The Stainless Steel Rat for President

"Excellent. Then here is my plan. A footman's uniform will be obtained for me and I will don it. I will then accompany the tourists and choose one to replace. It will be a simple matter for me to then exit with the tourists whose presence will guarantee my safety." "But your clothes..." the duke protested. "I'll use the tourist's clothes." "Your beard?" "Will be shaved off." By this time the duke had caught on to the idea and was cackling with glee. "How intelligent you are. Hector. You were so stupid as a child I never believed you would ever stop drooling. And the secret passage, of course, we use that to dump the tourist's body into a refuse barrel." "No bodies!" I said sharply. "If the tourist is killed the investigation will surely reveal that he vanished here. There can be no suspicion. I'll give the man an injection that will affect his memory. When the police find him wandering around, smelling strongly of ron, which I'm sure you can arrange, he will remember nothing of the events of this day. In addition to sloshing him with cheap booze you will also stuff this wad of money into his pocket so there will be no suspicion of robbery. The authorities will laugh and return him to the resort and that will be the end of it." "I wish we could kill somebody," the duke pouted.

"Later. After the election. Meanwhile I must get that uniform. " By the time I had stripped off the beard yet another time-it was getting a bit ratty after this treatment-and pulled on the knee breeches and other servile clothing, the tourists had arrived. I could hear them chattering like demented squirrels as I slipped into the ranks of the servants. The staff had been told of the plan-and they all proved to be exceedingly well-trained. Not one eye turned in my direction as we plodded in silence after the bare-kneed, loudly dressed, camerabearing tourist brigade.

"... trebonegan eksemplon de la pentroj de la ekskrementepoko de pasinta jarcento..." the guide rattled on, pointing out the badly painted and worse hung portraits that littered the walls. The tourists looked at the paintings and I looked at them, closing in on my kill. Most of the ofiworlders came in octogenarian pairs and these I ignored. There were some single women trudging along but I passed these by as well, not being up to an instant sex change. Then I spotted my prey. Alone, male, almost my size, wearing purple shorts, a gold lace shirt, and a bored scowl. He had a camera around his neck and a straw bag on his arm bearing the printed message I BEEN TO PUERTO AZUL AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS CRUMMY BAG. He would do-oh yes he would! I walked close behind him and when the crowd turned to look at yet one more bad painting I tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He wheeled about, scowl deepening. I bent to whisper in his ear.

"Please don't tell the others, but there is a free bottle of ron for you. Gift of the duke. One per tourist party. You are the chosen one today. Please follow me." And he did. Being very careful that the others did not notice him go. Oh, avarice, what crimes are committed in thy name.

"In here, sir." I opened the study door, and there was the butler holding a silver tray complete with rum bottle. The tourist yakked enthusiastically and extended his arm. I hit it with a slaphypo, then closed the door as he crumpled to the carpet. The duke looked on happily, no doubt seeing this minor triumph as the harbinger of a better age. Who knows, perhaps it was.

I mixed with the crowd, unnoticed in the rush for seats on the bus. A bored policeman counted heads as we streamed from the castle, made a check mark in his book and signaled the driver. The bus doors closed, the air conditioner came on at the same time as the canned music, and we rolled down the road.

The woman in the seat next to me glared at me suspiciously. "I ain't never seen you before," she said.

Chapter 18

Had I been discovered already? If I silenced her the unconscious body would surely draw attention to me. What could I do? While all these consideiations rushed around in my skull I fought a little rearguard action to gain some time.

"Well I ain't never seen you before either!" was my snappy rejoinder.

"Now ain't that something," she simpered, and I realized that what I had thought was suspicion was really passionand that I was in the process of being picked up. "My name's Joyella and I come from Phigerinadon II..." The sentence ended in an interogative silence and I seized the clue.