He stood before

  me, glaring down, while his breath rich with garlic and heartburn washed over me. “What about the antidote?” he breathed redolently.

  “Only I know where it is. If you receive the injection within three hours you will live. The virus that is now spreading through your bloodstream is unknown on this planet. Your doctors cannot help you. By now you should be feeling the first symptoms of the infection. You have a fever. It will keep rising until your brain is destroyed by its heat. Your fingers are-now beginning to tingle. Soon they will be paralyzed and this paralysis will spread to your entire body …” He screamed a shrill, old man’s scream. Raising his shaking hand to his face, bringing the tremulous fingers away wet with perspiration. Then he screeched again and staggered— two soldiers seized him before he could fall and half-carried him to his chair behind the oversize desk.

  “Tell these men to release me,” I ordered. “They will take

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  these chains off me and then they will leave. The creature Oliveira will stay in order to carry out your commands. Issue

  your orders.”

  Zapilote’s voice quavered as he spoke. “The chains dropped

  away and I dragged myself to a chair and dropped into it. Oliveira stood, dazed, his hands still over his torn ear.

  “Here are your instructions, Oliveira. You will get on the telephone at once and issue orders to release the prisoner

  you captured last night. The prisoner will not be harmed. He will be taken to Harapo’s suit at the Hotel Gran Parajero in Puerto Azul. When he is safely there he will be given a phone number that will connect directly with this office. When I have received a phone call from him that I find satisfactory we will discuss the antidote. The longer you delay…”

  “Do it!” Zapilote screeched. He turned to me as Oliveira worked frantically at the phone. “The antidote, where is it? I

  am burning up.”

  “You won’t die for over three hours yet. Though you will be very sick. The antidote is nearby. It will be delivered when a message is telephoned. That message will not be sent until I am safely out of here.” “Who are you?”

  “Your destiny, old man. Your nemesis. The power that will bring you low. Now send for my clothes so I won’t have to waste any of your lifetime later on. See, Oliveira is off the phone. Order him to take care of it.”

  “How can I believe that you will do this, that you will send the antidote?”

  “You can’t. But you have no other choice, do you? Now issue the orders.”

  The entire operation took almost two hours. Two hours in which Zapilote almost sank into a coma due to his rising fever. Two doctors kept his temperature down with antipyretics. But they could not stop the paralysis of his extremities. All sensation and control was now gone from his hands and feet. He screeched weakly when the phone finally rang and I bent to pick it up.

  “This is diGriz speaking.” “Are you all right?” Angelina asked. “I’m just fine. How is Bolivar?”

  “He’s right here beside me. Eating. Now get out of there!” “I’m on mv wav.”

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  I slammed the phone down and walked through the door without a backward glance. Following my instructions there

  was a chauffeured car waiting outside in Freedom Square, door open, motor running. As soon as I was seated it hurtled forward in the direction of the airport. My jetcopter was there, fueled and ready. I took off, circled and headed north to meet the heavily armed command copter with James at the controls. He waved to me as he swung his craft up beside mine and his voice echoed in my headphones.

  “You did it. Dad! There’s nothing in the sky—and if anything does appear we can blast it.”

  “Good. Send the signal to Zapilote with the name and address of the doctor in Primeroso—then let’s head for home. It has been a long day. “

  I had visited the doctor on the way to the Presidio that morning: it seemed at least a hundred years ago. A very large sum of money had obtained his exclusive services for the day. He had a hypodermic syringe filled and ready and just waited for someone to come and get him and bring him to the person to be injected. I knew that he would get a very warm (welcome indeed.

  We were joined by the rest of our tiny aerial fleet halfway back to Castle de la Rosa. They had pulled out and left Puerto Azul as soon as Bolivar had returned. None of us wanted to be within range after Zapilote had received the injection and had recovered. We landed together. I killed the ignition and climbed stiffly down from the copter; my side was beginning to ache. Bolivar was standing there when I turned around. He had bruises on his face and I could see a bandage under his shirt. He noticed my attention and smiled.

  “Not bad. Just a little kicking around when they caught

  me. You look a lot worse.”

  “I’ll feel a lot worse if I don’t get a little shot of painkiller

  soon. Take me to your medkit!”

  “I have some here. Morn told me about the plan, what you did.” His face was hidden as he gave me the injection. “I really do appreciate it. Dad—1 don’t really know how to say this…”

  “Then don’t. You’d do the same for me. Now lead me to a soft chair and a strong drink and I’ll tell you all about my visit to the lion’s den. Not the ribs!” I called as Angelina ran up to embrace me. “Let us just sit quiet for a bit before the doc

  The Stainless Steel Rat for President 137

  straps them up. They’ve lasted this long. You know, it has really been one of those days!”

  The marqubz must have been told of my arrival as well because he was the next one to rush up arms outspread to embrace me. James stopped him before he managed to puncture one of my lungs with a broken bone. “Let us take this party inside,” I ordered.

  “Champagne!” de Torres shouted. At this rate he would be running out soon. “The best in the cellar. The crucial hours of this day will be talked about for years, a century from now!” Which, even if a little confused in its syntax, was emotionally understandable.

  We sat in the deep chairs and raised our glasses. It really was the best champagne in the cellar I realized as it spread happiness and warmth throughout my system. I sipped again, and had my glass topped up before I told them the story of