The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection by Harry Harrison

would sit – and this is where he would stand when he rose to hear his sentence. Those great hands would grasp the rail here. Just here.
    I looked down at the wooden floor and smiled grimly. Then knelt and tapped on it. Then took out a drill as the various parts of my plan began to fall into place.
    Oh, but thiswas a busy night! I had to clear boxes from the cellar beneath the courtroom, saw and hammer and sweat, and even slip out of the court house long enough to find a sports supply store and break into it. And, most critical of all, I had to work out a route of escape. The escape itself would not have to be rushed – but it would have to be secure. If I had had the time a bit of tunnelling would havebeen in order. But I had no time. Therefore ingenuity would have to replace manual labour. As I cogitated in a comfortable position I found myself nodding off. Never! I made my way from the building yet again, found an all-night restaurant staffed by surly robot machines, and drank two large coffees with extra caffeine. This worked, producing ideas as well as instant heartburn. I staggered offand broke into a clothing store. By the time I reached the courthouse again I really was staggering with fatigue. With fumbling fingers I resealed all of the doors, removed all traces of my passage. The first light of dawn was greying the windows before I was done. I fumbled with tired fingers as I sealed the cellar from the inside, stumbled across the room, sat down on the canvas, set my alarm watch– and lay down to instant slumber.
    It was pitch dark when the mosquito whine of the alarm irritated me awake. I had a moment of panic until I remembered that the cellar was windowless. It should be full daylight outside by now. I would see. I turned on a worklight, made adjustments – then turned on the TV monitor. Perfect! A colour picture of the court room above filled the screen, transmittedfrom the optical bug I had planted the night before. Some ancient employees were dusting the furniture and sweeping the floor. The session would begin in an hour. I left the set running while I made a last check on my labours of the previous night. All working, all in order … so all I had to do was wait.
    That was what I did. Sipping at the cold coffee and chewing painfully on a stale sandwichfrom the previous day’s supplies. The suspense ended when the courtroom doors were thrown open and the lucky spectators and the press came in. I could see them imaged clearly on the screen, hear the shuffle of theirfootsteps overhead. The sound of their voices murmured from the speaker, quieting only when they were silenced for the arrival of the judge. All eyes were on him, all ears twitchingattentively when he cleared his throat and began to speak.
    First he bored everyone into a state of stupefaction by going over the previous day’s evidence in detail, then adding his obvious agreement to each summation and observation. I let his voice drone on while I looked at The Bishop, zooming in on his face.
    He gave them nothing. His features were set, he looked almost bored. But there wasa glint to his eyes that was almost hatred, nearer contempt. A giant pulled down by ants. The set of his jaw indicated that they may have imprisoned his body – but his soul was still free. But not for long if the judge had his way!
    Now something in the judge’s voice caught my attention. He had finished his preamble at last. He cleared his throat and pointed at The Bishop.
    ‘Defendant will standfor sentencing.’
    All eyes were on the prisoner. He sat stolidly, unmoving. There was a growing rustle and murmur. The judge began to turn red and he hammered with his gavel.
    ‘I will be obeyed in this court,’ he thundered. ‘The defendant will rise or will be forced to do so. Is that understood?’
    Now I was sweating. If only I could have told him not to cause any difficulties. What would I doif he were held up by great ugly policemen? Two of them had already started