Bemmelman was the first to recover his voice. His neck swelled. He
laughed hoarsely. "Nobody's fool enough to believe I'm the Renegade,
Cosmo."
"You're crazy, young man," the Commissioner burst out as he caught his
breath. "If this is a joke, it's in remarkably poor taste."
"It's no joke." Cosmo's eyes hardened.
"You lying rogue," Bemmelman shouted. "This has gone far enough.
There's your Renegade, Commissioner."
"Keep him quiet, Big Unse," said Cosmo softly, "until I finish. He can
talk his head off then."
Big Unse doubled his fist, shook it in Bemmelman's face. The planter
subsided, but a cunning gleam winked in his little brown eyes.
The Commissioner drew a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbed at his
forehead. He sank into a chair with a groan. "Talk fast, young man,"
he said. "And it had better be good." He eyed Cosmo with obvious
distrust.
Cosmo took a moisture-proof cigarette case from his pocket, snapped it
open. "I realize, Commissioner, this must be quite a shock. Bemmelman's
been powerful in politics. He has allies in high places. But when they
learn he's the Renegade, they'll be the first to disown him." He took
a cigarette out of the case, eyed it critically, put it back. "Even
rats," he added, glancing up at the Commissioner, "have sense enough to
leave a sinking ship."
"Um," said the Commissioner. He looked discomfited, shot a sly glance
at the manacled planter.
Bemmelman started to roar a protest, but Big Unse grinned, shook his
hammer-like fist in his face.
"I'd better sketch in his background," said Cosmo judicially. "He was
an organic chemist on Earth, but got involved in a forgery case. He
next showed up smuggling Jovian primitives to Venus. The T.I.S. got on
his trail, but they were never able to pin anything on him."
"How do you know all this?" the Commissioner asked.
"You don't need to take my word. It's all in the records. You can
investigate them yourself."
"Um," said the Commissioner again and dabbed at his forehead. He
purposefully avoided Bemmelman's eye.
Cosmo glanced at Mia who was regarding him in sheer amazement. He
smiled at her, said: "Bemmelman figured it'd be safer to breed slaves
here on Venus rather than run the risk of capture by the Empire's
Patrol Spacers. But he found that land on Venus can't be bought except
in rare cases." He paused, looked at the apoplectic slave breeder.
"Bemmelman murdered my father having first provided himself with forged
notes to the plantation. You'll remember, he was mixed up with a
forgery case on Earth."
"Wh-why," the Commissioner sputtered indignantly, "that's preposterous."
"Here are the notes." Cosmo pulled two packets of papers from his
pocket, tossed them to the Commissioner's lap. "You'll find notes for
old MacIver's plantation there, too. Bemmelman had decided to grab it
off too."
The fat Commissioner examined them curiously.
"They're good," said Cosmo. "But it won't be too hard to prove they're
forgeries."
The Commissioner rustled the papers. "But what's all this to do with
the Renegade? I came out here to collar him, not rattle old bones."
Cosmo pointed his right hand lazily at Natal, the Martian spy. It was
the arm with the dart gun up its sleeve. Natal blanched.
"Ask him," said Cosmo blandly. "He's one of the Renegade's men."
Everyone stared at the Martian.
"Well?" thundered the Commissioner.
"Natal wanted to quit. Bemmelman had tried to sell him out." Cosmo
subtly reminded the Martian of the planter's treachery. "He came to me."
"Why to you?" the Commissioner wanted to know.
"He knew I was trying to prove Bemmelman murdered my father and mother
and stole my plantation." Cosmo shrugged, added in a pointed tone.
"I told him that if he would--ah--share his information with you,
Commissioner, that the two of you could split the fifty thousand monad
reward. I'd be satisfied with regaining my plantation."
The fat Commissioner's eyes shone with cupidity. He and the astounded
Martian exchanged glances.
Bemmelman, who hadn't missed this by-play, roared and half flung
himself from the sofa.
"He's trying to frame me!"
* * * * *
The Commissioner regarded Bemmelman with a frown. Then he turned away,
asked in a changed voice: "Will Natal go on the witness stand?"
"Go ahead, Natal," said Cosmo.
Natal ran the tip of his tongue over his thin lips. He gave Bemmelman
a venomous glance, said: "He's the Renegade all right. We holed up in
the Cloud Mountains. Bemmelman gave us our orders, for the most part,
over a special frequency radio phone. He never let anyone here on the
plantation guess he was the Renegade. He played a dual role."
"A Jekyll and Hyde role," interposed Cosmo smoothly.
"Lies! Lies!" shouted Bemmelman.
The Commissioner ignored him, kept his eyes on Natal. "You can show us
the hideout?"
"Certainly."
"What about the other men."
"They escaped," Cosmo interposed, quickly.
"Um," said the Commissioner. He didn't appear anxious to pursue that
line.
"Natal's not the only witness," said Cosmo. He pointed at Mia. "The
Renegade kidnapped Miss MacIver. She tried to reach you by telecast."
"She did!" The Commissioner enthusiastically smacked his right fist in
his left palm. "By heaven, she did! But when my men got there, he'd
gotten away with her."
"I don't think she'll object to taking the witness stand either," said
Cosmo in a thoughtful voice. "After all, Bemmelman murdered her father."
"No." Mia's voice was so low that the Commissioner had to bend forward
to hear her. "No. I won't mind being a witness. Bemmelman kidnapped me."
"I didn't kidnap her. I rescued her from the Renegade." The sweat was
pouring from the planter's forehead.
The girl's head jerked up. She said in a ringing voice, "Then how do
you explain this?" and exposed the brand on her shoulder.
The Commissioner's eyes started from their sockets.
"You might call the head overseer and check on Bemmelman's movements,"
suggested Cosmo.
The Commissioner nodded.
Llana switched on the telecast. "Rabaul," she said, "the Commissioner
wants you in the office."
"Right," came the voice of the Martian.
"There's the safe, too," said Cosmo.
The Commissioner heaved himself from his chair, waddled across to
Bemmelman.
"What's the combination, Hal?"
The planter's little eyes were bloodshot. Obscenity burst from his
mouth.
A laugh rumbled up from the Commissioner's belly, shook all three of
his chins. "You're done for, Hal. What's the combination?"
Grudgingly Bemmelman told him. "But you won't find anything there," he
added vindictively. "I'm going to sink you."
Cosmo opened the safe, waved the Commissioner forward to investigate.
"Um," said the Commissioner in disappointment, leafing through the
papers. "Maybe we can dig something incriminating out of this mess.
I don't know. Hey! What's this?" He held up the paper upon which
Bemmelman had written the directions for reaching the Ormoo's feeding
ground. "Looks like a map!"
"It is a map," replied Cosmo grimly. "I wouldn't be surprised if it
isn't the location of the loot from the plantations Bemmelman's men
have raided."
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in," snapped the excited Commissioner.
The Martian overseer stalked into the office, glanced about him in
surprise.
"Tell these fools I'm not the Renegade!" Bemmelman roared.
Rabaul regarded his employer blankly. "You're certainly not the
Renegade so far as I know."
"Of course not," interrupted the Commissioner. "We don't expect you to
be able to identify him. We only want to ask you a few questions."