The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection (100 page)

This stopped the counting all right, and drained him white
at the same instant. I ought to warn him about the old ticker, that’s the way he would pop off if he didn’t watch out.

“What do you mean, stolen?” he choked after a bit.

“Well they were, you know. All of the money I paid you with was stolen.” His face went even whiter and I was sure he would never reach fifty, not with circulation like that. “You shouldn’t let it worry you. The other stuff was
all in old bills. I’ve passed a lot of it without any trouble.”

“But …
why?
” he finally squeezed out.

“Sensible question, doctor. I’ve sent the same amount—in untampered bills, of course—to your old friend Zina. I felt you owed her that much at least, after all she has done for you. Fair is fair you know.”

He glared at me while I tossed all the machines, surgical supplies and such off the cliff.
I was careful not to have my back to him when he was too close; other than this all the precautions had already been taken. When I glanced up by chance and saw that a covert smile had replaced the earlier expression, I knew it was time to reveal the rest of my arrangements.

“An air cab will be here in a few minutes; we’ll leave together. I regret to inform you that there won’t be enough time
after we arrive in Freiburbad for you to seek out Zina and thrash her as planned, and get the money back.” His guilty start proved that he was really an amateur at this sort of thing. I continued, hoping he would be grateful for this complete revelation of how to do things in an efficient criminal manner. “I’ve timed everything rather carefully from here on in. Today is a bit unusual in that there
are two starships leaving the port within minutes of each other. I’ve booked a ticket on one for myself—here is your ticket on the other. I’ve paid in advance for it, though I don’t expect you to thank me.” He took the ticket with all the spirited interest of an old maid picking up a dead snake. “The need for speed—if you will pardon the rhyme—is urgent. A few minutes after your ship leaves an envelope
will be delivered to the police describing your part in this operation.”

Dear Doctor Vulff digested all this as we waited for the copter to arrive, and from his sickening expression I saw
he could find no flaws in the arrangements. During the entire flight he huddled away from me in his chair and never said a word. Without a bon voyage or even a curse he made for his ship upon our arrival and
I watched him board it. I of course merely went in the direction of mine and turned off before entering it. I had as much intention of leaving Freibur as I had of informing the police that an illegal operation had taken place. The last thing I wanted was attention. Both little lies had merely been devices to make sure that the alcoholic doctor went away and stayed away before he began his solitary
journey to cirrhosis. There was no reason for me to leave, in fact every reason for me to stay.

Angelina was still on this planet, and I wanted no interference while I tracked her down.

Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to be so positive, yet I felt I knew Angelina very well by this time. Our crooked little minds rotated in many of the same cycles of dishonesty. Up to a certain point I felt
I could predict her reactions with firm logic. Firstly—she would be very happy about my bloody destruction. She got the same big bang out of corpses that most girls get from new clothes. Thinking me dead would make following her that much easier. I knew she would take normal precautions against the police and other agents of the Corps. But they wouldn’t know she was on Freibur—there was nothing to
connect my death with her presence. Therefore she didn’t have to run again, but could stay on this planet under a new cover and changed personality. That she would want to stay here I had very little doubt. Freibur was a planet that seemed designed for illegal operation. In my years of knocking around the known universe I had never before come up against a piece of fruit so ripe for plucking. A heady
mixture of the old and the new. In the old, caste-ridden, feudalistic Freibur a stranger would have been instantly recognized and watched. On the modern League planets computers, mechanization, robots and an ever vigilant police force left very little room for illegal
operations. It was only when these two different cultures are mixed and merged that imaginative operations became really possible.

This planet was peaceful enough; you had to give the League societies experts credit for that much. Before they brought in the first antibiotic pill or punch-card computer, they saw to it that law and order were firmly instituted. Nevertheless the opportunities were still there if you knew where to look. Angelina knew where to look and so did I.

Except—after weeks of futile investigation—I finally
faced the brutal fact that we were both looking for different things. I can’t deny the time was spent pleasantly since I uncovered countless opportunities for fine jobs and lucrative capers. If it hadn’t been for the pressure of finding Angelina I do believe I could have had the time of my life in this crook’s paradise. This pleasure was denied me because the pressure to catch up with Angelina
nagged at me constantly like an aching tooth.

Finding intuition wanting I tried mechanical means. Hiring the best computer available, I fed entire libraries into its memory circuits and set it countless problems. In the course of this kilowatt-consuming business I became an expert on the economy of Freibur, but in the end was no closer to finding Angelina than I had been when I started. She had
a driving urge for power and control, but I had no idea in what way it would find its outlet. There were many economic solutions I turned up for grabbing the reins of Freibur society, but investigation showed that she was involved in none of these. The King—Villelm IX—seemed the obvious pressure point for actual physical control of the planet. A complete investigation of Vill, his family and close
royal relatives, turned up some juicy scandal but no Angelina. I was stopped dead.

While drowning my sorrows in a bottle of distilled spirits the solution to this dilemma finally struck me. Admittedly I was sodden with drink at the time, yet the paralysis of my neural axons was undoubtedly the source of the idea. Any man that says he thinks better drunk than
sober is a fool. But this was a different
case altogether. I was feeling, not thinking, and my anger at her escape cracked the lid off my more civilized impulses. I choked a pillow to death imagining it was her neck and finally shouted, “Crazy, crazy, that’s her trouble, all the way around the bend and dotty as polka-dots!” When I fell onto the bed everything swooped around and around in sickening circles and I mumbled, “Just plain
crazy. I would have to be crazy myself to figure out which way she will jump next.” With this my eyes closed and I fell asleep. While the words swam down through the alcohol-saturated layers until they reached a deeper level where a spark of rationality still dwelled.

When they hit bottom I was wide awake and sitting up in bed, struck dumb by the ghastly truth. It would require all the conviction
I had—and a little more—to do it.

I would have to follow her down the path of insanity if I wanted to find her.

In the cold light of morning the idea didn’t look any more attractive—or any less true. I could do it, or not do it, as I chose. There could be no doubting the wild tinge of insanity that colored Angelina’s life. Every one of our contacts had been marked by a ruthless indifference to human life. She killed with coldness or with pleasure—as when she had shot me—but always with
total disregard for people. I doubt if even she had any idea of how many murders she had committed in her lifetime. By her standards I was a rank amateur. I hadn’t killed more than—that kind of violence was rarely necessary in my type of operation—surely no more than … none?

Well, well—old chicken-hearted revealed at last. Rough and tough diGriz the killer who never killed! It was nothing to
be ashamed of, quite the opposite in fact. I placed a value on human life, the one unchanging value in existence. Angelina valued herself and her desires, and nothing else. To follow her down the twisted path of her own making I would have to place myself in the same mental state that she lived in.

This is not as difficult as it sounds—at least in theory. I have had some experience with the psychotomimetic
drugs and was well aware of their potency. Centuries of research have produced drugs that can simulate any mental condition in the user. Like to be paranoid for a day? Take a pill. You can go around the bend, friend. It is a matter of records that people have actually tried these concoctions for kicks, but
that
bored with life I don’t want to be. There would have to be a lot stronger reason before
I would subject my delicate gray cells to this kind of
jarring around. Like finding Angelina, for instance.

About the only good thing about these pixilation producers is the accepted fact that the effects are only temporary. When the drug wears off so do the hallucinations. I hoped. Nowhere in the texts I studied did they mention a devil’s brew such as the one I was concocting. It was a laborious
task hunting down all of Angelina’s fascinating symptoms in the textbooks and trying to fit them to an inclusive psychotic pattern. I even called in some professional help to aid in analyzing her case, not mentioning, of course, to what use I intended to put the information. In the end I had a bottle of slightly smoky liquid and a taped recording of autohypnotic suggestions to play into my ears
while the shot was taking effect. All that remained was screwing my courage to the sticking-place as they say in the classics. Not really all that remained—I wanted to take some precautions first. I rented a room in a cheap hotel and left orders not to be disturbed at any time. This was the first time I had ever tried this particular type of nonsense and since I had no idea of how foggy my memory
would be I left a few notes around to remind me of the job. After a half day of this kind of preparation I realized I was making excuses.

“Well it’s not easy to deliberately go insane,” I told my rather pale reflection in the mirror. The reflection agreed but that didn’t stop either of us from rolling up our sleeves and filling large hypodermic needles with murky madness.

“Here’s looking at
you,” I said, and slipped the needle gently in the vein and slowly pushed the plunger home.

The results were anticlimactic to say the least. Outside of a ringing in my ears and a twinge of headache that quickly passed I felt nothing. I knew better than to go out though, so I read the newspaper for a while, until I felt tired. The whole thing seemed a little foolish and pretty much of a letdown.
I went to sleep with the tape player whispering softly in my ears such ego-building epigrams as, “You are better than everyone else and you know it, and people who don’t know it had better watch out,” and
“They are all fools and if you were in charge things would be different, and why
aren’t
you in charge, it’s easy enough.”

Waking up was uncomfortable because of the pain in my ears where the
earphones were still plugged in, my own stupid voice droning away at me. Nothing had changed and the whole futile experiment was a waste and waste makes me angry. The earphones broke in my hands and I felt better, felt much better still when I had stamped the tape player into a tangle of rubble.

My face rasped when I ran my hand over it; I had been days without a shave. Rubbing in the dip cream
I looked into the mirror over the sink and an odd fact struck me for the first time. This new face fitted me a lot better than the old one. A fault of birth, or the ugliness of my parents—whom I hated deeply, the only right thing they ever did was to produce me—had given me a face that didn’t fit my personality. The new one was better, handsomer for one thing and a lot stronger. I should have thanked
that fumble-finger quack Vulff for producing a masterpiece. I should have thanked him with a bullet. That would guarantee that no one would ever be able to trace me through him. It must have been a warm day and I was suffering a fever when I let him get safely away like that.

On the table was a piece of paper with a single word written on it, my own handwriting though I can’t imagine why the
hell I left it there.
Angelina
it said. Angelina, how I would love to get that tender white throat between my hands and squeeze until your eyeballs popped. Hah! I had to laugh at the thought, made a funny picture indeed. Yet I shouldn’t be so flippant about it. Angelina was important. I was going to find her and nothing was going to stop me. She had made a fool of me and had tried to kill me.
If anyone deserved to die it was her. It was an awful waste in some ways yet it had to be done. I shredded the note into fine pieces.

All at once the room was very oppressing and I wanted
out. What made me doubly angry was the fact the key was missing. I remember taking it out, but had no idea where I had put it. The slob at the desk was slow at answering and I was tempted to tell him just what
I thought of the service, but I refrained. There is only one permanent cure for these types. A spare key rattled into the basket of the pneumo and I let myself out. I needed some food and I needed some drink and most of all I needed a quiet place for some thought.

A nearby spot provided all three—after I had chased the hookers away. They were all dogs, and Angelina just playing a role had been
better than this entire crowd lumped together. Angelina. She was on my mind tonight with a vengeance. The drinks warmed my gut and Angelina warmed my memory. To think that I had actually once considered turning her in or possibly killing her. What a waste! The only intelligent woman I had ever run across. And all woman—I’ll never forget the way she walked in that dress. Once she had been tamed a
bit—what a team we could make! This thought was so mentally aphrodisiac that my skin burned and I drained my glass at a single swallow.

Something had to be done; I had to find her. She would never have left a ripe plum of a planet like this one. A girl with her ambition could go right to the top here, nothing could stop her. And that’s of course where she would be—eventually if not now. She must
spend her life feeling damned because she was a woman, knowing she was better than the rest of the cruds around, then proving it to herself and them over and over again. My arrival would be the biggest favor Angelina could have. I didn’t have to prove myself better than the hicks on this rubified planet—just one look did that. When Angelina hooked up with me she could stop fighting, relax and
take orders. The contest would be over for all time.