"We'll give them another hour," said Bemmelman, "to be on the safe
side." He rang for a servant, ordered breakfast served in the office.
They picked at their food listlessly when it arrived. Bemmelman kept
glancing at his watch. At length, he stood up, turned to the slave
girl. "Call the Security Patrol, Llana."
Cosmo frowned, but said nothing.
"What should I tell them?" asked Llana snapping on the telecast.
"Get hold of the Commissioner. Tell him we've caught the Renegade." He
chuckled amiably. "That should make him sit up. Yes sir. Tell him to
get right out here, though, because the Renegade's men are trying to
rescue him."
A girl's features, horsefaced, blonde, formed on the screen. "Venusport
Security Patrol," she said.
"The Commissioner," said Llana. "This is the Bemmelman plantation
calling."
The screen blanked out as the horsefaced girl switched to the
Commissioner's office. In a moment, the fat face and shoulders of the
Commissioner blotted out half the screen. His eyes were puffy. His
jowls sagged. He looked as if he were suffering from a hangover.
"Well?" he asked.
"We've captured the Renegade."
"What?" His eyes snapped open.
"We've got the Renegade here at the plantation. But hurry! His men are
trying to rescue him. Please hurry!"
"I'm on my way!"
The Commissioner leaped out of vision forgetting to shut off the
telecast. They could hear his bull-like voice roaring orders. Llana
snapped off the machine, turned indifferently to the windows.
Bemmelman chuckled, said, "Keep your eyes on Miss MacIver, Llana. Don't
let Sofi go galavanting around either." He took the chains off Cosmo's
ankles, but left his hands manacled. Next he went to his desk, took out
a dart gun. He said, "Come along," to Cosmo and led the way into the
corridor.
* * * * *
They didn't go through the trap this time, but up in the tower where a
door gave directly onto the flat roof. Cosmo saw that the chamber just
inside the door was jammed with naked blue giants and Venusian serfs.
A tall, black eyed Martian, foppishly dressed in spite of the heat came
to meet them. He wrinkled his nose at the stale odor of sweat already
thick in the room, picked his way through the men.
"I didn't deploy them on the roof," he said in the sibilant accent of
the Red Planet, "because there's no cover. They'd be spotted at once.
They can rush the Renegade's men through the door." He examined Cosmo
curiously.
Bemmelman rubbed his hands together, said: "That's right, Rabaul. Yes
sir, I'm glad you thought of that." He glanced through the door at the
low swirling cloud mass, then turned back to Cosmo. "Get out on the
roof. Whistle 'em down. No tricks, now."
Cosmo stepped through the door into the hot, dim daylight. He glanced
aloft, put two fingers in his mouth, whistled loudly. He had trouble
managing the cuffs, but he blew again and again.
His eyes swept the heavens, but no sign of bird or plane appeared
through the veiling clouds.
"What's wrong?" called Bemmelman in a low nervous voice.
Cosmo shook his head. He put his fingers back in his mouth, whistled
until he was red in the face. He might as well have whistled for a wind.
Bemmelman stamped out of the tower. He scoured the low roof of clouds,
an ominous glitter in his pig-like eyes.
"Where are they?"
"You know as much about it as I do." Cosmo shrugged. "They're not there
or they'd come down."
"If you're tricking me...."
"How the hell would I be tricking you?" Cosmo asked irritably. "You
heard me give my orders over the telecast. They're not there, that's
all. And I'm damn glad they're not!"
The planter continued to stare at him suspiciously. Cosmo could feel
his plan hanging precariously in the balance, then Bemmelman said: "It
doesn't matter, I suppose. They can be rounded up later. The Security
Patrol will be here any moment." He shoved Cosmo ahead of him into the
tower.
Cosmo let his breath escape evenly. He could feel little beads of sweat
on his forehead.
The red-faced planter slipped the dart gun out of his pocket. "Rabaul,"
he ordered grumpily; "Get the men back to their quarters."
The Martian elevated his eyebrows, but Bemmelman vouchsafed no
explanation. The planter watched his overseer herd the men down
the stair, then turned to Cosmo as the last of the Jovians were
disappearing. The dart gun dangled in his fist at his side. His eyes
were mean.
"Get a move on," he said sharply.
"All right," said Cosmo. He was right beside the planter.
In that instant Bemmelman sensed danger. His eyes widened. He tried to
whip up the dart gun. Then Cosmo's manacles smashed the planter along
side the head.
It was a terrible blow. The red-faced slave breeder caved to the floor
as if his bones had turned to jelly. For a moment, Cosmo thought he'd
killed him. He stooped, found Bemmelman's pulse. It was weak but
steady. Grim-lipped, he leaped back to the roof.
Cursing his manacles, Cosmo fumbled a whistle from his pocket. He wet
his lips, blew. As the time he'd summoned the Ormoo to carry off Mia,
the high shrill note was inaudible to human ears.
Bemmelman, Cosmo thought grimly, had been a bit too clever. The planter
had heard him say whistle over the telecast. It hadn't occurred to him
that the Ormoo might be trained only to notes in the higher register.
He glanced aloft. The cloud blanket began to boil suddenly. Then the
Ormoo plummeted soundlessly to the roof. Big Unse, the blue star of the
Fozoql caste tattooed on his yellow forehead, his face split by a grin,
leaped silently from its back.
The bird stretched out its beak, rubbed it against Cosmo's leg.
"Quick!" said Big Unse. "On to the bird. We'll be spotted in a minute."
Cosmo shook his head, watching a surface plane nose cautiously down
from the clouds. "There's a girl below stairs."
Big Unse scowled in disgust. "Why," he asked practically, "do you have
to have that particular one?"
The surface plane came to rest lightly beside the Ormoo. The door was
flung open and eight men piled out, weapons in their hands. There was
no word spoken. Five were swarthy Venusian serfs. There was the yellow
eyed Mercurian, bland, smiling unarmed. There was Natal, the traitorous
Martian, and the blue Jovian.
"We're going to get a girl," said Big Unse.
Cosmo slapped the Ormoo on the side. It launched itself silently into
the air. "The plane won't be noticed," he said; "but that bird would
catch the eye of a dead man." He nodded toward the tower. Like wolves
they followed him silently inside.
"The manacles." Cosmo's voice was low as he held out his arms.
"Bemmelman has the key."
Big Unse dropped beside the unconscious planter. He dug out the key,
unlocked Cosmo's wrists.
"Put them on Bemmelman," said Cosmo. As soon as the planter was
securely cuffed, he said, "pick him up. Bring him along."
* * * * *
They crept down the stairs, fanned out like hunting dogs. Without
appearing to do so, Cosmo kept Natal, the spy, under observation. They
reached the corridor, started for the office. A serf came out of a
bisecting passage. He saw them, drew back, tried to yell. Two of the
Venusians were on him like tigers. They clamped a hand over his mouth,
held him so that he couldn't wriggle.