“Won’t anyone notice?”
“No. I have planned this down to the last detail.”
And so he had. The artificial scar that he brought out was identical to the original. Waterproof as well, and could only be removed by a special solvent. Shaped wedges went inside my cheeks and puffed them out to match Iba’s photograph. His work clothes were baggy and ugly enough to cover any differences in build. The heavy boots suitably scuffed.
“How about ID?” I asked, scowling in disgust at my image in the mirror. Chaise passed over a small case. “A contact lens, right eye. Do not lose it. It is expensive and irreplaceable. It has his retinal patterns. And four sets of plastic gloves with his palm pattern on them. That should be enough, since you will only be in the repository twice. Once to see for yourself the layout and the alarms, particularly those on the bearer-bond vault, in order to plot out the theft. Then the theft on the next night. I have a specialized security-trapper kit that is also expensive and irreplaceable. Do you know how to operate it?”
I took it, opened it-and sneered. “I was making better kits than this before I learned to shave. And what makes you think that I will be able to do to the job on the second night?”
“You have to. There will not be a second chance. A ticket has been bought for Iba and he has been paid a large bonus. He will be going offplanet today. And don’t forget-remember the video you looked at-that you are what might be called a hostage to fortune.”
And I was, surely enough.
“Look at this,” Chaise said, breaking into my thoughts, passing over another memory card. I plugged it into the computer. “This is Iba on his nightly round. The route he takes, the cleaning he does. You will note that he is not a very fast worker. So you can do his job-and still have time to complete yours.”
“How do I get to work?”
“Igor will drive you there and will leave you close by. He will pick you up at the same spot when your shift is over. Do you have any questions before I go?”
“None that I can think of now.”
“There will be no opportunity later. I will not see you again until after you have returned here.”
If there is anything more boring than mopping floors and emptying out shredding machines-it is watching someone else doing it. Including an extraordinary amount of standing about, nose and bum scratching, since the workbots did most of the cleaning. I had some fun when I speeded the film up, but even that grew tiresome. I memorized everything I needed then, since I would not be leaving until close to midnight, I lay on my cot and dozed off in front of the television.
“Time go,” was my chauffeur’s shouted suggestion.
We went. Trundling through the dark and empty streets. The contact lens in my eye itched and I had to strongly resist the temptation to scratch it. My palm print gloves were pulled on and the trapper kit was in my pocket. Igor stopped the truck finally and pointed ahead. “Around corner.”
To work. A few other night workers, also in uniform, were climbing the steps to the depository. I ignored them just as Iba had done in my training film.
“How’s your girlfriend?” one of them shouted, a question that promoted great glee among the other mental giants. I answered, as did Iba in the film.
“Bowb off.”
These were the only words I ever heard him speak. Quite often. A bored guard held open an outer door: I walked slower in order to make sure that I would be last one in. If my fake identification did not work I wanted to get out of this place just as quickly as I could. As I walked towards the glowing eye of the retinal pattern detector I blinked inadvertently, my eye irritated by the contact lens. Which slid out of position.
I cursed, walked even slower, trying to push it back into position, watched the last man before me walk away from the detector.
“Move it, big-butt,” the guard helpfully suggested. “I ain’t got all night.”
Thus encouraged I pressed the contact lens hard, hoping it was in the right place, bent and looked into the opening. There was a brief flash of light.
I stood up, holding my breath, waiting for the alarm bells.
The entry light flashed green. I walked slowly towards the locked door. Pressed my palm on the plate next to it.
The door clicked open and I walked in.
The other night workers fanned out and disappeared in the dark and silent building. I pushed open the door to the service steps and went down two flights. The lights came on when I entered the battery room, illuminating the peaceful ranks of silent robots.
“Bowb off,” I said, as my double always did. Hanging by the door was my lightning prod, fully charged. I unplugged it and jabbed the nearest robot. “Bowb off.”
A great spark snapped into the thing’s receiver plate, closing a relay and bringing it to robotic life. Its charging cable disconnected and slid back into its container. The robot turned and exited the room as I danced about my charges, goosing them electrically, until they were all under way.
Through office after office. The rattle and thud of shredders being emptied, clatter of ashtrays. Behind us was the swish of mops cleaning the floor as we went. Occasionally one of the brainless robots would freeze in a feedback cycle, picking up and emptying a container over and over. A quick spark in the right place would jolt it back to work. I imagined doing this job for the rest of my life and shuddered. I had been at it for a little over an hour and was bored to stupidity. I stuck with it. Sparking and cursing monotonously until we reached the vault level.
“All stop. Take a ten-minute break.”
They kept going and I cursed again. What was the correct order?
“Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.” On the fourth repetition they did. I leaned my lightning prod against the wall and trotted down the dimly lit hall. Counting the entrances as I went past them, rewalking in reality the virtual reality that I had walked through so many times before. There it was.
The outer door had an uncomplicated lock and no alarms; I opened it easily. The inner, metal-barred gate, would not be that simple. Thank goodness all of the alarms were antiques. More suitable for a museum than their guardian function.
First a length of wire to short the alarm on the electronic lock. There were supposed to be millions of combinations possible on this ancient mechanism, making it impossible to open without hours of computer time. My machine broke the code in less than three minutes. I punched the numbers into the thing’s memory and relocked the gate.
The alarms built into the door frame would not be a problem; I had passed through their type often in the past. However, when I put on infrared goggles the room beyond lit up with a pattern of interlaced beams. Break one beam and all the alarms would sound.
But if I put a beam generator of the correct frequency in front of the receiver lens I would be able walk around the room undetected, no matter how many beams I cut.
That was it. I could get into the room. I could remove the bonds from their shelves. Load the robots down and take the bonds away. To where? And, even more important, how could I get them out of the building?
“Bowb off!” I said, with some feeling this time, as I sparked my robots back to life. I had until the end of my shift to figure out a way.
Time dragged. Time crawled its sluggish track. Robots mopped, dumped, clattered, sparked and, eventually, my midshift break came. I zapped my horde into frozen silence and looked for a pleasant place to dine. The office of some major executive seemed fine. Seated in his leather chair, gazing across many square meters of glistening desktop, I looked out through his crystal window at the light-sparkled bulk of a bank building. And tried not to taste what I was eating. For some perverse reason Iba had a passion for pickled and smoked porcuswine tails, and always brought a container to work. For verities’ sake I had to do the same. I chewed and gagged on the gristly bits, pulled a quill from a piece of attached skin, used it to dig horrible fragments from between my teeth.
But, even as I suffered through my grisly repast, my subconscious was a
t work. Analyzing, plotting, scheming, working.
I finished quickly, threw the porcine remains into the contraterrene disposal unit-where they flared into cosmic rays-and stood to leave.
Then sat down again as the solution to my problems surfaced in my brain and bobbed about in my cerebral cortex.
Yes, it could be done. Not easily, and there were some very risky factors involved. I was probably the only person in the known galaxy, I thought humbly, who could even imagine a crime like this, much less pull it off.
And all for no profit. There must be a way to get out of Kaia’s clutching grasp.
Chapter 22
Dawn was lightening the western sky when I exited the repository. I shuffled off to our meeting place where Igor was already waiting. We rode in silence back to the warehouse where I saw, as the door swung open, that Kaia’s car was there already. He strode out and stopped the truck with the upraised palm of his hand. I climbed wearily down.
“Igor,” he commanded. “Machine empty. Go buy beer.” “No money.”
“Here money. Go.”
I was sure that it was privacy he wanted, not beer.
“How did it go?” he asked as soon as the door was closed. “A piece of cake. I can get into that vault and have those bearer bonds out of there within ten minutes. Most of that time will be spent in carrying them away.”
“Splendid.”
“It is, isn’t it? However there is one slight problem in this otherwise most successful robbery plan.”
“Problem? What do you mean?”
He looked worried. I turned the knife in the wound.
“Although I can get the bonds out of the vault-there is no way to get them out of the building the same night.”
“I don’t know what you are taking about.” He spoke the words slowly through tight-clamped teeth:
“It is really so simple that Igor could understand it. Take bonds out room, no out building.”
He was flushed with rage; I was making a big mistake in taunting him at this stage. I hurried to make amends.
“It can be done, I can get the bonds out of the vault, and eventually out of the building, that I can assure you. It is just that it will take more time. You’ll have your bonds, do not fear. But not on the morning after the theft. I toured that building and checked every entrance. They are all locked from the outside. So I would need an accomplice outside to open the door. And there would have to be a truck waiting there as well to carry away the loot.”
“There is a possibility that could be arranged.”
“But not easily. The street gates for vehicles are locked at night as well. There is no nighttime traffic. The truck would be too easy to see, the risk too great. But there is another way the job can be done with no risk at all. And I can do it alone, so no one else will need to be involved. And I must give you all credit for the plan. It is a variation of the scam you used to rob your own bank. You have a genius for this sort of thing.”
He preened a bit; there is a rule that no egotist can recognize false flattery.
“If I were not a genius I would not be the richest man in the galaxy. Go on.”
“Follow closely. Before I empty the bond vault I go to storeroom number eight zero three. This is where the stationery supplies are kept. Bureaucracies thrive on paperwork so, as you can well imagine, this is a very large room. I will go to the rear of the stacks, which won’t be touched for months-if not years-and remove a volume of paper equal in size to the bonds to be stolen.”
“Why?”
“Stay with me for a bit longer. After opening the bond vault I stack the paper in the middle of floor, then I remove the bonds. Next I put a time-fused thermite bomb-I do love thermite-on the piles of paper. Next I place, a stroke of genius if I may say so, some of the stolen bonds, half-burned and scorched, about the rom. As though the heat of the flame blew them there …”
“Let me finish! “ Chaise shouted enthusiastically. “You take the stolen bonds to the stationery storage room! Where you bury them in the back, in the empty space were you took the paper earlier! Then you leave the building at the usual time in the morning-and the thermite goes off after you are gone. You leave the bond room locked?”
“Of course.”
“Then there is a mystery. Did the bonds light spontaneously? Who piled them up? What happened? A sealed-room mystery? Investigation and suspicion. Theft not considered at the time. Certainly not a theft that leaves the bonds still in the building.”
“May I add a few facts to your masterful reconstruction?” I smarmed. He nodded condescendingly. “Orders for stationery are forwarded from the various departments to the central ordering room. Which sends it to the supplier. Who brings the ,supplies once a week.” He leaned forward expectantly as I played out my story for all it was worth.
“The next delivery will be in three day’s time. The driver, accompanied by one of the building guards, takes it directly to the storage room. But this time I will be the driver. After delivering the stationery the guard will fall asleep. The bonds will be loaded onto the handcar, the sleeping guard left in their place. Exit the building. The crime of the century.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, smiling, contemplating this perfect crime. Igor came in and Chaise grabbed one of the beers, opened it and took an immense swig. Then looked at me speculatively. “You can do this?”
“I can. But I’ll need some more equipment.”
“Give me the list. You will have it before you leave tonight.”
“Fine. Now I am going to get something to eat, then get me some sleep.”
He did not try to stop me. Knowing that he had absolute power over me as long as Angelina was his prisoner. I slowly strolled the streets among the wage slaves hurrying to work. Entered the now familiar environs of the mechomart and buried myself in its depths. If I were being followed I wanted to lose my tail. I entered the first office building I came to. Up the elevator alone. Down the stairs and out the rear door-did this sort of thing a number of times until I was sure I wasn’t being followed. Only then did I go and buy a cheap telephone. After I first threw mine away. Chaise had had the entire night to bug this phone-and to plant more of his bugs on me.
“Waiter. Come here,” I said as soon as Bolivar answered it. “Let me remember what I ate the last time I was here. Yes, a bearburger and some beer.”
I hung up and strolled away. And dropped the phone in the nearest waste receptacle. Hoping that Bolivar would catch on that I was still probably bugged, and letting him know I would be at the restaurant we had met in before. I knew I had not been followed. But I also knew that I was undoubtedly still bugged.
I moved about, never staying in one place very long-in case there was a tracker on one of my bugs. It was on my third pass that I saw Bolivar sitting in a corner booth. I made a wide circle, then went back and moved as quickly as I could to the restaurant. I came up behind him and held up a card when he turned. Which read:
SEARCH ME FOR BUGS
Which he instantly did-after one shocked look at my face. Whipping out the detector and passing it down my body. Three coins, the usual, but one of my metal fly buttons turned on the red light as well. Chaise was getting trickier all the time. I tore off the button and handed it to Bolivar along with the coins. He took the insulated pouch from his pocket and tipped all the miniature transmitters into it, then sealed it shut.
“They’re shielded now and can’t transmit,” Bolivar said. “I barely recognized you-great makeup. And I have some good news. Bolivar has found Kaia’s house.”
“But you are Bolivar!”
“James, Dad. You’ll never get it right.”
“Is she there?”
“We don’t know. But it is a very big place, and there is a prime-class robot in the house.”
Prime class. Intelligent and expensive. We would have to be very careful before we tackled it.
“While you and Bolivar were holidaying in Swartzlegen I finally cracked into the local gove
rnment files in Sunkistbythe-Sea. I had to do it physically.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“I mean that their anti-hacking programs were unbeatable without leaving signs of forced entry. So I did a little burglary one night and stole some office machines as a cover. Since I had planted a transceiver inside their main computer bank. The computer is now wide open. I left Bolivar tracking down the construction details in the government files. Planning permission and such should tell us everything about the house that we need to know.”
“I’ve had a long night,” I said and punched for the drinks menu. I ordered double eye-openers for both of us. “Let me tell you all about it.”
“Wow!” he said when I had finished, took too big a slug of his drink and started coughing. I slapped him on the back, which worked. “That is the most ambitious caper I have ever heard of,” he wheezed.
“Thank you. I am proud of it. But I am afraid that I was a little untruthful to my employer about one detail.”
“Which is?… ”
“The stationery delivery will be in two day’s time-not three.”
He instantly assessed the importance of this fact. And smiled broadly.
“You plan to get the bonds out-and keep them!”
“Exactly. But before we even consider doing that we have to be absolutely sure that your mother is safe. And I have another assignment for you. This is not a casual disguise that I am wearing-I look like an employee of the depository named Iba. I’m worried about him. Chaise says that he left on a spacer yesterday, got paid off.”
“And you think differently? That is not Kaia’s way.”
“Exactly. Find out who did leave the planet yesterday. And look at all the news reports as well.”
“Good as done. Any way that I can report to you?”
“I doubt it. I think it is best if we stay away from each other. If Chaise gets any hint that I am seeing you we are in deep doodoo. I’ll phone you again, early, about this time tomorrow. After the bond operation.”
The Stainless Steel Rat Joins the Circus ssr-11 Page 20