xy.

A long cloak would conceal the uniform while I left the hotel, but the
gold-encrusted helmet and a brief case of papers were a problem. I had
never explored all the possibilities of the pseudo M-3 robot, perhaps it
could be of help.

"You there, short and chunky," I called. "Do you have any concealed
compartments or drawers built into your steel hide? If so, let's see."

For a second I thought the robot had exploded. The thing had more
drawers in it than a battery of cash registers. Big, small, flat, thin,
they shot out on all sides. One held a gun and two more were stuffed
with grenades; the rest were empty. I put the hat in one, the brief case
in another and snapped my fingers. The drawers slid shut and its metal
hide was as smooth as ever.

I pulled on a fancy sports cap, buckled the cape up tight, and was ready
to go. The luggage was all booby-trapped and could defend itself. Guns,
gas, poison needles, the usual sort of thing. In the last resort it
would blow itself up. The M-3 went down by a freight elevator. I used a
back stairs and we met in the street.

Since it was still daylight I didn't take a heli, but rented a groundcar
instead. We had a leisurely drive out into the country and reached
President Ferraro's house after dark.

As befitted the top official of a rich planet, the place was a mansion.
But the security precautions were ludicrous to say the least. I took
myself and a three hundred fifty kilo robot through the guards and
alarms without causing the slightest stir. President Ferraro, a
bachelor, was eating his dinner. This gave me enough undisturbed time to
search his study.

There was absolutely nothing. Nothing to do with wars or battleships
that is. If I had been interested in blackmail I had enough evidence in
my hand to support me for life. I was looking for something bigger than
political corruption, however.

When Ferraro rolled into his study after dinner the room was dark. I
heard him murmur something about the servants and fumble for the switch.
Before he found it, the robot closed the door and turned on the lights.
I sat behind his desk, all his personal papers before me--weighted down
with a pistol--and as fierce a scowl as I could raise smeared across my
face. Before he got over the shock I snapped an order at him.

"Come over here and sit down, _quick_!"

The robot hustled him across the room at the same time, so he had no
choice except to obey. When he saw the papers on