The Stainless Steel Rat Joins the Circus

Chapter 10

I was very glad at that moment that I was not on camera. I am sure that my expression was one of gaping stupidity; that of an eyeball-popping, hang jawed moron. What was happening? I took a quick look at Angelina and saw that she was as stupefied as I was. She recovered faster; touched her hair with the back of her hand, her expression now one of abstract interest.

This was Not a Good Thing, that was for certain. Someone in the bank-busting business was having a good laugh at my expense. A stainless steel rat indeed! A clue for the policeor a warning for me? By the time the current crime report had ended I had restored my composure and managed to carry off the rest of the interview in a fairly relaxed manner. I even managed a few quick card tricks without flubbing them.

"There you are viewers-a magic end to our interview with this magic couple. Playing nightly at the Colosseo right here in lovely downtown Fetorrscoria, the home of theater, sport and just good finery!"

The light on the robot's head paled and died. A metal plate with a piece of paper secured to it emerged from the creature's midriff it handed me a stylo.

"Standard release form, sign her, initial here and here. And now the lady, thank you."

The paper was whisked away as a small panel clicked open in the thing's metallic hip. It reached in and took out a thin bundle of banknotes, split the bundle neatly in half and handed one sheaf to me, the other to Angelina.

"One hundred and eighty credits each, standard fee. Good-by."

It opened the door for itself and was gone. Angelina locked it carefully, then turned to me. "Any explanations?"

"None whatsoever. Except someone is after me-and I'm not being paranoid."

"What do we do about it?"

"The stainless steel rat? There is nothing we can do, is there?"

"We can leave this repellent planet."

"No!" I was suddenly quite angry. "He, they, it, she whoever or whatever is behind these games is not going to get away with it. If we leave now we will never know what the goings-on on this planet are all about. And besides, I like earning four million a day."

She arched her eyebrows at that. "Greed goeth before a fall."

I thought about that as I stamped over to the bar and retrieved a bottle of Zubanishamali Sour Mash and a glass; two glasses. Held one out. She shook her head.

"Thank you, no. I don't how you can drink that filthy stuff. A white wine, if you please."

I opened and poured and pondered the fixture. We clicked glasses and drank.

"It's not the money," I announced at last. "It's my reputation-or lack of one. Someone is diddling with my life. I have to find out who it is and cause it to cease. I am being set up-worse my whole family is being set up. I do not like this. But who is doing it?"

"Chaise," she said firmly.

"A possibility. Or it could be whatever dark power I am being paid to discover. This would not be the first time that the hunter became the hunted." I looked at my watch. "Before anything else exciting happens I am going to begin our investigation of our only suspect, Puissanto. I have plenty of time before the next performance."

Before tempting fate I went to the stage door, where its geriatric guardian was reading a holo-horror comic. Little shrill screams and demonic laughter sounded thinly when he turned the page.

"I'm looking for Puissanto. Have you seen him lately?"

"Yeah. Gone out to eat a meal. Does it four or five times a day."

"Do you have any idea when he will return?"

"An hour. Usually takes him about an hour to eat. I saw him do it once. Unbelievable."

"That's great, thanks. I'll try him later."

For a lot of obvious reasons I tried him now. His dressing room door was locked. I knocked sharply, but there was no reply. Remembering him biting the steel bar in half, I made no attempt to enter until I had listened at the door with my electronic eavesdripper. Silence. No clatter nor sound of breathing. I then checked for alarms. Finding none I use the lockpick to make a quick entry. Closed the door behind me and stared into the darkness.

Light switch, somewhere on the wall, found it and blinked when the brilliant lights came on. There was the standard dressing table, the screen, the couch with broken springs-as well as some mighty solid-looking props. Weights, bars, an anvil, two barrels of beer, a smoked porcuswine ham hanging from the ceiling with a great bite taken out of it: just what you might expect in a strongman's room. Nothing unexpected. Some papers in the wastebasket. Receipts from a dry cleaner. One lion skin with moth holes. Man's jacket size 108 large. Not too revealing.

I went to the dressing table. No notes or pieces of paper in the drawers, one book on the table. I checked through it, held it to the light so I could see the title. Star Bashers of the Galaxy Strangers. Mindless and sordidly violent fiction-what else would a mindless and sordidly violent weightlifter read?

And a battered computer on the table. I switched it on. The screen flickered and then went black and displayed the flickering red message. ENTER PASSWORD it said. I turned it off and noted the make; an Eprom-80. I would dig out the specs and then, when I had a little more time, I would see if I couldn't break the secret password. Or wait until James turned up-this sort of thing was right down his hacking alley.

There was a rumble of masculine voices just outside the door.

Was Puissanto coming back? Panic struck: I could feel those steel fingers sinking into my windpipe already. Was there any place to hide? Possibly behind the giant trunk in the corner-if there was room enough to fit.

The door handle was turning!

I hit the light switch a nanosecond before the door opened a crack. Then stopped.

"… and I am deducting the cost of replacing the wheel of the lorry you tore off of." It was Harley Davidson, I recognized his voice.

"Tried run over me. Puissanto don't take hestelort from dumb driver. No way."

"It was an accident, you saw the police report, the driver never touched you."

"Wheel touch. Pull off."

"Indeed you did-and the half-axle and the differential along with it!"

"Cheap lorry, built like crap."

"Nevertheless you are paying for it."

While this intellectual conversation was going on I tiptoed across the room. There was just enough light coming in through the partially open door to find my way around anything in my way. I had to move the trunk a bit before I would fit behind it. There was a horrid grating sound when I pushed on it. Apparently not heard in the hall. I slipped behind it just as the door was flung open and the light came on.

Puissanto slammed it shut and walked across the room muttering to himself in a bass rumble. The floor squeaked, then the chair groaned as he sat down. He must have picked up the phone because I could hear the low clicking as he punched in the number. It should be ringing somewhere; he breathed hard and was still muttering.

"Talk Paka now. Get." He said to whoever answered the phone. More heavy breathing until Paka answered.

"Paka?" he said. "Is there any comprehensible reason why you failed to meet me at the appointed rendezvous? You did? Repetition will only bring retribution. Negative. Be there in fifteen minutes or our pecuniary relationship will be terminated."

The phone slammed down, heavy footsteps crossed the room again. The light switch clicked and darkness fell. The door slammed, the key grated in the lock. I breathed out a deep and shuddering breath and crawled out from behind the trunk.

A new mystery had now presented itself. Our moronic slab of muscle could talk like a professor when he had to. Was it relevant? Of course it was. The computer had uncovered the fact that he had been present whenever the bank robberies had occurred. If his head was just bone and muscle, as he made it appear, then he was not involved in complicated and surely technological crime. But he wasn't dumb at all-which meant he could be involved. I sighed. Another mystery to add to all the others.

I waited a decent amount of time, then exited. When I opened the door to our dressing room I was preoccupied, still pondering my recent discovery. Angelina was at the dressing table.

"Do I have some interesting news for you," I said, throwing the door wide. "I have just discovered that…"

My voice ran down as I saw that she was not alone. A beady-eyed and black-uniformed official of some kind was sitting across from her, now turning to stare coldly at me. His uniform was dead black with silver buttons, and it had interesting lapel ornaments of crossed swords over grinning skulls.

"What did you discover, darling, I'm dying to know," Angelina broke in, giving me a moment to recover.

"The house is sold out again tonight-so bonuses are in order all around. And who may I ask is your visitor?"

Swords-and-skulls spoke before she did, cold and menacing.

"I am Captain Wezekana of the Alien Interrogation Police. Let me see your identification papers."

I dug them out. They had more different kinds of police on this planet than I had ever seen before. He shuffled through my ID, held one page up to the light and squinted at it.

"If you tell me what you want perhaps I can help…"

"No."

About the kind of brilliant conversation one could expect from someone who wore his kind of uniform. The silence lengthened as he studied my papers in ever greater detail. If he was trying to frighten me he was succeeding.

"Did you get the porcuswine swill?" Angelina asked.

"Sorry, the shop was all out of it."

"I will try myself later. We mustn't let the dear piglet starve."

"No indeed. Perhaps I could get her a sandwich."

"An excellent idea-but no pork."

Our feeble attempt at conversation petered out in the shadow of this grim copper.

"I'll keep these papers," he said, stuffing them into his pocket.

"You can't do that!"

"Of course I can."

"What do you want them for?"

"You are under suspicion of having alien criminal identification."

"No way! And why am I under suspicion?"

"Because you are from offplanet. You have arrived recently. You are male and of a certain age. That is enough to make you a suspect."

"That's pretty broad grounds to make me a suspect."

"It is a beginning. We have six hundred and twelve suspects like you. We are narrowing that number down. Where were you when the bank robbery occurred today?"

"Sitting right where you are sitting. I was being interviewed for a television program. In fact that's how I know about the robbery. The news flash broke into my interview."

"Your alibi will be checked. Meanwhile I don't want you to leave this city."

"Of course I am not going to leave the city. I am performing in the circus here with a performance every night. Thousands of people watch me and applaud wildly."

"I will look into that alibi as well," he said coldly.

"It's not an alibi, it's the truth." I dug into my pocket. "Here. A free ticket to tonight's performance. You will personally see me there."

"I will personally see you in prison." He took the ticket and tore it in half and dropped the pieces onto the floor. "I will charge you with attempting to bribe a police officer."

He brushed his hands together as if he was disposing of something nasty. Stood and started towards the door. Any relief I felt ended when he turned back to me.

"What do you know about the Stainless Steel Rat?" he said.

Instead of screaming out loud and rushing to escape I stared at him with the same cold glare he was using on me. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"It is the alias of a criminal with a record of serious crimes on a number of planets."

"I am not interested in criminals. I am an honest theurgist who earns a modest living as a theatrical magician."

I was starting to tap my fingers against my leg. Keep cool! No signs of stress. Put my hands into my pockets. Pulled them out again. Something metallic tinkled to the floor. We all glanced down.

It was the lockpick I had so recently used on Puissanto's door.

"That is a lockpick! " the captain said with cold triumph, his eyes locked with mine.

"Of course it is," Angelina said walking between us, bending to pick it up. The spell was broken.

"I go nowhere without it," I said calmly. "Look here."

I strolled across the room and took up the book of imaginary clippings about my totally fake career. Riffled through it, held it out to him.

"The Underwater Magical Escape. See the manacles on my hands. The locks and chains on my legs. The steel cage about me. The fact that I am about to be lowered into the water. Without that lockpick I would very quickly drown. Thank you my dear."

I took the pick and put it back into my pocket. I could feel that basilisk gaze burning holes into the back of my skull as I turned away. Crossed to the chair and sat down.

The stare continued until he made up his mind.

"It is illegal to possess a lockpick on Fetorr. I am going to have to confiscate the one that you have." He put his hand out. I shied back.

"You can't do that! I will drown if I can't pick the locks in the underwater cage."

"That is no concern of mine." He was all heart. When I didn't oblige him he took out a large gun from his holster and pointed it at me. "I will not ask you a second time."

Muttering complaints I dug the lockpick out and handed it to him. It vanished as did, happily, the gun.

"I will be back." He turned and left.

Angelina went to the door, waited a moment then opened it. The hall was empty. I took out my detector and swept the room. The captain had been busy. Two coins, bugs, in the chair where he had been seated. More under the carpeting and in the wastebasket. They sparked and crunched when I stepped on them until the green light on the detector blinked.

"I don't like it," I said. "I am beginning to feel trapped, as though the powers of darkness are closing in on me."

"A little overdramatic—but very close to the truth. Let me pour you a drink."

"My angel. A large one. Thank you." It helped. I think.

"We had better cancel this tour and leave this planet," Angelina said. "Weren't you the one who always said that he who fights and shifts his freight, lives to fight another date?"

"I did-and I meant it. But that was some years ago when I was much faster on my feet. Always on the lookout for a fresh challenge. Right now this old rat is feeling a bit rusty and put-upon. And stubborn. For a lot of reasons, including some I am not sure of, I do not want to back out of this one."

"The four million credits a day. That's all you can think about-right?" I nodded reluctant agreement. "Why don't we forget about it? There is no point in being the richest prisoner in some foul Fetorr jail."

"There is a certain wisdom in what you say. But let us not quit just yet. What I started to say, before I saw your unwelcome guest, is that I have discovered something interesting about the apparently moronic Puissanto. He has the vocabulary of a college professor, when he does not know he is being overheard. Therefore when he is on stage tonight, and I can't be disturbed, I am going to take a look into his computer." I grabbed up the phone.

"I am going to dial up the local database-search and get the specs and documentation on the Eprom-80. As long as they are not a state secret."

They weren't-but that did not mean it was easy. Paranoia seemed to rule on Fetorr. I got the phone number of Eprom Ltd. And called them. And spent the usual endless period working my way through recorded voices and punching in the numbers that they gave me. At long last I talked to a human being. And instantly wished I was still talking to the robots.

"An Eprom-80? What's the serial number?"

"How do I know. The machine is not here and the number on the documentation is lost with the documentation."

"I don't know… "

"You don't-but I do. Can't you just give me the price and send me the specs? They aren't secret are they?"

"No-but they are copyrighted. "

"Of course they are! And so what? They come with every machine you sell. Give price. I'll send money."

The repeated use of the word money finally penetrated. In the long run he took the order. By this time my ear was sore. I went and opened a bottle of Old Ear Cure and poured a long one.

It really had been that kind of a day.