Free Star Wars: Scoundrels by Timothy Zahn Page A

said. “He wasn’t in the group of holos Rachele gave me.”
    “I only gave her the top-level players in Iltarr City’s power structure,” Rachele explained.
    “Maybe we should go down a tier or two,” Zerba suggested.
    “Agreed,” Rachele said. “I’ll see what I can pull together.”
    “And while you do that,” Dozer said, “let’s see if we can figure out who the other visitor is. I think we’ve got enough people now for a proper tail. Shall I go out and get us a few landspeeders?”
    “No need,” Rachele said. “Eanjer was able to scrape together enough credits to get us a few rentals. We have three of them downstairs, plus the speeder truck, plus two airspeeders in the rooftop lot.”
    “Good,” Dozer said. “It’s probably too late to get in position before he leaves, so we’ll have to pick him up later tonight.”
    “Assuming the drama gets a repeat performance,” Bink said.
    “It will,” Winter assured her. “These people like to think they’re being clever, but they’re very much into patterns.”
    “Great,” Dozer said. “Who’s up for a little drive?”
    “You should ask Han,” Eanjer said. “He’s the one in charge.”
    Dozer blinked, then smiled wryly. “Of course he is,” he acknowledged, turning to Han and inclining his head. “Sorry. Too many years of working for myself. So who’s going?”
    Han looked around, doing a quick assessment. “You, Bink, Zerba, and me in the landspeeders,” he decided. “Lando and Chewie will coordinate from the airspeeder.”
    “Sounds good,” Dozer said.
    “I’d like to go along, too, if I may,” Eanjer said. “I want to help.” He looked down at his medsealed hand. “Though I’m not sure what I’d be able to do,” he added ruefully.
    Han hesitated. They had a lot of reasons to keep Eanjer happy. A hundred sixty-three million of them, to be exact.
    But he was an unknown quantity, and Han had no idea how he would react in a crisis situation. If something went wrong, one panicked person could easily run the whole thing straight into a wall.
    To his relief, Chewbacca had followed the same line of thought and was already on it with a tactful suggestion.
    “Good idea,” Han said. “Chewie says an extra pair of eyes would be handy in the airspeeder.”
    Dozer gave a small snort. “A pair of eyes?”
    “I meant an extra observer,” Han corrected, glaring at the ship thief. Eanjer was aware enough of his handicap without someone drawing attention to it. “You can go with him and Lando, Eanjer.”
    “Thank you,” Eanjer said. He looked at Dozer, a hint of fire in his single eye. “And my current prosthetic works well enough, thank you,” he added icily. “I plan to get something more aesthetically pleasing when I get my stolen credits back and can afford to fix the rest of the injuries Villachor caused me.”
    “That’s settled, then,” Lando said cheerfully into what could have been the start of a long and awkward silence. “Chewie will fly, you and I will watch, and by the time we settle in for the night we’ll have gotten to the bottom of this little mystery.” He beamed a smile around the room. “While we wait, anyone for a game of sabacc?”
    The man’s name was Crovendif, and he thought of himself as an up-and-coming crime lord.
    He wasn’t, of course, and never would be. True, he had the clothing and style down, and had even made an effort to get the rhythm and pitch of his voice to match those of prominent holodrama criminals. But what he didn’t have was the empty eyes and utter soullessness that Dayja had seen far too often in the humans and aliens he’d dedicated his life to bringing down.
    No, Crovendif was just a lost kid who’d fallen in love with the idea of being a crime lord, or maybe had seen that as his path to contentment, security, and respect. Sooner or later those half-formed dreams would fade, and he would accept the fact that a crime lord’s street manager was all he would ever