Free Star Wars: Scoundrels by Timothy Zahn Page B

be.
    All of that assuming, of course, that he survived the next few minutes.
    “You’ve been dancing a challenge through my territory for nearly two weeks,” the would-be crime boss said, his voice low and menacing, his head raised slightly so that he could stare down his nose at his prisoner. He even had the holodrama stance down cold, Dayja noted. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t have you killed right here and now.”
    “I’m not looking to take over your territory,” Dayja said mildly. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”
    Crovendif’s expression slipped, just noticeably. Expecting bluster and defiance from his prisoner, he wasn’t prepared for a quiet, conciliatory response. “Really,” he said sarcastically. “And what impression should I have gotten?”
    “I’m looking for a partner,” Dayja said. “I have some product that’s worth a lot of credits. But I don’t have the time or resources to set up the distribution end of the business.”
    “And what makes you think I’d be interested in such a deal?” Crovendif scoffed.
    “Not you,” Dayja corrected. “Your boss. I have far more product than your six or seven blocks can deal with.”
    Crovendif’s face darkened. Maybe he’d had a brief hope that this was his ticket to greatness. “If you think I’m going to bother anyone else with such a ridiculous story—”
    “He’ll want a sample, of course,” Dayja continued smoothly. “May I?”
    Crovendif hesitated, then nodded to the two men currently pinioning Dayja’s arms. “Left,” he ordered.
    Silently, the thug on Dayja’s left side released his grip on that arm. Dayja slipped two fingers into his side pocket, pulled out a small vial, and tossed it across to Crovendif. The other caught it with a nimble quickness that suggested he’d started as a blade fighter before joining up with Black Sun. Yet another reason he’d probably never get any higher than he was already. “Glitterstim, obviously,” he said as Crovendif looked closely at the vial. “But with a difference. Mine is artificial.”
    “Then it’s not glitterstim,” Crovendif said.
    “You’re right,” Dayja conceded, inclining his head. “I misspoke. What I should have said was that it’s genuine glitterstim, created by genuine Kessel spiders. But not spiders currently living on Kessel.”
    There was a pause as Crovendif apparently worked that through. “You have spiders here on Wukkar?”
    “Let’s just say they’re nearby and creating glitterstim as we speak,” Dayja said. “Bottom line is that I can make the product for a fraction of what it costs to make it on Kessel, and that doesn’t even take the lower transportation costs into account.”
    “And you expect me to just take your word for all this?”
    “Not at all,” Dayja said. “Take the vial to your boss, give him my offer, and ask him to run some tests. If he’s interested, great. If he’s not, no harm done—there are lots of other fish in the river. Either way, he can keep the sample with my compliments.”
    “And if I refuse?”
    “You mean if you decide to keep the vial for yourself, sell the product, and make yourself a bit of extra cash?” Dayja asked. “If that’s what you want to do, I certainly can’t stop you. All I can say is that you’re not your boss’s only street manager. If you don’t want to bring this opportunity to him, I’m sure someone else will.”
    For a few seconds Crovendif continued to stare at his prisoner, frowning as if weighing the possibilities and coming to a decision. But it was all for show. Dayja had him, and they both knew it.
    “Very well,” Crovendif said at last, making it official. “How do I find you with his answer?”
    “I’ll be in touch.” Dayja nodded to the thug on his right. “Now, if you don’t mind …”
    Crovendif gestured again, and the man holding Dayja’s right arm released it. “Thank you,” Dayja said. “I’ll be seeing you.”
    He was sitting in his