The Stainless Steel Rat Joins the Circus

Chapter 7

"I must get back to the bank," Bolivar said, starting towards the door.

"I must go with you," I said, hopping about on one foot while I tried to pull my dress trousers off.

"We must all stop and think first," Angelina said, most practically. "The bank has been robbed. By this time security men and the police will have sealed off the crime scene. So there is no need for us to rush about in circles flapping our wings."

Bolivar had his hand on the doorknob-but did not open it. "Good thinking," he said. He let go of the knob, turned and sat down.

"You are the bright torch of wisdom in the dark night of stupidity," I said. Sitting down and taking off my shoes; which made the process of removing my trousers that much easier. "While I change out of my show clothes, perhaps Bolivar would be kind enough to book us a room at the nearest and most elegant hotel, with transportation provided therewith. We came here too late to do it ourselves."

"Good as done." He tapped into his phone. "Done. The Royal Suite at the Waldorf-Castoria awaits you and the Imo is waiting."

"Tell them that I'll need an hour to change and pack," Angelina said, slipping behind the screen. "And make sure that there is first-class accommodation for Gloriana. I'm sure that she is tired after tonight's performance." A petite porcine snore from the direction of her basket underlined the assumption.

Intelligence was beginning to slip back into my overexcited cerebellum. I pointed at the leather suitcase. "We'll take the supercomputer with us. It might come up with an answer or two."

"You will call me and let me know what happened at the bank?" Angelina said.

"As soon as we know ourselves," I said and blew her a kiss as we left.

Since the night's performance had not yet ended, there were plenty of floatcabs in the rank outside. We climbed into the first one, Bolivar gave the driver instructions, then turned on the machine that was built into the partition before us.

"What is that?" I asked. He pointed to the label.

SURVEILLANCE DETECTOR UNIT

"Industrial espionage is big business on this planet. This thing monitors for bugs in the cab, generates white noise to stop detection from outside."

"How do you know that it is not bugged itself?"

"Because I test it with this." He unclipped a small device from his belt and held it out. It bleeped and flashed a green light. "A surveillance detector. The bank issues them and tests them daily with…"

"I know-a surveillance detector. Continuing down this road leads only to madness. Because every morning, before it is used, the banks surveillance detector must be tested by …"

"Best not to think about that kind of thing Dad. Better to think about what we should do about this robbery."

Bolivar leaned over and pressed the actuator on the cab's detector. It instantly flashed a red light and spoke in a metallically reedy voice.

"Eavesdropping device under seat cushion to the left. "

Bolivar dug down behind the cushion and pulled out a few coins.

"False alarm?" I asked.

"I doubt it."

He looked at them quizzically—then opened the window and threw them out. The detector buzzed once, flashed a green light, then turned itself off. "One of those coins had to be a transmitter."

"Why should someone want to plant that thing to spy on us?"

"Probably not after us at all. Whoever they are, they may have wanted to observe someone who was attending the performance. So they bugged every cab there."

"Expensive way to work."

"Plenty of money available for that sort of thing. So-now that we have privacy-isn't it time to think about what action we should take about this robbery? We need a game plan."

"You are absolutely right," I said with great authority. Then slumped into the seat. "Only we don't have one."

"We do. For the first time since the thefts began we are on the spot when the robbery occurred. We gather all the evidence-and I mean all, then feed it into your supercomputer and see what it comes up with."

I patted the thing's leathery hide. "Good as done."

Only it wasn't. There were plenty of flashing lights ahead, ranks of policemen, great lengths of tape bearing the legend POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS. Our cab slowed and stopped at the barrier. As we emerged a burly minion of the law strode up.

"Leave. No one permitted."

"Stay," Bolivar said, producing his wallet. "I am manager of that bank and I am going in."

The policeman frowned down at the ornate jewel-encrusted badge and reached for his phone. His superior was of little help so we clanked up the chain of command until we reached a gold-braided copper with enough authority to let us by.

"Who are you?" he snarled at Bolivar.

"I am Bolivar diGriz, the manager of this bank. And you are?…"

Gold-braid glared first. "Captain Kidonda of the Serious Crime Squad. They called me at the theater. I tell you, I don't like my evening ruined like this."

"I couldn't agree more. It is not doing much for my evening either."

We stopped in front of the bank and stared at the great hole in the outer wall. Someone other than a widow or an orphan had made a massive withdrawal.

"Impressive," Bolivar said, looking at the opening. "There used to be a cash machine there."

Gold-braid nodded. "Eyewitnesses say they pulled it out with a skyhook. One tug and it was up and away. Every policeman on duty is looking for it now."

"What about the bank?" Bolivar asked.

"No alarms went off-other than the ones on the cash machine."

The captain's phone beeped and he snarled into it. "What?" He listened, then nodded. "Yes, do that. The lab technicians as well." He hung up and turned to us.

"The cash machine had been found, abandoned. And empty. Do you know how much cash was in it?"

"The records will be in the bank. Let us go and see." Bolivar leaned over and looked into the glowing eye of a retinascope. It beeped twice. When he put his palm on a metal plate beside the front entrance it burred slightly and unlocked the door. The three of us went in.

Low night-lights illuminated the interior; security cameras moved in slow arcs. Street light poured in through the immense hole in the bank's wall; chunks of debris fanned out across the floor.

Our presence was detected and gentle music began to play.

Serious financial music with an arpeggio of profit, while a compound-interest melody played in counterpoint we crossed to the massive bank vault and Bolivar leaned over to look at the indicators.

"At least we have no problems with the vault here. This is sealed tight. It has a time lock that cannot be altered from the outside. It will only open in the morning after the staff arrives."

Was the vault waiting to hear these words? As soon as he had spoken the ceiling lights came on and the big wheel in the center of the door began to turn.

"Good morning, customers," the vault said. The wheel clicked to a stop, then the thick steel locking bars withdrew from their sockets.

"You said it couldn't be opened?" Captain Kidonda was not pleased.

Before Bolivar could answer him the massive portal swung wide and we could clearly see inside through the barred gate.

The floor was strewn with empty safe-deposit boxes.

At that instant the alarms sounded deafeningly and all of the security lights began an eye-stabbing flashing. The captain was shouting into his phone, then waved forward the jumble of policemen that was coming through the door.

"Get a squad around to the back of the bank." He turned to Bolivar. "Is there a rear entrance to the bank?"

Bolivar nodded. "There is a a small pedestrian entrance, as well as a garage entrance for armored van deliveries."

"Got it. I want this building surrounded so tight that a gnat can't get out. The perpetrators are probably still in the bank. Move it!"

They moved. Then he ordered up a heavily armed squad. "Shoot anything that as much as twitches," he said.

"I assume that does not include us," Bolivar said. The captain ignored this levity. "Take us to the rear entrances," he ordered.

Bolivar obliged. I trailed behind, anxious to see what was happening, but at the same time not wanting to draw their attention to me. Bolivar unlocked the doors as we went. Through offices and storerooms to a final door.

"This opens into the garage area," he said.

"Unlock it-then step aside." He waved a command and an armed and armored zap squad moved forward. "When I open this, get in there. Don't take any chances. Fire first."

They nodded grim agreement, stood poised.

The door flew open and they charged through it. Firing into the darkness as they ran. Bolivar reached in and turned the lights on.

Layers of gunsmoke drifted in the air. The room was empty.

"Open the outer door," the captain ordered.

Bolivar threw the switch. Motors whirred and gears ground as the heavy armored door sank down into the ground. We waited tensely, guns ready. There were people outside.

Another row of policemen, also aiming guns.

"Don't fire!" Bolivar shouted at the trigger-happy cops. "We're all on the same side!"

Fingers twitched, then relaxed. Safety switchs were turned on.

"Can you explain how this happened?" Captain Kidonda said, turning on Bolivar.

"Certainly not. I was at the theater as well."

"But you know what happened?"

"I know exactly as much as you do. The money machine was pulled out of the wall. And somehow, someway, person or persons unknown entered the vault and removed all of its contents."

"How?"

"How should I know?"

"You should know because that is your job." The captain was losing his temper. "And I am beginning to think that this was an inside job. Planned by someone who knew exactly how to open the vault. Then took himself off to the circus for an alibi."

"I don't need an alibi!" Bolivar said heatedly. "I did not do it, had nothing to do with it. Can't you get that fact through your thick skull?"

"Insulting a police officer in the course of his duty!" the captain roared. "That is a criminal act! Arrest this man!" he shouted and burly rozzers leaped forward to seize my son.

"You can't do that! " I shouted, swinging the computer like a weapon as I started forward. The captain got in my way.

"Not only can I do that-but I can throw you in the pokey beside him if I hear another word from you!"

"Forget it, Dad. It's all some kind of mistake."

"Your mistake!" the police oaf said grimly. "A new manager from offplanet is most suspicious." He hesitated a moment, listening to the telephone in his ear. "Right. The commissioner agrees with me. I have orders to bring you in." He jerked a fat thumb in my direction. "You get out of here or you are also going to be in big trouble."

His breath was redolent of the last three or four meals he had had, his voice gravelly with disdain. I glanced over his shoulder at Bolivar-who gave me a quick wink. I understood. Don't get involved now. Don't make a scene. Get out of here then think of more subtle ways of solving the current problem. Other than running off at the mouth. His was a mighty informative wink.

I cringed. "Dear, sir," I whined. "You must forgive me, carried away by these terrible events, you are of course right. Justice will be served. While I crawl back to my miserable hovel and berate myself deeply at my mistake."

I bowed and hunched and shuffled backwards away from the scene. Gold-braid was about to say something when Bolivar pulled free of one policeman and planted a solid punch on the other. There was much avid cursing and struggling that covered my exit. I crossed the police lines and waved down a cab that was slowly cruising by as the driver ogled the scene.

"Pull over." I said. "Start the meter, stay here, we are waiting for someone."

He was happy to oblige. Enjoying the arrival of the siren screaming van that backed up to the front of the bank. There was a quick glance of people getting in the rear door, then it pulled away.

"Follow that vehicle," I said.

"No way! Them's security police and they are bad news."

"Only to the guilty. I am a newspaper reporter on assignment and here is my identification."

I passed over a golden fifty-credit coin that he took with some hesitation. "Okay. But I'm not getting close."

The traffic was light enough to follow from a distance. We could clearly see the police van drive through an open door in an immense dark and ugly building. The driver hit the brakes and we screeched to a stop.

"Out, out!" he squeaked. I opened the door but took my time about leaving.

"What building is that?"

A moan and a gasp was my answer. Finally he choked out the words. "That's … Slawter House … headquarters of the Fiscal Constabulary. Also known as the Roach Motel. They go in-but they don't come out." I closed the door and gave him some more money.

"That's great. This will make a fine story and my editor will be pleased. Now take me to the Waldorf-Castoria where my employer awaits my arrival." A chill passed over me since it was Angelina who was waiting. I knew in advance what her reaction would be when I arrived. The cab was fleet, the distance short, her wrath understandable.

"You let them imprison our son?" Angelina said with venom in her voice and murder in her eye.

"I was ready to take them out-but Bolivar said no. He winked at me."

"He has an old head on a young body. Probably saved your life-taking on the entire police force at your age. What's next?"

"We get him out of there. The course of events has taken a very ominous turn. There are too many coincidences and I don't believe in that. But I do believe in active malice. I am sure that our role in this affair has been rumbled. First, we are here in this city when the robberies occur. And it is a totally different kind of crime from the previous ones. Always before. there has been no alarm-but the banks have been found cleaned out in the morning. Now we have a cash machine plucked out with noise and jumble. That has never happened before. Then, when we are inside the bank, the vault is apparently robbed just before our eyes. No good. We get Bolivar out now. But we have to have a good alibi for the time when all this is happening."

"You have arranged that?"

"I will. Or rather you will. Call down for great amounts of food and— drink. We are going to have a party."

While she did this I dug our apparatus out of the bags, stuffed needed items into my pockets. A portable radio filled with functions never imagined by its manufacturer. A camera that took good pictures-but picture taking was probably the simplest of its functions, only the smallest fraction of its abilities. I had just finished changing into dark clothes when I heard the door announcer. I was sitting on the couch with a lit cigar when the trolleys rolled in.

"Eat drink and be merry!" I announced, tipping freely and breaking open a bottle of bubbly. But as soon as the door closed I jumped to my feet and produced the webber from my pocket. "We go," I said. "Garbed in black and ready for action."

"And you have some subtle plan to save our boy?" Angelina said as she pulled on her slacks.

"Not that subtle since we have little time and less knowledge of where he is being held. So we just blast our way in."

"Good. Let us do it."

I went out onto our balcony and slapped the webber to the wall beside it, where it adhered with an unbreakable molecular grip. Seizing the handle on the thing I swung out into the darkness. "Join me," I said, and Angelina took my waiting hand. A touch of the button and the liquid web was expelled from the spinneret; it congealed instantly. We went smoothly down just as a spider would on a web.

I swung right on past the balcony on the floor below us, since there were lights on in the room. The window on the floor below was dark, so we landed there. I concealed the webber against the wall, turned, and opened the sliding door with a quick twitch of my lockpick. Down four flights to the basement, thankfully without being seen. Then out through a sealed and alarmed emergency door. Which unsealed at my touch, alarm silenced as well.

"I like that little blue sports car," Angelina said.

"I do too. But I think we need something bigger and more sober. That one."

A large, black saloon which opened to my touch, started instantly, bore us away into the night. "I'll park around the back of the building," I said. "We will go in through the front. Move fast, play it by ear, not stopping, get Bolivar and get out."

"Sounds good-and could be fun as well. I realize that we have been leading what could be called a dull existence of late."

"You can't go in here," the guard at the front entrance said as we walked up. He was raising his weapon when I reached out and cracked the deepsleep capsule under his nose. He dropped. Dropped his memory too, since I had incorporated a bit of an amnesia drug in the formula. We pulled on gas masks before entering the building. Fairly quiet at this time of night, even quieter when the blackout spray and deepsleep took effect. Uniformed bodies thudded to the floor on all sides. We stepped around them to get at the uniformed bully who was slumped behind the reception desk. He woke and gurgled briefly when I injected him, drooped again when the next needle hit.

"I am your master," I whispered into his ear.

"Yes, master."

"You will obey me."

"But speak and I obey."

"Where is the prisoner who was brought here earlier? The one involved in the bank robbery."

"Interrogation room six."

"Take us there."

He did. Most docilely. The few people we met slept comfortably in the corridors. We stopped at the signaled door, our guide joined the others in slumberland; somewhere in the distance an alarm sounded.

"They've finally rumbled us," Angelina said.

"Took them long enough. Ready?"

She nodded. Her features unseen behind the mask-but I knew that she was smiling as she opened the door and threw in the capsules.

They were all unconscious, even Bolivar who hung limply from a rack of some kind. There was blood on his face and hands. As Angelina went to get him down she managed to plant a foot in each of the men around him.

"Thanks," Bolivar said simply when he opened his eyes. "Bunch of sadists this lot."

Was it by accident that Angelina managed to walk on their faces as we left?

The alarms were louder now, with the sound of running feet in the distance, hoarse shouts and the occasional sound of gunfire. They were obviously panicked and firing in the dark. We stayed away from the growing clamor and instead worked our way to the rear of the building where we descended to the ground floor.

"This should be the outside wall," I said dubiously.

"That better be the outside wall," Angelina said positively. "Now get us out of here."

Not sure of the thickness of the wall I planted a treble charge. Even around the corner of the corridor we were stunned and deafened by the explosion. We staggered through the debris and out of the immense opening into the night. Not too far from our car. We were well gone before anyone else appeared. Returned the stolen vehicle to the spot where we had found it parked, then made our way back to the. balcony and our room, reversing our escape route.

"I am going to clean Bolivar up and change," Angelina said. "While you order up more drink for our party."

"Now it really is a party," I said. "So we can celebrate a bit-before we figure out what the next step will be. I have the strong sensation that our invisible enemies have been one step ahead of us ever since we arrived on this planet. Let us then do something to even the score."