The Stainless Steel Rat for President

"Light this!" I ordered, then spoke in a quieter voice when he bent over. "When you turn around take a look at the man in the green shirt talking to the three fat tourists. Our luck is holding because that is Jorge, our contact. Follow him. Find out where he goes." "No trouble. Papa. He'll never know he's being tailed. " As he turned away, Angelina leaned close and said, "Dear one, if you now will glance to your right you will see that trouble is on the way." I glanced-and indeed it was on the way. Two sordid types, dressed in plain clothes but radiating authority, had stopped to talk to the young couple sitting at the first table. The diners produced papers which the thugs looked through carefully. They were obviously checking for identification. Which posed an interesting problem for us since we didn't have any.

"Angelina," I said as I snapped my fingers for the waiter, "you are most observant. Get Bolivar and go to the car while I pay up here. Pick me up at the curb." The waiters were fast but the police thugs were even faster. They went by the next two tables, obviously occupied by off-planet tourists, and approached me just as I was throwing handfuls of money onto the bill.

"If you please, your honor, you have identification papers?" the smaller and slimmer one said.

I looked him up and down in slow and arrogant silence, waiting until he broke into a cold sweat before I spoke.

"Of course I have identification papers." I turned away and stepped to the curb as the touring car rolled ponderously up. It might have worked. It didn't this time. His voice quavered tremulously behind me.

"Would you be so kind as to show them to me, if you please." The car was close-but not close enough. I turned back and fixed him with a basilisk gaze. "What is your name?" I growled.

"Viladelmas Pujol, your eminence..." "I'll say this just once, Pujol. I do not talk to policemen on the street. Nor do I show them papers. Leave me." He turned away instantly, but his large partner was made of sterner-or stupider-stuff.

"We will be pleased to accompany you to the Commissioner of Police, your excellency. He will be most happy to welcome you to our city." It was time to think fast. This repulsive little scene had been going on for far too long and would draw attention soon. There was no point in attempting to flee in the car; they could see its registration number and could identity us. So I thought fast and, within a split second, devised a highly satisfactory plan just as the car pulled up and stopped beside us.

"How very kind of you to offer." I smiled and they relaxed and smiled as well, with some relief. "As a stranger here I do not know my way. So you will accompany me in my luxurious vehicle and instruct my driver." "Thank you! Thank you!" It was all smiles and good will as we climbed in; I'm sure they would have kissed my hand had I but extended it. Bolivar pressed the proper button and the jump seats dropped down into position. They dropped their {at rumps gingerly onto the hand-tooled leather, facing us, as the car started forward smoothly.

"Kindly instruct my driver," I said, then turned to Angelina. "These kind policemen are escorting us to meet their Commissioner who wishes to greet us." "Charming," she said, lifting one eyebrow delicately.

"Straight ahead, then right at the third turning," Pujol coirl "All friends together," I said, smiling at them and they beamed back with pleasure. "Or as the great poet wrote, 'Kiom me kalkulos al tri, vi endormigos vian malbonulon kaj mi endormigos mwn. ' " Which as any first year Esperanto student knows means "When I count to three, you put your thug to sleep and I'll take care of mine." "I'm not much on poetry, excellency," Pujol said.

"Then I'll teach you some right now. It's as easy as one, two, three..." I leaned over and took Pujol by the throat and squeezed hard. He bulged his eyes, gaped, thrashed a bit, then collapsed. Angelina, who dislikes police of any kind, had been more dramatic. She had extended one shapely leg and kicked the big one in the stomach. When he had folded forward, a quick chop to the exposed nape of his neck had dropped him at her feet.

"Neatly done. Morn and Dad," Bolivar said, looking in the rearview mirror. "Not a soul in the street noticed. And I've just gone by the third turning." "Very good. Just drive on along the coast while we figure out what to do with them." "Cut their throats, wire boulders to their ankles, dump them into the sea," Angelina said, smiling cheerfully.