Inside the black cruiser, Dennis was herded by two gunmen into a spacious cabin. It was furnished in the splendor of priceless loot from the ships of several planets. He felt his atom-blast lifted from its holster and the indignity of exploratory fingers seeking hidden arms. He walked past them to see Koerber seated in what had evidently been a Martian imperial chair, a throne-like affair of priceless hardwoods, incrusted with rare metals and jewels, and bearing a canopy of soft, ocelandian furs, with jewelled brooches at the corners. He sat silent, the faint satirical smile still on his lips, as if for once in his life the very depths of his involved and merciless soul were filled with joy, as indeed was the case. "Speak your piece!" he said insolently, and motioned for the guards to cover the exit.
"I shall be brief," Dennis shrugged his shoulders. "Marla means more to me than anything else. What can she be to you than just another passing conquest? There's no satisfaction in possession without love, Koerber—and there are other things that you would prefer!"
"For instance!" The words came like a whiplash.
"Wealth beyond even your imagination, and power ... power as you have never even conceived could ever fall into your hands, man!"
"How do you know Marla's alive?" The sardonic grin became sadistic in its enjoyment at the fleeting shadow of pain that crossed Dennis' face.
"Because," Dennis spoke slowly, quietly, "she's too valuable for you to miss the chance to ransom her. You know the I.S.P., never lets its agents down—you knew she'd accepted an assignment, didn't you?"
"Of course, I have scouts in every planet, and means of communication even you don't know anything about—like that scout you knocked out on Venus," he finished venomously.
"Well?" Dennis said laconically.
"You'll have to explain better. Where's the wealth and all this power you're talking about to come from?"
Dennis knew he was playing his last card. If the man had even a shred of humanity, of intelligent selfishness, the way was open, if Koerber allowed his undying hatred of the I.S.P. to dominate him, he'd have to fight for his life.