Glawen set the catamaran afire and returned to the sloop. He sailed into the southwest on a fresh breeze. Across the water flames rose high, swirling in and out of black smoke.
As the distance increased, the flames slowly became invisible and disappeared, leaving only a slanting wisp of black smoke bending over the horizon.
After a day and a night of sailing before variable winds, Glawen raised the coast of the mainland. An hour after Syrene had crossed the zenith he rode the ocean surge over the Wan River bar. An hour later he sat in the Bureau B offices reporting his adventures to the entire upper hierarchy: the so-called Zoo--Scharde Clattuc the gaunt gray wolf, Ysel Laverty the boar. Rune Offaw the slender relentless stoat, and, almost lost in his massive leather chair, the small bald orangutan, Bodwyn Wook.
Glawen finished his recital.
"I left them marooned and very unhappy: four Yips and six others, of origin unknown. They are probably registered at the hotel: at least that would be my guess."
"Absolutely amazing," said Bodwyn Wook.
"And needless to say, totally intolerable." He looked toward the ceiling and spoke in his most didactic voice: "A number of questions come to mind. Who has organized these entertainments? It is not necessarily Titus Pompo, though obviously he cooperates.
How long have they been going on? At least once or twice before, by the testimony of the bones. Who are these six hooded persons? What is their origin? How were they approached and by whom? Who is, or, better to say, who was the woman with the tattooed forehead? No doubt we will soon have answers to some of these questions, but I, for one, will not be satisfied until every layer of this dreadful scandal is unfolded. Finally, what is our optimum short-range response?" Bodwyn Wook leaned back.
"Gentlemen, I await your opinions."
After a short pause Rune Offaw spoke.
"It will shortly become obvious at Yipton that the catamaran is overdue.
There is a good chance, so it seems to me, that Titus Pompo will wish to investigate. He might send another boat, or, just possibly, he might risk sending his other flyer, if in fact it exists.
We should be prepared to take advantage of this possibility--which, admittedly, is not great."
"So then, what is your suggestion?"
"I think that we should immediately send out a transport for the marooned men, and also set up an ambush with two or three well-armed flyers. If Titus Pompo sends out his hypothetical flyer, we will either force it down, destroy it or possibly escort it here, toAraminta Station. If a boat appears, we can capture the Yips and sink their boat."
Bodwyn Wook looked around the group.
"I can think of no better scheme. Unless there are objections, let us get to it, on the instant."
Scharde flew the large Agency tourist transporter to Thurben Island, with four Bureau B operatives in his company.
Approaching the island, Scharde reduced speed and descended to an altitude of a thousand feet, then drifted north over the lagoon, at last to hover above the dock and pavilion.
Two other flyers and a second transport loaded with three days' supply of food and water had already landed upon the central peak from which they would monitor sea and sky by radar.
Scharde's own radar showed a blank sea and empty air. Using binoculars, he inspected the area below, and discovered the four Yips crouching disconsolately on the beach near the base of the dock. The other six men were not to be seen.
Scharde dropped the transport to a landing close to the pavilion. With his three companions he jumped down to the sand. The Yips looked around apathetically. Scharde motioned to them.
"Get into the transport."
They rose with an effort. One of them spoke in a husky whisper:
"Give us water."
Scharde told his men: "Let them drink."
Down from the pavilion shambled the six men, haggard and wild-eyed. They had discarded their black hoods, revealing themselves to be middle-aged men of ordinary appearance, evidently from the upper reaches of society. They stumbled toward Scharde crying out for water in cracking voices.
Scharde indicated the transport.
"Go on board and you will be given water."
The six men clambered into the passenger compartment, where they
were provided water. Scharde took the transport aloft and flew back toward Araminta Station.
Fifteen minutes passed. The erstwhile castaways had drunk their fill, and were now cautiously assessing the situation.
One called out to Scharde: "I say there, pilot! Where are you taking us?"
"To Araminta Station."
"Good. I may still be able to make my connections."
"I fear not," said Scharde.
"You are all under arrest, on very serious charges. You will be going nowhere."
"What! You cannot be serious! After the privations and agonies we have known?"
"You have no lawful basis for such an act!" declared another.
"I am a juridicalist of considerable eminence, and I assure you that you have no case at law. As for myself, I intend to demand a substantial refund, and possibly punitive damages."
"From whom? Araminta Station?"
"From Ogmo Enterprises, who else? The facilities were not as represented."
Another of the group endorsed the remarks.
"That is accurate and to the point. I am utterly indignant, and I refuse to be mulcted!"
Scharde inquired: "You too are a juridicalist?"
"I fear that I cannot claim that distinction, although I have several such in my employ. I control a number of financial institutions, including a large bank. I am not accustomed to slackness and poor treatment."
Another member of the group spoke passionately: "The hardships to which I have been subjected are inexcusable! My rights have been violated and the Araminta authorities must bear full responsibility!"
"I fail to follow your reasoning," said Scharde.
"It is simple enough. I was inveigled by the proffer of a gracious reception and pleasant entertainment upon this world Cadwal; instead I have met only hardship, thirst, anxiety and discomfort. Someone must pay the penalty."
Scharde said with a laugh: "I suspect that the penalties to be paid will be paid by you."
