Star Wars: Scoundrels (48 page)

Bink hissed between her teeth. “I hope to hell not.”

“Me too,” Rachele said. “But either way, I think you and I are on our own.”

The five armored guards came clumping through the door into the anteroom, to Villachor’s simultaneous relief and annoyance. About kriffing time. “I want to get into my vault,” he growled. “Those Zeds are in my way. Move them.”

“Yes, sir,” Uzior’s filtered voice came from the lead guard. “We’ll have them clear in no time.”

Villachor threw a sideways look at Barbas and Narkan, still standing silently against the wall, their expressions unreadable. Probably already working out how they were going to report this to their boss.

Let them. Let them say anything they wanted. One way or another, Villachor was going to get through this. “Make it fast,” he told Uzior. “Very fast.”

T
he game was over, Winter thought distantly. She’d played it well and survived far longer than she’d ever expected. Certainly longer than many of her comrades. But now it was over.

And she’d lost.

There were at least thirty of them, she estimated numbly as she watched them pour out of the turbolifts. Thirty Imperial stormtroopers, their white armor gleaming brighter than it should have in the garage’s muted light, their blaster rifles held ready as they spread with silent efficiency across the garage.

“So much for making a run for it,” Dozer murmured beside her. “At least we know why those other two airspeeders suddenly found somewhere else to be.”

Winter looked over her shoulder. Hovering outside the garage entrance, gleaming like the stormtrooper armor in the diffuse city lights, was an Imperial landing craft,
Sentinel
class, its laser cannons and rotating blasters covering the garage.

“You,” a filtered voice said brusquely.

Winter turned back. Two of the stormtroopers had come up to her and Dozer, their blaster rifles not
quite
aimed at them. “Come with us.”

And now the game really
was
over.

Another man had emerged from the open turbolifts by the time Winter and Dozer arrived. He was something of a surprise: an older man, his face ruddy, his body far more overweight than even a senior Fleet officer should be allowed to get away with, his clothing casual but expensive. Someone important, judging from the way their stormtrooper escort stiffened to attention as they stopped in front of him.

“Ah,” the man said, his lips smiling genially, his eyes sharp and clear and knowing. “Is that it?”

“Is that what?” Dozer asked, genuine-sounding puzzlement in his voice. “I don’t know what’s going on here, Master, but I’m very glad you and your troops showed up. Those people”—he jerked a thumb over his shoulder—“were going crazy in here. Just
crazy
.”

“Really,” the man said calmly. “Flying about like maniacs, were they?”

“And crashing into the ceiling and parked vehicles and just ripping up the whole place,” Dozer said, warming to his story. “I thought we were going to be killed for sure.”

“A frightening experience, indeed,” the other commiserated, almost as if he genuinely believed it. “But don’t worry. It’s all over now. We’ll take everyone in and get it sorted out.” He nodded toward Dozer’s side. “And thank you so much for retrieving my hip pouch for me. I’m not sure how you managed it, but I’m pleased you were able to rescue it before their antics could damage it further.”

Winter felt her heart seize up. So the Imperials even knew about the cryodex.

“Your hip pouch?” Dozer asked, frowning as he looked down at the one in his hand. “No, no, this is—”

“This is
my
pouch, which was stolen from me,” the man cut him off firmly. “Which is why, when I received a tip as to its whereabouts, I immediately called Captain Worhven of the Imperial Star Destroyer
Dominator
and asked him to help retrieve it.” He smiled again, and this time the smile had a brittle edge. “I’m sure you understand how difficult it can be sometimes to work with locals.”

Winter swallowed. Especially when the locals were essentially owned and operated by Villachor and Black Sun. This man knew, all right. He knew everything.

“We’re glad we could help,” Winter said, giving Dozer a nudge. Under the circumstances, there was really no point in dragging this out any further.

With a resigned sigh, Dozer handed him the pouch. “Immensely glad,” he said.

“Thank you,” the man said. He opened the pouch and peered inside. “Yes, this is it, Commander,” he confirmed, closing it and turning to the stormtrooper beside him. “Have your men gather everyone and take them to the Tweenriver garrison for questioning. What became of those other two airspeeders, by the way? I trust you didn’t let them get away.”

“No, my lord, we have them,” the stormtrooper said.

“Excellent,” the man said. “No communications are to be allowed from any of the prisoners, of course.”

“Yes, my lord.” The stormtrooper nodded at Dozer and Winter. “What about these two?”

The man looked back at Winter and Dozer, and it seemed to Winter that his smile this time had an edge of ironic enjoyment to it. “Master and Mistress Smith can go,” he said. “Will you need assistance with your vehicle?”

There was a brief pause as Dozer apparently tried to find his voice. “No,” he said. “Thank you. We can manage.”

“Very good,” the man said briskly. “Farewell.” Turning, he strode back to the turbolift, one of the stormtroopers following respectfully behind him.

The other stormtrooper gestured with his blaster. “You heard him,” he said gruffly. “Move along.” Without waiting for a response, he brushed past and headed across to where the other Imperials were collecting Aziel’s furious men into small knots for disarming and binding.

“Come on,” Dozer muttered, taking Winter’s arm and heading back toward the airspeeder she’d been working on. “Is it open?”

“Yes,” Winter said, her head spinning. This had to be some kind of trick. Some game the predator was playing with his prey.

She was still waiting for the hammer to fall as Dozer hotwired the airspeeder, got them into the air, and edged gingerly through the exit under the watchful eye but silent lasers of the
Sentinel
standing guard.

“So much for secrecy,” Dozer said sourly as he lifted them toward the traffic pattern flowing across the lights of the city.

“What do you mean?” Winter asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he growled. “The Imperials are on to the whole thing. They let us get the cryodex for them, and now they’re letting us run loose in hopes we can get them the blackmail files, too.”

Winter felt her stomach tighten. Of course. She’d been so focused on her life with the Alliance that she’d momentarily forgotten that she was on an entirely different side this time. “Eanjer’s contact,” she murmured.

“Who else?” Dozer said darkly. “No wonder the man knew so much about Black Sun and Qazadi.”

“I wonder what kind of deal Eanjer’s made with him.”

“Whatever it is, he’s not delivering on it,” Dozer said firmly. “We got here first. Still, this should make a pretty puzzle for Villachor and Qazadi to chew on.”

“You mean Aziel and the cryodex disappearing without a trace?” Winter asked, pulling out her comlink and trying the signaler. No good—they must still be inside the Imperials’ jamming field. “It won’t be for long, you know. They’ll have to let him go.”

“Sure, but hopefully not until we’re long gone—”

“Hold it,” Winter said as her comlink signaled. She keyed it on. “Rachele?”

“Yes,” Rachele said, sounding relieved. “Are you all right? I’ve been calling and calling.”

“We’re fine,” Winter assured her. “The Imperials had a jamming field set up over the hotel.”

“The
Imperials
?”

“Long story; no time,” Winter said. “What’s happening with Bink?”

“Wait a second,” Bink cut in. “You can’t just leave it at that. What’s going on with Aziel?”

“The Imperials came in and snatched him,” Winter said. “Him and the cryodex both.”

“Which should actually work to our advantage,” Dozer put in. “Depending on how fast Villachor’s spy network picks up on this, he’ll either assume Aziel has gone over to the Empire or else figure that he’s made a run for it.”

“I don’t see how that helps us,” Rachele said. “If they think Aziel’s on the run, they could decide to squeeze Tavia to find out what he’s up to.”

“Except that they only have Sheqoa’s word that she’s even involved,” Dozer pointed out. “Sheqoa means Villachor, and Qazadi doesn’t trust Villachor farther than he can throw Villachor’s safe. He’s not going to interrogate someone purely on Sheqoa’s say-so.”

“Look, we can talk about this after Bink cracks the safe,” Winter said. “What have we got?”

“Three more code sequences,” Bink said. She read them off. “You’ll note they’re different lengths, which means they’re not just variants of some standard multidigit code or something.”

“So far the computer hasn’t come up with any patterns,” Rachele said. “Any thoughts?”

Winter stared off at the city stretched beneath them, visualizing the standard High Galactic keypad layout Villachor was using and superimposing their four known sequences over it. “The series seems to be in alphabetic order,” she offered.

“Yeah, we already got that part,” Bink said tersely. “You’re the one who’s read everything there is on Villachor. Could it be a list of famous battles, or his old pets or schools—”

“Got it,” Winter said as it suddenly fell into place. Of course. “Try this: seven two nine two three four.”

There was a short silence. “No good,” Bink said.

Winter frowned. No good?

She smiled tightly. Of course no good. Served her right for not following the other sequences all the way to the end. “Try the same sequence, followed by three two five five three three six.”

Another short silence. Dozer lifted them into the next airlane and picked up speed.

“That’s it,” Bink said, all but crowing. “We’re open … here we go. A box of Black Sun blackmail cards—a
really
pretty box—plus a stack of other data cards Villachor no doubt would also hate to lose.
And
a whole fistful of the prettiest credit tabs you’ve ever seen.”

“I give up,” Rachele said, sounding excited and bewildered at the same time. “The computer can’t find a thing with that sequence.”

“That’s because the computer looks for standard words but can’t cover the whole spectrum of proper names,” Winter said. “Today’s code is
Qazadi Falleen
. Villachor’s rotating through an alphabetical list of Black Sun’s nine vigos, with their respective species attached.”

“Beautiful,” Dozer said. “Boot-licking subservient, and it’s a list he has to have memorized anyway.”

“Exactly,” Winter said. “How’s the rest of it going?”

“We’re on track,” Bink said. “Kell’s got my sensor and is setting his final charges, Zerba’s clearing out the safe, and I’m heading back up to the ready room.”

“Just be sure you’re right behind them when the charges go,” Rachele warned. “That part of the universe is going to be a
very
unhealthy place to be for a long time afterward.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” Bink said softly. “See you.”

“Wait a second—I’m not done talking about Tavia yet,” Rachele said. “Maybe we should send Lando and Chewie in earlier than planned.”

“If you do, we’ll risk losing both teams,” Dozer warned. “The whole idea was to have everything happen at once so that Villachor doesn’t know which way to jump. Remember?”

“Han?” Rachele called. “This is your plan, really. What do you think?”

“Let’s hold off for now,” Han’s voice came, soft and with an odd echo to it. “I don’t think Qazadi would do anything without telling Villachor about it first. If that word comes through, we’ll know fast enough to get Chewie and Lando moving.”

Winter frowned at Dozer. “How does he expect to know what Villachor is or isn’t doing?” she murmured.

Dozer shrugged. “It’s Han,” he said, as if that was all the explanation she needed. Or, more likely, all the explanation she was going to get.

“So we sit on it,” Rachele said. She still didn’t sound happy but was apparently willing to accept Han’s decision. “But stay on him, okay?”

“Sure,” Han said. “Conference over. Everyone back to your jobs.”

Winter looked at Dozer questioningly. He shrugged and gestured, and she keyed off. “What now?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Eanjer’s contact probably knows where the suite is. Then again, he might not. I’m
really
hoping he doesn’t know where the rendezvous is.”

“So we don’t go to either the suite or the rendezvous?”

He shrugged again. “I was just thinking it’s a nice night for a drive. Care to join me?”

Winter looked out across the city. In the distance, one of the climactic fireworks displays was starting. “Sure. Why not?”

With a quiet sigh of relief, Kell settled the last of his detonite charges in position and gently switched on its arming switch. Working around explosives was one thing. Working around someone else’s booby trap explosives was something else entirely. “Zerba?”