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

When I woke up we were almost to planet X, I half dozed in the chair until we touched down,
then smoked a cigar while my bag cleared customs. My locked brief case of money raised no
suspicions since I had foresightedly forged papers six months ago with my occupation listed as
bank messenger. Interplanet credit was almost nonexistent in this system, so the customs men were
used to seeing a lot of cash go back and forth.
Almost by habit I confused the trail a little more and ended up in the large manufacturing
city of Brouggh over one thousand kilometers from the point where I had landed. Using an entirely
new set of identification papers I registered at a quiet hotel in the suburbs.
Usually after a big job like this I rest up for a month or two; this was one time though I
didn't feel like a rest. While I was making small purchases around town to rebuild the personality
of James diGriz, I was also keeping my eyes open for new business opportunities. The very first
day I was out I saw what looked like a natural - and each day it looked better and better.
One of the main reasons I have stayed out of the arms of the law for as long as I have, is


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that I have never repeated myself. I have dreamed up some of the sweetest little rackets, run them
off once, then stayed away from them forever after. About the only thing they had in common was
the fact that they all made money. About the only thing I hadn't hit to date was out and out armed
robbery. It was time for a change and it looked like that was it.
While I was rebuilding the paunchy personality of Slippery Jim I was making plans for the
operation. Just about the time the fingerprint gloves were ready the entire business was planned.
It was simple like all good operations should be, the less details there are, the less things
there are that can go wrong.
I was going to hold up Moraio's, the largest retail store in the city. Every evening at
exactly the same time, an armored car took the day's receipts to the bank. It was a tempting prize
- a gigantic sum in untraceable small bills. The only real problem as far as I was concerned was
how one man could handle the sheer bulk and weight of all that money. When I had an answer to that
the entire operation was ready.
All the preparations were, of course, made only in my mind until the personality of James
diGriz was again ready. The day I slipped that weighted belly back on, I felt I was back in
uniform. I lit my first cigarette almost with satisfaction, then went to work. A day or two for
some purchases and a few simple thefts and I was ready. I scheduled the following afternoon for
the job.
A large tractor-truck that I had bought was the key to the operation - along with some
necessary alterations I bad made to the interior. I parked the truck in an "L" shaped alley about
a half mile from Moraio's. The truck almost completely blocked the alley but that wasn't important
since it was used only in the early morning. It was a leisurely stroll back to the department
store, I reached it at almost the same moment that the armored truck pulled up. I leaned against
the wall of the gigantic building while the guards carried out the money. My money.
To someone of little imagination I suppose it would have been an awe-inspiring sight. At least
five armed guards standing around the entrance, two more inside the truck as well as the driver
and his assistant. As an added precaution there were three monocycles purring next to the curb.
They would go with the truck as protection on the road. Oh, very impressive. I had to stifle a
grin behind my cigarette when I thought about what was going to happen to those elaborate
precautions.
I had been counting the hand-trucks of money as they rolled out of the door. There were always
fifteen, no more, no less; this practice made it easy for me to know the exact time to begin. Just