But he ignored it all, focusing instead on scents. And there were a lot of scents. Perfumes, stress pheromones, disinfectant, attraction pheromones, flowering plants, even a hint of vomit. For a species with superior olfactory senses, it was almost too much.
The sharp, smoky aroma of one of his favorite beverages alerted him to the fact that an SE-8 was approaching. He turned and, sure enough, a waiter droid bleeped at him, flashing his lights. Lexo declined.
What he didn’t smell, no matter how hard he concentrated, was corwindyl.
Lexo moved deeper into the casino. He had to find someone who spent a lot of time here, someone in a position to see everything. But Panpick’s words rang in his head: Ganna has spies everywhere. The type of person Lexo needed to talk to was exactly the type of person Ganna would press into his own service. He would have to be very careful and very lucky.
One wall of the casino opened up into a lofty hallway, which Lexo assumed led to the hotel. Beside the opening was another bar, so hotel guests could order drinks first thing before heading into the gaming area. Lexo drifted closer. Maybe he would order a drink himself. Sip it slowly. Stall for time and think, think, think about how to proceed.
As he approached, he hit pay dirt.
An odor assaulted his nose. Not corwindyl, alas, but the bar reeked like a place where beautiful growing things went to die. Like a rotting swamp.
The bartender was a light-skinned human with a full beard and a patch over one eye. He was wiping down the long, night-black bar surface until it shimmered. He spotted Lexo and stashed his rag out of sight. “How can I help you?”
“What is that delightful smell?” Lexo said. “It reminds me of home—the wafting aroma of the famous…er…Peat Bog of Benevolence…” There was no Peat Bog of Benevolence on his homeworld, or peat bogs in general, but humans were notoriously ignorant of other species. “It almost brings a tear to the eye,” he finished gamely.
“Huh,” said the bartender. “I only get complaints about this stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“It’s a drink, custom-made for a very special class of customer. Don’t fancy the smell myself.”
“It’s magnificent.”
“If you say so. Can I get you something? Not that drink, mind you.”
Lexo gasped with mock affront. “Whyever not?”
“Those ingredients are hard to come by. They’re reserved. As I said, for a very special class of customer.”
“But I want one.”
“Not going to happen. Look, can I get you something else or not?”
Poor fellow. Lexo almost apologized for taking up his time, but he was supposed to be blending in. He gave the bartender his best condescending glare and said imperiously, “Are you always so rude to casino guests?”
“I wasn’t being—”
“Who do you work for?”
“Gheal, of course. She owns this bar, and a few others besides.”
“Ah, yes. I’m well acquainted with Ubialla Gheal.” That, at least, was not a lie. The nightclub owner came in at least twice a month for a massage. “She’ll be keen to know what kind of service I received here. She’s been considering replacing all her employees with droids.” Also not a lie.
The bartender’s jaw twitched. Lexo stared.
Lexo allowed the pause to grow huge and menacing before saying, “I believe you were about to tell me more about that drink.”
The bartender slumped a little. “It’s called storga. It’s filled with active microbes that…never mind. Just please either buy it or don’t buy it and then leave. Sounds like I’m screwed either way.” Stress pheromones oozed from his pores, making Lexo wrinkle his nose.
Lula would be so ashamed of him, to see him bullying this poor man. Lexo clenched his teeth for a moment and thought hard. How far would he go to save his daughter? How far would she want him to go?
Sighing, he fished out the chips he’d received from his friend Panpick and laid them on the bar. “I won’t buy the storga,” he said. “And if I see Ubialla, I’ll let her know what a tremendous asset you are to her business.”
The bartender’s good eye narrowed. “What’s the catch?”
“Just tell me where that drink goes. Whose room will you send it to?”
The bartender rubbed his beard, considering. “All right. Here’s the honest truth, so listen close. I have no idea where it goes. I receive an order maybe once per day, about this time. I make the drink. Soon after, a waiter droid swings by to pick it up and leaves me a small tip That’s all I know.”
“I see. How long has this been going on? The last few weeks?”
“The last few years. Since the first day I started working here.”
So the drink belonged to someone in residence. Someone who liked the smell and taste of a festering swamp. It had to be Councilor Ganna.
“And you expect this droid to roll around any moment?”
“I do. You can…” He leaned closer and whispered, “You could probably follow it, if you wanted to. But please don’t tell anyone I said so.”
“Of course not. Those chips are yours. Thank you.”
As Lexo stepped away, the bartender swept the chips out of sight with a smooth, well-practiced gesture.
Lexo headed toward the nearest carousel of slot machines, in plain sight of both the bar and the corridor leading to the hotel. He had no more chips, so he pretended to contemplate the machines, as if deciding which one would bring him the most luck. Really, he was watching that bar. The bartender helped a customer, then another. He wiped the bar down. He reached beneath the counter and grabbed a small metal tube from under the bar—was it a comlink? Maybe the bartender was a Ganna informant after all. Lexo was poised to flee.
But no, it was just an ingredient cylinder. The bartender tipped it over a glass, and something like liquid gold poured from it. Lexo’s shoulders slumped with relief.
Finally an SE-8 waiter droid shuffled into view and bleeped at the bartender, who settled a glass full of mud-brown sludge onto the droid’s round tray table. As it shuffled away, Lexo hurried to follow.
If there was a talent for following without becoming noticed, Lexo was certain he didn’t have it. He felt clumsy and obtrusive as he hurried down the corridor after the droid, dodging guests, keeping an eye out for cams and security personnel.
The droid led him through a beautiful atrium with a fountain and a massive skylight, then down another corridor into a separate tower of the hotel. The droid stopped at the entrance to a lift and programmed it to head downward.
As soon as the door opened, Lexo took a chance and swept inside to stand beside the droid. Surely the SE-8 had noticed him following by now? He kept his eyes firmly ahead, did not look down once, even when the droid’s head swiveled to look at him, swiveled back, and then looked at him again. It was definitely growing suspicious.
The lift clunked to a halt, and the doors opened into a well-lit hallway of sandstone. Even here, deep in the ground, luxury was everywhere—in the carpet runners lining the corridor, the fine paintings along the wall, the chandeliers dripping with crystal above his head. The air was cooler, though. Wetter. And as Lexo continued to follow the waiter droid, he noticed two pipes running along their path, tucked in where the wall met the floor. They were painted to blend in with the sandstone, but they couldn’t possibly be part of the original architecture. Any unseemly infrastructure would have been hidden away in the walls and floors, out of sight of the hotel’s discerning guests. These pipes were a late addition.
The corridor—and the pipes—curved left and ended abruptly at a set of double doors, blocked by two brutish, tusked Gamorrean guards in studded armor. The droid scooted forward, but Lexo froze.
Gamorreans were one of the few species he couldn’t affect with his abilities. He couldn’t even interpret their pheromones. Lexo flexed his fingers, wondering if he was still young and strong enough to take care of the guards the old-fashioned way. Probably not. Stiffness and pain we
re already returning to his joints. Only a few more hours until he wouldn’t be able to move them at all.
The guards grunted, hefting their battle-axes.
Lexo wasn’t sure what to do next. Run for his life? Insult their mothers? Pretend he was drunk?
Drunkenness won out. He careened sloppily into the wall. “You seen a Twi’lek girl?” he asked the guards brazenly. “Said she would meet me here. She promised. One floor down, she said. Or was it one floor up?” He hiccuped. “Prettiest blue skin I ever saw. All I had to do was buy her a drink, yanno? But I think maybe…” He swayed on his feet. “Maybe she was lying. Ditched me. Probably back at the bar flirting with another…oh, dear. I think I might throw up.”
One of the guards deftly rescued the foul drink from the droid’s serving table. The droid gave one indignant bleep and fled back the way it had come.
The other guard moved forward to block Lexo’s path. “Go ahead and deliver the drink,” he ordered his companion. “I’ll take care of this fool.” His mean-looking tusks made speaking Galactic Basic impossible, but Lexo still had his translator necklace, and he understood just fine.
His companion punched a code into a console, but Lexo’s view was blocked. The double doors slid open, then shut decisively behind him.
“Whatwasat you say?” Lexo said. “Can’t understand.”
The remaining guard thrust the battle-ax against Lexo’s chest and shoved him backward with it. Lexo didn’t have to fake drunkenness as he staggered violently. “Get lost,” the Gamorrean said.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry so sorry,” Lexo said, hands up. “I don’t know what you just said, but I’m leaving. I promise. Just…had too much to drink. Gimme a sec. Have to get my bearings.” He placed a hand on the wall and made as if to take some deep breaths.
The gleaming wet porcine nose of the guard began to twitch. He was sniffing Lexo.
Drunken Lexo was not to be outdone, so he sniffed right back. “I bet you’re a good smeller,” he said, still sniffing. “A great smeller. The best smeller.”
And Lexo almost lost his footing again, because the scent came to him, spicy yet sweet, faint but unmistakable. Corwindyl.
“This fool does not reek of someone who’s been drinking,” the guard muttered to himself. His eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head.
Lexo had mere seconds before he had to flee. He probably should have fled already. Cams were undoubtedly hidden everywhere. Ganna could be watching him right this moment. But he had to know more.
“Hey, whatkinda gentlebeing has a big fancy suite like this?” Lexo said. “With such dangerous guards? I mean, thatsa really fancy door. Lookit that carving. Flowers, isit?”
He didn’t really expect a response, so he was both thrilled and terrified when the guard pulled a comlink from a pocket and spoke into it, saying, “Tell the councilor that someone is outside asking questions. But don’t worry; I’m taking care of him.”
The guard stashed his comlink, and then he advanced, ax held high.
Lexo turned and fled. His Dor Namethian robes allowed for his enormous stride, and he was around the corner and at the lift in seconds. But the lift itself lowered too slowly. Footsteps pounded behind him.
Finally the door opened, and he thrust himself inside. The Gamorrean popped into view just as the doors closed. Lexo backed into the corner and huddled there, gasping for breath, as he rode up to the ground floor.
Lula was somewhere inside that suite, he was certain of it. But the corwindyl scent had been so faint! Which meant she hadn’t arrived that way. The suite had another entrance.
He considered those pipes he’d seen. There hadn’t been time for a close look, but one seemed like it might camouflage power lines. And the other…Water, maybe? It made sense that Big Sturg Ganna would build extra environmental controls to survive in such a hot, dry place. Based on the size of the pipes, Lexo wouldn’t be surprised if Ganna had a whole aquarium hidden down there, all to himself.
Not for the first time, Lexo wondered why Ganna would come to Cantonica at all. Why settle on a planet where one or two careless days of exposure could kill him? Ganna was hiding, or fleeing, or planning something.
Something that was worth the risk.
Lexo had to figure a way past those guards. Once inside, he was sure to encounter even more security precautions. Someone as wealthy as Ganna could afford environmental poison, or even illegal battle droids.
Now that he knew where Lula was, he needed help. Councilor Ganna had said that a war was coming to Canto Bight. Maybe Lexo should figure out who the gangster’s greatest enemy was, who stood to gain the most from inconveniencing him. It would have to be someone powerful, with insider knowledge of the city and its casino.
His heart sunk, because all of a sudden, he knew exactly who to ask for help. Of course.
Lexo’s friend Panpick had been exactly right. Tonight, he needed to have eyes and ears wide open. For once, he would allow himself to hear everything, see everything.
The door opened onto the ground floor and Lexo strode out like he had as much right to be there as anyone else.
CONTESSA ALISSYNDREX DELGA CANTONICA PROVINCION maintained a government office adjacent to the racetrack, in a beautiful domed tower with a patina glaze of greening copper. She did not frequent the casino often, but she loved the races, and she was known to observe them from her tower balcony whenever her duties kept her away from the track itself.
As Lexo approached the reception area, he checked the chrono. Less than an hour remaining until the first post time. If he was lucky, the countess would still be here. If he was very lucky, he’d win an audience with her.
He considered three different introductions that might get him past the door to see the countess. He settled on “a representative of Zord’s, on an emergency business matter.” To his surprise he only got as far as his name before the receptionist buzzed him through, and he was allowed to ascend the tower straightaway. Four sentry droids guarded the entrance; they followed him inside, blasters hefted menacingly.
The countess stood beside her desk, still wearing her sleeveless black evening gown. Her thick epidermis had been expertly styled into a mass of waves around her face. Behind her, floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the whole city in all its lighted glory. He could even glimpse the massive reclamation waterfall that tumbled into the sea.
“You’ve been running around my city quite a lot tonight,” she said without preamble.
There was no reason to lie. “Yes, Your Grace,” he answered.
“I wasn’t aware that Zord allowed his employees so much free time.”
“He doesn’t, Your Grace.”
She took a sip of her wine, swirled it around in her mouth, swallowed. “I don’t imagine you’ve come here to kill me,” she said. “You could have done that a dozen times at the bathhouse.”
Lexo blinked. Why would she say such a thing? “I came because I need your help,” he said.
The countess gave him a bored look, steeped in disappointment.
“It’s about Big Sturg Ganna,” he added quickly.
The countess sat, crossing her legs. She swung one ankle back and forth, taking another sip of wine. To all appearances, she didn’t have a worry in the world, but Lexo knew better. The moment he’d mentioned the councilor’s name, tension began oozing out of her, filling the air.
Finally, she said, “Tell me about it.”
Lexo told her everything about Lula, about Ganna wanting to hire him as an informant. When he finished, he took a deep breath and prepared for the worst.
The countess said, “You are guessing that Ganna and I are at odds. That I might help you in order to hurt him.”
Lexo remembered the way she watched them from the spa balcony. Surely he hadn’t misread the tension between them? He said nothing.
“Ganna is my greatest ally and a dear friend, of course.”
Lexo opened his mouth. Closed it. How could he have read the situation so poorly? How could— B
ut, no. She was lying. The pheromones leaking from her skin screamed her lie to him.
So he replied, “Did you know that Councilor Ganna intends to buy out your share of the spa?”
“Yes. We have discussed it.”
“I can’t imagine why you’d want to sell.”
“I grow bored of the bathhouse business.”
Again, she was lying. Which meant either the councilor had something on her, or she needed the money.
Once again, Lexo decided on the honest approach. “I’m sorry for whatever is wrong, whatever he’s doing to you. He’s doing the same or worse to my daughter and me.”
“He’s doing nothing to me. As I said, he is my greatest ally.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Lexo said, bowing his head. “Apologies for my presumption.”
“Naturally, though, the fate of any Canto Bight citizen, a child no less, is of the utmost importance to me.”
It was hard to stay calm. “Of course,” he said again.
“So I will help you, Lexo Sooger. I know exactly how to get you inside that hotel suite. But first, you must do something for me. A tiny favor.”
In Canto Bight, there was no such thing as a tiny favor. Everything inside him screamed to decline, to flee, but he thought of Lula and said, “Anything.”
She smiled, and Lexo knew she was springing her trap. “I need you to kill someone for me.”
His heart pounded in his shoulders.
“I know about you, Sooger,” she said. “Born into poverty. Raised in the slave pits of Askkto-Fen IV. You were made to serve in the steam baths, catering to fighting slaves, until you were plucked from that horrible life by a traveling merchant, who saw your potential as a masseur.”
Lexo’s shoulders felt like they were about to explode. He had told no one this. No one but Lula.
“Tell me, Sooger,” the countess continued relentlessly. “Did that merchant ever know? What you really did? Who you really are?”
Lexo felt a little dizzy. Maybe he should sit down.
“You sabotaged matches by sabotaging the fighters—or healing them, depending on who paid the most. There were so many species represented in the fighting pits, and you learned about them all. You learned their strengths, their weaknesses. My reports say you could kill with a single touch.”
Canto Bight [Star Wars] Page 17
