The Stainless Steel Rat Goes to Hell by Harry Harrison

had a distant look in her eyes, looking at something I could not see. A tear ran down her cheek and she sniffed, wiped at it and smiled.
    â€œSorry. I’m not being much help. I know it has to be a con of some kind. I don’t believe in day trips to Heaven. But something did happen to me. My emotions, they are real.”
    â€œI believe you. But there are, well, drugs that can affect the emotions directly.”
    â€œI know that. But still …” She stood and smoothed down her dress, touched a finger to the brooch. “Instead of listening
to me blathering on let’s take a look at this recording.”
    â€œYou’ve done a great job. Thank you.” .
    The twins had seen us in the street and had the door open as we came down the hall. I heard Sybil telling them about the experience, basically just what she had told me. But she was much more in control of herself now and beginning to get angry at being got to in some way. By the time she had finished her story I had the piece of electronic jewelry clamped into the activation module. The screen lit up with a view of the church moving closer.
    The pictures were silent and so were we as we watched her meet the other two women. They talked, then turned to face Slakey when he entered. He was certainly in his Father Marablis mode, brown cassock and unctuous gestures; I was rather glad I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
    â€œUp to this point I remember everything,” Sybil said. “He is telling us about the joys to come and, see his hand, collecting a few extra checks for the pleasure of our outing. There, that part is done. Here we go.”
    Slakey must have said something for they all turned and walked after him. The screen went black.
    â€œIs the recorder broken?” Bolivar asked.
    â€œI doubt it.” I fast-forwarded the machine and the image reappeared.
    â€œWe are back in the room,” Sybil said. “Without a record of what I saw. I’m so sorry.”
    â€œDon’t be.” I ran a quick analytical probe. “You did everything that you could. So did the recorder. It worked fine—but there just is no record. I don’t know why or how this happened. The electronics appear to have been operating but they, well, just didn’t record anything.” I scowled at the machine. “And I do not believe in miracles.”
    â€œNo one’s thinking about miracles,” James said. “We’re thinking technology. Whatever field of force or electronic pervasion created the Heaven trip, well, could it have interfered with the recording?”
    â€œPretty obviously,” I said.

    â€œ1 have an idea,” Bolivar said. “This was a good try—but it just did not work out. Next step. We need a long look around that place. You will remember that there was some kind of machinery that was blown up in the first church. I would like to see if there are any of the same kind of gadgets here …”
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI don’t mean no let’s not do it. I mean no you don’t do it. Because I do this particular job.” I raised my hand to quiet their protests. “I say that not because I am older and wiser, which is true, but because I have had much more experience at this sort of thing. Bolivar, I wouldn’t think of making high-profit high-risk investments if you were there to do it for me. After watching that last karate tournament I wouldn’t dare face up to your brother in an even fight. It has always been the age of the specialist. Do any of you believe that you can do an unseen breaking and entering and searching job better than I can?” Silence was my only answer. “Thank you,” I said—with some warmth. “But you will all have to help. This is the plan.”
    We had that night and part of the next day to make our preparations. It was going to be a joint effort. The church service for the Seekers of