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.