The Stainless Steel Rat for President ssr-5

by Harry Harrison

  Then the blows struck my head and body, driving me to the ground where the soldiers began to kick me. I was only vaguely aware of Oliveira stopping them, bending over and dragging me to my feet. Soldiers held me tightly; I could barely breathe. Oliveira had his pistol out and the cold muzzle was pushed between my eyes.

  “Speak!” he commanded. “One last time before I blow your brains out. Who wants to kill the General-President?” “I do,” I said hoarsely through my bruised throat. “I want to kill him and I have just done so. Don’t you see that scratch on his face, the drops of blood?” Zapilote raised his hand to his cheek and touched it, then looked at the red stain on his fingers.

  “You searched me!” I shouted, “But you did not find the weapon. This nail, this fingernail, cut to a point. And coated with four-hour virus. Zapilote has been infected and will be dead within that time. You’re dead now. old man. Dead!”

  Chapter 24

  As you can well imagine, that made quite an impression on everyone present. Particularly Zapilote. His parchment skin went even whiter and he staggered back clutching at his face. You would think that after having lived for over two centuries he would have had enough of it. He hadn’t. He must have got into the habit. I spoke sharply now, too well aware of the gun against my head.

  “You’re dead Zapilote-if you don’t get the antidote in time. Now get this idiot with the gun away from me!” Zapilote staggered forward and reached up to seize Oliveira’s ear, twisting it savagely as he hauled the man aside. The colonel shrieked and dropped the gun-which luckily didn’t go off-and clapped his hands to the now-bloody ear. Zapilote shouldered him aside and stood before me.

  “Get him on his knees!” Zapilote ordered, and the soldiers kicked me in the legs and forced me down. He stood before me, glaring down, while his breath rich with garlic and heartburn washed over me. “What about the antidote?” he breathed redolently.

  “Only I know where it is. If you receive the injection within three hours you will live. The virus that is now spreading through your bloodstream is unknown on this planet. Your doctors cannot help you. By now you should be feeling the first symptoms of the infection. You have a fever. It will keep rising until your brain is destroyed by its heat. Your fingers are-now beginning to tingle. Soon they will be paralyzed and this paralysis will spread to your entire body...” He screamed a shrill, old man’s scream. Raising his shaking hand to his face, bringing the tremulous fingers away wet with perspiration. Then he screeched again and staggeredtwo soldiers seized him before he could fall and half-carried him to his chair behind the oversize desk.

  “Tell these men to release me,” I ordered. “They will take 134 these chains off me and then they will leave. The creature Oliveira will stay in order to carry out your commands. Issue your orders.” Zapilote’s voice quavered as he spoke. “The chains dropped away and I dragged myself to a chair and dropped into it. Oliveira stood, dazed, his hands still over his torn ear.

  “Here are your instructions, Oliveira. You will get on the telephone at once and issue orders to release the prisoner you captured last night. The prisoner will not be harmed. He will be taken to Harapo’s suit at the Hotel Gran Parajero in Puerto Azul. When he is safely there he will be given a phone number that will connect directly with this office. When I have received a phone call from him that I find satisfactory we will discuss the antidote. The longer you delay...” “Do it!” Zapilote screeched. He turned to me as Oliveira worked frantically at the phone. “The antidote, where is it? I am burning up.” “You won’t die for over three hours yet. Though you will be very sick. The antidote is nearby. It will be delivered when a message is telephoned. That message will not be sent until I am safely out of here.” “Who are you?” “Your destiny, old man. Your nemesis. The power that will bring you low. Now send for my clothes so I won’t have to waste any of your lifetime later on. See, Oliveira is off the phone. Order him to take care of it.” “How can I believe that you will do this, that you will send the antidote?” “You can’t. But you have no other choice, do you? Now issue the orders.” The entire operation took almost two hours. Two hours in which Zapilote almost sank into a coma due to his rising fever. Two doctors kept his temperature down with antipyretics. But they could not stop the paralysis of his extremities. All sensation and control was now gone from his hands and feet. He screeched weakly when the phone finally rang and I bent to pick it up.

  “This is diGriz speaking.” “Are you all right?” Angelina asked. “I’m just fine. How is Bolivar?” “He’s right here beside me. Eating. Now get out of there!” “I’m on mv wav.” I slammed the phone down and walked through the door without a backward glance. Following my instructions there was a chauffeured car waiting outside in Freedom Square, door open, motor running. As soon as I was seated it hurtled forward in the direction of the airport. My jetcopter was there, fueled and ready. I took off, circled and headed north to meet the heavily armed command copter with James at the controls. He waved to me as he swung his craft up beside mine and his voice echoed in my headphones.

  “You did it. Dad! There’s nothing in the sky-and if anything does appear we can blast it.” “Good. Send the signal to Zapilote with the name and address of the doctor in Primeroso-then let’s head for home. It has been a long day. “ I had visited the doctor on the way to the Presidio that morning: it seemed at least a hundred years ago. A very large sum of money had obtained his exclusive services for the day. He had a hypodermic syringe filled and ready and just waited for someone to come and get him and bring him to the person to be injected. I knew that he would get a very warm (welcome indeed.

  We were joined by the rest of our tiny aerial fleet halfway back to Castle de la Rosa. They had pulled out and left Puerto Azul as soon as Bolivar had returned. None of us wanted to be within range after Zapilote had received the injection and had recovered. We landed together. I killed the ignition and climbed stiffly down from the copter; my side was beginning to ache. Bolivar was standing there when I turned around. He had bruises on his face and I could see a bandage under his shirt. He noticed my attention and smiled.

  “Not bad. Just a little kicking around when they caught me. You look a lot worse.” “I’ll feel a lot worse if I don’t get a little shot of painkiller soon. Take me to your medkit!” “I have some here. Morn told me about the plan, what you did.” His face was hidden as he gave me the injection. “I really do appreciate it. Dad-1 don’t really know how to say this...” “Then don’t. You’d do the same for me. Now lead me to a soft chair and a strong drink and I’ll tell you all about my visit to the lion’s den. Not the ribs!” I called as Angelina ran up to embrace me. “Let us just sit quiet for a bit before the doc straps them up. They’ve lasted this long. You know, it has really been one of those days!” The marqubz must have been told of my arrival as well because he was the next one to rush up arms outspread to embrace me. James stopped him before he managed to puncture one of my lungs with a broken bone. “Let us take this party inside,” I ordered.

  “Champagne!” de Torres shouted. At this rate he would be running out soon. “The best in the cellar. The crucial hours of this day will be talked about for years, a century from now!” Which, even if a little confused in its syntax, was emotionally understandable.

  We sat in the deep chairs and raised our glasses. It really was the best champagne in the cellar I realized as it spread happiness and warmth throughout my system. I sipped again, and had my glass topped up before I told them the story of my visit to the Presidio. Leaving out the gory bits and making it sound far more exciting than it really had been, which is the way to tell a story.

  “... after the phone call I just walked out of there and into the car. I took off and you know the rest of what happened then. We ended up here.” “Incredible!” de Torres gasped. “What formidable courage to go into that den of murderers like that.” “You would do the same for your son, wouldn’t you?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Of course. But I did not do it and you
did. And what bravery to carry death at your fingertip. But is it not dangerous to travel to the planets, carrying this deadly virus with you...” He stopped and looked around at us as though we were all insane as my family burst into wild laughter, Angelina leaned forward and patted his hand to reassure him.

  “It is not you that we are laughing at, marquez, but at Zapilote. The best part of this is that my Jim would never kill anyone. He couldn’t carry through a plot like this if there were the slightest chance that even an animal like Zapilote might die by accident.” The marquez biinked in confusion. “I do not understand?” “There is no deadly virus. The fingernail was coated with a pyretogen and a neural anesthetic. One of them gave Zapilote a hieh fever, the other numbed his extremities. The effects of both of these drugs wear off in about four hours. That’s why the deadline.” “But the doctor-the injection?” “Just sterile water. Now do you see the beauty of it all? It was just bluffl Not only is my husband the world’s greatest hero, but he is also the galaxy’s greatest con man and actor at the same time!” I lowered my head in false modesty. But what she had said was true and I did not find it too hard to take. It had been a long, hard day and so a little soothing of the ego was very much in order.

  Chapter 25

  I reluctantly spent a rather painful evening, since the effects of the neocain had to wear off before the doctor could treat my bruises and contusions. Afid broken ribs. Three of them had been fractured by the Colonel, and I sat there and cursed and thought evil thoughts about him while the medic shot bone rejuvenator into the rib marrow, then bound me up. When he was finally finished, a small shot of neocain and a large ron lacked me off to dreamland for some well-deserved rest.

  Angelina let me sleep late the next morning, and did not look in until I was taking my second cup of coffee from the bedside dispenser.

  “And how are we feeling today?” she asked cheerily.

  “I don’t know how we are feeling but I are feehng like I have been drawn through a knothole.” “Poor dear,” she said, brushing my tousled hair and kissing me lightly on the forehead. “The boys have prepared a surprise that should take your mind off your troubles. “ Even as she said this the door opened and James entered carrying a projection TV set. Bolivar was right behind him with the screen. I scowled with instant distrust.

  “I hate the box,” I animositied. “Particularly moronic morning cretin fodder.” Angelina patted my head soothingly.

  “There, there, mustn’t get irritated. It is not morning TV because it is no longer morning but early afternoon. The traditional time on this planet for the big midday meal. Which is also traditionally followed by the news broadcast watched by almost everyone as they relax, comatose, fingers laced over distended stomach. “ “My fingers are clutched to my starving stomach. And I hate news broadcasts.” “Here comes the maid with your nine-course breakfast,” Bolivar said, stepping aside so the laden table could pass.

  139 “And this is no normal broadcast either. After the trap that was laid for us outside of the Broadcasting Center we can be pretty sure that we were backtracked. Which means that the dummy interrupters were surely found. But James ran a circuit check last night and the real interrupters are still in place. It took us most of the night to get the tape ready-but we think that you will really enjoy the news today.” “I will, I will,” I enthused through a mouth full of food. “And I take back all of my earlier, surlier suggestions. I should have known. Angelina my love, sit beside me and help yourself to a chop and we will enjoy the show together.” The program that preceded the news was just ending as I ended my meal. It was a romantic opera of the kind that mental cripples are said to enjoy, with all kinds of fat people singing into each others faces, clumsy stabbings with collapsible swords followed by hearty songs from the death bed. Happily it ended just as I was reaching for something to throw at the set. A series of repulsive commercials followed, of which only the ron advertisement was bearable, all dewy glasses and clinking ice cubes. But even the most dreadful commercial must come to its sodden end. An off-key fanfare heralded the news and a smart-looking girl swam into focus.

  “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. This is the afternoon news that is brought to you every day at this time. We have been getting reports from the capital that GeneralPresident Zapilote is feeling much better after the mild attack of food poisoning he suffered yesterday. Dear GeneralPresident, all of us here, and I know all of you out there, join in wishing you the speedy of speediest of speedy recoveries...” At this point James pressed the button on the radio-control box he was carrying. The screen shimmered for a second and the girl was replaced by a photograph of me, complete with beard, waving enthusiastically and flashing pearly teeth. The marqu6i stood at my shoulder. A woman’s voice continued the narration-but not that of the previous speaker. I recognized Angelina’s voice in an instant and gave her hand a squeeze.

  “But let us not dwell on the psychosomatic illnesses of this sordid little dictator, let us instead meet the noble man who will be our next president. I refer to none other than Sir Hector Harapo, shown here with the vice-president to be, the Marqu6z de la Rosa. “These handsome and noble gentleThe Stainless Steel Rat for President ’ 141 men have just held their first election rally in Puerto Azul. It was an enormous success despite the attempts ofZapilote’s corrupt police force to prevent it. The first attempt occurred...” It was a snappy production and I enjoyed every moment of it. All the film had been edited to show the opposition in the worst possible light, while our team were unto gods. I clapped enthusiastically when it came to the end.

  “Well done! My congratulations to you all. And I would pay a thousand credits to see the expression on that poxy dictator’s face at this very moment! But enough. Having finished the first part of the campaign we must look forward to the final stages. We have three months until election day and every moment must be taken up with bringing our message to the people.” “Without any of us getting shot or blown up,” Angelina said firmly.

  “I could not agree more. But our message must be carried by the news media, and I would welcome suggestions on how that will be done. We can assume that our little TV tap is now being tracked down and destroyed. Once they find out what we have done our chances of fixing any other interrupters into their circuitry are less than zero. But we must have access to the news media or we have lost the election in advance. Any suggestions?” “The answer seems fairly obvious,” Angelina said. “You must interrupt the broadcasting circuitry at the most vulnerable point, which is at the same time the most inaccessible point. If you understand what I mean.” “I don’t understand,” I admitted unhappily. “I must have been hit on the head once too often yesterday.” “Morn’s right!” James said; he had not been hit on the head at all, so was therefore far ahead of me and Bolivar who was also blinking in a concussed manner. “We put the interrupters into the satellites themselves!” Yes, the answer was hideously obvious and I should have guessed; I pouted unnoticed in the corner as James rattled on enthusiastically.

  “The next step then must be a major effort to find out more about the satellites...” “Already done,” Angelina said brightly. “There is a company named Radiodifundir SA that is located at the spaceport near Puerto Azul. They service the communication and weather satellites for the government. They are a small com142 ’ The Stainless Steel Rat for President pany, so small that all of their work is done by a single and ancient spacetug that has been modified for satellite work.” Warm smiles greeted this bit of information, and we all beamed enthusiastically at one another. Being of the same mind and possessed by the same idea. I expressed the thought that was on all our lips.

  “It couldn’t be that this is the only ship on this planet that can do this kind of work?” “Not only could it be-it certainly is! If this ship, the Populacho, was out of action it would be some months at least before another could be found, modified and brought here.” I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. “The next step is painfully clear. Relay units . mus
t be constructed, designed for installation on each satellite. They must be self-powered and will operate when they receive our coded signal. In that manner we can give all the listeners and viewers an unbiased view of the news every day. The ship, the Populacho, must be pressed into our service to enable us to install the devices. After which it must be rendered, shall we say, ‘unfit’ for awhile. At least until the election is over. Can anyone fault this plan?” “I can’t,” Angelina said. “But I have one additional suggestion. We are fighting this election in the name of democracy so we must begin acting by the democratic rules we profess to believe in. We must not repeat what we did tonight, cancelling their news program and substituting our own. Democracy means free speech. We must allow them to broadcast, then follow with our own news. The public must be given a choice. People must be allowed to make their own minds up.” “Is that wise?” I asked. “Can they be trusted?” “Yes, it is wise, my dear husband, though you might not think so. Your personal beliefs fall somewhere between fascism and anarchy. Of the two I favor the anarchy. But given a wider choice I would settle for democracy. All in favor?” The boys raised their hands and I scowled.

  “The ayes have it. We will now plan to commit a crime in the name of the greater good of democracy. “ “Who’s the fascist-anarchist now?” I growled.