The Stainless Steel Rat for President

The suit made a really good fit as did, surprisingly, his shoes. We were like twins, except of course for our tastes in underwear. And I was still undisturbed. I placed my benefactor tenderly on the rear seat of the car, his feet resting on the face-down form of the unconscious Ultimado thug, then picked up my bag and let myself out of the garage. The sun shone warmly even though it was close to the horizon, there was no sign of activity in the adjoining house-and my car awaited at the curb. As I strolled towards it a large, black police vehicle roared back the way it had come. Paying me no heed at all. My car was bright red and sporty and, how considerate!, the motor had been left running. The controls were far simpler than those of the steam car, so much so that within a minute I was rolling majestically down the street.

Where to? The answer to that one was obvious. Back into the city. By now there woald be roadblocks on all the exits from Primoroso. And once the police begin to stop people to ask for identification they always get carried away by enthusiasm. Everyone gets stopped, all the vehicles are searched. And, though we were of tile same build, the car-owner's ID would certainly not fit me. No, the best idea was to move away from the action, to seek the security of the big city. Then I could stop and think about the next step. A rat is always safest in the warrens of the city, a stainless steel rat no less.

I worked away at the controls and, after only a few mistakes, folding top up and down, a blast on the horn, I managed to find the music player controls. After this I rolled in comfort back to Primoroso, whistling melodically along with a catchy tune that was all syncopation and percussion.

Chapter 15

How many hours of freedom did I have left? The answer came back far too quickly. Not many. When it was discovered that both our escape car and the police floater had vanished, the search would surely be intensified. I knew that I had been seen leaving the scene of the action. As soon as this was discovered the search would spiral out from that spot in wider and wider circles. Questions would be asked, houses searched. Garages opened. The car and unconscious men would be found. Then they would know I was driving this car... I added another little increment to my speed. The city walls were just ahead, with the traffic still flowing smoothly through them. I flowed as well, saw the bulk of the Presidio up ahead and turned away from it in the opposite direction. I found myself entering a most attractive district, with tall trees along the road and discreet little shops tucked behind striped awnings. And bars, with tables set out on the pavement where people sipped at colorfurdrinks. Where, undoubtedly, food was served.

As this thought crossed my mind news of it instantly zipped out through my neural network to the rest of my body. Saliva spurted in my dry mouth and my stomach began grumbling like an active volcano. Not a bite had passed my lips since breakfast! That would have to change. The most obvious next step would be to comfort body and soul with drink and food while I planned the immediate future.

The trees vanished, the street narrowed, the snobbish bars gave way to sleazy joints. Depressed-looking men held up the walls of buildings with slumped shoulders and I chortled with joy.

"Perfect, Jim, just perfect. Opportunity knocks and must be admitted at once." I turned at the next corner and stopped. The neighborhood was ideal for my needs. When I emerged from the car I was 83 so forgetful as to leave the window open, the door unlockedeven the keys dangling beckoningly from the controls. If this machine was not nicked and gone within minutes I would be very surprised. With my trail thus covered for the moment I strolled back towards the bright lights that were just beginning to glow in the dusk.

I'll say this much for Paraiso-Aqui, it has a cuisine that should be known throughout the galaxy. A bottle of chilled wine washed down course after course in an unassuming but absolutely incredible dining establishment. First a tangy soup with albondigas, little meatballs, floating and bobbing in it. This was followed by empanadas, meat-stuffed pastry, a blended green salad mixture called guacamole, then more and more. The restaurant was called The Stuffed Pig and I felt like one myself before I was through. The food was so good that I completely forgot about my predicament until I reached the coffee-brandy-cigar stage. Sighing and puffing I finally managed to force my thoughts back to survival rather than gluttony. I did not care! I could not have profaned that meal by paying attention to anything else. But the food was finishedand if I didn't do something soon I would be as well. I sighed and called for the counting.