Part 5

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."

The Martian pursed his lips, shrugged. "Anything I know, Commissioner."

"Where was Bemmelman yesterday morning?"

"I don't know." The Martian overseer looked surprised. "He left in his surface plane in the direction of the MacIver plantation."

"Alone?"

Rabaul nodded.

"Um. Has he ever received messages from the Cloud Mountains? Radio calls?"

"Yes," admitted Rabaul grudgingly. "Though I can't tell you what they're about. I've instructions to call him immediately when the call signals come through. He takes them personally."

"Have you ever known him to make trips into the mountains?"

Again the Martian nodded. "Yes. He's made expeditions into them after botanical specimens, I believe."

"We got him!" said the Commissioner and Cosmo could see him counting his half of the reward. "That map is the most damning evidence of all. It's in his handwriting, isn't it?"

"You can have it checked," said Cosmo complacently. "But there's one thing more."

"Eh?"

"Motive."

* * * * *

Cosmo's face hardened. "Slaves aren't cattle. After Bemmelman started his slave farm he couldn't expect profits for eighteen years. He needed money, lots of money to carry on certain experiments. He was an organic chemist. He believed it possible to force humans the same way a gardener forces plants. An aging process isn't a new idea, but it took Bemmelman to find a commercial use for it."

"It fits like a glove," said the Commissioner, "but how do you know about the experiment?"

"I can tell you about the experiments," interposed Llana suddenly.

Everyone stared at her.

She bit her lip. "I'm a Terran. He--he kidnapped me, mated me with a Dawn Man as an experiment. Sofi is my daughter."

"Not a bad experiment," said the Commissioner admiringly. His eyes ran over the Blue Venus.

"That was only the beginning!" said Llana. "I found out he's got a laboratory below stairs where he's constantly experimenting with the slave children. He's obsessed with the scheme of maturing the children quicker so that he can reap faster profits. Bemmelman is a monster."

"Go on," said the Commissioner eagerly.

"He--he succeeded at last."

"What do you mean?"

Llana pointed at the Blue Venus. "Sofi," she said in a low voice. "Sofi is only seven years old!"

Absolute silence gripped the room.

"You'll swear to that?" asked the Commissioner at length.

"Of course. Half the serfs in the house know her age anyway."

"We've got him," cried the Commissioner jubilantly. "We've got him dead to rights."

"It's a frame up," shouted Bemmelman in despair. "A dirty frame up, I tell you."

Cosmo regarded the planter with opaque green eyes. "Save your breath, Bemmelman," he counseled him dryly. "No one's going to believe the Renegade--remember?"

From the flat roof of the manor house, Cosmo and Mia watched the Security Patrol planes take off one by one for Venusport. The head overseer was to take charge of the plantation until the courts confirmed Cosmo's claims. Llana and Sofi planned to visit Earth after Bemmelman's trial.

Cosmo had taken Big Unse aside, sent him off secretly with the men to destroy any evidence in their hideout. They were to return to the plantation. "I want the lot of you under my eyes," Cosmo had explained with a grin, "where you won't be tempted to raid my plantation."

As the last of the Patrol Planes rose from the roof, Cosmo turned to Mia. "That's finis for the Renegade!"

"Bemmelman isn't the Renegade, really?" said Mia, half in doubt. "Is he?"

"Maybe not _the_ Renegade," grinned Cosmo, "but he's certainly a renegade."

Mia gulped suddenly, said, "The map! Good heavens! What will the Commissioner do when he doesn't find anything but bird food?"

"Bird food, the devil," Cosmo said dryly. "I haven't the remotest idea where the Ormoos feed. That map will lead him straight to the spot where I've hidden every stick of loot I've--ah--accumulated." He pulled the Ormoo's whistle from his pocket.

Mia eyed it in alarm. "What are you going to do?"

"Take you to Venusport." He blew twice on the whistle. "We're going before the registrar today!"

"But Cosmo. Not on that--that monstrosity. I refuse to do it. I won't go." There was a disturbance in the cloud blanket directly overhead. A huge gray shape plunged Venusward. "Besides," she added in haste; "I can't go to Venusport like this--can I?"

"We'll stop by your plantation, spruce up a bit."

The Ormoo lit with a thud. It gave a pleased raucous squawk, eyed them with amiable red-brown eyes.

"Oh well," said Mia between her teeth. "I might as well get used to traveling on the darn thing, I suppose."