Star Wars: Scoundrels (13 page)

Winter frowned at the datapad. Something about it seemed familiar.

Abruptly she stiffened. “Electrobinoculars,” she snapped, tearing her gaze from the datapad and looking wildly around. Where had the devices gotten to?

“Here,” Tavia said, pressing a set into her hand.

Winter jammed them to her eyes, her fingers keying in the focus control. The image settled down; then an alien hand appeared from the side and snatched the datapad out of her field of view. Before she could refocus, the Falleen had again disappeared around the side of the safe, taking the datapad with him.

“What is it?” Tavia asked tightly. “What’s wrong?”

“That datapad,” Winter said, lowering the electrobinoculars and looking over at the section of floor where Bink and Tavia had laid out their equipment. “I need a closer look to be sure. But if it’s what I think it is, we’ve got trouble.”

“But Bink can’t bring it here,” Tavia objected. “The power sensors—”

“I know,” Winter cut her off, thrusting the electrobinoculars back at her and hurrying over to the equipment. “I’ll have to go to her.”

“How?” Lando asked. “Bink has the only unpowered harness.”

“So I’ll have to improvise.” Winter picked up the powered grapple harness and gave it a quick assessment. If she removed the central framework, then unplugged the shoulder-mounted targeting rangefinder …

The Wookiee growled a question.

“It’s more than just important,” Winter said. “It’s absolutely vital.” She got a grip on the framework and glanced around for a knife—

And twitched back, startled, as the Wookiee stepped to her side and plucked the harness from her hands. Three seconds later, he’d pulled off the framework, the rangefinder, and a section of trim that she hadn’t realized was powered. He thrust it at her, gestured for her to put it on, and unlooped the bandoleer from his shoulder.

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Lando asked. “That’s a long way.”

Chewie gave an impatient roar.

“Okay, okay,” Lando said hastily, holding up his hands, palms outward. “Tavia, get the window open.”

The light had gone out in the room across the way by the time they were ready. Chewie and Winter stood facing each other in the open window, Winter secured in her harness with the harness’s outer anchor straps wrapped securely around the Wookiee’s massive shoulders.

He looked down at her, murmured a last-chance question.

“I’m ready,” she said, nodding. He nodded back.

And an instant later, he leapt out of the window into the night air.

Winter gasped despite herself, her hands clutching reflexively at the hair around Chewie’s ribs. An elongated second later her grip was nearly jerked loose as his hands and feet slammed into the nearest tree. For another instant it felt like they were going to slide off and plummet to the park below. Then there was another jerk as the Wookiee somehow caught them. Winter started to take a deep, shuddering breath—

And with a shove and violent twist of his body, the Wookiee flung them away toward the next tree in line.

Winter had been wrong. She was not in any way ready for this.

But one of the side effects of a perfect memory was that she could quickly adjust to new experiences, especially repetitive ones. By the time they reached the end of their building and turned the corner she knew when to brace herself, when to grip her harness, and when to let herself go limp. She also knew exactly how many trees stood between them and Bink, which meant she was able to count down the number until the ordeal was over. Psychologically, knowing the end point helped immensely.

Even so, for most of the trip she kept her eyes tightly closed.

Bink saw them coming, of course. And it was quickly clear that she wasn’t happy about it. “What are you doing?” she demanded in a loud whisper as Chewie settled onto the final tree.

“The datapad in there,” Winter said, struggling to turn around in the strictures of the harness. Bink, she saw, had the outer window open and was in the process of cutting a small circular hole in the transparisteel barrier behind it. It was hard to tell from her angle, but it looked like she was most of the way through. “Did you see it?”

“Yeah, I saw it,” Bink said. “So what?”

“I need a closer look,” Winter said. “It’s important.”

Bink’s lip twisted, but she nodded reluctantly. “It better be,” she warned. “Okay. Give me two minutes after I’m inside, then you can come in. You can get her to the window, Chewie?”

The Wookiee growled an affirmative. “Fine,” Bink said. “Just don’t make any noise once you’re in there. And
don’t
break anything.” Turning around again, she got back to work on the window.

Winter had done a fair amount of breaking and entering during her years with the Rebel Alliance. But most of those sorties had been into low-security areas like foodstuff or spare-parts warehouses, and most of the time she’d had someone more experienced along to help. Never had she tried to break into a place with this kind of security.

Lando had been right. Bink definitely had a talent.

Carving a hole in the transparisteel barrier was only the first step. After that came the use of some gummy substance to get the circle out of its place. A pair of long probes slipped through the opening tweaked aside a pair of trackers, while a jumper cable on the end of an even longer probe bypassed some kind of detector Winter didn’t recognize.

Finally, when all the backup sensors and detectors had been stifled, confused, or distracted, one final probe tripped the release and swung the transparisteel plate out of the way. Getting a grip on the sill, Bink unhooked her harness from the adhesive anchors she’d fastened to the outside wall and climbed nimbly through the opening and into the room. She closed the window and transparisteel plate most of the way, flashed Winter a look, and slipped around the side of the big floor safe.

“How do we work this?” Winter murmured to Chewie.

In answer, he motioned toward the nearest branch. “I was afraid of that,” Winter said, wincing as she got a firm grip on the branch. Chewie waited until she was ready, then slipped the harness straps one at a time off his shoulders. Moving carefully and, for her, unusually awkwardly, she moved around and climbed onto his back, reaching over his shoulders and catching hold of the clumps of hair over his collarbones.

She’d read once that those were the safest and least painful ways to hold on to a Wookiee. Fervently, she hoped the author of that particular article hadn’t gotten it wrong.

Bink’s two-minute countdown ran down. Chewie rumbled a warning, then threw himself away from the tree toward the window. His hands caught the lower edge, and his body slammed into the side of the building with a jolt that nearly broke Winter’s grip.

Luckily, the Wookiee had already anticipated that danger. Even as she struggled to hold on, he bent his knees and brought his feet up beneath her, giving her something to brace her own feet against. Waiting until she had resettled her grip, he bent his elbows and pulled them both face-level with the lower edge of the window.

Winter had a grip on the window and was starting to open it when, across the room, the door opened and a big, rough-looking man strode in.

She froze, knowing how horribly exposed she was, but also knowing that any movement would instantly catch the man’s eye. Chewie apparently knew that, too, and also froze. The man walked past the back of the safe to a pair of chairs flanking a small table, pulling out a datapad as he did so. He started to sit down, turning his back briefly to the window—

An instant later, Winter’s view was cut off as Chewie took advantage of the man’s turned back to drop them back down to a hanging position, where everything but his fingertips would be out of sight.

But she’d seen enough. The good news was that the man had clearly not been suspicious. The bad news was that he’d had the look of someone about to settle in for a while, either to read, do some work, or maybe just take a nap.

All of which would leave Bink trapped on the far side of the safe.

Winter craned her neck to look behind her. At this distance, and with the trees partially blocking her view, she couldn’t tell whether or not Tavia and Lando had spotted the problem. She could only hope fervently that they had.

And that they could come up with something to do about it.

“Got it,” Dozer acknowledged. Clicking off his comlink, he pulled open the stairwell door, exchanged nods with Zerba, and strode out onto the plush carpet and into the delicate scent pattern drifting through the Lulina Crown’s sixth-floor hallway.

And as he walked, he smiled tightly to himself. Calrissian might have the looks and the smile and the easy charm, and maybe that was all Solo wanted for this job. Or at least all he
thought
he wanted.

But Calrissian was nothing more than a smuggler and occasionally lucky gambler. Boosting ships was the job that took
real
con artist skills.

Time to show them how a professional did it.

The doors at the Lulina Crown Hotel had nice little bell buttons beside them for visitors to use, buttons that no doubt created nice little chirping or twittering sounds inside the suite. Dozer bypassed the button in favor of pounding on the door with the edge of his fist. “Hello?” he called. “Delivery.”

Nothing. Dozer pounded again, hoping the lack of response didn’t mean Bink had been caught and everyone in there was too busy to answer the door. “Hello?” he called again, putting some serious volume into it this time. “You want to get the door? I haven’t got all night.” He raised his fist again—

With a suddenness that caught him by surprise, the door was yanked open and he found himself staring into the muzzles of a pair of large, mean-looking blasters.

“Hey, hey, hey—take it easy,” he said quickly, opening his hand to show it was empty. The men behind the blasters, he noted, were every bit as large and mean-looking as their weapons.

“What do you want?” one of them demanded.

“Quickline Courier Service,” Dozer said, nodding toward the gold nameplate fastened to his jacket. “I’ve got a delivery for Mencho Tallboy.” Carefully, he lifted the small security case in his left hand. “Is he here?”

The man’s eyes narrowed, and with an effort Dozer kept his breathing steady.
Tallboy
was the name Rachele had pulled from the room service orders, but she’d had no way of knowing whether it was a real person or simply a convenient alias the Falleen and his troop used for such mundane matters. A supposed delivery to a nonexistent person would do nothing to ease anyone’s suspicions, and that was the exact wrong direction Dozer wanted this conversation to go.

“Yeah, he’s here,” the man said, drawing his blaster back a few centimeters and reaching out his other hand. “I’ll take it.”

“Are you Master Tallboy?” Dozer asked, wincing back like a man who knows he’s about to deliver unwelcome news to an armed man. “I’m really sorry, but the order was very specific. I need to deliver the package personally to Master Mencho Tallboy.”

“Whose order?” the man asked, his hand still outstretched.

“The sender’s,” Dozer said, letting more nervousness and a little confusion creep into his voice. “I’m just a courier. I just do what I’m told.”

For a couple of heartbeats the two men continued to stare. Then the one with his hand outstretched twitched his fingers. “Datapad,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Dozer said, fumbling the security case to his right hand and pulling out his datapad with the other. The second man holstered his blaster and took the datapad, frowning intently as he began punching keys.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dozer saw a small black sphere appear through the half-open stairway door and roll down the corridor toward him at a far better clip than an object that size had any business doing on carpet this thick. It bounced off the far wall and angled back in his direction.

And a second later exploded in a brilliant blast of fire and a cloud of roiling black smoke.

Bink was nearly through the safe’s combination when the door across the room opened.

Her first thought was the obvious and horrifying one: that the gig had just come to a crashing halt, and she was about to be in a fight for her life. Pressing herself against the safe, she slipped her right hand into her hip pouch and got a grip on the mono-edge cutting wheel. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was the best she had.

To her relief, the opening door was accompanied by only one set of footsteps, and leisurely ones at that. Someone just wandering into the room for some other purpose than hammering an unwelcome ghost burglar?

A fresh jolt of tension washed over her as she suddenly realized that Winter should be climbing in the window just about now. But the footsteps showed no indication that the other woman had been spotted. The visitor strolled casually past the other side of the safe, and Bink heard the faint sound of cloth on leather as he sat down in one of the reading chairs.

Which now left her officially trapped.

She licked some moisture onto suddenly dry lips. Getting caught in the act was one of the ever-present dangers of this job, but so far she’d managed to mostly avoid such unpleasantries. With a Falleen and possibly Black Sun involved, a confrontation here was to be avoided at all costs.

She hoped Tavia had something extra-special up her sleeve.

Eighty seconds went by. Bink counted and examined every single one of them, her mind tumbling as she tried desperately to come up with an escape plan of her own in case Tavia didn’t come through.

Then, across the room’s silence, came the faint murmur of a distant voice, as if coming over a comlink clip. Bink couldn’t make out any of the words, but suddenly there was a second cloth-on-leather creak as the visitor got abruptly to his feet. Bink squeezed the mono-edge wheel tightly, but the footsteps merely tracked briskly back across the room to the door. Another opening and closing …

Cautiously, she peeked around the edge of the safe. There was a motion at the edge of her vision, but it was only Chewie hoisting himself back into view and Winter pulling the cracked window the rest of the way open. Breathing a quiet sigh of temporary relief, acutely aware that whatever was going on elsewhere in the suite wouldn’t hold the thug’s attention forever, Bink ducked back to the front of the safe and returned to work.