The hissing and crackling died down and I turned off the water, strode forward. I raised my foot and gave a good push against the circle of wall. It obliged me by falling outward with a rumbling crash.

  “Lights out!” I ordered, and Burin threw the switches.

  A streetlight lit up the ground outside, revealed the roll of carpeting. This began to rotate and the flexpowered end crept in through the opening. The carpet was red as I had ordered.

  “Let’s get out of here! One at a time. No talking and don’t touch the wall or the ground. Stay on the carpet, which is heatproof. Burin—over here.”

  “It’s working, Jim—it’s actually working!”

  “Your faith is touching. Make sure they are all out before you leave.”

  “Will do!”

  I joined the line of shambling figures, hurried along the carpet, and jumped off to join the neatly uniformed figure of my wife.

  “My love—”

  “Shut up,” she suggested. “There’s the bus. Get them aboard.”

  There it was indeed. Engine idling, coachwork gleaming. A large banner on the side bore the message—

  RETIREES MYSTERY TOUR

  “This way,” I said and turned the nearest man in the right direction and led the way to the door. “Go to the rear and find a seat. Put on the clothes that you will find on the seat—and the wig as well. Go.”

  I repeated this until Burin appeared. He took over the message muttering while I herded the remainder aboard. Angelina climbed in as well and sat in silence in the driver’s seat.

  “That’s the lot,” I said as cheerfully as I could.

  “Door closed and we’re away! I did this once before, years ago, only with bicycles.” I turned and nodded approval at the gray wigs and dresses, at what appeared to be a busload of old ladies.

  “Well done,” I shouted. “Very well done.”

  And that was very well that. Other than my wife’s cold silence everything was just about perfect. We rolled merrily into the night and were well out of the city before we saw a police checkpoint ahead. I struggled into a dress, popped on the wig, then led all the assembled ladies in a sing-song of “Row, row, row your boat—”

  The bus had barely rolled to a stop before we were told to move on. There was many a high-pitched shriek of joy and a flutter of waved handkerchiefs as we left.

  It was almost midnight before the headlights lit up the sign:

  BIDE-A-WEE RETIREMENT HOME FOR GENTEEL LADIES.

  I jumped out and opened the gate, then closed it behind the bus.

  “Inside, ladies,” I called out. “Tea and cakes waiting—as well as a self-service bar.”

  This last drew shouts of hoarse pleasure as they streamed inside, dresses and wigs now cast aside. Angelina signaled me over and I hurried to her side.

  “What do I say to him?”

  “I thought you were angry with me?”

  “That’s long past. It’s just…”

  He stood aside from the others, saw us talking. Walked slowly over to join us.

  “I must thank you both—for what you have done for all of us.”

  “It just worked out that way, Pepe,” I said. “The truth is we set the whole thing up to spring you out of that place. The operation sort of, well, grew a bit after that.”

  “Then you still remember me, Angelina? I recognized you at once.” He smiled warmly and his eyes grew damp.

  “It was my idea,” I said quickly, before things got out of hand. “I saw this item in the news and felt obligated to do something. For old times’ sake at least. Since I was the one who arrested you for stealing the battleship.”

  “And I was the one who led you into a life of crime,” Angelina said firmly. “We felt a certain—responsibility.”

  “Particularly since we have been happily married for years and have two fine sons. If you two had not been partners I would have never met the light of my life,” I added to make sure all the ground rules were known. Pepe Nero nodded and knuckled his eye.

  “I guess about all I can say is… thanks. So it all comes out even in the end. I think I was always suited for crime, Angelina. You just set my foot on the right road. Now I am going to have a really large drink.”

  “That is a really great idea,” I agreed.

  “A toast!” Burin called out. “Jim and Angelina—our saviors. Thanks for life!”

  Cups and glasses were raised—as well as a hoarse cheer from all present. I put my arm around her waist and this time it was I who had the tear in my eye.

  Table of Contents

  STAINLESS STEEL VISIONS

  Harry Harrison

  INTRODUCTION

  CONTENTS

  THE STREETS OF ASHKELON

  TOY SHOP

  THE MOTHBALLED SPACESHIP

  COMMANDO RAID

  THE REPAIRMAN

  BRAVE NEWER WORLD

  THE SECRET OF STONEHENGE

  RESCUE OPERATION

  PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST

  SURVIVAL PLANET

  ROOMMATES

  THE GOLDEN YEARS OF THE STAINLESS STEEL RAT

  Stainless Steel Rat Goes to Hell

  X of The Stainless Steel Rat

  Harry Harrison

  Tor (Dec 1995)

  * * *

  Tags: Fiction

  Brand new adventure of slippery Jim DiGriz, the SF superhero the TLS compared to James Bond and Flash Gordon and the Daily Telegraph, called the Monty Python of the spaceways. While our anti-hero is taking it easy on the resort planet Lussouso, his wife Angelina and her cavorting pals are at the temple ofEternal Truth, being bamboozled into believing that at last they can buy their way into heaven. When Angelina asks 1 pertinent question too many, Slippery Jim suddenly finds himself without a wife. Within the Temple of Eternal Truth lie the doors to Heaven and Hell - to find Angelina, Jim and his twin sons will have to break down those doors and explore the worlds behind them. In outer space, the devil makes work for idle hands.

  From Publishers Weekly

  In a distant future, with human civilization spread across the stars, Slippery Jim DiGriz, the Stainless Steel Rat, has flourished, first as a classically noble outlaw, then on the side of the law as a member of the elite Special Corps. When his beloved wife, Angelina, vanishes in the Temple of Eternal Truth, both love and duty drive the Rat to find out what happened. Rescuing his wife is easy enough; solving the rest of the mystery requires the help of Angelina, both their sons, several other Special Corps operatives and a company of Space Marines (going into at least one battle armed with nothing but 20-pound salamis). The villain is one Justice Slakey, a physicist who has solved the secret of traveling among multiple universes and replicating himself, and who is using these new powers to create a transuranic element that stops time and thereby confers immortality. If the Rat's long-running adventures (begun in 1961, with The Stainless Steel Rat) had ever been intended to be more than lightweight entertainment, the adolescent sexism and casual acceptance of the romantic myth of the noble outlaw might have long since become offensive. But as it stands, the novel offers fast action, abundant (if sometimes forced) humor, swarms of weird concepts and, for fans of the Rat, a welcome return (after The Stainless Steel Rat Gets Drafted, 1987) of what is probably Harrison's (King and Emperor, Forecasts, June 24) most popular series.

  Copyright 1996 Reed Business Information, Inc.

  From Booklist

  In the latest exploit of Slippery Jim DiGriz, well-known adventurer, bon vivant, criminal mastermind, and sometime upholder of the right (or at least his right), the Stainless Steel Rat (i.e., DiGriz) faces a foe deadlier and even more outrethan any he has faced before: the Powers of Darkness. When his beloved wife, Angelina, is foully kidnapped from a vacation planet, he, his son, and the usual collection of colorful cohorts must track her down, even unto Hell itself. Along the way, he gleefully battles assorted grim villains, vile powers, and, of course, the stodgy interference of more conventional forces of law and order. Fans of the Stainless Steel Rat will welcome this new chapter, the most outrageous yet, in Harrison's engaging and delightful saga. He has made this corner of the galaxy his own. Dennis Winters

  CHAPTER 1

  I POURED A GOOD MEASURE of whiskey over the ice, scowled at it-then added a splash more. But, as I lifted the glass and drank it with glugging pleasure, my raised eyes drifted across the clock that was set into the wall above the bar. It was just ten in the morning.

  “My, my, Jim, you are hitting the sauce a little earlier each day,” I growled wordlessly. So what? It was my liver wasn’t it? I gurgled the glass empty just as the house computer spoke to me in rich, educated-and possibly sneering?-tones.

  “Someone is approaching the front door, Sire.”

  “Great. Perhaps it is the booze shop delivery?” Venom dripped from my voice; but all Computers are immune to sarcasm.

  “Indeed not, Sire, for Garry’s Grog and Groceries delivers by freight tube. I identify the person approaching as Rowena Vinicultura. She has stopped her popcar on the front lawn and is emerging from it.”

  My morale plummeted as the name slithered across my eardrums. Of all the beautiful bores on Lussuoso, Rowena was possibly the most beautiful-and certainly the most boring. I had to flee-or commit suicide-before she came in. I was already heading for the back of the house, to possibly drown myself in the swimming pool, when the housebot’s computer voice stopped me in my tracks.

  “Ms. Vinicultura appears to have fallen down onto the plastic mat outside the door that spells Out WELCOME in six languages.”

  “What do you mean fallen?”

  “I believe the description is an apt one. She closed her eyes and her body became limp. Then she descended slowly towards the ground and is now lying, unmoving, with her eyes still closed. Her pulse appears to be slow and irregular as detected by the pressure plate in the mat. Lacerations and bruises on her face…”

  The thing’s voice followed me as I ran back through the house.

  “Open the door!” I shouted. It swung wide and I dived through.

  Her cameo face was pale, her dark hair tousled gracefully, her ample bosom rising and falling slowly. There was blood on her cheeks and a darkening bruise on her forehead. Her lips moved and I leaned close.

  “Gone she said, barely audible. “Angelina…gone…”

  It felt as though my body temperature had dropped thirty degrees. This did not slow me in the slightest. While I was still reaching down for her I managed to tap the number 666 into my wrist communicator.

  “Where is the home medical treatment center?” I shouted as I slipped my arms under warm thighs, soft back, and lifted her as carefully as I could.

  “The settee in the library, Sire.”

  I ran, ignoring the cold knot of despair her words had punched into me. Since both Angelina and I were strenuously healthy we had never used the medical services in this house. I had glanced at the specs when I signed the rental agreement; with the price we were paying, the medical arrangements should equal that of a provincial hospital at least. By the time I had carried Rowena to the library the settee had vanished into the wall and an examining bed had risen in its place. Even as I laid her on the bed the detectors were snaking down from the medbot that had popped out of the ceiling. An analyzer fastened onto the back of my neck and I slapped it away.

  “Not me! Her, on the bed, you moronic machine.”

  I stepped back out of reach while it set to work with mechanical enthusiasm. A glistening row of readouts sprang to life on the screen. Everything from temperature and pulse to endocrine balance, liver function, hair-follicle growth and anything else that could be measured or assessed was there.

  “Speak! Tell!” I commanded and there was a rustle of electronic activity as the various expert programs shuffled and sorted their input, compared and interacted and agreed on the results in a speedy microsecond.

  “The patient is concussed and contused.” The computer-generated voice was deep, male and reassuring. “The bruises are superficial and have been cleansed and sealed,” there was a scurry of flashing apparatus, “and the appropriate antibiotics injected.”

  “Bring her to!” I snapped

  “If you mean, sir, that you wish the patient restored to consciousness that is now being done.” If a computer can sound miffed-this one was miffed.

  “Whasha?” she muttered, blinking lovely purple eyes that were blurrily Out of focus.

  “You’ve got to do better than that with her,” I said. “Stimulants, something. I must talk to her.”

  “The patient has been traumatized..”

  “But not badly-you told me that. Now get her to talk, you overpriced collection of memory chips or I’ll short-circuit your ROM, PROM and EPROM!”

  This seemed to do the job. Her eyes blinked again and looked at me.

  “Jim…”

  “In the flesh, Rowena my sweet. You’re going to be fine. Now tell me about Angelina.”

  “Gone.”, she said. And fluttered her luxurious eyelashes.

  I felt my teeth grating together and forced a smile.

  “You said that before. Gone where? Gone why? Gone when-” I shut up since I was getting into a rut.

  “The Temple of Eternal Truth…”, was all that she said as her eyes closed again. It was enough.

  I shouted to the housebot as I bolted out the door.

  “Cure her. Guard her. Call an ambulance.”

  I did not mention the police since I didn’t want their flatfooted presence interfering with my investigation.

  “Switch on!” I shouted to the atomcycle as I jumped into the garage. “Door open!”

  I landed in the saddle, hit full power and tore off the bottom half of the garage door, it wasn’t opening fast enough, as we burst through it. I managed to miss a strolling couple on the pavement, shot between two vehicles and roared down the road, Shouting into the atomcycle’s phone since it would be nice to know where I was going.

  “Adlufo. Emergency access. The Temple of Eternal Truth-coordinates.”

  A street map was projected onto the now-cracked windscreen and I screeched tires around the first corner. As I straightened out I saw that the com light was blinking. It could only be an answer to my emergency call since only Angelina, James or Bolivar could access this number after that call went out.

  “Angelina is that you?!” I shouted. “Bolivar here. What’s up, Dad?”

  I explained briefly and curtly, then repeated myself when James signed on. I had no idea where they were-I would find out later-but it was enough to know that they were informed and on the way. This was the first time we had used the 666 call. Major emergency. Drop everything and assemble. I had set it up when they had left home and both gone their individual ways. To help them in the future, I had imagined; now I was the one who was calling. They clicked off, not wasting my time or attention with needless comments. They were listening and would be here.

  I blasted around the last corner and stood on the brakes.

  Oily smoke was billowing into the air-already dying down as white spray from a fire copter played over the wrecked building. The cold clutch on my chest was physical now. I took a moment to regain control, to breathe carefully. Then ran towards the ruins. Two men in blue uniforms were in my way and both sprawled and bounced. Then there was a bigger one before me with lots of gold braid; massed minions closed ranks behind him. I got control of my adrenaline-zapped reflexes and put my brain into gear.

  “My name is diGriz. I’ve reason to believe that my wife is in there.”

  “If you will step back and-“

  “No.” I spat the word like venom and he recoiled automatically. “I pay taxes. Lots of taxes. To pay you. I am more experienced in police operations than you are.” I neglected to add on which side of the law I had gained that experience. “What do you know about this?”

  “Nothing. Fire and police have just arrived. There was an automatic alarm call.”

  “I’ll tell you what I know. This is-or was-the Temple of Eternal Truth. A survivor just came to my house. Rowena Vinicultura. She said that my wife was here.”

  I could hear the police computer buzzing in his earphone. “Admiral Sir James diGriz. We will do everything we can to find your wife… Angelina. I am Captain Collin and I note that your status permits you to accompany this investigation under your owncognizance and responsibility.”

  Purely by reflex I had established my forged bona fides as an Admiral of the Fleet when we had first come to Lussuoso. Basic precautions always pay off.

  We followed a large and well-insulated firefightbot into the ruins. It plowed a careful path, occasionally spraying a smoking remnant, recording for later examination every movement that it made, every obstacle it put aside. A hanging door screeched and fell and we entered the smoking interior of what had been a good-sized meeting hall. Roblights suspended from whining blades floated by above us and illuminated the smoke filled interior.

  Destruction on all sides-but no bodies to be seen. The cold knot was still in my midriff. The room had been seriously decorated with carved wood paneling and-now smoking-draperies. Rows of pews faced towards the destroyed side of the room where the smoke was thickest. Precipitators soon cleared the air and the floating lights glinted from wrecked and twisted machinery.

  “We’ll hold it here,” Captain Collin said. “The disaster team takes over now.”

  The disaster team was embodied in a single metallic gray robot. It was undoubtedly packed full of expert programs produced in collaboration with fire and forensic investigators, along with detectors and probes of microscopic efficiency. Logically I knew it would do an infinitely better job than we fumbling humans: I still wanted to kick it aside and rush in.

  “Do you see any… bodies?” I called out.

  “No living creatures. No corpses of humans or animals detected. No-yes. Correction. Red liquid on the floor. Detection processing. It is human blood.”