Star Wars: Scoundrels (37 page)

“Maybe Villachor wanted privacy,” Lando said, wondering if it sounded as lame to the others as it did to him.

It did. “Since when?” Winter countered. Her voice was under better control than Rachele’s, but Lando could hear the same concern. “Up to now he’s always preferred keeping us outside whenever possible. Changing that pattern is a bad sign.”

Chewbacca warbled ominously.

“Easy,” Lando cautioned. “Han’s a big boy. Whatever Villachor’s got in mind, I’m sure he can talk his way out of it.”

At his side, his comlink signaled. Lando pulled it out and clicked it on. “Yes?”

“Hey, Kwerve.” Han’s voice was just a little too casual. “Got a situation here.”

“What kind of situation?” Lando asked, beckoning to the others as he keyed the comlink’s speaker to wide focus.

“I’m at a meeting with Master Qazadi,” Han said. “He’d like to see our cryodex.”

Uh-oh. “You mean he wants to see it work?” Lando asked carefully.

“Yeah, something like that,” Han said. “I think it would be in our best interests to show it to him.”

Lando glanced at the others gathered around him. Rachele and Tavia looked stricken. Winter looked controlled and calculating. Dozer looked jumpy. Chewbacca looked ready to go on a rampage. And Eanjer—

Lando frowned. Eanjer looked oddly guilty.

What exactly could Eanjer have to look guilty about?

“I can ask the boss,” Lando said into the comlink. “He’d have to be shown there would be a decent payoff for it.”

“Let’s just say there’ll be some pretty nasty payoff if he doesn’t,” Han said grimly.

For an instant Lando flashed back to that awkward scene on Nar Shaddaa, back after the Ylesian fiasco, when he’d been so mad at Han that he’d threatened to put a blaster bolt in his friend’s head. Han tended to spark that kind of reaction in people.

But Lando had spoken in the heat of rage and frustration and betrayal. Qazadi’s threat was cold and calculated and very, very serious.

“I’ll tell him,” Lando promised. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I have his answer.”

“Make it quick,” Han said. “Master Qazadi doesn’t strike me as the patient type.”

“Got it,” Lando said. “I’ll get back to you soon.”

He clicked off. “Well,
that’s
made the day more interesting,” he commented. “Any thoughts?”

Chewbacca warbled threateningly.

“Of course we get him out,” Rachele agreed tightly. “I think the question is
how
.”

“Actually, the first question is why, as in why the bottom is suddenly falling out of this thing,” Lando said. “Eanjer? You got something to say?”

Eanjer started. “What do you mean?”

“You got a call from your contact yesterday,” Winter said. “Did he say anything about this?”

Eanjer swallowed hard. “I—” He stopped. “I mean—”

Chewbacca took a step toward him. Eanjer twitched back, then seemed to shrink in on himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, almost too low for Lando to hear. “I didn’t think … he mentioned that Villachor had been making overtures to the Imperials.”

“And you didn’t think this was worth
telling
us about?” Tavia bit out. “Blast it, Eanjer—if he makes a deal with the Imps, we’ve got no hold over him. He can play us without ever having to put any chips in the pot, knowing he’s got a pass if his hand doesn’t pan out.”

“I know, I know,” Eanjer said, looking even more pained. “I just didn’t think anything could happen this quickly, that’s all.”

“I guess it did,” Dozer said heavily. “So now what?”

“You heard Chewie and Rachele,” Lando said. “We get him out.”

“How?” Dozer retorted.

“Somehow,” Lando said with strained patience, his mind scrambling for a plan. “Winter, are there any other weapons caches lying around town we could raid?”

“There are two that I know of,” Winter said. “But anything small enough to be smuggled in through the gates wouldn’t be nearly powerful enough to get through the mansion’s doors, walls, or windows.”

“Not to mention all the security men,” Dozer pointed out.

“The umbrella shield will have to be shut down for the grand fireworks display later,” Rachele pointed out. “Maybe we could get something big enough to breach the wall from up here.”

“We can’t wait that long,” Lando said. “I don’t know how much patience Qazadi has, but I doubt it’s going to last more than an hour or so.”

Eanjer cleared his throat. “I have an idea,” he said hesitantly. “Winter, how accurately did you duplicate the other cryodex?”

“Completely,” Winter said.

“I mean,
really
accurately?”

“What part of
completely
don’t you get?” Lando growled.

“No, no, I understand,” Eanjer said. “I was just thinking … if we let Qazadi see the cryodex, and if he’s seen Aziel’s enough times up close …” He paused, looking around expectantly.

Rachele got it first. “He’ll think it’s Aziel’s,” she said. “And that Aziel … no. Would he?”

“What, think Aziel’s behind Lando’s bid to get the blackmail files?” Winter asked. “Sure, why not?”

“She’s right,” Tavia agreed. “If he suspects Villachor of possible treason, why not Aziel?”

“Playing the corners against each other,” Lando agreed. Eanjer might be on to something here. “So if we can convince Qazadi that Aziel is a traitor …”

“He won’t just let Han go,” Tavia said slowly. “But he’ll definitely figure he’s worth more alive than dead.”

“Especially if he thinks Han can fill in the details of Aziel’s plan,” Rachele added. “It should at least buy us some time.”

Chewbacca rumbled a warning.

“Good point,” Lando agreed grimly. “It only works until Aziel shows up at Marblewood with the real cryodex.”

“Which means we have to get to Aziel—right now—and steal the real one,” Rachele said.

“What about the guards and the window alarms?” Dozer objected.

“We’ll just have to take the risk,” Rachele said. “If Villachor sees the two cryodexes together, Han is dead. Tavia, do you think Bink can pull it off?”

“I don’t know,” Tavia said, her face screwed up in thought. “This fast, and before full dark … I don’t think so. But if it’s the only way, I know she’ll be game to try.”

“If we pull her out now, we may lose our chance at Villachor’s vault,” Winter warned, picking up the electrobinoculars and going back to the window.

“Han’s worth more than all the files in the galaxy,” Rachele called after her. She sent a quick glare at Eanjer. “
And
all the credits, too.”

“Let’s not make it an either-or just yet,” Lando said. “Winter? Can you see her?”

“Yes,” Winter said, shaking her head. “Sorry—she’s already hooked up with Sheqoa. If we pull her out now, especially with him probably already suspicious, it’s over.”

“Unless we can get her back in time,” Dozer said.

“Not a chance,” Tavia said.

“Which leaves only one other shot,” Winter continued calmly. “Dozer and I don’t have anything else to do right now. We’ll go to the Lulina Crown and keep Aziel there.”

“Whoa,” Dozer said, his eyes going wide. “Us against—? No. Not a chance.”

“Relax,” Winter said. “I’m not suggesting we hammer him and his collection of bodyguards. We just have to keep him locked down in his suite at the hotel.”

“Oh, yeah,
that’ll
work,” Dozer said sarcastically. “He wouldn’t have a comlink or anything he could call Qazadi with. Not a chance.”

“Hang on,” Lando said, the first bit of hope stirring inside him. “Winter’s right. Calling Qazadi doesn’t do Aziel any good. Of
course
he’ll say he still has the cryodex. But he’d say that whether he did or didn’t.”

“So how do you pin someone in his room?” Rachele asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Lando said. “Let’s run a quick inventory of what we’ve got on hand and see if we can come up with a plan.”

“Unless you’re still too afraid of the Falleen to do this,” Rachele added to Dozer, an edge of challenge in her voice.

Dozer flashed a glance at Winter’s back and squared his shoulders. “Let’s find a workable plan first,” he said. “As far as gear goes, I’ve got some vehicle remotes, some universal door decrypt openers—”

“Excuse me,” Winter said, still standing at the window. “Any of you know if Han smokes?”

“Not that I know of,” Lando said, frowning. “Chewie?”

Chewbacca rumbled a negative.

“Maybe a long time ago, but not lately,” Lando said. “Why?”

“Because I think,” Winter said thoughtfully, “he may just have sent us a message.”

Han keyed off the comlink. As he started to put it away, one of the guards plucked it out of his hand.

“Okay, I sent the message,” Han said to Qazadi. “I guess we wait.”

“Yes,” Qazadi said. “We shall hope your superior considers you more valuable than his cryodex.” He smiled thinly. “Especially since underlings are so much more easily replaced than rare artifacts.”

“Not the good ones,” Han countered, looking back at Villachor. The man was about two paces away. It should work. “I suppose I’m going to be your guest for a while?”

“A short while only,” Qazadi said. His eyes flicked to Villachor’s bodyguards. “You two, escort him to the guards’ quarters across from my suite. The closet there is lockable. Put him inside.”

“Manning can take him,” Villachor said firmly. “Tawb will stay with me.”

“They’ll
both
take him,” Qazadi said.

For a second he and Villachor locked eyes.

And in that second, Han made his move.

The bodyguards were still gripping his upper arms, but both forearms were free. Giving his left shoulder a little hunch as a distraction, Han dipped his right hand into his side pocket and got a grip on the data card there. In a single smooth motion, he drew it out and flipped it toward Villachor.

He had just enough time to see Villachor reflexively reach up and catch it before the two bodyguards yanked him backward and slammed him down onto the floor.

“Take it easy,” Han said hastily, wincing with the sudden pain in his shoulders as the whole room seemed to sprout blasters. “It’s just a delivery from my boss. I was ordered to give the card to Master Villachor.”

For a long moment no one moved. Out of the corner of his eye, Han could see Villachor turning the data card over in his hands.

“What is it?” Qazadi asked.

“The details of his offer,” Han said. “Not that it matters now, I suppose.”

“I never said I was going to join you,” Villachor insisted, tossing the card back at Han as if he were getting rid of a baby gundark.

Han gave a little shrug. “Like I said, I was ordered to deliver it.”

For a few more heartbeats no one moved or spoke. Han held his breath …

And then Qazadi stirred and gave Han a small smile. “I admire a man who spends his last breath carrying out his orders,” he said. “Let him up.”

The hands pinning Han’s arms to the floor reversed direction, pulling him upright again.

“And I’ll take that data card,” the Falleen added, almost as if it was an afterthought. “Dygrig?”

One of Qazadi’s guards retrieved the data card and handed it to his boss.

“You have your orders,” Qazadi continued, eyeing the card thoughtfully.

“Sir?” one of Villachor’s bodyguards asked.

“Yes, go ahead, Manning,” Villachor said with a hint of a sigh. “Tawb, go with him.”

“Move,” Manning growled in Han’s ear as the hands tightened around his arms again. His breath carried a hint of tabac; apparently the man was a cigarra smoker.

They led him down a long hallway and up three flights of steps to the fourth floor. Along the way, Han noted with some interest, they passed exactly one other person, an older man in a chef’s outfit hurrying toward the kitchen area. Apparently all of Villachor’s people were either outside or on duty in the mansion’s various working areas.

“Where are we going?” Han asked, glancing up at the skylights above him as they headed down the corridor into the northeast wing.

“You heard His Excellency,” Tawb growled.

“Yeah—a closet in his guards’ room.” Han looked sideways at Manning. “I don’t suppose you could give me a cigarra to help pass the time.”

Manning snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”

“No, really,” Han pressed. “I really need one, and I know you smoke—I can smell it on you. Come on, give me a break. I really need it.”

“You really need a smoke?” Letting go of Han’s arm, Manning took a long step forward and fell into step beside him, pulling a long, thin cigarra from his pocket. “Like this one?”

“Watch it,” Tawb warned. “Qazadi’s not going to like it if you get smoke in his rooms.”

“I won’t,” Manning assured him. He lit the cigarra and puffed out some smoke. “Smoke like this?” he asked Han, puffing out another cloud.

“Yeah, like that,” Han said, straining against Tawb’s grip as he tried to get closer to the twisting tendrils of smoke, hoping he could mask his actual disgust for the stuff. “Come on, let me at least
smell
it.”

“Because I’d be in real trouble if I gave you anything,” Manning continued, walking backward as he inhaled more smoke and puffed it back at Han, always keeping just far enough away that Han could only get a whiff from the edge of each cloud before it drifted up to the ceiling. “Especially a cigarra. Especially in Qazadi’s suite.”

“Come
on
,” Han pleaded. He could practically feel his nose hairs curling as he inhaled the smoke, and his lungs were hovering on the edge of a violent coughing fit. But he had to make this look real if he wanted Manning to keep up the game.

“Enough,” Tawb snapped. “Come on—we’re too close as it is.”

“Relax,” Manning soothed. He gave one final puff and then slipped a cap on the cigarra to extinguish it. “I’ll save the rest for later,” he said, dropping it back into his pocket. “Enjoy the memories.” He stopped at an open door and gestured inside. “In here.”

“Sure,” Han said. Winter and Rachele would be up in their suite right now, keeping a close eye on the mansion and grounds, and an odd pattern of smoke puffs in one of the skylights should be just the sort of thing one of them might notice.

Or they might miss it completely. But if they
did
spot it, they might figure out that Han was pointing them to the part of the mansion where he was being taken.