"You wouldn't have shot me, would you?" Paka asked.

          "Of course not-particularly since I don't have a gun."

          He muttered rodentine curses under his breath as he drove. Or rather bounced. We eventually came to a farm road that led us back to the paved roads, and our bounding progress was smoother after this. Paka seemed to know the country well because we proceeded through side streets and back alleys, until we reached an industrial site of workshops and small businesses. We jolted to a stop next to Udongo's Financial Services. The engine stopped and we sighed down as the pistons relaxed. Paka unlocked the door and led us inside.

          "If you had had a gun-would you have shot me?" he asked. The close - brush with the possibility of death still shocked him.

          "I'm sorry." I really was. "It was just about the only thing I could think of at the time. Those police are bad news." I looked out of the window at the kangaroodle parked close by. With a big number plate on its rump. "Can that thing be traced by its number?"

          "It could-if that was the right number. Mr. Puissanto is very thorough. Purchased legally, but the plates are false. This building is rented under a dummy company."

          I looked around. An office like any other, but heavy on computers and files. Bolivar took off his head and looked around as well. "Do you have a water cooler around here?" he asked. Memories of Poison Pete still searing his throat.

          "Other room, through that door." Bolivar left.

          "I want to use your telephone," I said.

          "I'll have to bill you for the call."

          "Yes, of course, whatever you say." I dug out my wallet. Regretting breaking my lifelong rule of never associating with accountants or tax authorities. I dialed the number which rang and rang. And with every unanswered ring my body temperature dropped a degree. Why wasn't Angelina in the dressing room? In the end I dialed the box office."

          "This is the Waldorf-Castoria," I said in what I hope was a disguised voice. "I have a message for one of our guests. A Mrs. diGriz-"

          "Not here."

          "But where?"

          "I haven't the slightest idea. I had a quick glimpse of her when she left with her friends. They drove away in a large black car."

          I was facing the window as I spoke. The rain had stopped so I could clearly see in the glow of the streetlight a long black car easing to a stop outside. I put down the phone and moved out of sight of the window, concerned.

          "Are you expecting anybody?" I asked.

          "Just Puissanto. He said that he would get here as soon as the police were gone."

          I heard the car door slam-then someone knocked on the door.

          "That's not Puissanto-he got keys!"

          "Stall! You're here alone." I grabbed up Bolivar's head and slipped into the next room.

          "Just a minute," Paka said; I heard him unlock the door. "We're closed, it's after hours."

          "I'm sorry to hear that. I'll come in anyway."

          That voice, somehow familiar-but who?"

          "You can't come in-squeak! Is that . . . a real gun?"

          "I assure you that it is. May I?"

          Another squeal. Paka was not having a good day with guns. Real or otherwise.

          "Where is he?"

          "I'm alone!"

          "Paka, you are not a very efficient liar. Besides, I have had a tap on your phone for quite a while. I heard you arrange to pick up a certain individual."

          Individual? I tried to remember my conversation with Paka. Had I mentioned Bolivar? I handed Bolivar his head and put my finger to my lips, cozening him to silence. If the gunman didn't know he was here he still had a chance. He nodded his head-I waved him back, then opened the door.

          "What do you want?" I asked.

          The man with the silver-plated and pearl-handled gun turned to me and smiled.

          Chaise! Imperetrix Von Kaiser-Czarski. My employer.

          "You seem to have gotten yourself into a bit of trouble, Jim. You and your family. That is not like you."

          "Why the gun?" The black opening of the barrel was trained on my midriff.

          "You are a man who is wanted by the police. Perhaps it is for my own protection."

          "You are lying; Chaise. I have a feeling that you have never told me the truth at any time."

          He smiled. "Occasionally, Jim, just occasionally. And I have always paid you on time."

          "Might I ask why you bugged the phone here?"

          "That should be obvious. As a man of finance I always like to know what the tax authorities are up to." I heard someone come in through the outside door. Chaise raised the gun. "Nothing foolish now. Just turn around and put out your arms."

          I did. The handcuffs snapped shut on my wrists. The grinning thug was very familiar.

          "Igor!" It was the truck driver who had taken us to the porcuswine farm.

          "Igor, indeed," Chaise said. "I like to keep track of my employees. Now, if you please, take a chair while we have a little picture show."

          He put the holoplay on the desk and actuated it. A holographic image appeared in the air above it.

          Angelina! Then she spoke.

          "When you see this, Jim, don't do anything sudden or foolish," the image said, then grew smaller as the camera drew back. A masked man stood pointing a gun at her. I could now see that her hands were tied. The image flickered and moved and Gloriana appeared, slavering and angry; she was securely tied by her hind legs and immobile. Another shift and Angelina appeared again. She was coldly angry, snapping out her words.

          "It is Chaise. He is probably there with you now. Here is what he told me to say. Obey his orders. Do what he says. If you don't he promises to kill Gloriana at once."

          She was livid with rage and could barely speak the words.

          "If that doesn't convince you-he said that I would be next."

CHAPTER 13

          This is the sort of situation that I really do not like to be in. All right; I admit that I have been here before. But no matter how many times you get a gun pointed at you, with a quavering finger on the trigger, you don't really get used to it. And usually I had been alone when threatened. Now my family was involved and in danger. About the only tiny ray of hope in this situation was the fact that Chaise didn't know Bolivar was in the other room. I looked at Paka and he looked back in silence; he wasn't going to mention Bolivar's presence. The tiny photon of light in the current pall of gloom. I was certainly less than happy with this last turn of events. But losing my temper wasn't going to help in any way. That's it Jim, under control, speak quietly but firmly.

          "You are calling the shots, Chaise. But let us get one thing straight at the very beginning. If my wife suffers even the slightest injury, it will mean that you have signed your death certificate."

          "You are in no position to give orders to me!"

          "That's not an order, Chaise, it is a statement of fact. If I am not around to put an end to your miserable existence, then someone else will. Now that we have an understanding-what is it that you want me to do?"

          He thought about what I had said, then decided to ignore it. He had an ego as big as dwarf star. He smiled in a most friendly way.

          "See. Wasn't that easy?"

          He slipped the gun into a shoulder holster and looked at the cowering Paka. Pointed a stern finger at him. "I assume correctly that you want to go on living?"

          Paka's skin blanched. He was beyond words and could only nod.

          "Good. I could ask you to keep events of what has occurred here to yourself. But I have no assurances that you would." Chaise looked over at me. "My careful study of your MO revealed the fact that you use knockout gas with an amnesia element to subdue your enemies. Am I correct in assuming you are so equipped now?"

          I gave my most surly nod.

          "Excellent. Would you be see so kind as to administer a dose to Paka?" He looked on approvingly as the accountant dropped, unconscious. Prodded him with a toe and got only a snore in response. "It is for your protection, as well as mine, to keep our little relationship from being revealed. I want you to take command of the financial procurement operations of my bank."

          "I know nothing about banking."

          "I am talking about robbing banks-and I know for a fact that you have more than a little experience in that line. Up until now Igor here has been in charge of the operation. But he has no imagination or skill and is good only in carrying out orders."

          Igor scowled at this description but did not protest.

          "I have had to do all the planning myself and I do have other matters to think about. You will take over his team of robots. Robbery robots, specially designed for this single purpose."

          "It won't work. Robots must obey the Laws of Robotics. They cannot harm man, lie, steal, commit sexual or immoral acts. . ."

          "Try not to be so tiresome, Jim. I am not talking about intelligent robots. I am talking about brainless machines that have been carefully programmed. Go with Igor. He has the plans and instructions for your first assignment. The first thing that you will do is to complete the operation where my own bank was broken into."

          Things were beginning to fall into place. "You robbed your own bank?"

          "Of course. By that simple act I removed myself from the list of suspects from any fixture bank robberies."

          A lot more mental pieces slid into their sockets. "Then, let me guess, you had Bolivar framed for the theft?" He nodded happily. "Which led you even closer to me until-pow!-you pointed me out as the criminal-record and all! You didn't get me to this planet to stop robbing banks-I'm here to do the direct opposite!"

          I jumped for him and he touched the holoscreen and Angelina's image appeared before me. I lowered my clutching hands and tried not to froth too much. And the more I thought about it-the more I realized how I had been conned. He nodded cheerful agreement to my sudden realizations.

          "It was your avarice that was your undoing," he said, rolling Paka aside with his foot and seating himself in the unconscious man's chair. "As I planned, you could see only the four million a day. That golden dazzle overcame every suspicion you had, led you by the nose into my trap. Any reasonable man would have got out before the trap closed. But no, not you. Not the Stainless Steel Rat who walks alone! I counted upon your monstrous ego to keep you going to the bitter end. Am I not correct?"

          Well, deep down, I suppose he was. Though I did not like that Monstrous Ego crapola. But I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of having me agree with him. I pulled over a metal folding chair and sat down. Relaxed. Buffed my fingernails on my shirt and admired their shine.

          "Chaise, old thief, did it ever occur to you that I was on to you, and just leading you down the path?"

          He shook his head. "No, that is not possible. You are now on the run, sought by all of the various kinds of police on this over-policed planet. You know that I have a hostage that will ensure your complete cooperation. And-" He smiled widely as he inserted one final knife into my deflated ego, gave it a twist as well. "And I have been keeping careful track of your pathetic monetary maneuvers. Thinking that you were outwitting the man who is the master of money laundering and interbank transfers. The only element of originality in the entire process was starting your own bank to conceal my millions. And even that wasn't your own idea, was it? Bolivar came up with it. I was happy to employ such an original thinker in my own bank here. Even happier to turn him over to the police for his foolishness in trying to outdo me."

          "I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about," I said bravely. To disguise the sinking feeling that I knew very well what he was talking about. That smirk again, my fists closed, what a pleasure it would be to wipe it off his face! Relax Jim, I opened my fists and leaned back. If I lost my temper he would win.

          "Those millions I paid you, the golden goad that kept you going. They are gone from your bank and returned to mine once more. What do you think of that?"

          "I think we had better change the subject before you get yourself overexcited and burst a blood vessel. We were talking about lies. I respect you for that, if nothing else, for you are a master liar. The more I think about it the more I begin to think that probably everything you have told me since we met was a lie. You only wanted me on Fetorr as a cover for your robberies. To be the one and only suspect in what I am sure is to be a spectacular series of future bank thefts. The profits of which will go to you!"

          He smiled and took a small bow. "One must have a certain imagination to get rich in this competitive galaxy. And Fetorr is the perfect place for this particular operation. Corrupt police, greedy capitalists, nonexistent income-tax laws. It is positively a license to print money."

          I fought even harder now to control my anger: if ever a cool head was needed it was at this moment. There had to be an end to the approaching series of bank robberies-then what? "So I run the operation for you. What then? After the last robbery-what happens?"

          "That is completely up to you, my dear friend. If you are captured there is a great deal that you could reveal about my operations. The Fetorr police are well versed in techniques for extracting information from even the most reluctant witness. You probably would not be believed, but it could be an embarrassment to me if you were. So you must not allow yourself to be captured. I have carefully examined your criminal record-which is why I decided to employ you. You are very good at this sort of thing. I suppose that with a great deal of effort you might be able to escape, flee this planet, go into hiding when your employment is finished. In fact that that is just what I suggest you do. Out of sheer generosity I will help you escape to a very distant planet. Where your wife will join you. I am sure that there will be no temptations for you to ever return to Fetorr."

          "And what do I get out of all this?"

          "Isn't your freedom enough?" The humor was suddenly gone and I had a quick glimpse of the creature that Chaise really was. "Freedom, restored to the bosom of your family once again. I would say that that would be a fair trade in exchange for your services rendered."

          That was it. And there was nothing I could do about it. Now. But other ears than mine had heard us talking. The wall was thin, the inside doors flimsy. Bolivar must have heard every word spoken here. He would know that I could take care of myself, know at the same that he had to follow Chaise, run him to ground-and find out where Angelina was being kept. If her freedom were secured then Kaia's plans were instantly worthless. Which meant that all I could do was mark time, do as I was told. And find a way to open some lines of communication with Bolivar.

          Really, I had no choice.

          "When do I start?" I asked quietly, keeping all my true feelings under lock and key. For the moment.

          "Excellent!" Chaise said, rubbing his hands together with pecuniary pleasure. "Igor will supply transportation, and will pass my orders on to you." He looked out of the window at the darkening sky. "The banks are closed. My employees gone, the premises empty. Go now to the coffers of the Widows and Orphans and restore that which was temporarily taken from me.

          We went. Chaise in his luxurious limousine. Igor and I in the same springless and filthy vehicle. I climbed up into the cab beside him.

          "One of these days, Igor, I am going to maim and kill you. Or worse." He emitted a sound somewhere halfway between a laugh and a grunt.

          "No way. Boss got you by the short and curlies. We work now."

          We trundled steadily into Fetorrscoria, with the rush-hour traffic going in the opposite direction. No one took heed of our inconspicuous truck. Even the police turned glassy eyes away when we went by. Off the payway into the main streets, then passing the Widows and Orphans 1st Interstellar Bank, we turned into the alleyway behind it. Igor put on the brakes and we juddered to a stop. He dug into the clutter on the seat between us and produced a small recorder; hung it by a lanyard around his neck before he pressed the button that turned it on.

          "Deactivate alarms by placing your hand on the plate beside the rear entrance to the bank Do it now. "

          Igor grunted an understanding grunt, opened the cab door and climbed down. I saw him place his knuckles against the plate. Heard the tiny voice speak again. "The palm of your hand. " Was there a note of exasperation in the recorded voice?

          The hidden machinery whirred and the massive entrance portal slid slowly into the ground. Igor climbed back into the cab and thumbed the machine again.

          "Drive into the bank, " the computer-generated voice said. Wonderful! This cretin probably couldn't even read. We trundled into the bank, and still following the recorded instructions, he closed the garage door and waved me after him. "Activate robots, " was the next command.

          We went around to the rear and let down a ramp, climbed inside. In the semidarkness I could make out the metallic clutter of a number of small, low-slung robots. Igor bent over and, one by one, switched them on. Green lights glowed, wheels and tracks shifted slightly then stopped. Igor pressed the button for more information.

          "Everyone and every thing into the bank."

          Igor turned back to me. "Bring robots. Follow me."

          "Let's go, guys," I said. Nothing happened. All of the robots I have used were voice operated. These weren't. I bent and looked at the nearest one and saw a lever between the rear treads. I kicked the lever and the thing beeped and started forward. I kicked madly at all the others until they were trundling about in circles, then followed me when I went down the ramp and into the bank after Igor. I wondered what sadomasochistic mind had designed the robotic controls.

          We proceeded at a snail's pace; I hoped we would be out by dawn. Pausing often for instructions, we made our way into the bank's innards. Alarms were switched off, lights turned on, grilles and gates open. Until we finally stood before the massive door of the vault.

          "Enter six, six, six, six times, " the robotic voice ordered.

          Igor did as ordered and the tumblers fell: a green light blinked. While he was waiting for orders to turn the locking wheel I turned the locking wheel. The bars did from their sockets and I tugged the door open.

          The last time I had looked into the vault with Bolivar it had been a scene of cruel theft. Safety-deposit boxes torn from their niches and thrown, empty, to the floor. Most of them were back in place, though there were gaps where those too battered to fit had been removed. Now what?

          "Go to box three two five and open it. " I beat him to it; it wasn't locked and slid soundlessly out. "Activate device. " The box was empty save for a plastic container with a button labeled PUSH ME on top of it. I pushed it-then began to slide and fall.

          The entire floor of the vault, hinged at the doorway, was dropping down. Lights came on below revealing a chamber that occupied the area beneath the vault.

          Which was filled from wall to wall with transparent plastic bundles stuffed with credits of all denominations. And jewelry and works of art. Obviously the contents of all the safetydeposit boxes.

          "A great scenario," I said. "I tip my hat to Chaise, a true criminal genius. As well as being a brain-twisted swine."

          This was the perfect way to rob your own bank. Slip into the vault after closing time and open the chamber under it; undoubtedly installed by crooked offworld builders. Then clean out all of the valuables and raise the lid. Grand theft, shock, horror-and undoubtedly, writhing and complaining, the insurance companies paid out for the losses. Now, doubly rewarded, this crooked banker still had the theoretically stolen loot.

          A few more kicks put the programmed robots to work. Handbots grabbed up the credits and loaded up the cartbots, which trundled away with the loot. Igor and I stood by and watched this industrious scene until the hidden chamber was empty, save a few bits of torn plastic. We followed our helpers back as Igor, ever so slowly, received recorded instructions to close and seal the vault and the bank. Obviously lacking the intelligence to reverse the commands for entry.

          It was midnight, and I was tired, before we were done. I almost dozed off as we trundled down the dark streets, barely . illuminated by the far-spaced streetlights. We finally stopped before the looming bulk of a large warehouse. He had obviously done this before because-without instructions!-he keyed the transmitter hanging next to the soft dice above the dashboard. Hidden motors whined and the large garage door ground open. We drove in.

          "Where do we sleep?" I asked hopefully. "And, possibly, eat?"

          "Unload first."

          The inner room was thick-walled and well-sealed. I sat on a box and dozed while the scurrying robots carried the ill-gotten gains from the truck into the vault. Only when this had been done, and the robots kicked in the direction of their recharging outlets, did Igor yawn loudly and lead the way to what might laughingly be called living quarters. If you lived like a porcuswine in a wallow.

          Igor drank his dinner directly from an amber bottle, muttered something completely unintelligible, then dropped onto one of the ragged bunks and fell asleep. I resisted the urge to kick him in the head and went exploring.

          There was a desk with a telephone on it which I completely ignored. That one would be hooked directly to Kaia's control center. The plumbing facilities looked as grim as the sleeping accommodations. But there was a freeze-n-fry unit that seemed to be operating. All of the storage compartments seemed to be empty other than the one labeled Octopus Nuggets 'n-Chips. I threw the frozen contents of the box into the hopper to the fryer, and a few minutes later it discharged a solid lump of what purported to be food.

          I chewed down as much as I could of it, threw the rest of it out and found the bunk farthest from the loudly snoring Igor.

          And so to sleep.

          My last thought as I corked off was yes, I certainly had seen better days.

CHAPTER 14

          Two hour passed before the alarm in my watch went off, and vibrated silently against my wrist. Igor was still snoring away, and surely would for quite some time yet, considering all of the booze he had drunk. It was time to open some lines of communication-if possible. I slipped out of this dismal gent's dormitory, stepped over the charging robots, and found a small door close to the garage entrance. It was of course alarmed and locked, but even in my tired state I opened it easily enough. I looked out: the street was empty. Filthy and shabby. A rundown district that was perfect for Kaia's needs. There was a good chance that no one would be out and about this time of night. I hoped that it would stay that way since I made a memorable sight in my ruined tuxedo. The rain had stopped but the streets were still wet; I turned up my coat collar and went looking for a phone.

          I found two in the space of half an hour; both vandalized. I was bone-weary-but I had to go on. This might be the only chance I had to be on my own for some time-and it was imperative that I make contact with my son. I kept going. I was the only pedestrian about at this time of night, although the occasional car or truck whistled by. Another vandalized phone and I was about to give up hope-when I saw the cluster of colored lights ahead.

          A mechomart! Which was exactly what I wanted. This was an all-day and all-night shopping mall, completely automated, with never another human being in sight-if you didn't count the customers. There were a few of them and I stayed out of their way. Which was easy enough to do since they pointedly ignored each other as they loaded up on beer and groceries. I bypassed them and probed the inner shopping walkways, which were now completely silent and deserted. But as I approached, motion detectors sensed my approach and switched on their amplified appeals. I ignored the shouted appeals to buy shoes, furniture, dildoes, books, vibrators and weight-reduction pills; all the necessities of our modern society.

          "Buy my suit!" a mannequin in a window shouted as I walked.

          "Buy me. . ." a sexbot whispered seductively from the depths of a pink bed.

          "Win credits on the lottery!"

          "Get drunk quicker and stay drunk longer than you ever imagined with SkunkDrunk, the intravenous alcohol drip!"

          "Talk as you go-" That was it!

          The holodisplay swirled with color and phone shapes. I punched my way through the commands until I found a portable phone small enough to fit in my shirt pocket. I poked coins into the money slot, then more credit notes for a lot of connection time in advance. Finally the screen lit up with a rainbow of light, a brass band played a short fanfare and a smarmy voice said, "Thanks good buddy-you've been a great customer!"

          The phone finally rattled into the basket; I grabbed it up and left. To find a dark doorway to make my calls. I worked the directory until I got the right number, punched it in.

          "Welcome to the galaxy famous Colosseo. Now featuring the incredible Bolshoi's Big Top. If you wish to contact the box office for advance ticket sales press one. If you wish . . . "

          I pressed until my thumb was sore, working my way through menu after menu until I finally got the number I wanted. The phone rang a long time until a sleepy voice answered.

          "Do you know what time of the night it is?"

          "I do, Gar-and wouldn't do this if it wasn't an emergency. Your great-aunt Matilda is ill and at death's door. For more information would you please call this number.. ." The silence stretched out-then he spoke.

          "Wait a second, I have to find a stylo."

          Done! Gar Goyle was no longer in the Special Corps-but he hadn't forgotten the Matilda code. And had responded with the Stylo countersign. It was simplicity itself. If an agent thought that a phone number had been compromised, tapped into or no longer safe, he would use a sentence with Matilda in it. After that the phone number would be given-with the last four numbers being one digit too high. If they were four, seven, zero, nine, the transcriber would write them down as five, eight, one, zero. Simple and foolproof. I rung off and started walking back to the warehouse.

          Gar must have had as much trouble finding an unvandalized phone as I had had. I was almost back to the warehouse before the phone bleeped.

          "Is that you, Marvell?"

          "Yes. I am sure that a certain illegal party has bugged all the phones at the Colosseo-keep that in mind. Is Megalith Man back yet?"

          "No. Should he be?"

          "I'm not sure. He was safe when I left him, but we were out in the boonies and he had no transportation." I looked at my watch. "Tell him to call me from a safe phone at noon. If he doesn't return until after that, tell him to try again at midnight. And keep doing that until we make contact. Do you read?"

          "I read, " he said and hung up.

          That was all that I could do. Bolivar in his Megalith Man outfit might find it more than a little difficult to get back to the circus. But as long as Chaise or the police hadn't found him I knew that he could do it.

          I hoped. "No-know he is safe and will get back!" I shouted out loud to build my morale a bit. Went and let myself back into the building. Igor was still out and still snoring. I pulled the blanket over my head and tried to emulate his good example.

          I awoke cursing. My dimwit companion was kicking at the bed. Then he moved fast enough so my swinging fist missed him.

          "Got orders. We gotta go. North, that's good. Boss came by. This for you. Go north." He almost smiled. I did not question him: I would find out soon enough why north was good. I picked up the package and read the label on the side.

          MASK-A-RAID on one side. On the other, FOOL. YOUR FRIENDS. I opened it and looked at the' face inside. It was no one I knew. Which, I imagine, was the whole idea. A mask of pseudoflesh with operating instructions. How to stick it to my face. How to keep it in working order. How to feed it. Apparently it lived on chicken soup rich with nutrients. A can of soup and a funnel were included in the package.

          It worked a wonder. A different me stared back out of the cracked mirror. Well, at least I did not have to worry about the police anymore. Chaise was enough to keep my worrier going full time.

          I had a bit of an appetite, but when I watched Igor chomp down two greasy servings of octopus nuggets, all thoughts of food vanished, And I wished, not for the first time, that I could do with a less disgusting roommate. I skipped breakfast.

          We kicked our crew of robots to electronic life and rolled them aboard the truck. Then Igor added one item that I found very interesting. A portable battery charger that he plugged into the truck's electrical system. Which meant that we would not be returning this night. I wondered just where in the north we would be.

          We trundled through the morning traffic until we reached the tollway. This was filly automated and switched the truck over to autocontrol as soon as we left the slipway. We speeded up until we were exactly ten meters behind another truck. We stayed there with machinelike precision. With the tollway doing all the driving, Igor fell instantly asleep. I watched the dismal industrial landscape slide by-and timed the service areas. One appeared every half an hour. Very organized.

          It was just ten minutes to noon when I killed the road control and turned off the tollway. A loud siren sounded; Igor woke in a panic and wrested back control of the truck. Pulled over and braked to a juddering stop.

          "You try kill us!"

          "No. I just wanted to stop."

          "Stop? Why stop?"

          "Rest stop stop. Little boys' room."

          "What little boy?"

          "Pee, you moron."

          "Yeh, pee." His eyes rolled up as he took a bladderpressure test. "Yeah." We went inside.

          I kept an eye on my watch, finished and exited the rest room before he did.

          "Where you going?"

          "Food. See you back at the truck."

          He was suspicious but there was nothing he could do about it. I waited until I saw him head for the parking area. Ten minutes to noon. Just enough time to punch in the vending machine for a kafinkola-I was still tired from the night before-and a high-energy beanwich. I sat in a booth in back, eating and slurping and watching the door.

          My phone rang exactly at noon.

          "Bolivar?"

          "None other. "

          "Tell me-no don't!" Igor had suddenly appeared and was coming in the door. "Give me your number, be ready to take a call at midnight."

          I crouched down in the booth, put my finger in my drink and wrote his phone number out in wet figures of kafinkola on the tabletop. Had the phone back in my pocket an instant before my companion in crookery popped into sight.

          "No time. Gotta go."

          "Go, go, here I come." Memorizing the number as I stood up.

          Things got better the farther north we went. The mills, mines and factories gave way to automated farms. It was nice to see a bit of greenery. Then trees, more and more of them until the road was cutting a wide swath through virgin forest. A tunnel ahead dived under rolling hills-to emerge above a coastal plain bordered by a blue sea. I was beginning to see why Igor thought the north was good.

          The first of the homes appeared, most of them sprawling mansions. Even the verges of the payway were landscaped now.

          "Bosses live here?" I asked.

          The. answering grunt sounded positive. Top and bottom in this polarized society-with very little in the middle I was sure. We took the first exit, found a high-tech industrial estate hidden by trees from view of the road. Igor had obviously been here before. He worked his way through the numbered drives to the rear of an isolated unit. The sun shone warmly on a patch of grass and an umbrella-shaded table. And shone as well on Chaise, who was sipping from a frosted glass.

          "You look disgusting," he said when I swung down from the truck. He was right. My unshaven face was beginning to itch under the, living mask. My eyes were gritty and an interesting shade of red. After being soaked with rain my oncefancy dress was not fancy at all.

          "About Angelina-"

          "I shall tell you nothing," he snarled. Under that that flintlike exterior beat an even more flintlike heart. "You are my employee and will do exactly what I order you to do. Events need speeding up." He threw a cashcard on the table before me. "There is a mechomart in rollway fourteen. Get some clothes, smart dressy clothes, dipshave, soap, you know what. This is not Fettorscoria. I want you looking exactly like everyone else here so the police don't get curious. This is the finest residential site on the entire planet. When you buy the clothes, think rich. And try not let anyone see you dressed like that. You are completely out of place here. The police routinely stop and search anyone who looks out of place. Let us not forget that the police are still looking for you. If they catch youremember that you are not the only one who will be in jeopardy."

          Was there any point in arguing?

          Flower-bordered walkways cut between the various commercial units. I noted the numbers and made my way to rollway fourteen. A few vehicles hummed down the roads between the units and I made sure that they didn't see me. A couple were in the mechomart buying wine. I slipped by them and made it to the clothing section, where I bought a lightweight sports jacket which I put on. I started to discard my tuxedo jacket, thought better of it. It was the kind of clue the police would just love to find. I finished the rest of my purchases, bought a hold-all to hold everything, and retraced my steps.

          When I returned with my purchases the truck was gone and, blissfully, so was Igor. I started to talk, but Chaise waved me to silence. "Clean yourself up first. I find your present presence as revolting as that of Igor." I was in total agreement. "In there." He pointed to a doorway of an office, at the end of the building. The legend on the door read CHAFUKA INVESTMENT SERVICES. Another of Kaia's enterprises?

          There was a residential suite behind the office with a single bed. I took my face off, had a relaxing hot shower, followed by an invigorating cold one. Washed clean, shaved close, and dressed sportily I felt eminently better. I rinsed the dust off of my new face and put it back on. On my way out I passed a small and well-stocked bar that tempted me sorely. I did not resist. I strolled out with a tinkling glass to find my employer, joined him at the table. He looked me up and down and nodded approval.

          "Any more banks you want me to rob?" I said sourly.

          "No. Something bigger than that. What do you know about the atomic generation of electricity?"

          "I can trustfully say very, very little. I turn the switch on the wall and the lights come on."

          He threw some blueprints across the table to me. "Keep these. I will have more material for you soon. This particular problem is still in an early stage. We will talk about it later. Meanwhile you have a more pressing assignment. Not a single bank-but a single source of supply to a number of banks. You are going to take the armored van that distributes the cash to all the banks in this city. You have two days' time to work out exactly how it is to be done. The next day after that is deposit day, when the van will be fully loaded with credits to distribute to the local banks."

          "And what exactly is your plan?"

          There was not an iota of humor in his smile. "I told you, work it out for yourself. I have absolutely no idea how it can be done. You are the expert, so you devise the robbery." He took a projector from his pocket and slid it across the table to me. "Here are all details of pickup and delivery times, route, vehicle, drivers, everything you might want to know. I personally think that it is impossible to do. With all that information I have never been able to work out a plan for a successful robbery. I will be very interested in your solution to the problem."

          "And if I can't find a way to do it?"

          He pointed to the black watchlike object on his wrist, at the silver button set into its center. "I have only to touch this twice and you will never see your wife again. You will not know if she is dead or alive, taken to another planet, imprisoned here or just what. You will never know. She will just be gone.

          I think you had better get to work. I have things to take care of, and won't be back until tomorrow. You will sleep here."

          "There's only the one bed. Do I have to share it with Igor?" That was a singularly repulsive thought.

          "No. He sleeps in the truck. He prefers it that way."

          "So do L"

          He finished his drink, put it down and started to leave. Turned back. "Don't do anything that you-and your wifewill regret."

          I sipped my drink and I am pretty sure that my expression did not change. Particularly since I was wearing a new face. But at that moment I knew that I not only had to get Angelina out of this predicament-but I had to stop Kaia's clock as well. I must put him out of business, bring him down, ruin him or worse. I promised myself that.

          "Hungry . . . " the thin voice said. Just at the edge of audibility. I looked around, but I was still alone. Then I heard it again-and realized what it was. Before I did anything else I was going to have to feed my face. Literally. I put it into the bathroom sink and got out the funnel. Then opened the can of chicken soup.

          With this task out of the way I could get down to work and plan the robbery. "A piece of cake," I said, reaching for the projector.

          An hour later I was beginning to regret the rashness of my promise. The van was armed and armored, sealed, gas proofed. With a two-way radio. All of its many alarms automatically radioed in to the police if they were set off. The driver and the two other men were all heavily armed. The thing even had radiation proofing in case someone tried to nuke it. Chaise was gone, I was on my own. He would return in the morning and expect some answers. It was getting late, the sun was setting, I was feeling thick-headed and stupid. I ran through the data just one more time. The crime was impossible.

          "Impossible!" I shouted and went to the bar for another Silurian Slivovitz. "Not even magic could get into that thing."

          Some blurred minutes passed until I blinked and realized that I had poured the entire bottle into my glass, poured it out and over my hand and it was soaking into the rug. I put the bottle and glass down. Because I was nibbling at the very periphery of an idea.

          No guns, bombs, blasts, violence. Magic!

CHAPTER 15

          Oh dear maestro, good great Grissini, blessed be thy name, peaceful and alcoholic may your retirement years be. For you taught me your skills-and, more important, taught me to look at the world with a magical eye. To turn reality on its head. To question everything, to misdirect and deceive. Make an armored car vanish? Why not? Size did not matter. But illusion did. If it could be done with a porcuswine-why not with a vehicle? The illusion supports and enriches the trick. When it is done properly, magic is the most effective persuader of all since it is they, the audience, who are actually persuading themselves.

          I raided the office for paper and began drawing up the illusion to end all illusions. A few hours later I had most of the details roughed out-but I kept waking up with my face lying on the desk, snoring. Enough! I knew what had to be done, the overall concept was clear. I could work out all of the details in the morning after a good night's sleep. I set my alarm, stumbled towards the bed and crashed.

          In my dreams a large insect had alighted on my arm, sat there buzzing and sinister. Opened its jaws wide and buzzed even louder

          I awoke, yawning broadly, and turned off the alarm. Ten   minutes to midnight. I splashed cold water on my face then slipped out into the street away from the buildings. There were too many bugs and detectors on this planet to take chances. I knew that my employer had already made good use of them. This place was probably thickly bugged. I stood in the middle of the road and phoned Bolivar.

          And let the phone ring twenty times before I gave up.

          "Don't worry, Jim," I reassured myself. "Something came up, he couldn't get to the phone. He's a tough lad-he's all right. Try again in twelve hours." Despite all this, still exhausted, I had trouble getting back to sleep.

          By the time Chaise arrived in the morning I had worked all of the details out. I had made a diagram of the construction, as well as printing out a list of all the materials that I would need. I slid the printout sheets across the table to him.

          "Here is a list of everything that I will need to set the trap. The sooner I get all of it the sooner you will get your armored truck."

          He flipped through the pages, growing more perplexed all the time.

          "What is all this? Seven hundred and fifty square meters of microwave-oven screening? Four multi-megawatt holo projectors-alight truck-plywood-aluminum powder-iron filings-what are you going to do with all this?"

          "Perform the heist of the century. Now you can get it for me-or we can sit here talking about it. In which case we won't be able to finish in time. Over to you."

          His eyes did a good job of boring holes into my skull. I blew on my fingernails, then buffed them on my shirt. I won the waiting game.

          "If you are just playing games with me, diGriz . . ."

          "I assure you that I am not. Get me all of these items and I will get you the money. Now one important question-is this part of the world, this city-what do you call it?"

          "Sunkist-by-the-Sea."

          "Charming. Is this city and the surrounding countryside under satellite observation?"

          "All of this world is under satellite observation. Whatever you do will be seen, every moment traced and recorded."

          "Good. That is just the way I want it. I want them to see what they believe happened. I want their attention misdirected. So by the time they discover the truth we will be long gone. Where is Igor?"

          "Sleeping in the truck."

          "Wake him. Send him back to Fetorrscoria. Have him get everything I need and bring it back here. I am sure you know how to scatter the purchases about so no one supplier gets suspicious. I'll buy the van here. Don't worry-it will never be traced."

          After one more head-drilling look he. picked up his phone and called Igor.

          "He is on the way. Before he gets here you have enough time to explain just what you have in mind."

          "Of course," I said, sliding the diagram over to him. "Like all good magic it is simple when you have it explained to you."

          Chaise was actually smiling when Igor arrived. "Yes, I do believe that it will work." The smile vanished. "But this is going to have to work, isn't it, Jim? You have too much riding. on this to make any mistakes." I turned away; it wasn't worth bothering to respond to his endless threats. I waited until Igor had departed before I went in and poured myself the first drink of the day.

          "A little early in the day for the hooch," Chaise said.

          "Perhaps. And it is not going to be the last. I intend to make an easy day of it, because the hard work won't begin until Igor returns with the supplies. What about the van that I will need?"

          "There are dealers in the city. Use the card I gave you. If there problems getting instant delivery, use cash." He passed over a thick wad of bills. "Finish that drink when you return. I have better things to do than watch you imbibe."

          Chaise dropped me off in the center of the town near a Wings and Wheels dealer. I watched him drive away. I had a half an hour before I had to make my call to Bolivar. There was a restaurant and bar nearby, empty at this time of day. I had a drink in the patio and phoned at noon. The phone answered on the second ring.

          "Bolivar! "

          There was a buzz and a crackle, then his voice.

          "I'm not here at the present. But everything is fine. I can't go into details on an open line. Please call again at this time, two days from now. Over and out. "

          Something was happening-and I had no idea what. So I was not going to worry about it. Put it from my mind and concentrate on the job at hand. I finished my drink and walked back to Wings and Wheels.

          This really was a rich little part of Fetorr. Instead of a robot salesman, there was actually a human being doing this smarmy job.

          "Good morning, sir! My name is Jumanne and I am completely at your service. We've just had a delivery of personalized copters, two-Beaters, just perfect for you and your beloved. Each vehicle comes with your name in gold covering all the surfaces, fitted at no extra charge."

          "Emm . . ." I said, which filled him with enthusiasm.

          "A wonderful choice! Of course you might have your beloved's name instead of your own. Still without any extra charge whatsoever. Her, his or its cherished name surrounding you with fond memories as you fly. . ."

          "I need a light van."

          He shifted gears smoothly. "Long-running, no maintenance, no unsprung weight, lifetime guarantee, on sale for today only, our Loaded-Meyster-Shyster is exactly what you want. . ."

          "What colors you got?"

          Kaia's cashcard worked fine. As did the driving record and license of one of his employees that was held in the central computer's records. No other queries were made. My clothes, money, cash tip and mere presence in this habitat of the good and golden was passport enough. I drove out into the sunlit brightness of the day.

          I spent the next few hours apparently driving around at random through the city and suburbs of Sunkist-by-theSea. Which really did live up to its name. The houses were mansions, their swimming pools were lakes. The women strolling in and out of the expensive shops were gorgeous and glamorous beyond belief. When I nodded serenely to a traffic policeman he gave me a snappy salute in return. This sun-scrubbed paradise reflected a direct contrast to the grit and grime of Fetorrscoria. It was as though all of the money and life had been squeezed out of the one city and lavished on the other-which was probably true. I could readily understand why the galactic tax men and union organizers were zeroing in on the planet. In a way I wished that I could have helped them. Instead of crime and havoc I should be digging out all the dirty deals that the plutocratic financial barons had devised. Jim diGriz-Warrior of the People! A not very likely scenario. I rode on.

          But I was doing more than sightseeing. Not all at once, but in little chunks, I managed to drive the route that the armored car would take. I had to smile. I could pull it off.

          "Congratulations, Jim," I congratulated myself. "You really are the best. When they made you they broke the mold. This little bank heist will go down in the annals of perfect crimes."

          Then depression hit because not only would I not be making a profit for all my efforts, at the risk of a lifetime in some sordid jail, but I was doing it under duress and blackmail. Even if it worked perfectly I would still be rooted in the same black spot. The bullseye in the middle of the target. And Angelinawhat of her?

          But worry only gives one ulcers. Back at the rendezvous I poured myself a heroically large drink, stretched out on the bed and watched the sports channel on the gogglebox. It was a clickett, or crikket, match, I could not tell which from the adenoidal accents of the announcer. A recently revived sport that should have remained blissfully dead. Balls, bats, stumps, people in white uniforms running about; I was asleep within seconds.

          The grate of wheels in the drive outside woke me from a most pleasant sleep. The endless clickett game was still in progress and I received great pleasure by killing it. It was after dark and Igor~had returned with his purchases. Two days to go. I yawned and stretched. It was going to be a long night.

          And an even longer day after that. I was chewing uppers like candy and knew that my abused system would pay for all this later. Igor wasn't much help so I told him to retire. I would use the workbots to assist me. They not only did a better job than he could but they seemed to be a lot brighter.

          I was bleary-eyed and staggering when Chaise came in the afternoon of the next day.

          "Tomorrow is R day," he said.

          "R for robbery. Don't worry about it. The equipment is ready and I'll get it into place after dark tonight."

          "What about the truck?"

          "The same."

          "Let me see it."

          We went out to the garage and called out to Igor to turn off the lights before we opened the door. I didn't want any chance passersby to see what was going on inside. I closed it behind me before I turned the lights back on.

          "Great isn't it," I said, proud of my construction.

          "It wouldn't fool a three-year-old," Chaise grouched. Igor went back to work spreading silver paint on the plywood body. I was tired; anger flared.

          "Put your brains into gear, Chaise. It is not supposed to fool anything other than a camera in space. The paint has the same albedo as the paint on the armored truck. It also has the same shape and size. If it casts a shadow it will be the same shadow as the truck. If you both follow my careful and precise instructions it will work."

          "I don't like driving this thing," Igor said, echoing the doubts of his employer. "Not with all that stuff packed in around me."

          "Shut up!" I suggested. "Follow orders and try not to think. It is wasted effort." I looked at my watch and tried to cool down. "You have an hour to finish painting the thing. Then you have to paint your own truck-and it has to be done exactly as I told you. Success or failure depend upon it. Nowwork! "

          I had mixed the timer catalyst in the paint myself. If this were not done correctly it could jeopardize the entire operation. And end us all in jail.

          Chaise left then, being personally opposed to hard labor of any kind. Other than making money, that is. He had memorized my instructions on where and when he was to be and managed to get it word perfect without any effort. I had some rest then, waiting until the dark hours after midnight to get our gear into place. It was a pleasure to kick Igor awake, then push him, groggy with sleep, to our dummy armored van. I led the way, driving his truck with all our gear.

          Dawn was just breaking when we got back. R day was here.

          It was also T day or telephone day. I called again at noon but heard only the same recorded message. Concerned as I was, I knew that events of the day would soon drive any ongoing fears from my mind.

          Chaise came out of the office and looked at me just as I was putting the phone back into my pocket. Had he seen it? Attack was the best defense.

          "You are supposed to be in lovely Sunkist-by-the-Sea not here."

          "There is no rush. And I didn't want to be seen spending too much time there, staying in the same place. People might remember. Is your installation finished?"

          "All in place. We leave in ten minutes."

          "Don't make any mistakes. You know the penalty."

          Then he went out. Luckily for him. I was bone-tired and really not myself. My fingers had a life of their own as they tried to reach out and snap his neck. I kicked a few robots and cursed Igor out and felt a little bit better.

          We drove Igor's now yellow-painted truck out to the site of the operation and backed it under the shelter of the trees. I then led him back along the road to the spot where I had painted a red X on the grass. I pointed.

          "Stand there. Do not move." I looked again at my watch. "In a few minutes the armored van will come over the top of the hill there. That's it, use the binoculars, sight along the arrow painted on the ground. Good. And what do you do when you see the van?"

          "Press button like this!" He squeezed the toggle as I was sure he would. And nothing happened because I hadn't connected it yet.

          "Nothing happened!" he said with amazement.

          "Nothing was supposed to happen since you haven't seen the target yet." I was right-the brainless robots were smarter. "Stand. Wait. Look. See. Press. Run."

          I hurried back to my position. Checked that all the controls were to hand. Checked my watch one more time. If the armored car were on time-and Chaise had assured me that it always was-it should be within sight in two minutes. I took a chance and armed Igor's button. Rolled my eyes heavenward in a silent prayer that he could get this simple job right.

          Then reality shifted as the holoprojectors came on. I jumped because my arm seemed embedded in a large tree. I pulled it out of the image and admired my handiwork. Lovely! I heard running footsteps go by me. At least Igor had remembered his second instruction. After pressing the button, drop it. And get to the fake armored van hidden under the trees nearby.

          The real armored van would have been seen briefly through a gap in the trees. Before it went around a bend in the road. One of the many bends in this picturesque winding road that led from one garden suburb to another. A road the van always took.

          But what driver ever remembers every single bend in every single road? I was counting upon the fact that most drivers drove familiar bits of road on autopilot. This driver would now be rounding the bend. Normally proceeding on a bit farther, before turning round the bend to the right.

          Only not now. The holoprojectors had created a different image for him, where the road appeared to turn slowly to the left. He would drive that way.

          Or would he catch on and brake? My heart did the old hammering-loudly bit until I heard the sound of an enginegrowing louder. Then it appeared right beside me trundling along happily. Until the brakes slammed on hard, the wheels locked and it skidded by me.

          Any driver would have done the same. One moment he

          would be driving down the tree-shaded rural road. The next instant a rock wall would appear just in front of the van. No time to think just hit the brakes by reflex.

          I thumbed the actuator and two things happened. The holoprojectors changed their images. The road now ran through the trees as it had always done before. Anyone driving by now would only see trees and forest on both sides. That there were extra trees mixed in among the real ones, masking our truck and the armored van, would not be noticed.

          At the same moment that the projectors changed images, the hinged screen dropped down from the trees above and slammed into position. The other walls of the radiation-proof cage were already there, boxing in the armored vehicle. Hidden from sight by the holo projections. As the gate closed the gauss bomb exploded below the money van. I shivered as the magnetic wave surged through me, plucking at the hemoglobin in my blood no doubt. A magnetic surge, even one this strong, wouldn't hurt a human being.

          But, oh what it would do to any electric or electronic circuitry!

          Sizzle them, melt them, short them out and wipe them. The van's engine would be dead. As well as all the electronic and communication equipment that they had in there with them. The lights would have blown and the electric door locks would have been fused shut; the three men inside were trapped in the darkness. Even if they had tried to get out a radio message before the bomb went off, the metal screening of the cage would have stopped it.

          The trapped men would be frightened-but not for long. There were loud explosions as my makeshift mortars just lengths of pipe buried in the ground-blasted shaped charges up into the belly of the van, punching holes in it. But jetting in sleepgas rather than explosives or flying metal.

          I pulled on the gas mask with the darkened lenses. Turned on the brilliant flame of the thermal lance and began to burn a circle in the bottom of the van. But I was listening as well, and smiled when I heard the disguised van engine start, then move away.

          In outer space, thousands of miles above our heads, the never-sleeping eye of the observation satellite would be recording events below. It would see the armored van drive down the road and under the trees. Then see it emerge again and peacefully trundle towards its destination at the next bank.

          Which unhappily it would never reach.

          I rolled aside as the glowing disk of metal dropped to the ground. Just to make sure I would not be disturbed I threw some more sleepgas charges up into the van. I took off the gas mask with its dark lenses, put filter plugs in my nostrils before I climbed in myself. Spun about at the strange grating sound. Saw in the light of my torch a snoring policeman. Asleep and uninjured as were the other two.

          I used my diamond saw to cut off the fused lock on the rear door. Kicked it open to let in fresh air and birdsong. Dragged over the first of the money-filled lockboxes and threw it onto the ground outside.

          This was the hard part and it had worked perfectly. But had Igor done his far more straightforward job correctly? It was really very simple. All he had to do was drive the dummy van down through the hills and into the village beyond. But not to the bank, oh dear no.

          To the loading bay of the market in the mall nearby. Empty of personnel at this time of day. Do it, Igor! Park. Open the door. Press the actuator. Don't run! It is a twenty-second fuse, you have all the time in the world. Into the mall and stroll out the other side. Into Kaia's waiting car-

          I could almost see the flaring blaze that blotted out the sunshine. Aluminum and iron. Thermite. A timeless recipe for the hottest of flames. Flame that incinerated everything that it touched, melted the metals it could not burn. A fire that ran its incendiary course until nothing of the fake armored van was left behind other than a white-hot ruin. Let them analyze that when it cooled. Nothing could be identified after a flame like that.

          I was throwing out the last box when I heard a vehicle brake to a stop on the road. A stranger! No. It had to be Chaise. Because a door slammed and heavy footsteps approached. The engine gunned as the car pulled away.

          "Start getting these into the truck," I told Igor. "This is the final step in the greatest bank heist of all time."

CHAPTER 16

          It was done. Finished. Or was it? Had I made any mistakes? Had I covered all the planned points and details of the robbery? The armored car had been tricked by the holos and had driven off the road. Right. It had braked neatly in place inside the screened enclosure as planned. I had dropped the last screen while they were still braking-so there had been no time for them to radio a warning, had they even thought of doing so. The truck had braked to an emergency stop, then the gauss charge had fried everything electrical. Then the sleepgas mortar shells. Its crew had been rendered unconscious, none of them injured. I had checked that myself. While this was happening the fake van had driven out from under the trees and had taken the real van's place on the road. Where it would be watched by the never-sleeping eye of the satellite. Then it had driven to that distant mall-where it had burned spectacularly. Igor must have made his way safely to Chaise in the waiting car, because he was here now throwing the money boxes into his truck.

          What would the emergency services be doing at this time? Running in circles I hoped. The firemen would be dousing the steaming wreckage. Police investigators would soon be poking rods into the congealed mess. Eyewitness reports might identify it as an armored van. More confusion, more phone calls. Yes, the money van had left the last bank. No, it had not arrived at the next bank. More calls. Satellite images sent for and analyzed. More authorities getting into the act. More time wasted. The entire thing had gone exactly as I had planned. And there . was Igor struggling with the last of the money boxes. It was time to leave.

          Leave. The mnemonic triggered my memory and I slapped the pouch hanging from my belt.

          Two things. The pillbox opened to my touch as I climbed back into the money van. I put a time-release capsule under the tongue of each of the sleeping guards. They would dissolve in four hours and release the antidote to the sleepgas. I didn't want anyone dying on me. They would wake up and then, if they had not yet been discovered, they would raise the alarm. I needed only an hour's time to make my getaway, so we had plenty of leeway. Slipping the guards the capsules had been the first thing that I had to do.

          I was not too charmed by the second thing.

          I took out the metal image of a rat cut from the finest stainless steel. Clutched it a moment, cursing, then threw it to the floor. Chaise had warned me what would happen if it wasn't found at the scene of the crime.

          I climbed wearily to the ground, climbed even more wearily up into the cab of Igor's now-yellow truck. He was just sealing the back. "Drive on." I husked when he joined me. "To the payway and Fetorrscoria. If I should fall asleep you are ordered, under penalty of death, not to wake me."

          I dozed on and off until we reached the payway, then yawned myself back to life and fumbled out the catalytic activator. The mouth of the tunnel through the hills appeared ahead. As soon as we entered it I pressed the switch on the activator.

          The long, strong burst of radio energy, at exactly the 46.8meter wavelength, would trip the catalytic molecules in the yellow paint that now made the truck so visible. This would reduce their adhesion factor to zero; the paint would then blow away in a cloud of fine dust. Returning the vehicle to its normal filthy and stained pink. The empty armored van would be found. Satellite pictures of that bit of road would eventually reveal a yellow truck driving away from the scene of the crime. If they managed to track it as far as the tollway it would appear to have vanished in the tunnel. The perfect crime. Hugging this thought to myself I eventually settled down and slept the better for all of this.

          And woke just long enough when we pulled into the Fetorrscoria warehouse to put my face in the sink and give it a drink of water. Myself as well. Then to stumble to my cot. I had a slight smile on my lips as sleep overwhelmed me. It really had been a perfect crime.

          "The crime of the century, that's what they are calling it!"

          I opened gritty eyes to see the loathsome form of Chaise standing over me, hands filled with printouts from the news channel. He threw them onto my chest. I plucked at them feebly.

          The top one was a photo of a meaty official hand holding the metal stainless steel rat. All of the headlines were hysterical.

          RAT CRIMINAL STRIKES IN WEALTHY HEARTLAND MILLIONS MISSING!! PANIC IN MONEY MARKETS INSURANCE RATES TO RISE

          I bet they would! There would be cold shivers throughout the boardrooms. Not my problem. I scanned through the rest of the news, found an obscure item at the very end.

          UNION STRIKE LOCKOUT AT STEEL PLANT

          It looked like Gar Goyle was doing his union organizing bit now, when he wasn't putting on his freak act. Which made me think of Believer, who was still hidden in the act in his role of Megalith Man. Which in turn made me look at my watch. I had to phone him again at noon. I dropped the printouts and, with some effort, managed to climb to my feet. All of this activity had not disturbed Igor, who was still snoring on his bed.

          "You look terrible," Chaise said.

          "I feel worse."

          "If you are seen in the street in those filthy sports clothes you will be under suspicion at once."

          "So what do I do?"

          "Put this on." He handed me an anonymous dark-green work suit. "Go out and get some workmen's clothes. Heavy boots. Then get back here and wait. I will have another assignment for you soon. Give me the card."

          "What?" My head was still fuzzy; no more pep pills for a while.

          "The cashcard that you used to buy the van. I don't want it traced to any purchases here." He passed over a bundle of bills. "Use cash from now on."

          "Where do I go? I don't know anything about this city."

          "There is a mechomart not far from here."

          "You'll drive me there?"

          A look of quick distaste came and went. "Not very likely. Turn right outside the door. And don't take too long."

          "Yeah, yeah. But isn't the door locked?"

          "Of course. From the outside. Igor will let you back in."

          I tore off my tired sports clothes, at the same time palming my telephone, which I slipped into the prole outfit I had been given. Then washed up, as well as I could, with cold water in the chipped and filthy sink. Dried off my face and gave it a quick feed of chicken soup, emptying the can. I would have to buy more. The work suit was well worn but clean. Chaise was gone when I came out, nor was there any sign of his car in the street outside. There was a bit more traffic now than there had been at night. All of it passing through, since there seemed to be little to stop for in this run-down neighborhood. The traffic light at the next corner was red, with a few pedestrians waiting for it to change. When I joined them a young man turned and put a card into my hand. Advertising? A panhandler? I glanced at it.

          DON'T TALK! it read. Followed by PTO.

          I did, and the message on the other side was quite specific.

          GIVE ME YOUR TELEPHONE.

          A street robbery? For the first time I looked closely at the man who had given me the card. Well dressed. Tanned brown skin. Dark beard and mustache. Deep blue eyes that I had seen before.

          I shaped the word Bolivar with my mouth. He nodded and held out his hand. I gave him the phone and watched with great interest as he slapped an adhesive pad onto it. The traffic light changed, the cars began to move: he pressed the phone against the rear fender of the nearest one. We watched as it trundled out of sight. I turned to speak and faced the DON'T TALK card again. Then following his beckoning hand into a nearby alleyway. He pulled out a detector and scanned me. Removed a wired five-credit coin from my pocket, then cut a button off my jacket and placed them carefully into a radiation-proof bag. He did not speak until he had sealed it.

          "Hi, Dad," he finally said. "I wasn't sure it was you at first-nice new face you have there. But I recognized you from the back when you walked out. It is really great to see you."

          "And you as well!"

          "When you called last time I zapped back a detector signal and found out that your phone was bugged. That's why you got the recorded message."

          "Chaise! I thought he might have seen me using it."

          "He undoubtedly did. The tracer spotted you moving all over-then ending up here. I have been watching the warehouse all morning. That was a classic heist."

          "Thank you, it was. But completely without profit I want you to know. I am but an employee and Chaise gets all the profit. Any word on your mother?" I tried not to sound as disturbed as I was.

          "None. But not for want of trying. With James here now I can double the effort."

          "James! You were supposed to stop him."

          "He is unstoppable. But he has a new identity. He came as a bank examiner with the Banco Cuerpo Especial."

          "Which is a front for the Special Corps! In here." We had reached the mechomart; thirst and hunger struck lightning into my midriff. "Food first!" I said as I led the way to Eat-fast Pay-less. He did not join me in a bearburger with fried grasshoppers, which appeared to be the least-loathsome item on the dispenser's menu. But he added another blue beer to the order. He sipped and spoke.

          "James brought me new ID and this new personality as his assistant. So I have retired from the freak-show business. It was fun while it lasted. But wasn't too great for dating girls. Of course, as a married man I have abandoned that practice. We have done a lot digging in the records here, with some great help from the Special Corps, and we're getting a better fix on your employer."

          "Chaise. Is he really the richest man in the galaxy?'' I chewed hard, then picked a grasshopper leg from between my front teeth.

          "Far from it. It took a little time to track down his trail. He doesn't own most of the banks he is supposed to."

          "Smart. I'll bet that they were just there to con me into taking the job with the circus." I punched for two more beers. I had to slow down the grasshoppers that were now leaping about in my stomach.

          "The circus was a plant as well. I hired private investigators on three different planets who accessed the databases directly. The data they found was all planted and easy enough to see on the spot."

          "But not on a search from another planet. But why did Chaise go to all this trouble?"

          He slurped his beer and frowned. "He wanted you on this planet. Just why we are not sure yet. A first guess would be that he needed some crimes committed and wanted a pro like you to do them for him. And he also worked very hard to see that you joined Bolshoi's Big Top. We think he wants you there as a spy for him. As you know, a good number of the acts are fronts for various interstellar organizations. Perhaps he needed you there to keep an eye on them."

          My brain was churning and seething-as was my stomach. Rusty's Robot Bar was nearby. I pointed to it. "Let's move the party over there. Get something to drink that will kill the bear and drown the grasshoppers."

          "Welcome, welcome," the rusty voice said as I pushed open the swinging door. "Welcome, that is, if you are over eighteen."

          "I'm over eighteen," I said. "But at times I have the brains of a five-year-old. It is really depressing how easily I fell for Kaia's con. I am afraid that I must agree with you. The entire thing, the money, the supposed bank robberies, were nothing but a ploy to get me to this dismal planet, then blackmail me into doing his dirty work for him."

          Bolivar looked as depressed as I did as he nodded agreement. We went arid sat at the bar.

          "Rusty says Hi gents-and what will it be?

          "Got every drink from Ale to Zygodactyl pee."

          Rusty really was rusty, an ancient iron robot studded with rivet heads. I looked at the racked bottles.

          "A digestive I said. Something to settle the turn. . ."

          "Minced Rotifer Bitter," it grated, shooting out an extensible arm. The dark liquid smoked when it hit the glass. I sipped and belched a dragon's belch. It helped. But I was still depressed.

          "I am but a stainless steel slave to this criminal puppet master."

          "Slightly over the top-but basically true. But there is one fact about your puppet master that is most interesting. Although he has some interstellar holdings his core business is here on Fetorr. The private bank, the Widows and Orphans Is' Interstellar Bank. We know a good deal about that. I think he made me manager there to keep a close eye on me. Then framed me for the robbery."

          "So do I-since I helped him clean it out afterwards. The apparently stolen loot was there under the floor of the vault all the time."

          "What is more interesting than the bank is the fact that he also controls a very large brokerage office."

          I understood the words but not the meaning. The Rotifer Bitter was getting to me. I wiped it off my tongue and threw it on the floor.

          "Do again," I said, enunciating very clearly.

          "This appears to be circular trade with a vengeance. First he robs his own bank. When the insurance company pays him off he has essentially doubled his money. Next he cleans out another bank and blames you for it. Then he blackmails you into working for him in order to steal the armored car credits. Which he next launders through his bank to make more investments and more credits."

          "Give him credit for that," I said and laughed with a strange cackle.

          Bolivar lifted an eyebrow and looked worried. "Let's sit down for a bit. Before that bar stool throws you."

          "Let's." I stumbled over and dropped heavily into the booth. "Sorry. I've been on pep pills for a couple of days while I was arranging the heist. I don't think they mix well with the detestable drinks in this place. I had better get back now. How do I get in touch with you?"

          He took out a notepad of attractive green paper and wrote a number on it.

          "Call at any time. James or I will answer. And be careful to check for bugs first."

          I memorized the number and ate the paper. It tasted of peppermint and it helped. Then the unavoidable subject could not be avoided anymore.

          "And you keep looking. The most important thing that you have to do is to find out where your mother is being held."

          His face fell. "I know. We only have negative information so far. His bank and brokerage office are both clean. No hidden rooms-other than the one under the vault in the bank that you just mentioned. Could she possibly be there?"

          "A long chance. I'll drop by with some testing equipment."

          "Do that."

          "We also discovered that Chaise has a bachelor pad here in the city. I broke in, did the burglar act. Pinched his television. And had a good chance to search the place before the alarm tripped. We have been watching his movements closely and have no other premises or places that are suspicious. What about Sunkist-by-the-Sea?"

          "A possibility. He has an office and garage there, but no sealed rooms that I saw."

          "Let me have the address. I can make a more detailed search." '

          "Right."

          I scribbled directions on his green pad, handed it back. Depressed. There was nothing else to say. I took all the eavesdropping bugs out of the shielded bag and put them in my pocket. And waved a silent good-by.

CHAPTER 17

          I picked up some nondescript clothes at the mechomartalong with some clean sheets and blankets. Since I was doomed to spend more time in Igor's dank den, I would like to spend it in relative comfort. My stomach was feeling a little better, but I was bone-tired still. I picked up some more chicken soup for my face, some cans of beer for myself. By the time I reached the warehouse my feet were dragging. Since I had not been trusted with a key I hammered on the door until Igor reluctantly answered it.

          "Igor sleep," he grumbled.

          "How can you tell? Igor brain-dead."

          It was the fatigue and the worry speaking. Normally I would have known better and not gone out of my way by looking for trouble. Or I would not have made fun of somebody because of a physical handicap. I just wasn't thinking. He snarled something incomprehensible.

          And when I passed by him he hit me in the side of the head with his fist.

          It wasn't the kind of blow designed to kill or maim. Probably just the reflex physical response of someone who was frustratingly limited by verbal skills. Still-it knocked me to the floor, sent my purchases flying.

          But it also triggered all the pent-up rage generated by the impossible situation that I was in. Trained reflexes took over. He was above me-a kick to the knee brought him down to my level. As he went by my elbow hit his solar plexus knocking the wind out of him. He was out of the fight and I should have left it there: the strength of my anger almost ended the matter in tragedy.

          Without conscious volition my left arm was around his neck while I clutched the wrist with my right hand. The killer headlock. Steady pressure crushes the windpipe and stops the flow of blood in the carotid artery. First unconsciousness, then death. Or if you wanted to finish the affair quickly, sudden levered pressure could break the spine and death would then be instantaneous.

          The red haze that obscured my vision faded. Just inches away was his face, eyes bulging, tongue protruding. Seconds away from the end.

          It took a great effort of will for me to break the grip. I dropped him and stood up, breathing hoarsely, His eyes were still closed, but at least he was gasping in air. I waited until his eyes opened, then tapped my toe against his ribs to get his attention. With my thumb and forefinger I framed the tiniest space, held them before him.

          "That is how close you were to death. If you ever touch me again it will be all the way."

          I stumbled as I picked up my scattered purchases and walked away. Tired as I had been before, this burst of adrenaline-fired activity had pushed me closer to exhaustion: the upper pills were still taking their toll. I dropped everything onto the bed and fought not to drop myself as well. I did not fancy being asleep when Igor recovered-and the thought of revenge began to trickle through his sluggish synapses. I fed my face, then looked around.

          For the first time I explored the depths of the warehouse. There was clutter and filth-and far to the rear there was a door half-shielded by empty metal drums. I rolled them aside to reveal an armored motorcycle as well. Used in the other bank heist, no doubt. I pushed this away too and pulled the door open to reveal a small office, ill-lit by a barred and cobwebbed window. It all looked most attractive. Fighting the depths of fatigue I pushed the scarred desk against the wall, then went to get my cot. Igor was not in sight and I did not miss him. Dragging the cot across the floor diminished my small reserves of energy. Pushing it into the office seemed to take hours. The door opened inwards. There was no lock. Nothing I could wedge under the handle. I leaned against it and looked around. The desk. It was heavy enough to slow someone down if he tried to get in. Give me enough time to wake up. Pushing it across the room depleted my reserves completely. It slammed into place and I slammed down onto the cot, my bundles under me. I crashed.

          The light was fading from the window when I woke up. My mouth was bone dry and my lips smacked with thirst. The beer was packed in chillo cans: I cracked the lid on one of them. It bubbled with released refrigerants and water began to condense on the outside. I slugged it down and felt infinitely better. I opened a second can and drank only a little bit of it when fatigue got the better of me again. Sleep called.

          The hammering didn't wake me up. I worked it into an elaborate dream and I slept on. Only when I heard the grating sound of the desk being pushed along the floor did I snap awake.

          "Stop that!" I shouted and instantly regretted it as the steel band clamped hard around my head. Eased as the grating stopped.

          "Boss want you."

          "Tell him I'm coming..." In a hoarse whisper.

          I felt a slight measure better after I put my head under the running water. Toweled myself dry, put on my face back on and went out to meet my master.

          He looked at my rumpled state and said nothing. Merely curled his lip as he went to the table that was still cluttered with the greasy remains of Igor's last meal. He swept everything to the floor.

          "Igor-clean this mess up."

          He sat in a chair and waited until the muttering Igor had kicked the scraps to one side. A slight improvement. Then Igor went and lay on his bunk and turned on his gogglebox. Chaise waved me over. I moved the chair so I would not have my back facing the room, sat down.

          "What do you know about bearer bonds?" he asked.

          "Something to do with whips, leather straps?"

          "Either you are being facetious-or you are as much of an imbecile as Igor. Not bondage but bonds. A financial entity."

          "Ohh. I didn't know." Although I did. But I could see he was ready for a lecture so I let him have his flan.

          "Bonds, of which you seem to be ignorant, are certificates of ownership of a specified portion of a debt due by government, or some business organization, perhaps an airline, or other corporation, to individual holders, and usually bearing a fixed rate of interest. These are duly registered in the purchaser's name and records are kept. If they are later sold there is a record of the sale and purchase. But bearer bonds are quite different. There are no names involved. They can be bought and sold easily and are as good as cash to the owner. Do you have any idea what I am talking about?"

          "A piece of paper worth a lot of cash to whoever has their hands on it."

          "Generally speaking, yes."

          "And I'll bet that you know where there is a bunch of these bonds and you want me to grab them for you?"

          "Speaking crudely-again, yes."

          "Good. But before we talk about that I want you to tell me about Angelina."

          "She is fine and sends you her love." Chaise was perfectly repellent when he smirked.

          "Don't patronize me, you kidnapping crook. I want hard evidence, not generalities." I looked around, then saw in the rubbish on the floor the printouts he had brought, with the headlines about the armored-car theft. I seized them, dusted off the top sheet and handed it to him.

          "Take this. And bring me back a video of you handing it. to my wife. Let her read the news, then hold it up to the camera. Then I want her to say something that will positively identify her. Tell her that. She will think of something."

          He chewed his lip in thought, then shook his head. "That will be difficult and time-consuming. Impossible."

          "Make it possible. Because I am not planning and executing any more crimes for you until I have seen her alive and well."

          He thought deeply about this, then realized that I meant what I said. I had no intention of continuing to aid him without some reassurances. "All right. I will do it. But in return you must study a certain building in great detail. Become so familiar with it that you can find your way around, it in the dark."

          Why not? I had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

          "All right. What do you have?"

          He took a palmtop computer from his case and put it on the table between us. "I have a mole, a very deep mole, who was planted in this particular building some years ago. He has been taking photographs of this building all of that time." He typed in a command and a holopic of an immense white structure appeared before us. Mighty pillars supported a great plinth. Stairs led up the entrance behind the pillars and, as the point of view moved forwards, I could read the words incised in the marble above.

          PLANETARY CENTRAL DEPOSITORY

          "Let me guess," I said. "Somewhere in this monetary mausoleum is a room or rooms stuffed with bearer bonds."

          "Correct," he said.

          "Front entrance, " the computer said in a deep masculine voice.

           "You will tour this building while "I am away," he said.

          "You can walk through it with the virtual reality program,

          study it closely. Open and close doors, remember everything.

          By the time I return I expect you to be completely familiar with

          it. When you have done that-why, then I will tell you what

          you have to do."

          I considered this briefly-then nodded. "Do it. I'm not going anyplace."

          He started to stand. I stopped him. "Will Igor be in on this next job?"

          "I imagine so. Yes, he will probably be needed."

          "Then put the frighteners on him. He hit me-so I hit him back. Very hard. Can you convince him that if he touches me again, that I will kill him?"

          "Igor!" his master shouted. Our loutish companion looked up from the gogglebox. Stood and shambled over.

          "I believe that you and Jim here have had a difference of opinion."

          "Don't like him."

          "Neither do I. But we must work together. You will look after him and guard him well. Because if anything happens to him-the same thing will happen to you. And if you try to escape I will surely find you. Remember the last time?"

          Igor was looking very unhappy. Clutching at his trousers, looking around the room, finally speaking in a low voice.

          "Remember..."

          "Good. Than I shall not have to do that kind of thing a second time." He turned to me before he left. "You are safe. I'll give you one day. When I return you will be an authority on this building."

          "I will-as long as you bring the video I asked for. And another thing. I want a key to the front door. I can't eat the swill this creature does."

          He made a quick decision. Dropped the key on the table and left. I turned to the computer.

          I was interested in the building-why shouldn't I be? considering the assets that should be stored there. When I had visited most of the structure and could find my way around easily, I started looking into some of the more interesting vaults. Banknotes, freshly minted coins, stores of specie and bullion. It was so restful.

          After a couple of hours I knew everything that I would need to know to satisfy my employer. I yawned and stretched. It was time for a beer. Or breakfast. Or both. And more than time to talk to the twins.

          Igor looked up when I started for the door. Cringed and looked quickly back at the screen. I almost felt sorry for him. Thin screams and moans came from the set and I kept my eyes averted when I passed, not caring to examine his viewing taste too closely.

          I entered the precincts of the mechomart and probed a little deeper into its bowels, until I found an upmarket restaurant that actually had a human headwaiter. Or a well-disguised robot.

          "Good day, sire. Luncheon is about to be served. Today's special is steak. Genetically restored, genuine Jurassic Brontosaurus steak. Very lean, grilled to your choice. The normal order is one kilo, but for the really hungry we can serve any size portion. Ten, twenty, thirty kilos-" I raised my hand, almost losing my appetite at the thought.

          But the robot kitchen was good, the robot service fast, the drinks tasty and cold. Well-refreshed I left and went to the telephone dispenser I had used before. But this time I bought the cheapest model, then found a quiet spot in an alleyway to make my call. But only after I had put the eavesdropping bugs on the ground and walked away from them.

          "Dad! Good to hear from you. We spotted Chaise leaving the warehouse, but lost track of him on the payway. "

          "Going north?"

          "You got it. "

          "I thought he might." I explained about my need to see recent evidence of Angelina's safety, as well as the preparation for the new crime. "I thought he might go to Sunkist-by-the-Sea. He is sure to have a residence there. When he said it would take some time to make the video I was pretty sure he did not have her here in the city."

          "So what to we do? "

          "Just what you are doing now. Hold fast and keep an eye on Chaise whenever you can without alerting him to the surveillance."

          "We'll do better than that. I will, me, Believer, will keep an eye on this superswine. That frees James with his computer know-how to do a little snooping around in the public records of Sunkist-by-the-Sea. See if we can't track down his property holdings. "

          "Brilliant. I'll phone back tomorrow when I know more about the next job in my new crime career." I dropped the phone into a rubbish bin and retrieved all the little eavesdroppers. Put them back into my pocket.

          I .was cheered by the sorely needed help the boys were supplying. Depressed by thoughts of Angelina still in jeopardy. Refreshed by my meal and the animal proteins now coursing through my bloodstream. Downcast at the thought of returning to the warehouse and Igor's imbecilic presence. Reluctant to go indoors on this warm and sunny day. A patio bar caught my eye just the thing. A few beers in the boozer would do me no harm.

          There was a newspaper vending machine by the entrance. Normally a rarity in our technology-driven galaxy. I tried to imagine someone too poor to have a computer with newsservice printouts and I could not. Yet they must exist here on Fetorr for I popped in a coin and held the irrefutable evidence in my hands.

          Flipped through it as I sipped my beer. More hysteria about my one-man crime wave, along with a completely fictionalized biography of the Stainless Steel Rat. They held me responsible for every major crime of the past forty years. In the inner pages I found the item "STRIKE IN SEVENTH DAY," which showed that Gar Goyle was still hard at work. Puissanto as well: "TAX SCANDAL HITS PROMINENT BANKER." Unhappily, they weren't talking about Chaise.

          With banking on my mind I turned to the financial page.

          BANK DEPOSITS HIT NEW LOW FETORR CREDIT RATE SHAKEN MUNICIPAL BOND SALES SPURRED

          I yawned, very glad that James was the banker, not I. This sort of thing made very dull reading. I turned to the 3D crossword puzzle and dug out my stylo.

CHAPTER 18

          It was almost like a day off-something I had not enjoyed since our disastrous picnic attempt, the day when Chaise had forced his obnoxious presence into our lives. I could not relax completely, not with my Angelina still in jeopardy. But I could make the attempt.

          I dallied as long as I could over the newspaper. Then threw it away and, most reluctantly, returned to the warehouse. I carried Kaia's computer into my monastic cell, where I ran the virtual reality program a few more times to hone my skills in finding my way about the depository. Then I hooked through to the television function of the computer and found I could access over a thousand stations. A plethora of crap I quickly discovered. Who was it who said that there were a lot more garbagemen than college professors in this universe? It didn't take a genius to figure out who most of the programs were made for. Igor's peer group. Finally, by paying extra-Kaizi's account could bear it-I found a historical channel. All about planetary settlements and the destruction of indigenous lifeforms. I watched it with enthusiastic participation since there were a few other life-forms I could name that could do with a little destruction.

          Chaise arrived late the next morning carrying a small suitcase. "There has been a change of plan.. ."

          "There certainly has. We don't talk about that or anything else until I have seen your home video. Give."

          He produced the memory card and I slipped it into the computer. The screen lit up and I smiled, relaxed, not realizing how uptight I had been.

          "Hello, Jim," she said. "As you can see I am doing fine, as is Gloriana." I heard the echo of a little grunt when her name was mentioned. "Though I think I am putting on weight without any exercise."

          "You are gorgeous!" I shouted.

          "Here is the headline you wanted to see, about the successful crime of the century, as they call it. I will not congratulate you since I imagine all of the profit will go to the loathsome presence holding the camera. Turn that back on!" she added as the picture faded. She appeared again suddenly.

          "Sorry about that pause. But I had to convince a certain party that, in these days of technological wonders, the previous bit of this interview could have been electronically faked. What cannot be faked is a fact known only to you and me. So cast your mind back down the long light-years to the time when we first met. I always wore a locket around my neck. Do you remember what was in it?"

          How could I ever forget? A photograph I had only glimpsed for an instant as she destroyed it. Of her in what might be called an earlier existence. Not beautiful-not even pretty. It was easy to understand how her embittered early self could get involved in crime. To get the large sums needed for plastic surgery. Until this moment we had never talked about that picture again. Her mentioning it now was a message of some kind. Trapped in her cell I could easily imagine how she felt.

          "My photograph. Take care of yourself, darling."

          Then she was gone. "Let's get to work," I said, sadly.

          "There has been a change in strategy, as I said. The bearer bonds have waited a long time in their vault. They can wait a bit longer. You will have a different assignment first-"

          "Wait just a moment. Where is this going to end? How many of these assignments are you going to send me on before we end our enforced relationship?"

          Chaise rubbed his jaw. "That's a fair question. I must not let your morale lag by thinking that your work, and your wife's captivity, will stretch out into the endless fixture. My business ventures will reach a satisfactory conclusion soon. If you follow my orders, I guarantee that the bearer-bond retrieval will be our last job together. You will be free to leave. In fact I very much want you off this planet."

          "Alone?"

          "Of course not. You and your wife will leave on the spacer together."

          I didn't believe a word of what he was saying. But I had very few options open. I had to get on with it.

          "All right. What's next?"

          "Atomic energy and the generation of electricity. It keeps our technological society running. What do you know about it?"

          "Nothing. Or rather the knowledge, or faith, that when I press a button the lights come on."

          "Look at these." He opened his bag and took out a set of blueprints and a map. "This is the atomic generator on Sikuzote Island. Here, you can see it on this map. It is just off the southern coast and separated from the mainland by the channel of the same name. You will go there-"

          "How?"

          "By maglev train. There is a direct service from the central station here. You will have a new identification to go with your new face. You will go as a tourist. The south coast is known for its pebble beaches, simple amusements. As well as the gambling casino in Swartzlegen. It is much favored by the workers on their holidays."

          "Don't they go north to the sunny joys of Sunkist-by-the-Sea?"

          "No. They are not welcome there." Irony did not penetrate his sense of superiority. "Since it rains a good deal in the south the beaches are not much frequented. The indoor entertainments are much favored, as you can imagine. One of them is the guided tour of the atomic facility. Quite popular, and also free. You will go on that tour."

          "Look, Chaise, can you give me some slight idea what this is all about? There is nothing to steal down there, is there?"

          He sat back and thought about that. "You are right. There is nothing financial about your role in this matter. I will take care of that. You will be involved in a simple bit of industrial sabotage."

          "Like what? Blowing up-or melting down-the nuclear reactor?"

          "Yes. That is what I had in mind."

          "No way!" I jumped to my feet and paced the room. "This is not down my alley. If I go anywhere near that place I'll probably end up glowing in the dark."

          He was not impressed. "Shut up. Sit down. Look at this."

          This was the floor plan and elevations of the nuclear plant. Filled with highly unattractive labels like radioactive waste, coolant rod storage, reactor room.

          "What you must do is interrupt the electrical supplies from this generator."

          "For how long?"

          "Weeks at least. Preferably months. This nuclear generator supplies nearly a third of the electrical capacity of Fetorr. There will be financial repercussions."

          I was beginning to see what he had in mind. "It's money again, isn't it Chaise? We are going through troublesome economic times here on good old Fetorr, if you can believe what you read in the news. Bank robberies, currency robberies, disruption among the working classes. And next-an electrical crisis. Why if someone knew this was going to happen he might snap up a lot of stock in nonnuclear electrical generation plants.

          Then that person might make an awful lot of money. Don't you think?"

          "I think you are getting very out of line, diGriz. You stick to what you do best-and let me worry about finances and profits. So-how can you cut off the electrical supply?"

          "I haven't the slightest idea." I held the plans up to the light, but no inspired thoughts flowed. "Shutting down the nuclear reactor would certainly do the trick. But that has to be the last option. It would mean penetrating the plant, avoiding guards and alarms. And then what? I have no technical knowledge about this kind of thing." I folded the plans. "I suggest that I get down there as a tourist and look things over. Then call you. I don't know anything about buying the material that I will need when I am there. Can you send any supplies I require by truck?"

          "Too long, too slow. The levtrain has a most efficient freight service." He thought about this a bit, then dug into his bag and took out a plastic cylinder.

          "What is it?"

          "Playtexx. Completely sealed so it can't be detected."

          He passed it over and I took it with some hesitation. It was the most concentrated and most powerful explosive known. I knew that it existed but I had never used it. Since I don't usually go around blowing up things.

          "How stable is it?" I asked.

          "As inert as clay. Shoot it, light it, jump on it-and nothing will happen. This is the only thing that will set it off." He passed over a timer disc with a sharp skewer projecting from it. "Set the timer. Push the spike through the plastic container. Then get out of there. Now-put everything into this bag, along with some clothes. You leave at once. I'll expect a report by tomorrow in the very latest."

          I opened my mouth to protest. Shut it again when I realized the futility. A holiday in friendly Swartzlegen seemed to be very much in order. Chaise drove me to the station himself. Gave me anther bundle of money and a telephone. And issued more orders to which I nodded, but didn't listen. I knew what had to be done. Something dangerous, possibly deadly, in the sunny south.

          It started to rain as soon as the train reached the southern plain. The landscape became darker and more dismal, black wet rock piled on more black wet rock, with black clouds scudding across the dismal landscape. Quite depressing-but only to me. Everyone else on the train seemed to be working hard at getting drunk. The men at least. Not the women. There were very few of them, even fewer children. There was a bar at the end of every car, and they were doing very good business indeed. Not much of a family outing. Just a way for the lads to let off steam and spend what credits they had before returning to the joys of industry.

          A few hour later we reached the worker's paradise.

          The end of Swartzlegen Station opened right onto the sea. An elevated promenade ran along the seafront, stretching out to the horizon in both directions. I leaned on the railing in the driving rain and watched the waves rush high up on the blackpebbled beach. When the waves ran back again they carried some of the stones along with them, grating and grumbling like underwater thunder. There was a good bit of that in the sky too. Sudden flares of lightning followed by earsplitting claps of thunder.

          Lightning flared again out to sea. Giving me a quick glimpse of pale land against the black clouds. And the forms of low, clustered buildings. Sikuzote Island and the atomic generator. I turned my back to the ocean and scanned the row of buildings that lined the other side of the promenade. Amusement arcades, bars, restaurants, bars, squalid-looking hotels, bars, electronics, bars, souvenirs, bars, telephones, bars. I got the message. I had not drunk anything on the train. I would head for the nearest bar and get a beer. But not before I contacted Bolivar.

          The automated electronic shop was having a sale on detectors. I pushed in enough money for one. Turned it on and swept it over my body. It bleeped like an electronic pinball machine. Chaise sure didn't trust me. I dug out the coins, buttons, discseven a nail in my new shoes. And of course the new phone he had given me. I was getting very tired of this constant attention. I went and threw the whole lot into the ocean before buying a new phone. I put this into my bag and headed for the adjacent bar. Where I bought a beer and found an empty booth. Easy enough to do since the place was deserted. Took out the phone and tapped the buttons. Bolivar answered on the third ring.

          "Good to hear from you. No luck yet on finding Kaia's place in Sunkist-by-the-Sea, but James is beavering away at it. How are you doing? "

          "Traveling on a new assignment." I told him about the planned sabotage and my starring role.

          "Sounds dangerous. Could you use a little help?"

          "Not really-but thanks for offering. If I can't do it alone it probably can't be done. What you can do is take this phone number and call me if there are any developments."

          "Got you. Stay safe. "

          Safe. I appreciated the thought but doubted very much of it could be done. I turned the phone off. Changed it from ring to vibrate. Drank the rest of the beer, picked up my bag and went to get more.

          "Pretty rainy today," I said to the head barman. He was polishing a glass and keeping a keen eye on his staff of robot bartenders.

          "It's always rainy today." A real cheery soul.

          "Not too full.'

          "Not this time of day. The rain drives them in after dark."

          "I hear that there's a tour of the electricity works."

          "Volt City. Boring stuff. But at least it's dry." He put down the well-burnished glass, took up another one. Pointed his thumb. "Down there. Next to the pier. Tours every half an hour all day. By ferry."

          "Sounds like a winner," I said with little enthusiasm.

          "Or stay here and drink. Your choice."

          "Can I leave my bag here?"

          "Ten credits," he said. I took the telephone out of the bag before I passed it over. He stowed it behind the bar. "We never close."

          Cheered on by this hearty interplay I went out into the rain again. Was it stopping? Hard to say with the wind blowing water in all directions.

          Tied up by the pier, bobbing ominously, the small ferry Miss Kilowatt did not actually inspire confidence. At least the rain was letting up, though not the wind.

          "Welcome aboard Miss Kilowatt for your grand electrical tour," a very bored girl in an electric blue uniform said. She handed me a booklet. "We cast off in ten minutes and thus will begin the tour of your lifetime." Her nasal and uninflected tone made it sound like the end of a lifetime. I went to the bow and sat down on a wet bench. I was soaked through already and this would make no difference. I leafed through the booklet, then sat on it. I was still wet. A little while later there was a rumble in Miss Kilowatt's bowels and she moved slowly away from the pier.

          As the rain let up I could make out our destination more clearly. A low island with the waves breaking into white foam on its rocky shore. A long cluster of white buildings attached to a larger and more formidable building. A very tall chimney rose up from this, thin smoke blowing inland from its top. No doubt spreading atomic debris over the town. From the farthest end of the buildings thick black wires emerged and stretched out to a massive tower. Swung long catenary loops across the water to another tower on the mainland. Marched away on more towers, vanishing inland, transporting all those amperes and joules to the industry of Fetorrscoria. Inspiring.

          The passage was rough and blissfully short. I was happy to join the small crowd at the exit. Followed them down the pier towards the building complex. A wide entrance flashed a dazzling array of lights and emitted scratchy music.

          "Welcome." The canned voice said. "Welcome to your grand electrical tour. Your guide is waiting inside to tell you just how AtomGen is making your world a finer place to live in."

          We had to go single file through the narrow entrance. Past a uniformed guard with a counter in his hand, clicking it for every visitor. No, not every one. A mother and the little girl with her did not merit a click. Just the male visitors, I noticed idly. I paid more attention when I passed him. He clicked and looked at the readout.

          "Number fifty," he said aloud, and smiled. "This is your lucky day and you have won a valuable prize worth two hundred credits. Please follow me to that room over there where it is waiting for you."

          He handed me a golden disk with a lightning bolt inscribed on it. Pointed to the door with the same symbol.

          I did not like being singled out. But did not dare protest. I meekly took the disk and followed him through the door. It locked behind us with an all too solid sound.

          "Last one for the day, Geuka," he called out to another guard. Who unlocked a barred door. Through the bars I could see into the room beyond, could see some dejected-looking men lolling miserably in chairs.

          "What's going on?" I protested. "I'm not going in there."

          As I spoke I felt what could be a gun grind into the small of my back. Geuka unclipped an electric prod from his belt. "In," he said very firmly. "You and these other gentlemen have volunteered for only an hour's work on the night shift. For which you will be paid two hundred credits."

          "Work? What kind of work?" Should I make a grab for the gun?

          One of the incarcerated men was now standing at the gate holding onto the bars, enjoying the show.

          "Simple labor, you'll see," the guard behind me said. He had moved aside, out of reach now. With the gun still leveled.

          The man clutching the bars laughed what could only have been called a dirty laugh.

          "Believe that and you'll believe anything. It's cleaning up radioactive waste. You're gonna get a lifetime's worth of radiation in that hour."

CHAPTER 19

          "Just shut your mouth over there-or you're in big trouble," the guard said, waving the electric prod in his direction.

          The man laughed. "How much bigger trouble is there than getting nuked?"

          He shook the gate angrily but it was solid.

          Distraction.

          I turned my head just a fraction so I could see the guard beside me out of the corner of my eye. There was more shouting now from the other men locked in the room. The gun was steady-but I saw him look at the other guard.

          The edge of my hand sliced down hard on his wrist.

          He yiped in pain and the gun dropped to the floor. He dropped after it as I continued the turn so my rigid hand next caught him in the neck.

          I had turned completely about and was facing the door we had just come through. Seized the handle and tore it open, went through it and pulled it shut behind me. This had taken only a few seconds.

          The entrance hall was almost empty because the tour was leaving. The last of the people on the tour were filing out into the hallway. No one was looking my way. I walked fast, not running, towards the exit from the building. There was safety outside, the dock, the ferry. No, that was not a very good idea. Any moment now armed thugs would be coming out of the room. Heading towards the exit door. There had to be a better way to avoid them. I turned and joined the tour as it left the room.

          If I went outside I was sure to be caught. There would be no way to escape on the ferry, even less running around on the island. This was the only other option. It would take them awhile to discover that I had not fled the building but had continued deeper inside it.

          I walked behind the other visitors. The hall widened into a chamber, the lights dimmed and the wall before us glowed with golden light. The tour guide produced a weary monologue.

          "The first thing you will notice about this fascinating display is just how much the nuclear generator dominates the life of our little electric generating family here, dedicated to bringing you your electricity at the lowest possible price. Clean power and how very efficient this is will be seen. . ."

          Our guide droned on through her monotonous speech while the tour members gaped at the models and flickering lights. I looked over my shoulder after I had moved along the back of the tour, putting bodies between me and the entrance hall. Someone was running towards the outside door; there were loud shouts. Some heads turned to look as I worked my way farther into the room.

          There-on the far wall-was the exit the tour would be taking soon. I moved slowly in that direction. Turned as though I were looking at the display. And shuffled backwards at the same time. Until I was in the hallway. No one was looking in my direction, and the crowd hid me from sight of the entrance hall. I turned and walked calmly around a bend and out of sight.

          "Think fast, Jim," I muttered as I walked. The hallway was empty-but how long would it stay that way? Anyone I met would be an employee and they would know that I did not belong here. If I were seen, stopped, found-that would be the end of this little escape.

          No doors. Just backlit panoramas set into the wall visualizing the glories of nuclear power. Mighty machines, stalwart builders, sizzling electrons. I hurried past them. The hall ended in an escalator that was grinding silently upwards into the depths of the building. Should I take it? Hide behind it? A stupid action-I would be easily found. I had to keep moving. I got onto the escalator-then ran back down it as quickly as I could. From above I had seen that there was a door at the very end of the hallway.

          With a discreet sign on it saying EMPLOYEES ONLY.

          The tour group was still in the first hall. No one had seen me yet. I was about to become an employee. A quick twist of the picklock did the trick. I was looking into musty darkness: I hesitated.

          "Now if you will all follow me..."

          I slipped inside and closed the door behind me. Heard the lock click. Let out a deep and shuddering breath that I hadn't realized I was holding.

          I was safe for moment. The hunted animal gone to ground. And I had been like a fleeing animal up until this moment. Fleeing, not thinking, just escaping.

          "Well done, Jim," I told myself in a hoarse whisper, a little spirit bolstering being very much in order. But it was time to put the brain into gear now. I tried to visualize what was happening outside.

          No alarms had gone off yet so it looked as though this was going to be a silent chase. After the first shouting someone with intelligence would take charge. They did not want to disturb the visitors who had not been drafted for radioactive duty. Someone in authority had realized that if the ferry were stopped from leaving, I would also be stopped from leaving the island. They would take care of the ferry first. After it had been searched and I wasn't found, then someone would remember about the guided tour. That would take some time because the only person who had seen me clearly was the guard I had knocked down. He would have to be revived, sent after the tour to identify me. And I wouldn't be there. The search would widen to the island. And more sinister, would extend through this building. What next?

          Get away from the door for openers, dummy. Anyone who comes through it will spot you at once.

          I was right. And by this time my eyes were getting used to the semidarkness. I looked around. Light spilled in through a series of holes and strangely shaped openings. I blinked at this-then realized I was looking at the rear of the dioramas I had passed in the hallway. This space was used to work on them, change them perhaps, dust them. I walked slowly back the way I had come, but this just ended in a dead-end wall. The other direction had better offer something far better or it was back to the hallway for me. I would be easily found if and when they decided to search in here. The workspace deadended again. But at least there was another door here. I opened it a crack and put my eye to the slit.

          There was a cavernous hall beyond, well lit. With people moving about. It had to be a workshop of some kind; I could even smell paint. There was scaffolding as well. Cables and ladders. And the distant clanging of a bell.

          "What's up?" a man's voice said a few feet from my head.

          I stood, frozen, clutching the edge of the door. He was just inside the door. He moved forward inside the room, almost close enough to touch. He was not looking my way.

          "Alarm of some kind," another voice said. "They want us all out of the building."

          "Not another one of their idiotic fire alarms? We are never going to get this display finished by Founder's Day if they keep playing these kind of games."

          He must have become aware of the partly open door because he grabbed the handle and slammed it shut. Moved off, still complaining.

          And he had not seen me!

          I waited what I thought was a respectable amount of time. Then waited a little bit more. Opened the door again ever so carefully. The workshop beyond was silent and empty. I went in slowly, listening. There was the sound of some voices in the distance, a door closed, then silence. I didn't know how much time I had before they returned. Before that happened I had to have a plan, an escape, a hiding place. Something.

          The panorama they were building was life-size. A laboratory of some kind, hulking machines with dangling wires. A nude window-dressing dummy was working incongruously at a desk. Others dummies were stacked nearby, some partly clothed. In the rear was a white-coated figure wearing breathing apparatus. Blazoned on its chest was the tripartite red warning signal for radiation. Was there danger?! I jumped back.

          "Don't be a dummy," I scolded myself. "Like the rest of these dummies. They wouldn't have real radiation sources in a display. Everything is a mockup."

          I went behind the rear of the display and found cabinets, a paint locker, shelves of parts and models. Plenty of places to hide. Plenty of places that would be well searched. I had to move on.

          Or did I. Look. Think. Think like a magician. Always misdirection. People look for secrets, complications. They never notice the obvious.

          And the obvious was staring me in the face.

          I lifted off the breathing apparatus carefully and stared into the painted eyes of the dummy inside.

          "You have been demoted," I said.

          I noted its position carefully before I undressed it. Once it was naked I carried it over to the piled up dummies on the floor. There were seven of them there. By careful digging and rearranging they became eight, with the newcomer concealed at the bottom. They were dusty, had been there awhile. Hopefully the additional plastic corpse would not be noted. I pulled on the white clothing and leaned against the bench just as the original had. Put the breathing apparatus on and instantly began to suffocate. Took it off and found that all of the valves were closed. I opened them and tried again. Musty but bearable.

          I took it off and placed it down on the bench before me. Then I wriggled around to find a position where I could stand without moving, in some degree of comfort. When I had done that, I sat down on the nearby chair and waited.

          I had plenty of warning. Closing doors and loud voices. When they came back into the room I was immobile at the bench and looking at them through the dusty eyepieces.

          "Where are we on this plan?" the guard asked as he came into view. The same one that I had knocked down. He had a large and much-folded chart in his hand.

          "Right here," one of the technicians said. "Right off the central hall." There were a half-dozen more men with the guard.

          "Is there a door down this way?"

          "Just one to the workspace behind the hall displays."

          "We'll search there first."

          They did. I had been right to get out of there. When they came back they began to methodically search the rest of the area. Opening and banging shut the cabinets and storerooms. When they returned, one by one, they walked behind me. I stood, rigid, my back tingling.

          There was a loud sneeze and the guard reappeared.

          "Don't you care how dusty it is in there?"

          "We work in here. Never go near that hall. What difference does it make to you?"

          "Not healthy." The guard rubbed his nose on the back of his hand. One of nature's gentlemen. "Maybe he's hiding in here." He kicked the pile of dummies.

          "Stop that! You break anything and you are in trouble." The speaker pushed the guard's shoe aside, straightened the limb he had assaulted.

          Would he notice the extra figure?

          Surely they could hear my heart hammering. The blood thudding in my ears.

          "Or maybe he is in here," the guard said. Pointing at me. Looking me square in the face. The others looked. I looked back and wondered what I should do when they found me.

          "I made that thing myself," one of the technicians said. "Can we get on with this search? We'll be working after quitting time if we don't start moving."

          "Yeah, yeah," the guard said. "Now show me again on the map."

          I began to shiver with released tension when the door closed behind them at last. Although it was not hot at all I was soaked with sweat. I tremored over to the chair and dropped into it.

          "Jim," I confided to myself, "you are getting too old for this kind of crap."

          I laid the breathing apparatus next to the chair and kept the white clothing on. When they came back I was ready to do the dummy act again.

          But they didn't return. Perhaps it was past their work time. Or, more likely, everyone was involved in the search. So what did I do next? I had eluded my pursuers for the moment-but I was still trapped on the island. They would have searched the ferry by now. If I could make it to the ferry after dark, hide there. Then maybe I could get off the island when it left. A slim reed to lean on. That was the only way off the island and they knew it. It would be searched again before it pulled out.

          What then? The answer was very simple. I needed help. Although I was the rat that walked alone, I could see where a little aid and succor might very well be in order. Should I stay in this room? The lights stayed on, but the skylight in the ceiling above darkened. I was probably as safe here until morning as I would be anyplace else. And a good deal might be accomplished before the sun came up.

          I took out the phone and dialed the number.

          "Believer," I said when he answered. "I wonder if you would be kind enough to do me a little favor."

CHAPTER 20

          The search for angelina was still on; he told me about that first. And I'll give him credit. He did not laugh when I told him where I was and why I was here. He listened while I explained, in great detail, what had happened. Then he asked a few cogent questions.

          "It is going to be alright," he finally said.

          "I'm glad to hear you say that, but things here look plenty black at this time."

          "After darkness comes the sunshine. I'm going to call James and see if the new computer can help. And I have a few ideas of my own."

          "I'm glad of that, because that is a few more than I have."

          "Stay put. Don't get caught. I'll get back to you. Get some rest."

          Rest! Trapped inside a diorama, inside a nuclear power plant on an island with no exit. Yet it wasn't a bad idea. I arranged some of the drop cloths into a nest behind a partition where I couldn't be seen easily if anyone should come in. I lay tense for some time, waiting for the sound of approaching footsteps. Then I must have fallen asleep because the next thing that I was aware of was vibration of the phone waking me up.

          "We have the germ of an idea but we need a few more facts. Were the guards in uniform?"

          "Blue with gold buttons."

          "Did they wear badges? "

          I tried to remember. "No. Just name tags."

          Bolivar had some more questions, then wished me a good night. I thanked him and this time I was too tired to stay worried. When I opened my eyes again the skylight was getting light. Just to make the day complete the rain was thrumming down on it again. I felt absolutely rotten. Sore, bleary-eyed, depressed. I took off my face and rubbed the stubble on my face. I heard a tiny voice speaking. I looked around, the room was empty, then I heard it again. I held my face close to my ear.

          "Chicken soup. . . " it said plaintively.

          "You'll get fed when I get fed-and not an instant before. But I'll get you a drink of water though, I need one myself."

          I found a big sink, with paint brushes soaking in it, well to the rear of the workshop. I splashed water on both my faces, then drank from my cupped hands. Carefully poured water into the tiny funnel to slake the face's thirst. The phone vibrated in my pocket. I switched it on.

          "Are you alright? " Bolivar asked.

          "Tired and miserable-but still free."

          "Try and stay that way for a little while longer. I have found out that there are night watchmen on the island. They are the only ones who overnight on the island. The rest of the staff commute by ferry. I'll be on the first ferry trip of the day. "

          "I hope you know what you are doing."

          "I do. I am an officer in the Health and Security Police and you are one of our agents. "

          "I am? I've never heard of the organization."

          "Neither has anyone else. James created it and planted it in the government memory banks. There are so many kinds of police on Fetorr that one more won't be noticed. How do we get together?"

          "If they see me they'll grab me!"

          "Not if you are with me. " .

          I thought for a moment. "Come in the front entrance with the others," I told him. "Then turn left, through a large room and down the hall. You'll come to an escalator-but don't take it. Phone me and I'll join you."

          "Agreed! Over and out. "

          I put the face back on-ignoring its whimpered plea for chicken soup-and went back to the display that was under construction. I couldn't possibly hide there as I had hidden myself the night before, not for any length of time. I put the clothes and breathing apparatus on the dummy and restored it to its original position. Then went out the door I had originally entered by and back along the hall behind the dioramas. To the far end where I wouldn't be seen-unless another deliberate search was taking place. I sat down with my back to the wall and even managed to doze off again.

          I was awake the moment the phone vibrated.

          "Where are you?"

          "By the escalator you mentioned. "

          "Stay there-I'm on my way."

          A feeling of great relief passed over me. I didn't know what Bolivar had in mind, but I knew that he would get me out of this particular mess. I opened the door to the hall and there he was in a very smart and official uniform.

          Standing next to him were the two guards who had tried to grab me. And a clutch of business types in white lab coats. I started to draw back, but Bolivar stepped forward and put his arm around my shoulder.

          "You did a magnificent job, Inspector Kidogo. The department is proud of you." He thrust his right hand out and I shook it. And palmed something metallic that was in his hand.

          "Now tell me inspector-do you recognize anyone here?"

          "I certainly do. These two men here."

          Instead of seizing me the two guards trembled with fear.

          "Is it true that they threatened you with violence and tried to force you into certain undesirable actions?" I nodded agreement. "Good. One last thing then. What is it that they wanted you to do?"

          "They wanted me-against my will-to work with radioactive material!"

          "That's it!" Bolivar shouted and stabbed an accusatory finger at the group of men behind the guards. Who now looked as terrified as the guards. "Show these men your identification, inspector."