"No. This lipstick is a one-shot pistol, deadly at fifty meters..." "We won't need that," I said hurriedly. "Not for just two of them. You sit and watch. A little exercise to aid my digestion." "Four. They've been joined by some friends." "The odds are still in my favor." I could hear them thudding up behind me now-and I relaxed. From the weight of their steps they could only be police. Criminals might have given me some trouble. But the local police! I could polish off a squad before breakfast-and still have an appetite for lunch. The footsteps stopped as the burliest one appeared before me. I tensed as he reached into a pocket-then relaxed as he produced nothing more deadly than an ornate golden badge studded with precious stones.
"I am Captain Kretin of the Blodgett police. While you, I believe, are the individual who operates under the alias of the Stainless Steel Rat..." Alias indeed! As though I were a common criminal. I ground my teeth with rage as I reached out and broke my cigar under his nose. His eyes widened-then closed, as the instant sleeping gas from the crunched vial in the cigar drifted into his hairy nostrils. I took his badge, after all be had offered it to me, and turned aside as he dropped, lace first, into the sugar bowl.
I kept turning, my rigid index finger extended, to catch his corpulent colleague just behind the jawbone with this deadly digit. There is a nerve ganglion there which, if hit in the precise center, will produce instant unconsciousness. I did not miss. He folded nicely across his fat friend.