The Golden Years of the Stainless Steel Rat

"I know that. And I didn't enjoy climbing your building— even with molecular grappling gloves and boots."

"But you did it, my love. You are strong and skillful—"

"If you dare add—for a woman of my age—I will skin you alive when you get out!"

"The farthest thought from my mind. What I wanted to ask is—do you think we can take out two instead of one? I have found an old acquaintance here who, truthfully, saved my life once. In an ice cave. I'll tell you about it one day. How about it?"

She hesitated a moment and I could imagine her sweet little frown of concentration. My Angelina does not speak until she is certain.

"Yes, of course. I'll just have to change transportation."

"Good. If you are changing transportation make sure the vehicle is big enough."

"For four?"

"Not really. What I had in mind was well, a figure a little closer to sixty-five. . . ."

"Message breaking up. Repeat last. It came through as sixty-five."

"Right! Bang-on! That is correct!" I tried to sound cheerful and not smarmy. She was not fooled.

"Don't try it on, diGriz—I know you. Sixty-five—that must be every inmate there."

"Correct, my love. Exact number. I would suggest a tourist bus. I did this kind of thing once before and it worked. Locate the bus and I'll get back to you same time tomorrow with more details. Must go—someone coming." I clicked off. We were still unobserved but I wanted Angelina's justified wrath to have twenty-four hours to cool before I talked to her again.

"What happened?" Burin asked. "I could hear you mumble a bit, that's all."

"Gears meshing like clockwork. Couldn't be better. My dear wife is filled with wild enthusiasm for the plan. Particularly its new dimension."

"What—?"

"Details later. Let's go in to lunch now. Don't drink the water."

"Why not?"

"I tested it this morning. Laced with pacifiers, saltpeter and brain-scrambling drugs. That's why the inmates mumble and stagger around so much. I think almost all of them are in far better shape than what we see."

Angelina's anger had cooled when we talked the next day. More than cooled. Her voice, even vibrating buzzily through my ear bones, had a positive chill that brought back memory of the ice cave.

"I have the bus. Bought legally. What else will I need?"

"A bus driver's uniform for yourself to explain your graceful presence behind the wheel. And, well—a few other items—"

"Like what?" Temperature of liquid nitrogen. When I had dictated the list her voice was approaching absolute zero.

"This is the most insane, harebrained, impossible plan that I have ever heard. I shall make every effort to see that it does not fail, that you are not injured and escape in one piece. So I can then personally kill you myself."

"My love—you jest."

"Try me." She clicked off.

Maybe it wasn't such a great idea. But now that I had started down this path I had to go all the way. For the first time I was more depressed than excited. Too much of the drinking water maybe. Then I remembered the medicine I had put into the bundle for just such a moment as this.

Out of sight of the pickup above my door I opened the wall grate and removed the plastic bottle labeled danger—high explosive. In a way it was. One hundred and ten proof and twelve years in the barrel. My good humor returned in a surge.

For six more days Angelina and I had our daily chat by laser. Formal and brief no matter how I tried to be friendly and crack the occasional joke. All this was ignored. My darling was in a temper. With good reason, I sighed. Only thing to do was get on with it.

On the seventh day our conversation was most one-sided. She spoke a single word and disconnected. I turned off the transmitter with my tongue and turned to Burin—who looked much more alert now that he wasn't drinking water with his meals.

"The date is set."

"When?"

"I'll tell you after dinner."

He started to speak—then clamped his mouth shut. Appreciating the wisdom of my decision. The fewer that knew the less chance of any slipups. A maximum of one keeps a secret a secret.

That evening when the rattle of spoons on metal had slowed and the slurping of the jellied gray dessert had replaced it, I took my tray into the kitchen, came out without it, and closed the door. Was watched by some of the slurpers with bleary-eyed interest as I slipped a tiny metal packet over the cable to the pickup on the wall.

"May I have your attention," I called out, hammering on the table with a spoon. I waited until the hum of voices had died down—then pointed to the side door.

"We are all going to leave now by that side door. The gentleman who is now opening it, Burin Bache, is your guide. You will follow him." I had to raise my voice to be heard over the babble of voices. "You will shut up now and ask no questions. All will be revealed later. But I can tell you now that the authorities will definitely not like what we are going to do."