"Vermeer," ejaculated Norman. "I know Vermeer. But who's Del Solar?"
"Del Solar's chief of the Venusian Export Lines. Vermeer's his
assistant. They are the only two humans allowed beyond the force wall.
They've charge of the factory, you know, and it isn't unusual for them
to make an inspection, but Marcia was jittery. She was afraid they'd
discover she'd been stealing the green suits.
"She hung around them trying to overhear what they were saying. She
was listening when one of the guards approached Del Solar and told him
there was a man outside to see him. 'Send him in,' says Del Solar. So
the guard brought this Hops inside. When Marcia saw it was a fighting
man and not an agent or a slave she sneaked behind a packing case where
she could hear every word they said.
"'What do you want?' Del Solar asked. Hops told him he knew about a
conspiracy. He wanted to give Del Solar the names of the leaders in
exchange for a post in the Venusian Export Lines. He told a lot more
too: about us stealing the insulation suits, how the Sinn Feiners have
spread all over Behrl. Enough to convince Del Solar that it was a
serious matter."
"But he hasn't our names yet?" Norman clutched at a straw.
The Duchess shook her head. "Not yet. Del Solar wanted them. But Hops
is no fool. He wouldn't betray the names of the conspirators until he
was guaranteed a post with the Export Company. No one is accepted in
the company without the plant men's approval. That means Del Solar will
have to see the Dohlmites first."
"Jennifer," commanded Norman, "get Koal. Tell him to bring Acpsahme."
The girl left, her blue eyes frightened.
"Go on," urged Norman. He was trying to place Hops, then he remembered.
Hops had been one of the renegade Earth men present at the first
meeting.
"Well, Del Solar asked him his name and where he lived. That's how
Marcia knew who he was. He lives in G-seven, but she couldn't remember
his apartment number. Then Del Solar said he'd meet Hops in the Earth
man's apartment as soon as he'd seen the Dohlmites."
Jennifer burst into the room leading Koal and Acpsahme.
"What's this about a traitor?" cried the usually calm Martian.
"Tell them," commanded Norman.
The Duchess repeated her story.
"If we can reach Hops in time," Koal exploded, "we're not lost yet!"
"Whether we're in time or not," interposed Acpsahme in a flat voice,
"we've business with Hops. Have you got your gun, Norman?"
The young man caught his breath. The meaning behind Acpsahme's words
was only too clear.
"Yes," he faltered. He felt hollow inside. He wasn't frightened, just
sick.
"Come on," said Acpsahme in that unemotional voice.
"Norman," said Jennifer in a frightened tone.
"Don't interfere," he heard the Duchess say. "This is man's work." Then
he was outside in the corridor.
While waiting for the elevator, they met Pepperell, the ex-T.I.S.
agent. Koal explained briefly what had occurred.
"Spread the word, Pepperell. If we're in time, this should discourage
any ambition to sell us out among the others."
* * * * *
They went down in the lift, entered Koal's car, drove out into the
blinding sunlight. We're going to kill a man, Norman thought. Little
beads of sweat stood out on his temples. He saw the informer stretched
lifeless on the floor, his blank eyes staring at him accusingly.
"Don't think about it," advised Koal, with that disconcerting ability
to divine what was passing through Norman's mind.
They turned into the base of G7. Koal brought the car to a stop. A
guard advanced to examine their papers. Norman recognized him as a Sinn
Feiner. Acpsahme leaned forward, explained their errand.
The guard compressed his lips angrily. "Go ahead," he growled. "He's on
H deck, apartment Four-o-eight."
They went up in the lift. On H deck they walked slowly along the hall
until they came to room 408.
"Get your gun out," said Koal, and knocked.
There was a bitter taste in Norman's mouth. He felt sick at his stomach
as he had when he'd seen the murdered T.I.S. agent aboard the _Jupiter_.
The door opened.
Hops was framed in the entrance. He seemed to know instantly why the
three grim-faced, silent men had come. His features went stiff with
terror. He backed into the room. His mouth opened.
"All right," said Koal.
"_No!_" cried Hops.
Acpsahme's dart struck the informer in the neck.
"Search the room," commanded Koal, stepping across the informer's body.
They found a paper upon which Hops had been working. It contained the
names of seventy-eight of the Sinn Feiners. Norman's name headed the
list.
"A real distinction," observed the Martian dryly.
It was an honor that Norman didn't covet. They found nothing else of
importance.
"Leave him lie," said Acpsahme. "I think we have been in time. The
Dohlmites know there's a rebellion afoot, but they don't know who's
concerned."
"This is one time," observed the Martian, "when what they don't know is
going to hurt them."
They started out. At the door, Acpsahme stopped, yanked out his dart
gun. Norman peering over his shoulders, saw a Dohlmite accompanied
by a man in civilian clothes. They were scarcely a dozen steps down
the corridor. The plant man's mask-like face gave no clue to what
was passing through his mind. The Earth man, though, was plainly
frightened.
"Del Solar," the Martian hissed, his voice sibilant. "He's come to get
the names of the Sinn Feiners from Hops."
Del Solar spun around, began to run back down the hall. Again it was
Acpsahme's dart which halted the man. Del Solar pitched forward on his
face.
Koal fired three times at the plant man. Norman saw the darts strike
the Dohlmite's chest, stick out like pins, but he didn't fall. The
poisoned needles seemed to have no more effect on the plant man than
they would have had on a tree. He, too, began to run.
"Quick," cried Acpsahme. "Don't let him escape."
Norman leaped in pursuit, tackled the fleeing plant man about the hips.
They went down in a tangle. He saw a knife flash. It was withdrawn
green and sticky. The Dohlmite quit struggling. Norman staggered to his
feet.
[Illustration: _Koal's blade flashed, cut into the Dohlmite's neck._]
"Good work," said Koal. He was wiping his blade on the plant man's
harness.
A thought struck Norman. His stomach revolted, but he forced himself to
say, "I want the corpse of the Dohlmite."
"Why?" ejaculated the Martian.
Briefly, he revealed his discovery of the blight-sickened plant. "I
want to infect this Dohlmite with the blight. There's a chance that
when his fellows carry him into their city, the blight will spread."
"It's a gamble," said Koal thoughtfully. "But it's worth it."
"Leave Del Solar lie where he is then," put in Acpsahme. "We'll take
the Dohlmite."
They dragged the corpse of the plant man to the elevator, dropped
swiftly to the basement. Acpsahme called the guard.
"We've had to kill a plant man," he said quietly.
A look of terror passed across the guard's features. Involuntarily, he
took a backward step.
"We're taking the body," Acpsahme went on in a low voice. "Hops and an
agent of the Venusian Export Lines are still above. Dispose of them as
you think best."
The guard nodded. They loaded the stringy frame of the plant man into
their car, shot out into the rosy sunlight.
Norman felt dazed. Although he had not actually killed any of the
three, he considered himself as guilty as if it had been his finger
that pulled the trigger. He began to tremble. He felt as if he were
going to be violently sick.
"Brace up," said Koal with that queer intuition. "It'll pass."
Acpsahme chuckled. "The first man I killed, I ran to my house and cried
like a baby. I couldn't stop. I wanted them to bleach the tattoo off my
forehead."
Somehow Norman felt better.
* * * * *
When they reached the basement of F12, they left Acpsahme to guard the
body, ascended in the lift to Norman's apartment.
Jennifer and the Duchess met them at the door. Jennifer had been
crying, Norman saw with satisfaction.
"Norman, Norman," the girl said and flew to his arms.
He patted her shoulder, disengaged himself gently. "We've still got
work to do."
"We had to kill Del Solar and a plant man," Koal explained briefly.
"The Dohlmites are going to be furious, but I don't think they will
suspect us. Norman has an experiment he wants to try with the body of
the Dohlmite."
The Duchess turned to him, astonished.
"The blight," he explained. "I'm going to try to infect the plant man
with the blight. When the Dohlmites find his body and carry it into
their city, I'm gambling on it spreading."
He retrieved the infected plant from the balcony. Even in that short
time the shrub had visibly wilted. The blight had spread over twice its
former area.
"It seems to be a virulent disease," observed the Martian.
They carried the infected plant to the basement. Norman dusted the
corpse from head to foot with the rust-like scales. Anything touching
the body would be bound to come in contact with them.
"All right," said Acpsahme, "let's take him out and get this over with."
A broad yellow line marked the zone beyond which it was death to stray.
It was the first time Norman had been close to the force wall. He
looked at it curiously.
A ribbon of some unfamiliar silver metal wound like the track of a mono
rail around the base of the hill where the Dohlmites had their houses.
There were no visible rays arising from the ribbon, no distortion of
the atmosphere, nothing. It looked utterly harmless.
"I wonder what would happen if you broke the circuit," speculated
Norman.
"It's impossible," replied Koal. "The zone of force protects the
ribbon. Look." He threw a pebble toward the silver track of metal.
While still a yard from the ribbon, the stone exploded like a hand
grenade. It was as if the force radiating from the track had touched
off the atoms of the pebble. Norman blinked his eyes involuntarily.
"How do the Dohlmites pass through?"
"There's a gate only a short distance from here where they can shut off
a segment of the wall."
The buildings of the human colony, Norman noticed, were set well back
from the yellow warning line, leaving a broad road which paralleled
the silver track. There was no one in sight. It seemed to be a very
unpopular neighborhood.
"Get him out," grunted Acpsahme. They tossed the body of the
disease-infected Dohlmite to the road.
"The Trojan horse," thought Norman, remembering a tale from the dawn of
history. He glanced back once as they sped away.