"Harry Harrison - SSR 01 - The Stainless Steel Rat" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

Keeping next to the rumbling belt, I stepped through the jagged hole I had chopped in the wall
of the government warehouse. I had installed the belt too, this and the hole were the illegal acts
that I had to do myself. Another locked door opened into the warehouse. The automatic forklift
truck was busily piling cans onto the belt and digging fresh ones out of the ceiling-high piles.
This forklift had hardly enough brains to be called a robot, it just followed taped directions to
load the cans. I stepped around it and dogtrotted down the aisle. Behind me the sounds of my
illegal activity died away. It gave me a warm feeling to still hear it going full blast like that.
It had been one of the nicest little rackets I had ever managed. For a small capital outlay I
had rented the warehouse that backed on the government warehouse. A simple hole in the wall and I
had access to the entire stock of stored goods, long-term supplies that I knew would be untouched
for months or years in a warehouse this size. Untouched, that is, until I came along.
After the hole had been made and the belt installed it was just a matter of business. I hired
the robots to remove the old labels and substitute the colorful ones I had printed. Then I
marketed my goods in a strictly legal fashion. My stock was the best and due to my imaginative


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operation my costs were very low. I could afford to undersell my competitors and still make a
handsome profit. The local wholesalers had been quick to sense a bargain and I had orders for
months ahead. It had been a good operation - and could have gone on for quite a while.
I stifled that train of thought before it started. One lesson that has to be remembered in my
line of business is that when an operation is over it is OVER! The temptation to stay just one
more day or to cash just one more check can be almost overwhelming, ah, how well I know. I also
know that it is also the best way to get better acquainted with the police.

Turn your back and walk away -
And live to graft another day.

That's my motto and it's a good one. I got where I am because I stuck to it.
And daydreams aren't part of getting away from the police.

I pushed all thoughts from my mind as I reached the end of the aisle. The entire area outside
must have been swarming with cops by this time and I had to move fast and make no mistakes. A fast
look right and left. Nobody in sight. Two steps ahead and press the elevator button. I had put a
meter on this back elevator and it showed that the thing was used once a month on the average.
It arrived in about three seconds, empty, and I jumped in, thumbing the roof button at the
same time. The ride seemed to go on forever, but that was just subjective. By the record it was
exactly fourteen seconds. This was the most dangerous part of the trip. I tightened up as the
elevator slowed. My 75 caliber recoilless was in my hand, that would take care of one cop, but no
more.
The door shuffled open and I relaxed. Nothing. They must have the entire area covered on the
ground so they hadn't bothered to put cops on the roof.
In the open air now I could hear the sirens for the first time - a wonderful sound. They must have
had half of the entire police force out from the amount of noise they were making. I accepted it
as any artist accepts tribute.
The board was behind the elevator shaft where I had left it. A little weather-stained but
still strong. A few seconds to carry it to the edge of the parapet and reach it across to the next
building.