Chapter VII

The Latonka Trust building was a wreck. When Jaro, with Landovitch at his elbow, prowled the gutted offices he was shocked at the extent of the damage wrought. He paused in what had been Albert Peet's private office. The desk was smashed in, the carpet ripped to shreds. The entire contents of a filing cabinet which lined one wall had been dumped on the floor.

"I give up," Landovitch said in disgust. "We've been over this building with a fine toothed comb. Albert Peet isn't here. He's probably halfway to Earth by this time."

Jaro regarded him sadly. "How you obtained your present eminence in what is supposed to be the most intelligent of intelligence services is the biggest unsolved mystery in the history of the T.I.S." He paused, raised his hand. "Quiet!"

The noise came again. It sounded like a mouse gnawing at the wainscoting behind Albert Peet's wrecked desk. Both men had their eyes glued to the polished wood paneling. Slowly, a section of the wainscoting was sliding aside. A Venusian Fazoql stepped out, caught sight of the two men, whipped a dart gun from a shoulder holster.

The bell-shaped ray rifle in Jaro's hand flamed yellow. The Fazoql was wrapped in a blinding glare. He fell like a stone, the death ray destroying the very life forces of the man.

Jaro picked up the Fazoql's dart gun, tossed it to Landovitch.

"Here, I've a hunch you're going to need this."

Landovitch whistled. He said, "Next time I contradict you, kick me." He tucked the dart gun in his waist band. "Lead on, camarade. Last Ditch Landovitch is right behind you."

A flight of steps yawned just beyond the false wainscoting. Warily, the two men descended the stair. There was a second door at the foot. It wasn't locked. Jaro flung it open, covered the room with the ray rifle.

An elderly Venusian sprang halfway to his feet, sank warily back in his chair. He was seated directly across a desk from Albert Peet. The third occupant of the room, Jaro saw with astonishment, was the Red Witch.

For a tense second they observed each other narrowly. Albert Peet hunched his shoulders.

"Don't try anything, Albert!" cried the Red Witch, her voice shrill with fright. "You fool, that's Jaro Moynahan!"

But Peet was tugging at his pocket. Before Jaro could press the button of the ray rifle, something went "pop!" just behind him. Albert Peet slowly toppled sideways onto the floor. A small dart gun dropped from the dead Latonka Czar's fist.

"Thanks, Irving," said Jaro without removing his eyes from the elderly Venusian or the red-headed singer.

The Venusian, he noticed, had two blue stars tattooed on his forehead. Probably, Jaro thought, he was the leader of the mercenaries.

The Venusian said, "That was a very neat shot," in perfect English. He turned to Jaro. "I think we have met before."

Jaro frowned.

"In the services of Chaldmar, Zealot of the Venusian state of Zeld," the Fazoql prompted. "You were Captain of the Imperial Guard at the time."

Jaro's eyes lighted with recognition. "Certainly, Colonel. How stupid of me. I'm really very sorry that we're on opposing factions."

"Fortunes of war," the Colonel smiled. "Though with Albert Peet dead the game is up, anyway."

* * * * *

During the conversation the Red Witch's green eyes had first widened, then narrowed. "You getting ready to sell me out, Colonel?" she asked angrily.

The Venusian turned to her, said, "Miss Mikail, I couldn't possibly sell you out. I was never cognizant of any contract between us. My men were hired by Albert Peet. So were yours. With him dead, our bargain ends."

"Colonel," said Jaro, "would you mind telling me what was the nature of your agreement with Peet."

"Not at all," said the Venusian. "We were hired to fake a revolution--a convincing revolution, you understand--in order that the Earth Congress would abandon the idea of giving the Mercurians their independence. Mr. Peet, I believe, had extensive holdings here that would have been jeopardized had the Mercurians recovered their freedom."

Landovitch whistled softly.

"Who wrecked the offices of the Latonka Trust?" asked Jaro.

The Venusian smiled. "That was my idea. An artistic touch to divert suspicion. You see, before the Earth forces could arrive my men were to escape aboard a space liner. The entire blame for the revolution was to be cast on Karfial Hodes."

"Colonel," said Jaro, "I regret the necessity very much, but I'm going to ask you to command your men to lay down their arms."

The old Venusian smiled, said: "Hardly that, Captain. As I said before, with Albert Peet dead, so is the revolution. Our job is done. If you'll be good enough to excuse me I'll recall my men and get them aboard the space liner." He stood up slowly.

For a moment the two men were silent, then Jaro moved aside from the door. "Good luck, Colonel. You know that you'll be outlawed by the Earth Congress."

"Yes," said the Colonel. "Thanks for the sporting chance." He shook hands with Jaro, nodded to Landovitch, passed out the door.

"I suppose you know what you're doing," said Landovitch when he was gone.

"Don't be so conscientious," Jaro grinned. "You couldn't arrest all the Venusian mercenaries by yourself. The Earth Patrol can hunt them down. Anyway, I owed the old gentleman that. If it hadn't been for him I still would be rotting in a Venusian jail."

"What about me?" said the Red Witch.

"You?" said Jaro grimly. "You are going to be the star witness in the greatest case on Landovitch's record." He paused, added; "for which you might get off with a light sentence--say five years."

The red-headed singer obdurately set her mouth. Landovitch looked startled.

* * * * *

Jaro turned to the T.I.S. agent. "You heard the Colonel say that Karfial Hodes was to be the goat for the fake revolution. There was only one fly in Peet's ointment. As long as Karfial Hodes was alive, he could present himself before the Earth Congress, denounce the revolution, and the whole scheme would blow up like a dum-dum shell. Hodes simply had to be put out of the way. But the Mercurian patriot couldn't be found. Peet was desperate. His campaign of propaganda had been started. That was when I was called in."

"I never wanted to call you," the red-headed singer broke out. "I told Albert he was a fool, that you were utterly unpredictable."

"By the way," said Jaro, "why did Karfial Hodes have you abducted?"

She shrugged. "He had the wind up, but he didn't know Albert Peet was behind the scene. He had learned, though, that I was one of the principal agents. He wanted to question me. I suppose he thought he might as well keep me out of mischief while he had me."

"Red," said Jaro coldly and catching the girl's eye. "Where is Joan Webb?"

"Joan Webb?" The Red Witch's eyes narrowed. "I suppose you mean that attractive brunette my men caught in the secret passages of Nemi's Temple when they came to release me."

Jaro said nothing.

The red-headed singer looked frightened, but determined. "She's my ace in the hole!"

Jaro took a step toward her.

"Don't touch me," she cried, "you'll never get her if you do!"

He halted in mid-stride.

Landovitch said: "Turn State's evidence. I can guarantee you complete amnesty."

"Not just a light sentence?"

"Complete amnesty," he assured her.

She hesitated, said, "Your words."

"You've my word," said Jaro. His voice was cold. "I don't threaten, Red, but if she's been harmed you won't come to trial."

The girl pulled her eyes from Jaro's, turned to Landovitch. "Yours," she said, "yours too."

"I give you my word, of course," he replied.

With a sigh of relief she sank back in her chair. "In there, boys." She motioned towards a door at the left of the chamber.

Jaro sprang forward, swung it open, revealed a large closet. Joan Webb, gagged, bound to a chair, regarded him from wide brown eyes. Behind him, the red-haired singer burst into laughter.

"She's been there all the time," she laughed. "You were bound to have found her. Jaro, Jaro, that was the most magnificent bluff I've ever pulled. And you fell for it. You, Jaro Moynahan, fell for it."

* * * * *

The abortive revolution had brought the Festival to an abrupt conclusion. The city of Acecia licked its wounds and fretted under the grip of martial law, but negotiations for Mercurian independence had been reopened. Landovitch's report had exploded a bombshell in the Earth Congress, and it looked very much as if the negotiations might be successful at last.

"How does it feel to be famous?" Jaro asked. He and Joan and the T.I.S. agent were sitting in his room, sipping Latonka.

Landovitch said: "I wish you would have let me give credit where it was due."

"Publicity in my line," Jaro replied, "is not very good for business."

Someone rapped at the door. He opened it, revealed a small Mercurian boy in the uniform of the Spaceography Station.

"A spaceogram for Miss Webb," said the boy.

"Me?" cried Joan. "Who could be sending me a spaceogram?"

Jaro took the envelope, handed it to her, tossed the boy a coin. She tore it open eagerly.

"Why, it's from Prince Radnick of the Imperial Martian Court," she said with a puzzled frown. "He's offering me a post as secretary at two thousand notes a year. Two thousand notes a year! Think of it!"

Jaro started, said, "Two thousand notes!" He glanced angrily at Landovitch who was listening with a bland expression.

"Irving!" cried Joan rapturously and threw her arms about the blond T.I.S. agent's bull-like neck. "You're a perfect darling!"

"Let me see that spaceogram," said Jaro Moynahan darkly. He read: "You have been highly recommended by a dear friend of mine, Mr. Irving Landovitch of the T.I.S."

"Jaro," cried the girl, "should I accept it?"

"What? Oh. Yes, of course. As it happens I know the prince very well. I think you'll find the work delightful. If I were you, I'd run down to the desk and get a spaceogram off to him right away." He almost shoved her out of the room. Then he went to the visoscreen, clicked it on, said: "When Miss Webb comes to send a spaceogram, take it, but don't send it. T.I.S. wishes to examine it. Yes. That's right. The T.I.S." He clicked the visoscreen off, turned to Landovitch.

"Now!" he exploded. "I told you to make that one thousand notes a year, not two thousand."

"I thought she was worth it," said Landovitch blandly.

Jaro glared at his friend, trying to keep the amusement from his eyes and face.

"That's as much as a general in the Martian army makes." He ran his fingers upward through his crisp black hair. "It's going to be difficult enough persuading the prince that I need a secretary at all as head of his army, let alone get him to pay her two thousands notes a year. When I asked you to send that fake spaceogram, if I'd...."

"But what a secretary," Landovitch interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"And that line," Jaro snorted. "'Recommended by a very dear friend of mine, Mr. Irving Landovitch.' The prince never even heard of you."

"He will, he will," Landovitch assured him.

Jaro stopped short. "What do you mean? What's coming off here?"

"I've been attached to the Terrestrial embassy at the Martian court."

"You couldn't by any chance, have applied for that post?" asked Jaro darkly.

The T.I.S. agent grinned. "As it happens, I did."

Suddenly both men laughed. Jaro glanced at his watch. "We've got to hurry. The ship leaves in forty-five minutes."

The door flew open, Joan sailed back into the room.

"Why so much amusement?" she said suspiciously. "We starting that _comrade_ stuff again?"

"Get your hat on," Jaro said. "We have but forty-five minutes to make that Super Liner for Mars. We can stop by your rooms for your trunk on the way to the spaceport."

Joan drew back in amazement. "Forty-five minutes," she gasped. "But I haven't got a ticket."

"Oh, I've got the tickets," Jaro and Landovitch both said in unison. Then they closed their mouths, stared at each other.

A look of comprehension dawned on Joan's face. "Look, boys," she said grimly. "This isn't a put-up job, by any chance?"

The two men recovered. Jaro said with wounded dignity, "'Put-up job.' No. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"No. Of course not," Landovitch echoed.

"I see," said Joan, amusement glinting through her eyes in spite of herself. "It's just by the purest sort of coincidence that we're all three going the same way."

Nodding, Jaro and Landovitch came forward--and laughing, the three began to walk. Somehow, the future looked promising--and dangerous.