Harry Harrison
Walker and Company
New York
Copyright 1961 by HARRY HARRISON
Portions of this book appeared, in somewhat different form, inAstounding Science Fiction for August 1957 and Analog ScienceFact & Fiction for April 1960.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced ortransmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage andretrieval system, without permission in writing from the Publisher.
All the characters and events portrayed in this story are fictitious.
Published in the United States of America in 1970 by the WalkerPublishing Company, Inc.
Published simultaneously in Canada by The Ryerson Press, Toronto.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 74-103005
Printed in the United States of America.
[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidencethat the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
For Hans Stefan Santesson
When the office door opened suddenly I knew the game was up. It hadbeen a money-maker—but it was all over. As the cop walked in I satback in the chair and put on a happy grin. He had the same somberexpression and heavy foot that they all have—and the same lack ofhumor. I almost knew to the word what he was going to say before heuttered a syllable.
"James Bolivar diGriz I arrest you on the charge—"
I was waiting for the word charge, I thought it made a nicetouch that way. As he said it I pressed the button that set off thecharge of black powder in the ceiling, the crossbeam buckled and thethree-ton safe dropped through right on the top of the cop's head. Hesquashed very nicely, thank you. The cloud of plaster dust settled andall I could see of him was one hand, slightly crumpled. It twitcheda bit and the index finger pointed at me accusingly. His voice wasa little muffled by the safe and sounded a bit annoyed. In fact herepeated himself a bit.
"... On the charge of illegal entry, theft, forgery—"
He ran on like that for quite a while, it was an impressive list butI had heard it all before. I didn't let it interfere with my stuffingall the money from the desk drawers into my suitcase. The list endedwith a new charge and I would swear on a stack of thousand credit notesthat high that there was a hurt tone in his voice.
"In addition the charge of assaulting a police robot will be added toyour record. This was foolish since my brain and larynx are armored andin my midsection—"
"That I know well, George, but your little two-way radio is in the topof your pointed head and I don't want you reporting to your friendsjust yet."
One good kick knocked the escape panel out of the wall and gave accessto the steps to the basement. As I skirted the rubble on the floor therobot's fingers snapped out at my leg, but I had been waiting for thatand they closed about two inches short. I have been followed by enoughpolice robots to know by now how indestructible they are. You can blowthem up or knock them down and they keep coming after you; draggingthemselves by one good finger and spouting saccharine morality all thewhile. That's what this one was doing. Give up my life of crime and paymy debt to society and such. I could still hear his voice echoing downthe stairwell as I reached the basement.
Every second was timed now. I had about three minutes before theywould be on my tail, and it would take me exactly one minute and eightseconds to get clear of the building. That wasn't