Stainless Steel Rat 11: The Stainless Steel Rat Returns Read Online Free PDF Page B

inside bowing and dry-wiping his hands.
    “Welcome a thousand times over, Sire diGriz. Please take this chair.” He pushed it in and I sat. He picked up his round black ball, that was secured by a chain to his ankle, so it wouldn’t trip him, and seated himself behind his massive desk.
    I always enjoyed the sight of the ball and chain. A constant reminder of the fate awaiting the bankers if their accounts were even a groat overdrawn. The balls were made of improvium and light as a feather. But if any larceny was detected in the bank’s accounts more molecules of improvium were pumped in and the balls grew heavy. Their weight varied according to the seriousness of the crime. In the bank’s cafeteria one could see manager’s smiling and sweating as they dragged their balls after them. In matters of grievous financial funny business they could weigh as much as a tonne; unless fed by sympathizers it was said that many a manager starved to death. A suitable fate for the overweight, some have been heard to say.
    “And how may I help, Sire Jim?” I ignored the smarmy use of my first name.
    “My account—I have a query.”
    “Of course. Let me bring it up on my screen.” He touched a button, looked—gasped and slumped back in his chair. “Empty, overdrawn. Past your limit—still being overdrawn as I watch . . .”
    “Yes, well, that’s my query. What do we do?”
    “First—ho-ho—we try to turn off the overdraft function.” He stabbed down on a key. Sat back and patted his damp forehead with his handkerchief.
    “Assets?” he asked.
    “My home!” I said hollowly, trying not to think of Angelina.
    “Yes, indeed!”
    He punched keys, smiled at the screen, sat back with a sigh.
    “Nine bedrooms, two kitchens, four bars, two swimming pools with poolside bars . . . a prime property indeed. It will fetch a good price . . .”
    “Sell? Never! A mortgage!”
    The smile became a frown. “Unhappily our mortgage funds are limited today, the law you know. Wait, a new deposit just came in. So we can offer you a loan—let me see after I deduct your overdraft—we can happily give you, after this deduction—four thousand and twenty three credits.”
    “For my luxurious home!” there was despair in my voice.
    “Wait, another overdraft just came in. The balance will be three hundred and forty-two credits.”
    “I’ll take it . . .”
    “Too late—another payment-due just arrived. I’m afraid that if you mortgage your home now you will still be in debit to the bank.” He turned off the screen, sat back and forced a smile. “Is there anything else I can help you with today, Sire James?”
    I grated my teeth and forced a grin. Not speaking the unspeakable things that I would like him to help me with.
    “Been nice talking to you,” I said, standing, turning, exiting his office. By coincidence none of the bank staff was lookingmy way as, whistling, I exited the bank. I looked down the street; it was a long walk to the spaceport. As I shuffled slowly into the gloom of the afternoon I looked up. Three pendant gold balls. Was it by sheer chance that the hock shop was so close to the bank? I turned and looked behind me and lo—there was another one, balls glinting in the afternoon sun. Funny, I had never noticed them before. Bells chimed in the distance as I pushed the door open and strode firmly inside among the pianos, gold jewelry, stuffed cats . . .
    When I left I pulled my jacket sleeve down to cover the pale stripe on my wrist where my watch used to be. I jingled the credits in my pocket and breathed a brief prayer.
    Be swift, good son, James. Your rusty rat of a father is greatly in need of succor.
    I jingled the coins again, turned to the curb, hailed a passing cab.

CHAPTER 5
     
    “What a pleasure it will be to see our son again,” I said cheerfully.
    Angelina did not move; her face set in ice. My words fell leadenly to the floor. I could but persevere. “His spacer will arrive on time! See the