Dangerous Games (9781484719756)

by Watson, Jude

  “I assure you I will,” Didi said, his brown eyes sincere.

  Obi-Wan’s comlink signaled. Jocasta Nu’s voice came through crisply. He spoke so that Didi could not hear. “I found out who Quentor is. Were you playing a joke on me, Obi-Wan?” Jocasta Nu asked.

  “No, of course not.”

  “There was no record of him anywhere, so I did the usual criminal search. Then a deep background trace. Nothing appeared.”

  “So he is an underground figure.”

  Jocasta Nu chuckled. “Not exactly. He’s a yellow-tailed summerbird.”

  “He’s a bird?”

  “An unofficial pet of the Senate. He lives in the eaves of the building and the Senators leave him fruit and crumbs to feed on. If he’s one of your suspects, I must warn you, he hasn’t left Coruscant. He’s most likely nibbling on muja fruit right about now.”

  Obi-Wan groaned, then thanked Jocasta Nu and cut the communication. Fligh had lied to him. That wasn’t surprising. It was a lie worthy of Fligh, one calculated to delay him and amuse him.

  But he wasn’t amused.

  He turned to Didi. “Do you know where Fligh is staying?”

  Didi shook his head. “A guest house, I suppose. A hovel, I’m sure. Fligh is very cheap.”

  “Find out.”

  “Ah. Yes, Obi-Wan. I can see in your eyes that you need this information and I will not fail you.” Didi bowed and rushed away.

  Obi-Wan knocked on the door to Yso’s shop, duplicating Didi’s rhythmic knock. Someone hurried out, his face turned away. No one wanted to be recognized in this kind of place. Obi-Wan pretended to examine a beat-up swoop with a dented handlebar while he listened to the other occupant of the shop approach Uso Yso.

  “I’d like to buy a swoop.”

  “At what price?”

  The bettor named a figure, then said, “I’ll take it to the blaster skill event where I hope to see Wesau T’orrin of Rezi-9 win.”

  “That is a good plan.” Uso Yso slipped the credits into a wide belt he wore around his waist and entered some information into a datapad. He handed the bettor a small durasheet. “Here is your receipt.”

  Obi-Wan waited until the bettor had left the shop, then approached. “I’m here for a swoop,” he said, looking up at the tall being. He waved a hand. “I would like to see your datapad.”

  Uso Yso snorted. “You don’t need to see my datapad to buy a swoop. Which do you want?”

  Obi-Wan waved his hand again. Uso Yso was unusually resistant to Jedi mind suggestion. “I’d like to see your datapad first.”

  “If you don’t want to buy a swoop, you can leave,” Uso Yso said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

  Obi-Wan suppressed his slight disappointment. No matter how adept a Jedi was or how strong the connection to the Force, sometimes mind suggestion just didn’t work.

  Obi-Wan followed the lead of the bettor, naming a figure, then saying, “I plan to take the swoop to the Podrace and hope that Deland Tyerell will be the winner.”

  Uso Yso shook his head. “There’s been a last-minute change. A new driver. Do you still want the swoop?”

  “Who is the driver?” Obi-Wan asked curiously.

  Yso consulted his datapad. “Anakin Skywalker.”

  Obi-Wan felt the shock shimmer inside him, but he did not register surprise on his face.

  “Well?” Yso demanded impatiently.

  Before Obi-Wan could answer, a small, slight being with four eyes, two of them set on the sides of his head, slipped inside the shop. “Security patrol outside.”

  Uso Yso pushed a lever and a wall slid back, revealing more swoops in various stages of repair. “Besum!” He tossed a tool kit to his assistant. “Start working.”

  “I don’t know how to fix a swoop!”

  “I don’t care,” Yso snarled. “Just do it.” He turned to Obi-Wan. “Security makes patrols every once in a while. Nothing to worry about.”

  Now that Yso was in danger of losing Obi-Wan’s business, he was suddenly friendly. He had also left his datapad angled toward Obi-Wan, and the notations were easy to read. In the time it took for Yso to check on Besum’s activities, Obi-Wan had scanned the file and memorized it.

  To his surprise, the letters and numbers looked familiar. It took him only a moment to realize that they were similar to the notes recording the skybox seating on Bog’s datapad.

  Which meant that Bog wasn’t recording seats for Senators. He was recording bets.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Obi-Wan left the shop and found a quiet alley to peruse Bog’s files. He read the names of the Senators who had the same notations as Yso’s datapad. Some of the names he didn’t recognize, but many he did. They were among the most illustrious and revered members.

  He had no illusions about corruption in the Senate. But he was shocked to find that so many Senators would be involved in an illegal scheme such as this one. Among the names was Bail Organa, the Senator from Alderaan Obi-Wan had always respected for his integrity. Why would someone like Organa risk his career in order to make a few credits on a bet?

  The bets had to be substantial, he supposed.

  Or else the Senators have no fear that they’ll be caught.

  He had to deal with Anakin, but he had to pursue this first. Obi-Wan found Bog in a VIP box watching a match of krovation. When Astri saw him, her smile was wide and welcoming.

  “Obi-Wan! How good of you to come by. The match is almost finished.”

  Obi-Wan looked at the two teams vying with poles on the field. “As much as I like krovatin, I have to decline. I’m here on business. I need to speak with Bog.”

  Astri’s smile dimmed at the look on his face. She frowned and stepped aside. “Please join us.”

  Obi-Wan walked into the box. Bog fastened the jeweled clasp to his dark red septsilk robe as the Jedi approached.

  “How can I help you, Obi-Wan?”

  Obi-Wan hesitated, his hand on the datapad in his inner pocket. “If you prefer to speak alone…”

  Bog smiled. “I hide nothing from Astri.”

  His smile showed not a trace of worry, but Astri walked to his side. Her eyes were grave now. Astri was perceptive, and she knew Obi-Wan well. “What is it, Obi-Wan?”

  Obi-Wan withdrew the datapad. “I have something of yours.”

  Bog hurried forward. “You found it? Where? Thank you!”

  Obi-Wan sidestepped the question of where he had found it. He slipped the datapad back into his pocket. “I’m afraid I can’t return it just yet. I must confess that I took a look at your files, Bog.”

  Bog looked disconcerted. “Well, I see. I suppose that is all right. I have no secrets.”

  Obi-Wan was puzzled. Bog did not seem guilty or worried. “I accessed the file referring to the work you’ve done for the Senators.”

  “Yes, I arranged special seating for them,” Bog said, nodding. “Is there a problem with some of the skyboxes?” He looked puzzled. “I didn’t know Jedi cared about such things.”

  “We don’t,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “But you did not arrange skyboxes for the Senators. You placed bets for them on events in which the outcome is assured. This is not only illegal, but it has the potential to spark conflict among the member worlds.”

  “Obi-Wan, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bog interrupted, shaking his head. “The Games are fixed? Senators betting? I can’t believe that. All I did was place orders for special seating. You must be mistaken.”

  Obi-Wan studied Bog as the crowd around them roared at a player’s score. “If you are not involved, you are being used. Where did you get the instructions on how to proceed? How did you know which Senators to find seating for?”

  “Liviani gave me the list of Senators,” Bog said. “That is standard. The head of the Games Council always gets a list of important beings throughout the galaxy to accord special favors to. I used the Council funds to pay the Ruling Power for the skyboxes. You see, the Ruling Power makes the seating available. They
have all the stadium plans. Arranging seating may seem trivial, but it’s a very important task.”

  “So who did you contact to arrange the skyboxes?”

  “As it turned out, I didn’t have to contact anyone. He came to me. An odd four-eyed creature. His name was Boosa…no, that’s not it. Beesa…”

  “Besum?”

  “That’s it.” Bog nodded as the crowd jeered a questionable play. “I transferred the credits and ordered the seating from Boosa…ah, Besum, and he handed me the receipts.”

  “Do you have them?”

  “No. I placed them in the welcome packs for the Senators.” At last the seriousness of the matter began to penetrate Bog’s self-absorption. “I only followed protocol,” he said nervously.

  Obi-Wan frowned. Why would the Senators want receipts to be placed in their welcome packets? Anyone could see them. He would think they would go to great lengths to hide the fact that they were betting on the Games.

  Could it be that the Senators themselves don’t know about this?

  Could it be that the Ruling Power has arranged this in order to disgrace them?

  But why?

  Bog grew restless at Obi-Wan’s silence. “I didn’t place any bets! I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.”

  “I’m sure it isn’t,” Astri said to her husband. “Obi-Wan knows what he’s talking about.” She turned to Obi-Wan. “Is Bog in trouble?”

  Bog swallowed. “If I am, I will face it.”

  “We will face it,” Astri said, putting her hand on Bog’s arm. “Together.”

  Obi-Wan saw the look that Bog gave Astri, a look of tenderness and devotion. He saw that Bog did love Astri, and his instincts told him that Bog had been used as a pawn in the scheme. No doubt whoever was behind it did not care if Bog took the fall.

  Looking at the love on Astri’s face for her husband, Obi-Wan decided that he would do anything in his power to make sure that did not happen. He remembered a time long ago when Astri had cut off her pretty curls, shaved her head, and learned how to shoot a blaster in order to help him track down Qui-Gon. She had not thought of herself as a brave person, but she had faced down blaster bolts and a laser whip, and had never left his side. No, he would not let anything happen to Astri.

  “Bog will not be in trouble if he didn’t do anything wrong,” Obi-Wan told the couple. “I will make sure of that. Now, please excuse me.”

  Obi-Wan stepped outside, leaving the sounds of the match behind him. He quickly contacted Jocasta Nu at the Temple.

  “I am sending you a list of Senators. I need to know if there is any link among them.” Obi-Wan waited for her to read the list of names. “Does anything come to mind right now?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” Jocasta Nu said. “There are many ways Senators can be linked, Obi-Wan. Through sponsoring legislation. Committees. Subcommittees. Special hearings. Oversight subcommittees on special hearings—”

  “I get the picture,” Obi-Wan said. “Just do the best you can, as quickly as you can. Can you also look into the Ruling Power, and see if there is some connection with those Senators?”

  “Of course. I’ll contact you as soon as I have information.”

  Obi-Wan thanked Jocasta Nu and cut the communication. He leaned against the railing and looked out over the sprawling city. Beings streamed through the streets, and he could hear the distant roar of a crowd in the nearby stadium. If the betting were exposed, the Senators involved would be drawn into a scandal. It would not matter if they were guilty or innocent. Their reputations would suffer. Was that the goal?

  An insider, Fligh had said. It could be someone in the Ruling Power. Or someone close to the Games themselves.

  He called up Bog’s file on his datapad again. He flipped through the holographic files, remembering the notations on Uso Yso’s screen.

  The bets had been placed on the bowcaster skill contest, the obstacle course race, and the Podrace. The same events that Aarno Dering had on his datapad.

  Obi-Wan contacted Didi on his comlink. “Have you found out where Fligh is staying?”

  “The Sleek Cruiser Inn on Grand Eucer Street,” Didi said. “Room 2222. But let me assure you, my friend, this inn is no sleek cruiser. More like a garbage barge.”

  “Just make sure Fligh doesn’t go off-planet,” Obi-Wan told Didi. “Contact me if he does.”

  “I am your servant, Obi-Wan.”

  Obi-Wan tapped his finger on his comlink, planning his next move. He could handle Fligh, but on the other hand, this was more than a pesky problem. It was time to call in the other Jedi teams.

  He activated his comlink and contacted Siri. He filled her in on what he had discovered.

  “It seems as though the Ruling Power could be behind this,” he said. “They might want to blackmail Senators in order to gain power in the Senate, getting appointed to powerful posts. But we have no real proof, and we don’t have much time. All three events are scheduled to take place this afternoon.”

  “What do you need?” Siri asked, getting to the point as quickly as possible, as she usually did.

  “I have to pay a visit to Fligh, and I’d like some company,” Obi-Wan said. “I think some additional Jedi presence is needed.”

  “I’ll be there. And I’ll contact Ry-Gaul,” Siri said.

  The problem of Anakin entering the Podrace had never left Obi-Wan’s mind. Why had his Padawan done such a thing without telling him? It was not the first time Anakin’s impulsiveness had worried and alarmed Obi-Wan.

  His comlink signaled. Anakin was calling. Obi-Wan answered.

  “Master, things have developed here,” Anakin said. “Sebulba has recognized me. Because of that, Deland stepped in to avoid a fight and was injured. He cannot race. I…I offered to race in his place. Doby and Deland are trying to free their sister—”

  “And is that your mission on Euceron, to free Djulla?” Obi-Wan asked sternly.

  “No,” Anakin said. “But was it Qui-Gon’s mission to free me? Must we follow a mission so exactly that we turn our backs on beings who need help? Every mission has a detour. You’ve told me that.”

  “I’ve also told you that it is the mark of a Jedi to recognize whether or not to follow the detour,” Obi-Wan reminded him.

  “Then I ask you to let me make this choice,” Anakin replied.

  His Padawan’s voice was firm. There was no pleading, no uncertainty. He wanted what he wanted. Was that the right thing in this circumstance?

  Obi-Wan pondered the problem. “Have you learned anything else?” he asked.

  “The Podrace is scheduled to take place this afternoon at three. A viewing area has been set up for spectators in the underground caves. Sebulba has placed enormous bets on his son to win. The official timekeeper is supposed to send the Podrace route directly to onboard computers. But I don’t know who will take over the job now that Dering is dead. I think the best way I can find out how the race is fixed and who is behind it is to enter it myself.”

  “All right,” Obi-Wan said reluctantly. He did not like the sound of pleasure in Anakin’s voice. He would ask Siri and Ry-Gaul to send Ferus and Tru to observe while Anakin piloted the Podracer. He could not be there with his Padawan, but he did not want Anakin to be alone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I got it!” Anakin crowed. He tweaked the last screw to the energy-binder plate. “We’re set.”

  “Whew,” Doby said, pushing his goggles to the top of his head. Two round circles of grime circled his eyes. “I was getting worried.”

  “Maybe I should give the computer system another check,” Anakin wondered.

  “I did it,” Deland said. “You’ve done enough, Anakin. I actually think we’re ready.” He patted the Podracer with his good hand. His other arm was encased in a rigid bandage from elbow to fingers.

  Anakin jumped off the scaffold he’d used to work on the turbines. “I know I am.”

  Suddenly, his smile dimmed. He spied Ferus and Tru threading their way toward him through a se
a of pit droids and mechanics and pilots, the usual frenzy of a pit hangar before a race.

  My Master sent them. He doesn’t trust me. The thought seared Anakin’s mind before rationality set in. It would be helpful to have backup, he told himself, trying to be logical. There was nothing wrong with that. He dodged a lubricant hose and went forward to meet them.

  Tru’s head swiveled, taking in the excitement. “Strange, if you think about it,” he said to Anakin.

  Anakin wiped his hands on a rag. “What?”

  “That Podraces are so dangerous, but nobody looks scared,” he said.

  “There are beings who equate danger with pleasure,” Ferus said, his eyes dark with disapproval. “It is a mistake easily made for those who do not think deeply.” He gave Anakin a cool look.

  “Well, there’s such a thing as fun, Ferus,” Tru said amiably. “Even you have to admit that.”

  “Yes,” Ferus said. “But not here.” His cool gaze did not falter as he studied Anakin. “I’m not clear on why you are racing, Anakin.”

  “It is the best way to discover how the race is fixed,” Anakin said.

  Ferus shifted his gaze to take in Doby and Deland and the Podracer, then scanned the rest of the hangar. “I see. Our Masters have told us that it is possible that advance knowledge of the track will be sent to one Podracer’s nav computer seconds before it is given to the rest. Do you know which Podracer that is?”

  “Hekula,” Anakin said. “The Dug. The third Podracer down on the left.”

  “You know this for sure?”

  “It is a guess,” Anakin admitted. “Based on my knowledge of him.”

  Ferus turned back. “And that is all?”

  “Sebulba, his father, proposed the new rule,” Anakin said. “Sebulba never proposes anything unless he knows he can profit by it.”

  “Do you know when and how the information will be transmitted to the nav computers?”

  “At the start of the race, and then at three-minute intervals,” Anakin said.

  “So how do you propose to beat him?” Ferus asked.

  “By being faster and better,” Anakin answered. “I have something he doesn’t have. I have the Force.”