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 passion— and 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.
  "Isn't that a coincidence. My name is Wurble and I come from Blodgett." "What's a coincidence about that?" "Both planets are in the same galaxy."
  She greeted this limp sally with a whinny of delight and I knew that I had made a friend. Joyella's only problem was that she was getting a little long in the tooth and was lonely. A bit of understanding on my part went a long way and I nodded and tssked through the rest of the journey, as I heard all about life in the accounting department of Lushflush, the robot lavatory attendant factory where she worked. It was late afternoon when we rolled back into the tourist haven of Puerto Azul. Since leaving the duke it had been an alcoholfree day so we nipped into the bar for a couple of tall cold

ones. We had had a good day and I slipped out of Joyella's life, ignoring the tremble of her lower lip, before things got too complicated. I shouldered my repellent tourist bag, now well Blled with my own equipment, waved goodby, and vanished into the twilight. Next step; getting out of this place. Jorge would know a way.
Except that Jorge appeared to be in a little trouble himself.
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             The Stainless Steel Rat for President        101

I suspected this when I saw the black car drawn up before the doorway of his apartment building. The man slumped behind the wheel wore dark glasses. There were lots of other tenants in the apartment building, it could be any one of them. Then why were the hairs on the nape of my neck trying to rise up out of my shirt collar? My hunches had been right too often in the past to ignore one this time. It would not hurt to take a few precautions. I palmed a slaphypo as I took a map out of my bag. I strolled over to the car and leaned in the window.
  "Excuse me old buddy, but I'm looking for this here place. I hear they got good booze and really nifty girls there . . ." "No parolas, me, Esperanto . . ."
  "Can't understand a word, old buddy. But just look at the

map. "
  I opened it under his nose and he pushed it away—then slumped in slumber as the needle went home. I leaned his head back in the corner as though he were resting. With my flank secured I turned to the apartment building. Just as two of the Ultimados emerged dragging a much-battered Jorge between them. I stepped forward and halted in front of them. "Say, that man looks sick!" I said.
  "Out of the way, fool," the big one said, reaching out to push me aside.
  "You're attacking a helpless tourist!" I shouted, chopping him hard on the side of the neck, then stepping back so his unconscious body could hit the pavement with a satisfactory thud.
  The other Ultimado was trying to pull his gun, but Jorge

was making this difficult by hanging onto his arm. I settled this little difficulty by chopping the nerve in the man's arm so the gun dropped from his limp fingers. Since this must have hurt I had mercy and rendered him unconscious with a quick uppercut.
  "I am very happy to see you," Jorge said, trying not to sway too much. He reached into his bloodied mouth and pulled out a tooth, which he stared at gloomily before throwing it away. Then he kicked the unconscious thug hard in the ribs. "Let's get out of here," I said. "We'll take the car." "Where are we going?"
  "You tell me." I opened the rear door of the police car and stuffed the two unconscious men onto the floor. "Get in with thc~mm " T nri}f*rf*f\ Fin u~ ht* WM hiinkine ranirllv and did nnf"

102         The Stainless Steel Rat for President

really seem to be with it. I closed the door behind him, pushed the dozing driver over, then accelerated away. "Any particular direction we should go?"
  There was only silence from the rear seat. I looked back to

see that Jorge was just as unconscious as the others. They must have given him quite a going over.
  "Which leaves everything up to you, James. Again," I told myself, which observation didn't do much good. I was tired and depressed and had been running from the police for far too long now. There was no point in bringing this crew back into town, so I turned onto the coast highway and rolled along in the gathering dusk. Before it got too dark I pulled off onto the shoulder, then bound and gagged the Ultimados with their own clothing. A few cars whirred by, but none of them stopped. I was dragging the last body into the shrubbery when Jorge stirred and groaned. I rooted around in the bag until I found the medkit which I set for a combination stimulant and pain-killer. I gave him a shot, and it looked so good I gave myself one too.
"Do you feel any better?" I asked as he sat up and stretched. "I do. I must thank you, for everything."
  "Do you have any idea of what we should do next to get out of here?" He looked around. "Where is here?" "Coast road. A few Ks south of Puerto Azul." "Can you fly a jet copter?"
  "I can fly anything. Why do you ask—do you have one in

your pocket?"
  "No, but there is a small private airfield a short distance down the coast. There are craft of all sizes there. Of course it is guarded and there are alarms . . ."
  My snort was not one of anger, but rather more like that of a warhorse about to go into battle. My fatigue was gone, I was flying from the uppers, and looking forward to one last quick round of breaking and entering and mugging before taking off for home. It had really been a busy couple of days.
  Jorge tried to help, but I instructed him to remain in the car since he would only be in my way. I shorted the alarm in the barbed-wire fence, went over it silent as a snake—and within ten minutes came strolling back to unlock the gate.
  "You make it look so simple," Jorge said with justified admiration as we drove into the field.
  "Each man to his trade," I murmured deprecatorily. "I'm

             The Stainless Steel Rat for President        103

sure that I would make a rotten tourist guide. Now we will leave the car here out of sight, and take that sport copter. Don't trip over the bodies, that's right."
  By the time he had his seatbelt buckled I had hot-wired the ignition, fired up the engines and turned on the navigation circuitry. I tapped the illuminated map projection.
  "We'll head for Primoroso—then turn sharply here over the Barrier and on to the marquez's castle. Are you ready?" He nodded and we lifted into the air.
  It was an easy flight. Not a single blip appeared on our radar and there wasn't even a disturbance when we crossed the Barrier. I maintained radio silence until Castle de la Rosa appeared on the screen, then identified myself and brought the ship in. The landing pad was brightly lit, and in this welcoming illumination there awaited the three most important people in the galaxy. Important to me, that is.
  I dropped from the copter and, with a quick wave to my sons, embraced their mother in such a satisfactory fashion that they clapped encouragement.
  "I've been missing that," Angelina said, holding me away at arm's length. "They haven't hurt you, have they? If they have, this planet is going to be littered with corpses very quickly."
  "Desist, my love! If anything the opposite is true. I have cut a mean swath through the ranks of the enemy, have won many a fiercely fought contest, have gained us new friends and comrades, cheated at cards, and generally kept myself quite busy while I have been away. How has it been here?" "Very quiet. The marquez is recovering nicely, so the boys and I have used the opportunity to make detailed plans." "Plans of what?" The drugs were wearing off, fatigue struck and I stifled a yawn.
  "Plans for you to conduct the crookedest election campaign in the history of electoral politics. It will be a watershed of illegality, a monument of chicanery, a cacophony of corruption." Jorge stared with disbelief as the rest of us cheered iinl-hiKliaitifallv