Star Wars: Scoundrels (33 page)

I
t had been said that there were only three absolutes in life: death, taxes, and bad liquor. But as Lando strolled across the Marblewood grounds, he decided he could add a fourth to the list. When you traveled with a Wookiee, people would move out of your way.

Of course, Chewbacca’s two-meter-plus height also made the two of them easier for Villachor’s security men to spot as they moved through the crowds. But then, that was the whole idea.

Chewie rumbled.

“Yeah, I see them,” Lando said, making a face. He’d expected the entire Marblewood security force to be on their tail today. He hadn’t expected to find himself also being watched by a pair of Falleen.

He especially hadn’t expected one of those Falleen to be the would-be interrogator from the factory incident two nights earlier.

Chewie rumbled again.

“Don’t worry, they aren’t going to try anything,” Lando assured him. “Not here.”

Chewie warbled a not entirely confident comment.

“Sure they’re probably mad,” Lando agreed. “But they want to question us, not kill us. At least not right away.”

Or so he hoped. The logic certainly tracked, and most of the people Lando had faced across sabacc tables over the years would follow that same line of reasoning.

But there were species out there who would unhesitatingly pass up profit and vested self-interest in favor of immediate revenge. The Hutts tended that way. Maybe the Falleen did, too.

Still, they were on Villachor’s grounds, and in the middle of one of his favorite bits of self-promotion. Surely he would keep them in line.

Which wasn’t to say he and Chewie should press their luck. “Over there,” he said, pointing away from the loitering Falleen. “That hanging waterfall looks interesting. Let’s wander over and take a closer look.”

Chewie growled.

“Right,” Lando confirmed with a tight smile. “Looks like there’s a spot right beside those other two Wookiees.”

“I have to say,” Bink commented as she peered up into Sheqoa’s face, “that you
really
look tired.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly. “You look lovely, too.”

“You’re too kind,” Bink said, smiling cheerfully. She let the smile fade into concern. “But I was being serious,” she continued. “I guess people don’t realize how hard something like this is on the folks who run the show. How long since you’ve had a real night’s sleep?”

“It’s been a while,” he conceded. “Like you said, things get pretty busy during the Festival.”

“Well, you need to make that time,” she said firmly, reaching over and taking hold of his right upper arm. “If you don’t get your rest—”

She broke off as he twisted his arm back out of her grip, simultaneously pushing her hand away with his left hand. “Gun hand,” he said shortly. “Never do that.”

“I’m so sorry,” Bink apologized, screwing up her face into her best embarrassed wince. “Look, I can see you’re not in the mood to just relax and have fun. Maybe I’d better go and let you concentrate on your work.”

“No, that’s all right,” he said hastily as she started to back away. “I’m just a little twitchy this morning, that’s all.” He took her hand and gently pulled her around to his left side. “Come on, let’s go see if they’ve got the ambrosia steamer up and running.”

“All right,” Bink said, wrapping her hand possessively around his left arm. This time, he didn’t push her away. “But only if you promise to relax and have one of them with me.”

“A small one only,” he said.

They got two steps before he suddenly changed direction. “On second thought, let me show you something else first,” he said, angling off through the crowd. “The hanging waterfall is one of the Honoring’s highlights, and it’s about to go into its quarter-hour show. We’ll watch it and then go get the ambrosia.”

“Sounds interesting,” Bink said, a small red flag waving in the back of her brain. He was up to something.

New orders via his collar-clip comlink? Probably. Shifting her grip on his arm, Bink snuggled in a little closer. If the comlink’s speaker hadn’t been focused correctly, she might be able to get in close enough to hear what was going on.

Unfortunately, Villachor’s tech people hadn’t been that careless. But even as she eased casually away again, a hint of an odd scent touched her nostrils. Not enough for her to identify, but enough to tell her that she’d smelled it before.
And
that it was something significant.

It would be risky to move that close again so soon. But she had time. The scent was on Sheqoa, and Sheqoa had clearly been ordered to keep her close. There would be opportunities later to chase it down. More important right now was figuring out this sudden change in his schedule.

And then, just ahead, a pair of Kubaz moved aside, giving her a momentarily clear view of the hanging waterfall Sheqoa had mentioned.

The waterfall, and the big furry shape of Chewbacca towering over the crowd.

Apparently whoever had been watching Lando had decided it might be fun to throw Bink at him and see if the two of them knew each other.

Mentally, she shook her head. Of all of Han’s group, she and Lando were probably the two
least
likely to show any of the reaction Sheqoa was hoping for.

Still, points for effort. Patting Sheqoa’s arm, prattling on in the breezy, carefree way she knew he’d come to expect from her, she settled her mind for the immediate task ahead.

“—over by the hanging waterfall,” Villachor was saying into his comlink as Han sauntered into eavesdropping range. “Take the girl over, spring her on him, and see if they recognize each other.”

Han felt his throat tighten. He’d known ahead of time that Villachor would be taking it up a notch today. And if Villachor didn’t, then Qazadi or Aziel certainly would. Trying to figure out how the various newcomers into their lives were connected was the obvious first step.

Still, throwing a ghost thief at a professional gambler would probably be a complete waste of time. Both Bink and Lando were more than capable of controlling their expressions and behavior.

Now it was Han’s turn.

He squared his shoulders. He could do this. He’d faced down Jabba the Hutt, Imperial Commander Nyklas the sadist, and any number of other thugs and bandits. Villachor was just the latest in a long line. A couple more greeters and well-wishers wandered up to Villachor, babbling their thanks for the show under the watchful gaze of his two bodyguards. Han waited until they moved on, then walked over. “Nice show, Master Villachor,” he said.

“Thank you,” Villachor said, giving him a quick up-and-down look. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“I hear you have a really nice collection of airspeeders and landspeeders,” Han continued, gesturing toward the garage at the north end of the mansion. “Any chance you’ll be bringing them out to show us?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Villachor said with the same forced smile he was giving everyone else. “Not until an Honoring of Moving Vehicles is added to the Festival.”

“I suppose not,” Han said. He moved a step closer and lowered his voice. “What about the blackmail files? You going to bring
them
out?”

Villachor’s smile vanished, and both bodyguards shifted their hands to their concealed blasters. “Excuse me?” Villachor said quietly.

“Easy,” Han soothed. “I’m just here to talk.”

“Then talk fast,” Villachor snarled, hissing out the last word. “Did you bring the item?”

“No, and I’m not going to,” Han said. “Not after what happened two nights ago.”

“That wasn’t my doing,” Villachor insisted. He was starting to recover, and Han could see the little computer chips in his mind starting to spin again. “Are you the boss Kwerve promised to bring me?”

“No, and you’re not going to see
him
, either,” Han said. “If that wasn’t you, who was it?”

“A misguided colleague,” Villachor said. “Someone who felt we needed to know more about you before our discussions continued. If you didn’t bring the item and we’re not discussing terms, why
are
you here?”

“Mostly as a courtesy,” Han said. “I wanted to warn you that another player has joined the game.”

Villachor’s face changed, just enough to show that the guards had indeed reported Dozer’s off-duty visits. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Han said. “Someone’s going around bribing your guards.”

“
Trying
to bribe them,” Villachor corrected. “All the men who were approached turned in the credits.”

“You sure about that?” Han countered. “Because the numbers
I’m
hearing say that at least five of them took the packages and kept their mouths shut.”

Abruptly a blaster muzzle jabbed into Han’s ribs. “Who?” Villachor demanded. “Give me their names.”

“I don’t
have
their names,” Han growled, glaring at the guard pressing the blaster into his side. “I told you, it’s someone else who’s doing that.”

“A girl, perhaps?” Villachor suggested. “Black hair, medium height?”

“I … don’t … know,” Han said, biting out each word. “We don’t know who they are.”

“Or maybe
they
are
you
?” the guard growled.

“Use your head,” Han growled back. “Our group is trying for a nice, quiet, civilized recruitment. Why would we risk that by throwing credits at employees who don’t even matter?” He raised his eyebrows. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Villachor said. “Put it away, Tawb.”

Reluctantly, the bodyguard returned the blaster to its hiding place.

“Enough small talk,” Villachor continued. “Here’s the bottom line. Before I make any decisions, I
will
meet with someone who has the authority to make me a deal.
And
I want to see the cryodex work one more time.”

“You already got one sample,” Han reminded him. “Didn’t it pan out good enough for you?”

“Oh, it panned out quite nicely,” Villachor assured him. “The inquiries I sent to Bespin have confirmed this Morg Nar person your man identified is indeed working for the Hutt.”

Han felt his stomach tighten. And if he knew anything about the way Black Sun did things, the inquiry alone was going to blow Nar’s cover straight out the airlock. Jabba was
not
going to be happy about that.

And when Jabba wasn’t happy, everyone connected to him paid the price. The faster they got Eanjer’s credit tabs and Han could pay off his debt, the better.

“But any one-time winner could just be luck,” Villachor continued. “A second sample will make things more definitive.”

“That’ll be up to the boss,” Han said. “And before you ask, yes, he’s already on Wukkar.”

“Then what’s the holdup?”

Han looked him straight in the eye. “He’s waiting on confirmation that whoever grabbed Kwerve and Bib is under control.”

“I can assure you there’ll be no repeat of that incident.”

“No offense, Master Villachor, but he’s not looking for confirmation from
you
,” Han said. “He’s looking for confirmation from
us
. Don’t worry, we’re working on it.”

“I see,” Villachor said, his voice subtly shifting tone. “Any idea when you and he will deem the time right for such a conference?”

“Soon,” Han promised. “I’m hoping I can bring him in two days from now during the Honoring of Moving Fire.”

“And if you can’t?”

“We will,” Han assured him. “If that doesn’t work—”

“Excuse me a moment,” Villachor murmured, his eyes flicking somewhere over Han’s shoulder as he pulled out his comlink. “Sheqoa? Anything? … Never mind. I’ve been informed that a man who may be yesterday’s mystery courier is on the grounds.… Yes, that’s the one. I think you should take your friend over there and see if they’d like to say hello to each other.” He listened another moment, then closed down the comlink and turned back to Han. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

“I was saying that if we can’t secure the area by the end of the Festival, we should be able to set up a meeting for a day or two afterward,” Han said, keeping his voice and expression calm and unconcerned. So security had spotted Dozer, or at least thought they had, and Villachor was sending Sheqoa and Bink over to confront him.

Problem was, while Han could trust Bink and Lando to handle the non-recognition game, he wasn’t nearly so sure Dozer could pull it off without dropping any of the cues that Sheqoa would be watching for.

But there was nothing he could do. Villachor was watching, and if he made the slightest move to warn Dozer or to cut short the conversation, the other would be all over it.

In fact, that was probably the reason he’d made the call in Han’s presence in the first place. Any reaction, and they would have the link between him and Dozer that Villachor obviously suspected.

Han could do nothing.

Luckily, he didn’t
have
to do anything.

“But if you have a moment,” he continued smoothly, “I have one other thought my boss wanted me to float past you.”

“Certainly,” Villachor said. “Come. Let’s walk.”

“Uh-oh,” Winter said under her breath.

She thought she’d said it quietly enough not to be heard, but Rachele’s ears were obviously better than average. Halfway across the room, standing on top of the low serving table, the other woman still caught the muttered word. “Trouble?” she asked.