by Timothy Zahn
“That’s settled, then,” Lando said cheerfully into what could have been the start of a long and awkward silence. “Chewie will fly, you and I will watch, and by the time we settle in for the night we’ll have gotten to the bottom of this little mystery.” He beamed a smile around the room. “While we wait, anyone for a game of sabacc?”
The man’s name was Crovendif, and he thought of himself as an up-and-coming crime lord.
He wasn’t, of course, and never would be. True, he had the clothing and style down, and had even made an effort to get the rhythm and pitch of his voice to match those of prominent holodrama criminals. But what he didn’t have was the empty eyes and utter soullessness that Dayja had seen far too often in the humans and aliens he’d dedicated his life to bringing down.
No, Crovendif was just a lost kid who’d fallen in love with the idea of being a crime lord, or maybe had seen that as his path to contentment, security, and respect. Sooner or later those half-formed dreams would fade, and he would accept the fact that a crime lord’s street manager was all he would ever be.
All of that assuming, of course, that he survived the next few minutes.
“You’ve been dancing a challenge through my territory for nearly two weeks,” the would-be crime boss said, his voice low and menacing, his head raised slightly so that he could stare down his nose at his prisoner. He even had the holodrama stance down cold, Dayja noted. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t have you killed right here and now.”
“I’m not looking to take over your territory,” Dayja said mildly. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”
Crovendif’s expression slipped, just noticeably. Expecting bluster and defiance from his prisoner, he wasn’t prepared for a quiet, conciliatory response. “Really,” he said sarcastically. “And what impression should I have gotten?”
“I’m looking for a partner,” Dayja said. “I have some product that’s worth a lot of credits. But I don’t have the time or resources to set up the distribution end of the business.”
“And what makes you think I’d be interested in such a deal?” Crovendif scoffed.
“Not you,” Dayja corrected. “Your boss. I have far more product than your six or seven blocks can deal with.”
Crovendif’s face darkened. Maybe he’d had a brief hope that this was his ticket to greatness. “If you think I’m going to bother anyone else with such a ridiculous story—”
“He’ll want a sample, of course,” Dayja continued smoothly. “May I?”
Crovendif hesitated, then nodded to the two men currently pinioning Dayja’s arms. “Left,” he ordered.
Silently, the thug on Dayja’s left side released his grip on that arm. Dayja slipped two fingers into his side pocket, pulled out a small vial, and tossed it across to Crovendif. The other caught it with a nimble quickness that suggested he’d started as a blade fighter before joining up with Black Sun. Yet another reason he’d probably never get any higher than he was already. “Glitterstim, obviously,” he said as Crovendif looked closely at the vial. “But with a difference. Mine is artificial.”
“Then it’s not glitterstim,” Crovendif said.
“You’re right,” Dayja conceded, inclining his head. “I misspoke. What I should have said was that it’s genuine glitterstim, created by genuine Kessel spiders. But not spiders currently living on Kessel.”
There was a pause as Crovendif apparently worked that through. “You have spiders here on Wukkar?”
“Let’s just say they’re nearby and creating glitterstim as we speak,” Dayja said. “Bottom line is that I can make the product for a fraction of what it costs to make it on Kessel, and that doesn’t even take the lower transportation costs into account.”
“And you expect me to just take your word for all this?”
“Not at all,” Dayja said. “Take the vial to your boss, give him my offer, and ask him to run some tests. If he’s interested, great. If he’s not, no harm done—there are lots of other fish in the river. Either way, he can keep the sample with my compliments.”
“And if I refuse?”
“You mean if you decide to keep the vial for yourself, sell the product, and make yourself a bit of extra cash?” Dayja asked. “If that’s what you want to do, I certainly can’t stop you. All I can say is that you’re not your boss’s only street manager. If you don’t want to bring this opportunity to him, I’m sure someone else will.”
For a few seconds Crovendif continued to stare at his prisoner, frowning as if weighing the possibilities and coming to a decision. But it was all for show. Dayja had him, and they both knew it.
“Very well,” Crovendif said at last, making it official. “How do I find you with his answer?”
“I’ll be in touch.” Dayja nodded to the thug on his right. “Now, if you don’t mind …”
Crovendif gestured again, and the man holding Dayja’s right arm released it. “Thank you,” Dayja said. “I’ll be seeing you.”
He was sitting in his nondescript landspeeder half a block away when Crovendif and two of his men slipped out of their warehouse headquarters and climbed into their own vehicle. Dayja gave them a one-block head start, then settled in to follow. He was 90 percent sure that Crovendif was taking the vial to his boss, and he was another 90 percent sure that that boss was Villachor. But it never hurt to make sure.
Sure enough, Crovendif drove straight across Iltarr City to the Marblewood southwestern gate. Not the brightest move if he was trying to conceal his affiliations, but Dayja had already concluded Crovendif wasn’t the brightest star in the sky.
Still, the purpose was to pique Villachor’s interest, and as long as Villachor got the vial of glitterstim, the details of the delivery weren’t important. All Dayja had to do now was sit back, wait for Black Sun’s chemists to analyze his gift, and then accept Villachor’s inevitable invitation for a meeting.
Once inside the mansion, of course, the real challenges would begin. But he would deal with those as they arose.
Crovendif was still sitting at the gate, probably trying to convince the guards that he was one of Villachor’s people and that his errand was important enough to pass up the line. Dayja drove casually by, glancing back and forth among the various landspeeders as he passed them.
He paused, his eyes flicking a second time to a dark blue landspeeder parked just inside one of the cross streets. Unlike most of the parked vehicles in the area, this one wasn’t empty. A man was sitting in the driver’s seat, attempting to look casual.
And he was watching the southwestern gate. Very closely.
Dayja continued on without slowing, turning at the next corner. Odds were that the man was another of Villachor’s guards, stationed there as backstop in case there was trouble.
But he hadn’t seemed the Black Sun type. And the last thing Dayja wanted was for someone else to grab Villachor’s attention. Especially someone from a rival gang.
And so, instead of heading back to the hotel as he’d planned, he found a parking space within view of the mysterious watcher and settled down to wait. If the man was a guard, there would probably be a shift change somewhere in the next few hours.
If he wasn’t, Dayja had no intention of letting a gang war start. Not here, and certainly not now.
Pulling out the thermajug of Karlini tea he always brought with him on drives like this, just in case, he poured himself a cup and settled down to wait.
Eight minutes after the early evening visitor left Marblewood, the now-familiar three-landspeeder convoy also headed out.
Han and his blue landspeeder were right behind them.
Beside Lando, Chewbacca rumbled under his breath.
“I’m sure he knows,” Lando assured him, studying the map of the area he’d pulled up on his datapad. The convoy had headed south, which meant they were traveling along Packrist Avenue …
“What does he know?” Eanjer asked from the backseat. “What did Chewie say?”
“He was warning Han not to g
et too close,” Lando said. “I told him Han already knew that.”
“Oh,” Eanjer said, sounding nervous. “Shouldn’t we be going?”
“Going where?”
“Following the landspeeders,” Eanjer said. “I thought that was why we were up here.”
“No, we’re up here to watch for their backup,” Lando said, listening with half an ear to the running commentary going on through his comlink. Han had broken off the chase now, just as he was supposed to, and Bink had the convoy in sight and was preparing to pick it up.
“Oh. Right.” There was a soft hiss as Eanjer shifted in his seat. “Sorry. I’m afraid this isn’t my area of expertise.”
“That’s why you hired us,” Lando reminded him patiently.
Still, if the man had to be somewhere, he might as well be parked up here with them and out of the way.
The convoy turned, and Bink picked up the tail, moving in ahead of them and alerting Zerba to the change of direction. “May I ask you a question?” Eanjer asked.
Lando suppressed a sigh. Maybe he should send Eanjer across to the edge of the roof and tell him to watch for the convoy from there. “Go ahead.”
“Why do you hate Han?”
Lando wrinkled his nose as the obvious answer popped into his mind. But obvious didn’t necessarily mean correct. “I don’t hate him,” he said, picking his words carefully, painfully aware that Chewbacca was listening closely from half a meter away. “Not exactly. There was a deal—a couple of deals—where he ended up stiffing me out of what he’d promised.”
“Doesn’t sound right,” Eanjer murmured. “No wonder you hate him.”
“I don’t hate him,” Lando said, irritated. “I already said that. Besides, the more I’ve thought about it, the more I think it probably wasn’t all his fault. That he was stiffed along with the rest of us. But that doesn’t change the fact that he was the one who pulled us in and made all the big promises.” He looked sideways at Chewbacca, wondering how he was taking this. But the Wookiee was gazing out the side window, his face turned away. “I don’t hate him, but I don’t want to work with him anymore,” he concluded. “If he hadn’t specifically asked for me on this job, I wouldn’t have come.”
“I see,” Eanjer said. “Well, I for one am glad you came. I know you’ll be a great help to the team. And for whatever it’s worth, your share of the proceeds should make it possible for you to never have to work with him again.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lando said. Shaking away thoughts of Han, broken promises, and future riches, he focused his attention back on the running comlink conversation.
“They’ve turned again,” Zerba reported, his voice uneasy. “Same direction.”
“Break off,” Han ordered.
“Already done,” Zerba said. “I don’t know, Han—there’s something’s screwy here. If they’re on to us, shouldn’t one of the chase cars have broken off to check us out?”
“Maybe they’re stalling,” Dozer suggested darkly. “Stringing us along while they bring in extra backup.”
Chewbacca rumbled, tapping Lando’s arm with one hand and pointing with the other.
Lando looked along the straightened finger to another rooftop parking area three blocks away. “Let’s find out,” he said, pulling out his electrobinoculars and training them on the vehicle Chewbacca had marked, a landspeeder parked right at the edge of the roof.
The Wookiee was right—it was the same type as the ones in the convoy Han and the others were currently tailing. There were two human men sitting inside this one, both with electrobinoculars pressed to their faces, their heads moving back and forth as they scanned the airspeeder traffic moving past above them. A few meters away, a third man was crouched at the edge of the roof, his electrobinoculars focused on the streets below.
Lando smiled tightly as he keyed his comlink for transmission. Earlier he’d considered sending Eanjer to watch the street. The pair out there had apparently had exactly the same idea. “Everyone, break off,” he ordered. “Repeat, break off.”
“What is it?” Han demanded.
“We’ve found their spotter,” Lando said, eyeing the men in the landspeeder. They looked to be just as comfortably settled as he, Chewbacca, and Eanjer were. And if they weren’t expecting to have to take off into the air on a moment’s notice …
“New positions,” Lando continued, dropping the electrobinoculars into his lap and picking up his datapad. The parking area was … right there. Which meant—“Han, go to resh-seven on the map. Bink, take the side street one block north of him. Zerba: senth-seven. Dozer: senth-eight. Find parking places and wait.”
“On my way,” Bink acknowledged.
“Me too,” Zerba added. “Hope you’re not in a hurry—the traffic down here is horrendous.”
“What’s the plan?” Han asked.
“The spotters are sitting about three blocks away, not moving and not looking like they’re about to,” Lando said. “I’m guessing they’re watching the end point of the drive, making sure no one’s hanging around waiting to ambush their boss.”
“You sure they’re part of this team and not someone else’s?” Bink asked.
“Pretty sure,” Lando said. “They’re in the same model landspeeder, with the same style boost system installed.”
“Worth a shot,” Han said. “If it doesn’t work, we can always try again tomorrow.”
“Unless they’re already on to us,” Dozer warned. “In which case, they’ll have some nasty countermeasures ready.”
“So let’s make sure we get this right,” Lando said.
The minutes ticked by. Han and the others reported their individual arrivals at their designated spots, then went silent.
Chewbacca rumbled a suggestion.
“Good idea,” Lando agreed, sliding down in his seat so that his head was below the level of the windows.
“What did he say?” Eanjer asked.
“He said we should slouch down out of sight,” Lando translated, propping his electrobinoculars on his seat’s shoulder support. Using the reflection from one of the building windows a block away, he should be able to keep track of what the spotters were doing. “So far it doesn’t look like they’ve checked this direction, but if they do, we don’t want them seeing us.”
“Ah,” Eanjer said, and Lando heard the soft hiss of cloth on leather as the other also slid out of sight. “Yes. Good idea.”
Lando craned his neck around to where he could see Eanjer out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t you have any Wookiees on Wukkar?”
“Of course we do,” Eanjer said, sounding a little defensive. “But most of them are laborers, bodyguards, or hired muscle. I’ve never—” He broke off.
“Thought it was worth learning how to understand them?” Lando suggested.
The half of Eanjer’s mouth that wasn’t hidden by medseal twisted in an uncomfortable grimace. “I suppose,” he said reluctantly. “Not that I didn’t … well, no. I guess I just … I guess I should have.”
Lando looked at Chewbacca, whose taller frame had forced him to slouch down even farther and more uncomfortably than Lando and Eanjer. There was some annoyance simmering in his eyes, but mostly he just looked resigned. It was all too common these days for his people to be treated as little more than convenient labor or expendable fighters.
Or as forgettable and throwaway slaves.
More minutes ticked by. Lando was starting to wonder if he’d guessed wrong, and was working on an alternative plan in case the convoy’s boss was onto them, when the spotter’s vehicle suddenly activated its boosts and rose into the air.
“Got ’em,” Han said. “Convoy just pulled into view.”
“Spotter’s on the move,” Lando said, easing his head up for a clearer look. The man who’d been at the edge of the roof was still in position, watching the street below. “Everyone, stay put—spotter’s on the alert.”
“I’ve lost them,” Han growled. “Around a corner, heading north. Any
one else?”
“Not here,” Bink reported.
“Or here,” Zerba said.
“Same,” Dozer said. “Lando? Looks like it’s up to you.”
“Right,” Lando said, wincing as he sat up straight in his seat and motioned Chewbacca and Eanjer to do likewise. If those spotters over there were worth their pay, the minute Chewbacca lifted off and headed that direction, they would be instantly in the center of unfriendly attention.
But if there was no other way, there was no other way. “Okay, Chewie—”
“Wait a second—I’ve got them,” Bink said suddenly. “Heading straight up—blast, those are good boosts—looks like the service alley between Twentieth and Twenty-first, western end.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when Lando had to grab for his datapad as Chewbacca kicked the airspeeder to power and shot toward the flow of traffic above them. The Wookiee twisted the vehicle to the right—
“Hold it—that’s the wrong way,” Eanjer warned. “The alley is two blocks to the left.”
“And the spotters will be watching for anyone heading that direction,” Lando told him. “He’s doing it right.” Twisting around in his seat, he brought up his electrobinoculars.
There they were: three black landspeeders, rising swiftly alongside a tall, blocky building. “I see them,” he said. “What’s that building, a hotel?”
“Yes—the Lulina Crown,” Bink confirmed.
“There’s a covered airspeeder parking garage on the top floor,” Rachele put in. “Secure entrance, residents and guests only. Let me see if I can pull up their current occupant list.”
“Bink, can you see the front?” Han asked. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll turn on their lights when they hit their rooms.”
“What if their rooms are in the back?” Eanjer asked. “She won’t be able to see those from the street.”
Again, Lando grabbed for his datapad as Chewbacca warbled a suggestion and made a sharp climbing turn, slipping the airspeeder deftly between two other vehicles in the next lane up.