“Kill,” he said simply and reached out for me.

Covered with chunky muscle, he wasn’t very fast on his feet. But then again the dressing room wasn’t that big. There was a single window-but it was covered by thick bars. I jumped back, sprang onto the trunk-then did a diving roll over his head when his clasping fingers reached out for me. Hit the door with my picklock ready. Had it open-

When a hand as big as a ham slammed it shut. Cruel fingers closed on my neck. Lifted me into the air, shook me like a used rag. I choked and couldn’t speak since my larynx was being slowly crushed. Then he dropped me. Put a heavy foot on my chest as I gasped in air. Bite steel rods in two, I remembered. Head through a brick wall.

“I can explain…” I finally choked.

“Tell.”

“I am not what I seem …”

“Police spy!” The foot pressed down and I waited for the snapping crack of broken ribs.

“Never! I’m a … special investigator!”

“Who pay you?”

This was no time for lies or evasions.

“A banker! A very rich banker by the name of Imperetrix Von Kaiser-Czarski …”

“You lie!”

The pressure increased and darkness descended. At a great distance I heard a cracked voice saying “no” over and over again. Was that me?

Then the pressure ceased. A mighty hand lifted me and dropped me into the armchair. Vision slowly returned to reveal the monster sitting quietly before me. It spoke.

“The time has now arrived for you to be more truthful in your revelations, oh not so mighty Marvell. I have an undetectable detector concealed in this room. So I knew someone had been in here during my absence. Therefore I abbreviated my act today in order to see if the same mysterious invader might return.”

“You suddenly talk a lot better.”

“I do. And if you give me the wrong answers no one will ever hear about it from you.”

The temperature in the room went down ten degrees. He smiled.

“Now that we understand each other, feel free to tell me all about your presence here.”

I told him. Everything. Except of course any details of my career before being employed by Chaise. An interstellar private eye, that’s who I was. He nodded and listened, steepling his fingers before him as he took it all in. When I had finished he appeared to stop and consider what I had told him-then nodded again.

“That is a preposterous story, Jim. Thousands might not believe it-but I do. Because in my investigative capacity on this planet I have also come across traces and trails of your employer. There are a lot of crooked business practices going on this planet. As far as I can determine, with really only a superficial examination, your associate Chaise is one of the most reprehensible. I have uncovered these facts in the course of my investigations. You see I am really a git.”

“Never! I’ll challenge anyone who calls you that! You are not a git.”

“Not git—GIT!” he said with anger in his eyes. I shrank away. “That is a Galactic Inspector of Texas.”

“A tax man!” Not in my wildest dream.

“I am. It is a profession much needed in these tax-evading societies. Without law and taxes we would have interstellar anarchy. And this planet, Fetorr, is home to some heroically greedy tax evaders. And high on my list of suspects is your employer.”

I still found it hard to believe. “A tax man … no one would ever suspect.”

“No they wouldn’t. I have what might very well be called a perfect disguise. That of a simple-minded muscle-man. Bit of fun too, I must say. I was really tired of teaching at the university. Even though I had my own department of Fiduciary Intransigence. But when I began to get reports of the tax goings-on here on Fetorr I volunteered for the present assignment. My natural assets, of course.”

“Natural assets?” I was beginning to feel that I was missing some vital facts.

“That is correct. You must have heard of my home planet, Trantor?”

“Sorry-there are thousands of inhabited worlds out there.”

“Yes-but there is only one with the mass of Trantor. A little over three times the standard as expressed in planetary gravity. 3Gs in fact.”

“No wonder you can do what you do!”

“I feel light as a feather on your tiny worlds. I dream that I am floating at times. But to more important things. The man you informally refer to as Chaise is an interstellar banker of great renown. And suspicion…”

He broke off when there was a sharp rap on the door.

“Locked. Go away,” he growled in his Puissanto personality.

“I want to contact the Mighty Marvell,” a muffled voice said. “Do you know…”

“No know! Go!” he roared.

The sharp rapping came again. Puissanto picked me up by the throat so I could not speak, held me out at arm’s length behind the door when he opened it.

“Umph!” he said. “Who you?”

“Me Megalith Man,” a grating voice said. “Need to find Mighty Marvell.”

I struggled and writhed and managed to squeeze out a few words.

“Let-in-it’s OK…”

I dropped when he opened his hand. Megalith Man came in and looked down at me where I sprawled on the floor.

“Are you alright, Dad?” he asked.

Puissanto closed the door and looked from me to Megalith Man. “If this is your son, then you have some really crunched recessive genes in your lineage,” he said.

“A working costume,” Bolivar said, talking off Megalith Man’s head. “There is big trouble coming down the pike. Mom was worried when Puissanto here cut his act short. Told me to get to this dressing room-but didn’t have time to tell me why because that’s when the trouble started. The rest of the program has been canceled and the theater is filled with uniforms. I saw three of them going into your dressing room. The theater entrances are sealed except for one, and they are searching and checking the audience as they leave.”

“Do you have any idea why?” Puissanto asked.

“There’s no secret about it.” He looked at me with a most unhappy expression. “They have pictures of you. And are asking everyone if they have ever heard of the Stainless Steel Rat.”

I knew that the powers of darkness were drawing ever closer: what I had not realized was just how close they really were. The hot breath on the back of my neck was scorching. Reality crushed in: I really had called this one wrong. We should have cut and run the night before. Now, in order to make one last stab at investigating the ongoing mystery, I had endangered the entire operation. Not to mention the health and well-being of my entire family. I took a deep-and shuddering-breath.

“Right,” I said with more authority than I felt. “I have to find a way to get out of here. Any suggestions?”

“Are you the Stainless Steel Rat individual that the police apparently want to apprehend?” Puissanto said.

No point in lying—particularly since the police had linked my photograph to my name. “I have that pleasure.”

“That name has a very familiar ring about it. Could I have come across it in the records?”

“Which records?”

“Tax records.”

“Impossible. My motto is the golden one of the confirmed capitalist. Buy cheap, sell dear-and avoid paying taxes. Legally, that is.”

“The Stainless Steel Rat-it still sounds familiar. Yes! Weren’t you linked at one time to the destruction of large amounts of income tax records?”

“A calumny! Never proven! I prefer to think of my career as that of one who rights wrongs. A modern version of the old myth of the benefactor named Robbing Good. My specialty involves ironing out the bumps in the income graph, redistributing resources one might say. I might also add that I have saved the galaxy on more than one occasion. Which should count for something.”

“You are sure about those tax files?”

Like all tax men he would not let go easily. “I am surenever!” I lied. There are times when the bare truth can be embarrassing. Puissanto rubbed his jaw in thought.