She shook her yellow head.
Alarm stiffened the planter's features. "Get it, girl! No! No! Don't
get between us! Get behind him!"
The hooded man felt the girl's hands pat his chest, draw forth the
heavy slug gun.
The florid color crept back into Bemmelman's gross features. "You may
go, Sofi. I want a word with the Renegade."
* * * * *
Sofi shot him a child-like pouting glance, but retreated obediently
from the room, drawing the door shut behind her.
The lean young man in the hood watched, weighing his chances. He didn't
say anything.
"You're surprised, eh, that I don't turn you in to the Security
Patrol?" Bemmelman began. "They'd like to get their hands on the
Renegade, they would. But the fact is I want you more than they do. Yes
sir, this is a piece of luck for me. I've been trying to contact you
for months."
The hooded man said dryly: "I'm listening," and allowed his hands to
sink to his side.
"Put your hands back on your head!" Bemmelman's voice registered alarm.
"No tricks. I can use you, lad, but no tricks." He glared speculatively
at the Renegade, added: "Yes sir, that I can. And now, if you'll take
off that hood we'll get down to business."
"If it's business, I'll keep the hood on."
"No sir," the planter blustered. "Off with the hood or I shoot. When I
do business with a man, I like to know who he is."
The hooded man's green eyes were reckless. The law on Venus was harsh,
implacable. There were no pardons. The disintegration chamber at
Venusport yawned for him inexorably.
"You know, Bemmelman, I'd be completely at your mercy if I unmasked?"
"You are right now. Yes sir. You can take it off alive, or I'll take it
off of you dead."
The hooded man was half crouched against the glassite desk. He said
softly: "You don't leave me much choice," and dived beneath the dart
gun.
His head struck the slave breeder's paunch like a cannon ball.
Bemmelman went, "Ooof!" and sat down with a thud. The dart gun spat a
needle into the ceiling where it quivered viciously.
The hooded man was on him like a cat. One swipe of his hand knocked the
dart gun clattering under the sofa. Purple faced, gasping Bemmelman
scrambled to his feet. A look of fright swept his gross features, and
he began stabbing a button on the glassite desk.
The hooded man could hear the shrill clamor of alarm bells pealing
through the rambling building. He leaped for the door, threw it back.
"Ahhh!" he said.
Sofi stood in the entrance, her dart gun almost against his chest.
Like a whip, the hooded man twisted sideways, snatched the gun from the
startled girl. He saw Bemmelman charging across the room. He grinned,
shoved the girl into the planter's arms, slammed the door.
The sound of shouts drifted up to him. He saw a Venusian serf, armed
with a bell muzzled ray rifle, dash into the corridor. The serf caught
sight of him. A yellow ray streamed from the gun, splashed off the
wall; but the hooded man already had vanished up the stairs.
Bemmelman burst from the office. "Which way did he go? The force
screens are up! He can't escape!"
"He got in," Sofi pointed out coolly.
Half a dozen armed serfs dashed into the hall. The alarm bells were
still ringing.
"Which way?" Bemmelman roared.