The Stainless Steel Rat Goes to Hell by Harry Harrison Page A

the Way was due to begin at noon. We met for a final rehearsal an hour earlier.
    â€œYou first, Sybil,” I said.
    â€œI go in with the others. Talk, act naturally and keep my eyes open. If everything goes as it usually does, then I have only one thing to do. I know that the outer door is always locked before the service begins. So when Father Marablis begins his sermon, I squeeze this.” She held up a tiny wafer of plastic.
    â€œThat is a one-shot communicator,” I said. “The battery shorts through the chip, which sends a millisecond-long signal before it burns out. It is undetectable both before and after use. I’ll be waiting nearby. As soon as I get the signal I go in through the front door.” I held up a modified lockpick. “Sybil took a close look at the lock—which is a make called Bulldog-Bowser. I know it well and it is very easy to open. James, you’re next.”

    â€œI’ll be driving the delivery van, a rental with new identification numbers and fake signs. When Dad goes through the door I drive around and park in front of the church. Bolivar.”
    â€œI’m inside the van with passive tracking equipment, magnetometer and heat detectors. I should be able to follow people moving inside. I also have a warning alarm receiver.”
    I nodded. “Which I can activate in one of four ways in case of emergency. Bite hard on my back tooth, tap one toe quickly two times or pull off the top button of my shirt.”
    â€œThat’s only three,” Sybil said.
    â€œThe fourth I have no control over. It will be activated if—my heart stops. Should the alarm go off, the boys break their way in with all guns firing. Any remarks or questions?”
    â€œStun grenades and blackout gas as well as the guns,” James said.
    That was it. We had some tall and nonalcoholic drinks and discussed the Vulkann weather. After a time Sybil looked at her watch, stood and went out. We followed.
    I waited out of sight around the corner, apparently looking at the gaudy items in a tourist shop window while I patted, one by one, the various lumps in my clothes; weapons, detectors, tools, alarms, that sort of thing. I had no idea of what I would find inside the church so I had visited a number of electronic stores and stacked up on everything I could or might possibly need.
    The phone taped behind my ear clicked sharply. I turned about, strolled around the corner and up the two steps to the church door. My left hand on the knob concealed the rapid twisting of the lockpick with my right. It was as fast as turning a key; I do have some experience at this sort of thing. The door opened and I went through without breaking pace. Closed and relocked it behind me.
    I was in a dimly lit vestibule with draperies covering the far side. I parted them a hairsbreadth and looked through. Father Slakey-Marablis was behind a high lectern and in full throat, unctuous vapidities washed over the attentive audience below.
    â€¦ doubt shall be taken from you and will be replaced by
reassurance. It is written in the Book of Books that the path to salvation leads through the Land of Good Deeds. Good deeds and love must be your guiding stars, the beckoning fingers of the hereafter. A hereafter that lies ahead of you, restful and satisfying, calm and filled with the effervescence that passeth all understanding.”
    Very good. Not really very good, but really very bad. But good for me. For as long as he burbled on I could penetrate his holy of holies. The staircase was behind the door on the left, as Sybil had told me. She had no idea where it led; that was for me to find out. I went through and closed the door silently behind me, bit down gently on the microlight I held between my teeth. Dusty stairs wound upwards. I climbed them, walking with my feet close to the wall to prevent them from creaking. There was another door at the head of the stairs that opened into a large room, dimly illuminated