The shifting light made it difficult for him to think.
Michael Reaves 257
The cloud of intoxicating pheromones she was emitting—not to mention the intoxication factor of the cloud-like substance she was wearing—did nothing to improve his focus, either. Using the techniques in which he had been trained, he regained his equilib-rium. But even with the use of the Force, it wasn't easy.
She didn't make it any easier by sitting down right next to him.
"So," she began, "what did you want to talk to me about, Jax? You said it was important."
"It is. Dejah—could you possibly damp your, ah, emissions?"
She sat back from him—but only slightly. "You could have put it a little more subtly," she said with a slight, petulant moue. "Why? Do you find my personal emanations unpleasant?"
. "No. Quite the contrary. That's the problem. I'm having a hard time focusing in such a . . . potent atmosphere."
"Oh, well then, if it's unsettling you." She did nothing visually, but suddenly the room seemed to clear and he was able to think reasonably straight again without invoking the barrier of the Force. Her smile left no doubt that being distracting bothered her not in the least.
"Thanks," he told her. It would have helped his concentration even more if she could have done something about what she was wearing, too, but asking her to eliminate that would in all likelihood only make things worse. "I'm here because of the job."
Her expression went from moue to full-fledged pout, which, although intended to convey a sense of 258 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows disappointment, only ended up rendering her even more alluring. "What's wrong, Jax? Isn't the retainer I'm paying you and your friends sufficient? If it's in-adequate, I suppose I could—"
"It's not the money," he assured her quickly. "It's just that other factors have come into play. For one thing, the sector prefect is growing increasingly irritated at our probing, to the point of threatening us in-directly but unmistakably with incarceration if we persist in our inquiries."
Her eyes flashed. Set against her pale red skin, the effect was positively destabilizing. "Tell me his name.
I'll pay him a visit. I guarantee you that afterward he won't threaten you again."
Afterward he'll probably run naked down the Imperial parade thoroughfare if you ask him, an increasingly unsettled Jax thought. "Better to stay away from the police. That's what we're trying to do. But there are other complications. For example, there's a woman—"
"That truncated Twi'lek?" she interrupted him.
"No, not Laranth." Why would she think of Laranth? he wondered. "Someone else. Someone very dangerous. I'm concerned for the well-being of my friends."
"I could pay her a visit, too."
Her suggestion helped Jax remember why he was here. "This is one being I don't think even your persuasive abilities would affect. I'm afraid, Dejah, that we're going to have to terminate the agreement between us. My friends and I will still do our best to get you safely off Coruscant. But under these new circumstances, for us to continue the search for your Michael Reaves 259
partner's killer simply poses too much of a danger. To you as well as us."
Dejah buried her face in her hands and started sob-bing. A fresh flush of pheromones burst forth from her, different from those that had enveloped him earlier but no less affecting. Despite the resistance he immediately put up, her empathic projections, combined with the desperate bouquet she was emitting, threatened to undermine his renewed resolve. He started to reach for her, to hold her and reassure her.
Then, realizing what a mistake that would be, he remained where he was and let her weep.
It broke his heart.
After a couple of moments she looked up, wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands, and folded them in her lap. Even that simple gesture was fraught with sufficient implication to unnerve him, but he still didn't move.
"Isn't there anything I can do to make you change your mind, Jax? If not more money, then what?" The promise that shone in her eyes and hung expectantly in the air between them was almost powerful enough to shift a small planetary body in its orbit.
He felt himself wavering. Stall, blast it! "It's just that," he began, playing for time to get a new grip on his emotions, "we don't seem to be making any progress. Or at least, not the right kind of progress.
We've learned a few things, but they've just sent us off on different tangents. What we need is a fresh start. A new angle. Is there anything you can tell us that you haven't told us before, that you haven't told the police?"
"Well," she said, "I have been doing a little ques-
260 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows tioning of my own. This is a pretty exclusive residential area, and people of all species here tend not to want anything to do with established authority. But they'll unburden themselves to me."
A Sullustan rockrender would unburden itself to you, Jax thought. "So what have you found out?"
"Probably nothing. But . . . there's an old Drall who lives several domiciles down from here. You know the Drall—they're so absorbed in their libraries that they hardly ever socialize. Because of that I don't know if the police ever interviewed this elder. But the Drall are also noted for their jewelry work, and she used to sometimes have a chat with Ves about how art crosses species lines.
"She dropped by just a couple of days ago to finally offer her condolences. Said she would have done so sooner but that she was occupied with some important bit of cataloging. I invited her in and brewed up some dianogan tea she had brought." Dejah smiled coquettishly. "Well, you know what that stuff can do.
We had a good time." The Zeltron leaned toward Jax, and this time her pheromonic discharge was rig-orously muted. "In the course of our conversation she let slip that she had seen a large Vindalian in the neighborhood a few nights before Ves's death."
Jax frowned. It might be sheer coincidence that a Vindalian was seen in the vicinity when Volette had been slain. After all, it wasn't as if the Baron and his mate were the only two Vindalians on Coruscant, or even residing in the better regions of the Imperial Sec-But what if it wasn't a coincidence? What if there was some kind of a tie there?
Michael Reaves 261
As he pondered it, there came the muted chime that indicated a presence at the entry. Grateful for the interruption, Jax sent tendrils of the Force to investigate.
What he encountered was cause at first for surprise, than unease. The entity requesting an audience was none other than Sele, Spa Fon's Cathar bodyguard—or former bodyguard, before Jax had shamed him by defeat. He and Den had left the huge felinoid creature back at Spa Fon's, where, he'd assumed, the warrior had expiated his shame through the ritual of Gi-an-ku'rii. Instead, here he was. How had he found Jax?
Was he seeking a rematch?
Jax sighed and loosened the flamesword in its sheath. "Wait here," he told Dejah. Then he stepped outside to confront the giant once again, realizing with grim irony that in some ways a death match against a being twice his size was preferable to being alone with Dejah and her pheromones.
Before he could say anything, however, the Cathar gave a low, submissive growl. "If it may please my conqueror," he said with bowed head, "I have over-heard certain scraps of gossip and hearsay on the streets that might have bearing on your quest." He paused, waiting for permission to continue.
"Go on."
"An acquaintance of mine, a Geroon, has a droid that he sometimes hires out as domestic help to members of offworld gentility. This droid told him that he saw a skimmer wearing the seal of Umber House parked near the conapt of the artist Ves Volette on the night of his death." The imposing creature lowered 262 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows his eyes. "I pray that this information may be of some small use to you."
"It is indeed," Jax said. "In fact, it buys you manu-mission. I return to you your autonomy. Go in Sele raised his eyes in surprise and gratitude, and lost no time in making himself scar
ce.
Jax returned to Dejah's sitting room, where the Zeltron eyed him inquisitively.
"Who was that?"
"I think," Jax said, "it may have been the answer we've been looking for."
Michael Reaves 263
twenty-four
It had taken time, but his instincts and his searching—all his hard work—had finally paid off.
Where better to look for a renegade Jedi, after all, than at a gathering of renegades? Yet when the several meetings he had attended had resulted in nothing, not even a lead, Typho had been about to give up and focus on his other lines of inquiry. And then, at the last gathering he had decided to attend—success.
Perseverance was ever the key to victory.
Of course, the young man could be another Jax Pavan with the same name, and not the Jedi whom Aurra Sing had been charged with finding for Darth Vader. But given that Typho had found him at a Whiplash meeting, he found the possibility dubious, to say the least. As he trailed the young man from a distance, the captain utilized all the skills he had mastered in the security forces to conceal his presence from his quarry. Mentally, he fought to keep his attention on anything and everything else: the drifting aroma of cooking food, the passing of an attractive humanoid, an argument, an offer, a whisper over-heard. If the fellow preceding him through the crowds was indeed a Jedi, Typho knew he had to 264 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows exert every possible effort to keep from creating a disturbance in the Force that might alert Pavan to being followed.
At least his quarry didn't turn and look behind him as he made his way confidently through the biodi-verse throng. Perhaps the glut of various emotional emanations from the crowd prevented him from singling out his tracker. Or perhaps, feeling safe in familiar surroundings, he simply wasn't paying attention.
The reasons didn't especially interest the captain, as long as the latter's anonymity was maintained.
Eventually he saw Pavan enter a block of residences in a cul-de-sac. While automated residential security prevented Typho from following the object of his attention inside, still, he was confident he now knew the location of the man's domicile. It was enough for his purposes. A dozen individual dwellings might lie behind the single secure entrance, or a hundred. It didn't matter. It was enough that he had tracked the Jedi to this locality. Because, even if events proceeded as he planned and Vader was unable to snare his thoughts with the Force, Typho still wanted an ace in his field. He felt no compunction about giving up Pavan's location, if by doing so he kept the upper hand for a few moments longer. Luck favored the prepared—every soldier knew that.
And besides, he planned on sending the young Jedi a gift that, if things didn't go well, would at least see Pavan somewhat more prepared to face a Sith Lord.
It was tempting to give in to the irony inherent in using it himself, but he knew he had to maximize his chances of success.
Vader wanted the renegade Jedi Jax Pavan — so Michael Reaves 265
much so that he had sent the infamous bounty hunter Aurra Sing after him. Too bad, then, for Aurra Sing, because Typho had found him first. He smiled grimly.
How could an unknown minor planetary official possibly gain an audience with the Emperor's wrist-hawk? By offering him something he desperately wanted.
Unbeknownst to him, Jax Pavan was Typho's ticket to a meeting with the Dark Lord. The last meeting Vader would ever take.
There were ways of arranging such things. Ways of making contact, even with the Emperor himself, if one knew how to work the proper bureaucratic channels. Typho's status helped, of course. It was not as if the peculiar roundabout communique was coming from some addled citizen off the street with an exaggerated sense of his own importance. As Typho tracked it, he saw that his message was making steady progress toward its designated recipient. He had little doubt what the reaction would be when it got there.
Vader would contact him directly. He wouldn't go through an intermediary for something that was evidently important enough to hire a bounty hunter of Sing's caliber. And Typho would respond of course, but not without taking proper precautions. It was said that the Dark Lord could read a sentient's true intentions at a great distance. That might be nothing but bilterscoot—but as a security professional, the captain would take no chances. Thus his preparations, in addition to ascertaining Pavan's whereabouts, included paying a visit to a certain apothecary 266 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows with a less-than-salutary reputation. Between the two, he should be ready.
The place was located on a dark street in an especially poorly lit section of Underlevel 20. This was not because it was a particularly bad neighborhood—quite the contrary, actually. It was simply that the nonhumans who inhabited the area tended to be members of species who preferred dim light.
Even so, the Kubaz still wore the diffusion goggles favored by her people when dwelling on planets with brighter suns than that of their homeworld. The black bristles on her head twitched and her long snout flexed upward in the equivalent of an unctuous smile as she greeted the new customer with a flourish of hand gestures.
"Krsft. How I be's of service, sor?" Beneath the barely adequate overhead light, the chemist's green-black skin appeared almost devoid of color.
"I want to buy a taozin skin nodule."
Delicate fingers were already tracing relevant notations in the holoproj that hung in the air between them. "Dzzt. A rare curiosity. Expensive."
"Cost doesn't matter," Typho said. "Do you have
"Hmm-ezz. Possibly." Drawing images and symbols in the air, the Kubaz checked her inventory.
"Got one inna stock." She calculated the cost. "It gonna be ... mfft-zza ... nine hunnert creds total."
Expensive indeed, Typho thought, then shrugged.
There was no help for it; the taozin, also known as a Force dragon, was an extremely rare giant transparent invertebrate native to the jungle moon of Va'art.
Some were also rumored to live in the abyssal caverns Michael Reaves 267
far beneath the lowest subsurface levels of Coruscant.
What made the creature of interest to Typho was its invisibility to Force-sensitives. According to legend, the spherical excrescences from the creature's skin produced a strange void in the sensorium granted to some by the Force. So it was said, at any rate. The captain hoped the legend was true; he would only have one chance to test its efficacy.
The Kubaz handed him a transparent envelope that contained a sphere about the size of his fist, colored the faint yellow shade of a rancor's tusk. The captain regarded it for a moment. Strange, indeed, to think of so small a talisman laying low the great Lord Vader.
But that was the special thing about talismans, wasn't it? They always promised more than they appeared capable of delivering. That was, after all, how magic worked.
Typho turned and strode from the building, his talisman held tightly in his hand. He had one final chore: the package for Jax Pavan.
After that, he would be ready.
268 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows twenty-five
The silver-coated protocol droid could not look surprised, but its reaction to their presence was conveyed through its voice.
"Citizen Pavan." Peering past Jax, the mechanical noted those assembled behind him. "And your friends." The droid's gaze stopped on a more familiar figure. "Dejah Duare, you are, as always, most welcome in this household."
Den took a step forward. "How about the rest of us?"
The droid appeared momentarily confused. "You did not announce your coming. It's not in my file."
"The Baron and his mate are in?" Jax asked.
"They are in residence, yes." Glistening lenses regarded the Jedi. "May I assume that your appearance here concurrently with that of Prefect Haus is not a coincidence?"
"You could assume that," Den said, "since we arranged to meet him here."
"Please announce us," Jax said.
The droid hesitated, then turned and shuf
fled away through the plush carpeting. Jax and his companions Michael Reaves 269
waited outside the formal entry. The mechanical was not gone long.
"Please come in. The Baron is anxious, as ever, to hear what you have to say. And as always, I am sure he will be delighted that Dejah is with you."
"The Baron isn't the only curious one." Pol Haus stepped into view in the foyer. "I can't wait to learn your reasons for dragging me over here at this hour."
Once again they were impressed by the opulence of the Baron's surroundings. Umber greeted them convivially this time. His mate appeared shortly thereafter.
Pol Haus, who was there with a droid assistant, glowered at them. "Let's hear it," the Zabrak growled.
Jax nodded. Den and I-Five moved to opposite corners of the room. Their attitude was unperturbed, but their senses were alert. Everyone knew what Jax was going to say, even Dejah. They had discussed it be-forehand, and all were agreed.
Now that the moment had come, Jax let the threads of the Force spread outward from him, to encompass everyone in the room. His effort to provide interior confirmation for what he was about to announce was disappointing. But then, he'd expected it to be.
"Very well," he replied in response to the prefect.
"I know who murdered Ves Volette." He stole a quick glance at the Zeltron standing nearby. Having been prepared for the disclosure, she showed no reaction, either hormonally or telempathically. Satisfied, he returned his attention to their hosts and the police.
"A Vindalian skimmer bearing the crest of Umber 270 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows was seen near the artist's studio on the night he was killed." As a startled Baron opened his mouth, Jax raised a hand to forestall the objection he sensed was coming. "I know it wasn't you, Baron. I am as certain of that as I can be. You've—been checked out, and there's nothing to suggest you had any involvement in the murder. Quite the contrary."
Star Wars - Coruscant Nights 02 - Street of Shadows Page 21
