A Stainless Steel Rat Is Born

As soon as my arm was through the sleeve the policeman snapped a handcuff on my wrist and clicked the other end to his own wrist. I was going nowhere without them. There was little or nothing I could do-not with the gun wielder three steps behind us.

Out the door we went and along the corridor, to the elevator, then down to the lobby. At least the detective had the courtesy to stand close to me so the handcuffs were not obvious. A large black and ominous groundcar was parked in the middle of the no-parking zone. The driver didn't even bother to glance in our direction. Though as soon as we had climbed in and the door closed, he pulled away.

I could think of nothing to say-nor were my companions in a conversational mood. In silence we rolled through the rainy streets, past police headquarters which was unexpected, to stop before the Bit 0' Heaven Federal Building. The Feds! My heart dropped. I had been correct in assuming that breaking the clues and catching me had certainly been beyond t}ie intelligence of the local police.

But I had not reckoned upon the planetary investigation agencies. By hindsight-which is not very satisfying-1 saw my error. After years of absence The Bishop strikes again. Why? And what does the bit ofchesswackery mean? Put the cryptologists on it. Oho, a bit of bragging, scene and date of the next crime revealed. Keep it Federal and out of the hands of the local and incompetent police. Watch the cash with the most modern of electronic surveillance techniques. Track the criminal to see if others are involved.. Then pounce.

My state of black depression was so great that I could scarcely walk. I swayed when our little procession stopped before a heavy door labeled FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, with DIRECTOR FLYNN in smaller gold letters beneath it. My captors knocked politely and the doorlock buzzed and opened. We filed in. "Here he is, sir." "Fine. Secure him to the chair and I'll take over from here on out. " The speaker sat massively behind the massive desk. A big man with sleek black hair, who was made even bigger by the enormous quantity of fat that he was carrying around. His chin, or chins, hung down onto the swelling volume of his chest. The size of his stomach kept him well back from the desk, upon which the fingers of his clasped hands rested like a bundle of stout sausages. He returned my shifty gaze with his steady and steely one. I made no protest as I was guided to the chair, dropped into it, felt the handcuffs being secured to it, heard footsteps recede and the door slam.

"You are in very big trouble," he intoned.

"I don't know what you mean," I said, the impact of my innocence lessened by the squeak and tremor of my voice.

"You know fiill well what I mean. You have committed the crime of theft tonight, purloining the public purse donated by stone-deaf music lovers. But that is the least of your folly, young man. By your age I can tell that you have also purloined the good name of another. The Bishop.

You are pretending to be something that you are not. Here, take these. " Purloined a good name? What in the galaxy was he talking about? I snatched the keys out of the air by reflex. Gaped at them — then gaped even more broadly at him as I tremblingly unlocked the cuffs.

"You are not..." I gurgled. "I mean, the arrest, this office, the police... You are..." He calmly waited for my next words, a beatific smile on his face.

"You are .. -The Bishop!" "The same. My understanding of the message concealed by your feeble code was that you wanted to meet me. Why?" I started to rise and an immense gun appeared in his hand, aimed between my eyes. I dropped back into the chair. The smile was gone, as was all warmth from his voice.

"I don't like to be imitated, nor do I like to be played with. I am displeased. You now have three minutes to explain this matter before I kill you, then proceed to your hotel room to retrieve the money you stole this evening. Now the first thing that you will reveal is the location of the rest of the money stolen in my name. Speak!" -1 spoke-or rather I tried to speak but could only sputter helplessly. This had a sobering affect. He might kill me-but he was not going to reduce me to helpless jelly first. I coughed to clear my throat, then spoke.

"I don't think that you are in too much of a hurry to kill me-nor do I believe in your three-minute time limit. If you will cease in your attempts to bully me I shall try to tell you carefally and clearly my motives in this matter. Agreed?" Speaking like this was a calculated risk-but The Bishop was a game player, I knew that now. His expression did not change, but he nodded slightly as though conceding a Pawn move-knowing that he still had my King well in check.