Star Wars: Scoundrels (34 page)

“Nothing serious,” Winter assured her, shifting the electrobinoculars a little as she pulled out her comlink. “Looks like Sheqoa’s attempt to get Lando and Bink to react to each other has gone flat. So he’s going to try it again with Bink and Dozer.”

“With
Dozer
?” Rachele said, sounding worried. “That’s not exactly
nothing
.”

“Hold still,” Zerba said testily. “You’re going to pull out those arm seams again.”

“I was just trying—”

“It’s okay,” Winter soothed, keying the comlink for Kell. Dozer was being watched, which meant she couldn’t call and warn him without the timing looking suspicious. But Kell was under no such surveillance. “Kell, you need to get Dozer out of there,” she said when he answered. “Can you do it without alerting his security playmates?”

“Sure,” Kell said. “You want him all the way out, or just somewhere else on the grounds?”

“Better make it all the way,” Winter said. Dozer had wanted another look at the Marblewood security setup, but with Sheqoa on the prowl it would be safer to just pull the plug.

“You sure?” Kell asked. “He could play hide-and-search for a long time without Sheqoa ever catching up with him.”

“Out, and now,” Winter said tartly, her memory flashing with the faces of all the Rebel operatives she’d seen push their luck too far.

“Okay, okay,” Kell said defensively. “You don’t have to shout. You want me out, too?”

“Only if you’re spotted,” Winter said, scowling to herself. She shouldn’t have let the memories get the better of her. Especially not with Kell, who was going through the same agony of loss that she was. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him out.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Rachele said as Winter put away the comlink. “He’s young. The young always believe the dice are on their side.”

“Enough reason right there to go hard on him,” Winter countered, focusing the electrobinoculars back on Dozer. “I want him to live long enough to grow out of that phase.”

“Or long enough to learn how to make the dice work for you,” Zerba said. “How’s it look?”

Winter’s first impulse was to remind him that she had work to do, that she wasn’t exactly loafing over here by the window. But Kell had been alerted in plenty of time, Bink had Sheqoa reasonably under control, and Lando, Chewbacca, and Han all seemed to be doing fine. She could probably spare a glance at Zerba’s masterpiece.

It was well worth it. The last time Winter had seen the outfit, it had been mostly a stack of delicate pieces of red silk. Now, two hours later, Zerba had transformed the pieces into an elegant red formal-wear dress that could have held its own at one of Queen Breha’s formal receptions.

In fact, except for the deeper waistline, higher collar, and slightly different shade, it was identical to one that the queen had worn at Princess Leia’s twelfth-birthday celebration.

“Well?”

With a jolt, Winter realized she’d been staring as the memories flooded over her. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “The color suits you, Rachele.”

“Thanks,” Rachele said wryly. “I’d curtsy, except I’d probably pull out more of Zerba’s seams.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Tavia’s busy, Bink’s busy, and you’re their size,” Zerba reminded her.

“I know,” Rachele said with a sigh. “But there’s something fundamentally wrong about asking a woman to stand for a fitting when she’s not going to get to wear the dress.”

“Tell you what,” Zerba offered. “When this is over, I’ll make you one of your very own.”

“You mean that?”

“Absolutely.” Zerba ran his fingers gently across the silk. “And I’ll even make it one like Tavia’s that you can wear more than once.”

Rachele chuckled. “That would be nice,” she said dryly.

Winter turned back to the window and refocused her electrobinoculars. Dozer was on the move, drifting casually through the crowd and heading toward the double stream of people moving in and out of the grounds. Two of the security men were paralleling him, staying well back but keeping him in sight.

Mostly in sight, anyway. There was a spot, just before the gate, where the positioning of the trees and hedges would temporarily block him from their sight. Keying her comlink to Dozer’s number, she got ready.

“So what exactly do you do for Mazzic?” Rachele asked.

“Procurement, mostly,” Winter said. “I track through shipping manifests and warehouse throughputs and find him things he needs and people who are trying to hide their merchandise. The latter he can approach about smuggling work; the former he simply steals.”

“Sounds like the kind of job where you sit at a computer and don’t get shot at,” Zerba commented wistfully. “Must be nice.”

“It’s not quite that easy,” Winter told him. “I also handle security systems and alarms for him. That means being on-site for a lot of the work. But you’re right—we mostly don’t get shot at.”

“I hope he pays you well,” Zerba said. “You don’t seem the type who lives for the thrill of the challenge.”

Winter shrugged. Mazzic’s pay scale was fairly tepid, actually. What kept her at the job was the fact that she could use his resources to find and break into supply and weapons storehouses, let the smugglers take what they wanted, and leave the way clear for her Rebel Alliance associates to slip in behind them and gather up the rest.

She was pretty sure Mazzic at least suspected her secret affiliation. But he’d never said anything. Apparently he was smart enough to see the mutual advantages of their relationship.

Though maybe that was why he paid her as little as he did.

“Not really,” she told Zerba. “But it’s worth it.”

Dozer was nearly to the gate now, walking alongside a group of long-eared, buck-toothed Lepi, their arms gesticulating wildly as they strode along, chattering among themselves. Winter checked the positions of the security men, then double-checked the covering flora and prattling aliens.

As Dozer slipped momentarily out of sight, Winter tapped her comlink’s call key. Without breaking stride, Dozer shrugged off his brown jacket, flipped it inside out to show the blue-and-silver jagged-slice pattern on the other side, and put it back on. As he settled it over his shoulders, he pulled a fold-up hat from the jacket’s pocket and jammed it onto his head.

A moment later he had passed through the gate, past two security men who were starting to look puzzled as they scanned the crowds marching along in front of them.

Winter smiled in satisfaction. There were undoubtedly still cam droids floating around up there beneath Villachor’s umbrella shield, and someone in the monitor room had probably caught the quick change. But the inevitable communication delay between monitor and gate had given Dozer just enough time to slip out.

Of course, now they knew he wasn’t just an innocent courier but a part of the mysterious gang throwing bribes at Villachor’s people. But that was all right. That part of the plan was over. Hopefully, it had accomplished its goal of making Villachor doubt his guards’ trustworthiness.

Her smile faded. Trust. That was indeed the duracrete foundation of every organization. Along with commitment, trust was what ultimately defined whether a group rose to victory or fell to destruction.

She trusted her friends and associates in the Rebel Alliance. Trusted them implicitly. Could she say the same about this assemblage of thieves and scoundrels that Han and Rachele had put together?

She smiled again, a very private smile this time. Yes, she could trust them.

Because Han was more than he seemed. Much more. And before this was over, she promised herself, she would make sure she got the whole story.

“What’s happening?” Rachele asked.

“He’s out,” Winter said. “They’re—looks like they’re sending someone outside the gate to see if they can spot him.”

Zerba snorted. “Fat chance of
that
.”

“Not with the zigzag he set up to get back,” Rachele said, breathing out an audible sigh. “That was close.”

“And we’re all glad it’s over,” Zerba said, starting to sound testy again. “Now, will you please kindly hold
still
?”

“Think of it as an insurance policy,” Han said. “Your own set of blackmail files, already decrypted and ready for your personal use.”

“You mean for my personal execution,” Villachor said darkly. “If I had such copies and Black Sun ever found out, I’d be dead within hours. Possibly within minutes.”

“Probably,” Han agreed. Villachor had mentioned Black Sun’s quick retribution twice already in this conversation. From the rumors Han had heard over the years, he was pretty sure that was no exaggeration.

But Villachor was still listening.

“On the other hand, there’s no reason they ever have to find out,” Han went on. “I bring the cryodex in, we make copies, and you put the copies someplace secure. Maybe mix them in with all your other encrypted documents.”

“Yes,” Villachor murmured. “You realize, I presume, that your associate Kwerve has already made that suggestion.”

“I know,” Han said. “I thought it was worth making again.”

“Worthwhile from
my
point of view, perhaps,” Villachor said. “You offer what appears to be an attractive deal, yet ask nothing in return?”

Han shrugged. “It’s a good-faith gesture,” he said. “Sure, we’re interested in the files, but we’re much more interested in you personally. If that kind of deal gets you to join us, we’ll figure it was a worthwhile long-term investment.”

They walked a few more steps before Villachor spoke again. “Let me offer a compromise,” he suggested. “When you bring your boss, you also bring the cryodex. I’ll watch it work once more
and
allow you to make copies of five files, which you may take with you.” He smiled thinly. “Consider that
my
good-faith gesture.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Han said, nodding slowly as if thinking it over. The cracks were starting to form in Villachor’s resolve—he could hear that much in the man’s voice.

But those cracks weren’t very big. Unless something drastic happened in the next two days, there was no way Villachor was going to be ready to desert Black Sun, or even move the blackmail files out of the vault.

Which meant they were going to have to go through with the original plan after all. Eanjer would be pleased by that.

“All right,” he said. “Let me consult with my boss and see what he says.”

Villachor snorted. “More delays.”

“Can’t be helped,” Han said. “If it helps any, we’re as anxious to wrap this up as you are.”

“I’m sure you are.” Villachor exhaled loudly as he came to a stop. “I trust you’ll have some word for me by the Honoring of Moving Fire the day after tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Han promised. “If I can’t bring the boss to see you then, I’ll at least bring an offer on when you two can meet.”

“Very well,” Villachor said. He looked into Han’s eyes, and for a moment Han was startled by the intensity there. “We stand on the edge, my friend. Riches and power beyond compare, or a long and terrifying death. Be
very
certain you wish to continue.”

With an effort, Han matched the other’s gaze. No, he didn’t want death, fast or slow. But he didn’t want riches and power, either, at least not the kind Villachor was talking about. All he wanted was to be free of Jabba, and then to be free to do what he pleased.

But this was still the path to that goal. “I am,” he said firmly.

“Good.” The laser intensity of Villachor’s gaze faded away. “Until the Honoring of Moving Fire, then.”

Han nodded. “Good day, Master Villachor.”

He forced himself to walk sedately the whole way back to the gate. The security guards there obviously had been alerted, and they watched Han closely as he passed. But none of them made any move to stop him.

Just the same, he was careful to follow the zigzag path that Dozer had created for travel back to the suite. Just in case.

Sheqoa tried to hide it, but from the changes in his expression over the past hour, Bink knew the afternoon had been a bust.

Not that she was really surprised. She and Lando had played their parts perfectly, walking the balance bar between guilty recognition and the opposite but equally suspicious complete ignoring of each other. She’d had some concerns about Sheqoa throwing her at Dozer, but from what she’d been able to glean from Sheqoa’s side of his comlink communications it sounded like Dozer had made it out of Marblewood before anyone could pin him down.

Given Sheqoa’s increasingly dark mood, Bink decided as she babbled away cheerfully, he would probably appreciate a good, warm hug.

“So anyway—oh, my
stars
, look at the time,” she said, peering at her watch. “I’m sorry, Lapis, but I have to go. My boss has some Anomid clients in town and wants me to help take them to a high-class restaurant. You know how curious Anomids are about new cultures.”

“If he wants to show them Wukkar culture, he should bring them here,” Sheqoa said, his mind clearly on other things.

“That’s what
I
said,” Bink said, waggling a finger for emphasis. “But he’s stubborn, and he’s always looking for an excuse to eat fancy. You’ll be around for the Honoring of Moving Fire, won’t you?”

With a clear effort, Sheqoa brought his eyes and attention back to her. “Of course,” he said, giving her a faint smile. “Will you?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the galaxy,” Bink promised. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, then.” Stepping close, she wrapped her arms around him—making sure not to pin his right arm—and pressed herself against his chest. “I had a wonderful day,” she murmured into his neck. “Thanks for everything.”

His first reflex was to go stiff with surprise. His next, a fraction of a second later, was to start to relax and enjoy her touch. His third, an even shorter fraction of a second after that, was to remember he was on duty and gently but firmly push her away.

And in and among all those reactions, she finally tracked down the scent she’d noticed earlier.

“I’ll see you then,” he said, his hands on her shoulders as he held her at arm’s length. For a moment he gazed at her, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.