by Timothy Zahn
Lando shook his head. “I have my orders.”
The other snorted. “Fine—have it your way. But I’ll tell you right now that when we get where we’re going we’ll be meeting someone who can get that thing open without scattering it over the downwind half of the city. My offer lasts until then, and only until then. Think about it.” He looked pointedly at Zerba. “Both of you.”
He held his pose another few seconds. When it was clear that neither of his prisoners was going to say anything, he shook his head in disgust and turned back around to face forward.
Lando looked sideways at Zerba. Zerba twitched an eyebrow and looked down at his binders. Lando followed his eyes and saw the small gap at the binders’ connection.
So Zerba had already gotten his restraints open. No surprise there.
Unfortunately, with the binders connected to chains anchored to the airspeeder’s floor, there was no way for Zerba to get to Lando’s without their kidnappers noticing.
Zerba had obviously figured that out, too. He opened his hand slightly, giving Lando a glimpse of a small three-prong lockpick he’d been hiding somewhere, and twitched his eyebrow again in silent question.
Lando sighed. Equally unfortunately, he’d never mastered that particular school of lock picking. He shook his head, following it up with a short hunching of his shoulders. Zerba wrinkled his nose in sympathy and closed his hand again around the lockpick.
Still, the day wasn’t lost yet. If Zerba could take advantage of his freedom to jump out of the airspeeder the second they touched down and manage to get himself and the cryodex to safety, Lando might be able to bluff or bargain his way to at least a temporary reprieve. Any breathing space he could buy would give him time to come up with something more permanent.
Or would give that same time to Han and the others.
He hoped they were working on a rescue plan. He hoped it very much.
“Can they be traced back to you?” d’Ashewl’s voice came from Dayja’s comlink.
“I don’t know,” Dayja said, scowling at the PT-81 zooming along eight vehicles ahead. Something about the way it was moving warned him that they were about to turn again. “I don’t think so. But that’s not the point. The point is that if Eanjer and his team slide off the edge, this whole operation is likely to slide down with them. I may not be able to restart my own game in time to get into Marblewood before the Festival ends.”
“There’s no indication that Qazadi intends to leave immediately after that,” d’Ashewl reminded him.
“There’s also no indication that he doesn’t,” Dayja countered. Ahead, sure enough, the airspeeder turned right and dropped into a lower, slower airlane. Dayja matched the maneuver, then dropped one level more. He still didn’t know whether they’d spotted him or whether all this weaving in and out and around the city was just their idea of being cautious. Either way, it wouldn’t hurt to let them get a little more distance on him.
“If it slides, it slides,” d’Ashewl said with a hint of impatience. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you move in on this. And I absolutely can’t let you call in any Imperial authorities.”
Dayja ground his teeth. But d’Ashewl was right. If Qazadi got even a hint that Imperial Intelligence was on his back trail, the whole group would scramble, and he and d’Ashewl would be going back to Imperial Center empty-handed.
But if Dayja couldn’t interfere directly …
“Got an idea,” he told d’Ashewl. “I’ll get back to you.”
He broke the connection before d’Ashewl could reply. The airspeeder’s tag had a subtle coating of sparkledust that was highly effective at disguising the letters and numbers from ordinary electrobinoculars. But Dayja’s electrobinoculars were hardly ordinary.
If he and d’Ashewl were the only two Intelligence agents in Iltarr City, that didn’t mean they were all alone. Not exactly.
Steering with one hand, trying to judge the best moment to climb back into the kidnappers’ airlane, he keyed his comlink.
“Onith three besh,” Eanjer repeated, gesturing toward Rachele. “Anything else? … All right. Thanks.” He keyed off.
“That was your contact?” Han asked.
“Yes,” Eanjer said, his eye holding Han’s gaze for only a second before he turned back to Rachele.
Turned with what looked suspiciously like a flicker of guilt or discomfort on his face.
Han wasn’t the only one who noticed it, either. “Funny how he just happened to witness that airspeeder taking off,” Dozer commented, his voice thick with suspicion. “And was close enough to see the tag with his own unaided eyes.”
“Because there’s no other way he got that number,” Tavia agreed. “Not with sparkledust all over it.”
“He has access to certain resources,” Eanjer said. “What are you complaining about? We got the ID, didn’t we?”
“That’s not the point, is it?” Dozer countered. “Call me paranoid, but I like to know a little something about the people I’m working with. Especially since free information usually has hooks in it.”
“Oh, we didn’t get it for free,” Eanjer said ruefully. “Trust me. I’ll be paying through the nose for this little gem.”
“Here it is,” Rachele spoke up. “Well, well. It seems our kidnappers are running around in an unmarked Iltarr City police car.”
“The police are on to us?” Kell asked, sounding stunned. “Oh, that’s just great.”
“Maybe not,” Tavia said. “Remember how many local officials are on Black Sun’s payroll. This could be some ploy of Villachor’s to get more information out of Lando.”
“But why snatch him from the grounds instead of just keeping him inside and squeezing him there?” Winter asked. “Unless Han was right about him trying to see who else Lando might have with him.”
“I don’t know,” Rachele cut in, her fingers still dancing over her keyboard. “But here’s the interesting part. I’ve heard whispers about a quiet and very unofficial police interrogation setup in an abandoned factory in the industrial area about ten kilometers east of the spaceport. Ten to one that’s where they’re headed.”
“I don’t know,” Eanjer said doubtfully. “My contact said they’re just flying around. If they have a place to go, why not just go there?”
“Because they need to make sure they’re not being followed,” Tavia told him.
“It’s better than that,” Han said, an idea starting to take shape in his mind. If they really knew where the kidnappers were going, and if he and the others had time to prepare before they got there … “They need to whistle up a bomb expert to get that case open.”
“You’re right,” Kell said, a hint of growing excitement in his voice. “If they’re waiting for him before they land, maybe we can beat them to the factory.”
“Makes sense,” Rachele said. “As soon as they land, they’re vulnerable. This way, they’re in motion all the way until they’re ready to slice the case.”
“I don’t know,” Dozer warned, looking around at the others in the room. “No offense, but even at seven-to-two odds, I don’t like our chances.”
“It’s more like three to two,” Han told him. “You, me, and Chewie.”
“Hold on,” Rachele warned. “If you think the rest of us are just going to sit this one out, you’re badly mistaken.”
“She’s right,” Winter said firmly.
“Not about herself she isn’t,” Han said, just as firmly. “Rachele’s way too well known around this city. Anyone sees her, and she’s under the hammer for sure.” He gestured. “That goes for Eanjer, too. And with Bink still over at Villachor’s, we can’t risk anyone finding out she’s got a twin, Tavia, so that lets you out.”
“Which still leaves Kell and me,” Winter pointed out.
“Right,” Dozer said sarcastically. “And your areas of combat expertise are?”
“I know enough to know we could use some airpower,” Kell said. “If you can get me some kind of atmo-fighter, I can fly it.
”
Dozer shot a frown at Han, then looked back at Kell. “You’re kidding.”
“Not at all,” Kell said.
“He can,” Winter seconded. “I’ve seen him fly.”
“Unless you don’t think you can boost something like that in time,” Han said. The nebulous plan was starting to coalesce …
Dozer squared his shoulders. “Where do you want it delivered?”
“Just boost it and then keep it somewhere at the spaceport until I call for you.” Han keyed his comlink. “Chewie? I need you back here. You’re picking up Dozer and Kell and heading to the spaceport. We’ve got a plan.”
He got an acknowledgment and keyed off. “Rachele, I need you to find me some heavy automatic weapons. Tavia, I need you to rig up some remote triggers for them.”
“No problem—I already have a bunch of remotes,” Tavia said, getting up and hurrying toward her room.
“Good,” Han said. “Rachele, can you track down some weapons?”
“No need,” Winter said. “I already know where there’s a cache.”
Han stared at her. “Really? How?”
She shrugged. “I did get here a full day before you did,” she reminded him. “I wasn’t just sitting around doing nothing.”
“I guess not,” Han conceded. “What kind of security has it got?”
“Nothing we can’t handle,” Winter said. “It’s the demo stockpile of a Rodian who fancies himself an up-and-coming weapons dealer. It’s small, but we should be able to find what we need.”
Tavia reappeared, a black belt bag in hand. “Here are eight of them,” she said, handing the bag to Han. “I hope that’ll be enough.”
“Thanks,” Han said, peering into the bag. Standard trigger-switch type, comlink-enabled. “Winter?”
“Eight should do fine,” she confirmed.
“Good,” Han said, closing the bag again. “Come on—we’ll take the other airspeeder. Rachele, see if you can pull up some floor plans for that factory. If you can, shoot them to me and Chewie.”
“Got it.” Rachele bent again over her computer.
“You’ve all got your jobs,” Han told the others. “Get busy.”
The factory was old and dilapidated, three stories tall, with peeling paint and windows layered with decades’ worth of dust and wind scratches. It was the kind of place that no one would look at twice, no one would want to go into, and absolutely no one would ever put down good credits to rent.
Which made it the perfect place for a police force to set up an off-the-line interrogation room.
“You realize you’re going to have to fire these things blind,” Winter warned as they set up the fifth of the six E-Web heavy repeating blasters they’d appropriated from the arms dealer’s supply shed. “You try linking those triggers into electrobinoculars and cross targeting, and the data stream will be way too obvious for the other side to miss. They’ll chase it straight back to you, and that’ll be it.”
“I know,” Han said. “Good thing I don’t care if we actually hit anything.”
She paused long enough to flash him a look. “You aren’t planning on hitting anything? Then what in space did we bring them for?”
“ ’Cause they’re great little noisemakers,” Han said, crouching down and hooking one of Tavia’s triggers onto the firing mechanism. “Something to get everyone looking in all the wrong directions. Chewie and Kell will be doing all the real damage.”
“Hopefully only where they’re supposed to,” Winter murmured.
“Chewie can handle it.” Han eyed her over the E-Web’s barrel. “Question is, can Kell?”
“I told you, I’ve seen him fly.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t say you’d seen him fly combat,” Han reminded her. “How well do you know him, anyway?”
Winter shrugged as she finished anchoring the E-Web’s tripod and climbed back into the airspeeder. “He joined up with Mazzic about six months ago, two months after I did. He seems competent and loyal enough, but I get the feeling he’s got some history. Family stuff, probably.”
“Yeah, well, who doesn’t?” Han growled as he got into the airspeeder beside her. Keying the repulsorlifts, he lifted and headed for the spot he’d picked for their final emplacement.
“And he hasn’t specifically said so,” Winter added hesitantly, “but I think he’s also Alderaanian.”
Han felt his lip twist. Leia had put up a good front, both during the Death Star escape and afterward. But through it all, even when she’d been cheering him and Luke for their victory at Yavin, he had seen the deep and lasting pain behind her eyes.
He’d recognized the same pain in Winter. And now that he thought about it, he realized that she was right. Kell was carrying that same burden of memory.
Han had tasted that same pain, though not nearly to the extent Leia and Winter and Kell had, and he knew all too well that it did things to people. Sometimes it made them depressed, uncaring, and lethargic. Sometimes it made them permanently angry and unable to care about anyone or anything for a long, long time.
Sometimes it made them recklessly suicidal.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be all right,” Winter reassured him. “He knows what’s at stake, and he understands his duty. Whatever you told him to do, he’ll do it.”
“Well, if he doesn’t, he’ll answer to Lando,” Han said. His comlink signaled, and he slipped it from his belt. “Chewie? What’ve you got?”
For once, the news was good. “Great,” Han said, scanning the sky. The main city airspeeder traffic to the south and west was as thick as ever, and there were steady lines of intercity traffic flying back and forth across the less populated areas north and east of them. But nothing seemed to be heading in their immediate direction. “You and Kell wait for my call. And send Dozer out here right now—he might as well help with the E-Webs.”
He got an acknowledgment and keyed off.
“Dozer would probably rather hang back at the spaceport,” Winter pointed out.
“I wasn’t giving him a choice.”
“Maybe you should,” Winter said. “Of everyone in the group, he’s the one I worry about the most.”
“He’s okay,” Han said. “He’s just feeling a little out of his expertise, that’s all.”
“A ship thief who hasn’t had any ships to steal until now,” Winter said, nodding. “So why did you bring him in?”
“He was going to be front man until Lando showed up,” Han said, swinging the airspeeder around and setting down beside a broken and rust-covered conveyer belt motor.
“Does that mean he resents Lando?” Winter pressed as she hopped out and got a grip on the last E-Web’s barrel.
“Not Dozer,” Han assured her as he grabbed the other end and helped her lift the weapon out of the airspeeder’s cargo bay. “You give him the same credits for half the work and he’ll laugh all the way home. We’ll set this one up on the other side of that regulator.”
They were halfway through the E-Web setup when Han spotted an airspeeder dropping out of the night sky toward them. For a bad moment he thought they’d run out of time, but as the vehicle came closer he saw it was one of theirs.
It settled to the ground, and Dozer climbed out. “How we doing here?” he asked as he strode over to them.
“Almost done,” Han told him. “Chewie said you got Kell something?”
“Better than just something,” Dozer said, shading his eyes from the mass of city lights to the west as he looked at the factory. “I found him a Z-95 Headhunter. AF-4 version, even, with all the bells and toots you need to turn old buildings into piles of dust.” He gestured. “Though if that’s the target, I probably could have given him a couple of sonic pistols and called it a night. Where do you want me?”
“There,” Han said, pointing toward a half-collapsed shed. “Should be enough room for you and the airspeeder in there. You’ll be handling the two E-Webs on this side. Winter and I will be on the other side with the other four.”
&n
bsp; “Okay,” Dozer said hesitantly. “So we’re attacking as they’re coming in?”
“Nope,” Han said. “We wait for them to get inside.”
“Ah,” Dozer said, even more hesitantly. “And once we open fire, we keep the whole thing from collapsing on top of them how?”
“Actually,” Han said, “we don’t.”
“There,” Wolv said, pointing out to their right. “That must be them now.”
Lando followed the other’s finger. In the distance, two airspeeders had left the main traffic airlanes and were headed downward, aiming somewhere off to the left.
“About time,” Folx grumbled. He turned the airspeeder into a tight curve, shifting around toward the others’ projected grounding point.
Leaning toward the middle of the seat, Lando craned his neck to look between their two captors. They were flying over an industrial area, only about half of which seemed to be still in use. Directly ahead, their most likely destination was a three-story monstrosity of a building, standing all alone amid piles of rubble, that looked like it had been abandoned on day one of the Clone Wars.
“You watch that kind of talk,” Wolv warned darkly, slapping his partner with the back of his hand for emphasis. “When the chief sounds scared, we’re talking someone you don’t want to mess with.”
Folx snorted. “The chief’s an old Ugnaught,” he said scornfully. “One crime boss is pretty much like the next.”
“You want to say the wrong thing and get your brains fried, go right ahead,” Wolv countered. “Just do me a favor and save it for when you’re with Cran or Baar instead of me, okay?”
Folx snorted again. “You’re an old Ugnaught, too.”
“Maybe,” Wolv said. “But the way an Ugnaught gets to be an old Ugnaught is by being smart. So do me a favor. Be smart.”
Folx shook his head, and Lando could imagine him rolling his eyes. “Fine. If it’ll make you feel better.”
Aside from a couple of holes in the factory’s upper windows, the place didn’t seem to have any openings at all, and for a moment Lando dared to hope that the rendezvous would take place outside. There weren’t a lot of places to run to out there, but at least running would be an option.
