Okay, friend, she thought as she started off after him. You want to play? Let’s play.
She had closed the gap between them to perhaps ninety meters when he reached the cross flow of traffic and turned north into it. Another clear invitation, this time to close the gap further lest she lose him.
But Mara had no intention of taking him up on this one. She’d memorized the geography of the city-vale their first day here, and it was pretty obvious that his intention was to lead her up to the more sparsely populated industrial areas to the north, where presumably he could deal with her without the awkward presence of witnesses. If she could get there first, she might be able to turn things around on him. Double-checking the blaster beneath her left sleeve, she cut through an alley between the buildings to her right and headed north.
The valley stretched for nearly a hundred fifty kilometers in a roughly east-west direction, but at this point its north-south dimension was only a few kilometers. Mara kept up her pace, continually revising her course to avoid crowds and other impediments. Gradually, the houses and shops began to give way to light industry; and, finally, she judged she’d come far enough. If her quarry had kept with the leisurely pace of a man who didn’t want to lose a tracker, she should now have enough time to prepare a little reception for him.
There was, of course, always the possibility that he’d shifted to one of the other north-south streets somewhere along the way, changed direction east or west, or even doubled back completely and returned to Karrde’s townhouse. But as she looked carefully around the corner of a building into the street he’d first turned onto, she discovered that his imagination was as limited as his surveillance technique. Halfway down the block, he was crouched motionless behind a row of storage barrels with his back to her, his blue scarf thrown back out of the way across his patterned green tunic, something that was probably a weapon clutched ready in his hand. Waiting, no doubt, for her to stroll into his trap. Amateur, she thought, lip twisting in contempt. Watching him closely, not even bothering with her blaster, she eased around the corner and started silently toward him.
“That’s far enough,” a mocking voice said from behind her.
Mara froze. The figure crouched by the barrels ahead of her didn’t even twitch … and it was only then that she belatedly realized that it was far too still to be simply waiting in ambush. Far too still, for that matter, to even be alive.
Slowly, keeping her arms stretched straight out to her sides, she turned around. The man facing her was of medium height, with a somewhat bulky build and dark, brooding eyes. His undertunic hung open to reveal a light-armor vest beneath it. In his hand, of course, was a blaster. “Well, well, well,” he sneered. “What we got here? ’Bout time you showed up—I was startin’ to think you’d gotten lost or somethin’.”
“Who are you?” Mara asked.
“Oh, no, Red, I’m the one what’s askin’ the questions here. Not that I need to, ’course. That fancy stuff on top pret’ well tells me aw I need t’ know.” He gestured with his blaster at her red-gold hair. “Shoulda gotten rid o’ that—hide it or dyed it, y’know. Dead give’way. Pardon the ’spression.”
Mara took a careful breath, forcing her muscles to unknot. “What do you want with me?” she asked, keeping her voice calm.
“Same thin’ ev’ry man reall’ wants,” he grinned slyly. “A pile o’ hard cold cash.”
She shook her head. “In that case, I’m afraid you’ve picked the wrong person. I’ve only got about fifty on me.”
He grinned even wider. “Cute, Red, but you’re wastin’ your time. I know who y’are, aw right. You ’n’ your pals are gonna make me real rich. C’mon—let’s go.”
Mara didn’t move. “Perhaps we can work a deal,” she suggested, feeling a drop of sweat trickle down between her shoulder blades. She knew better than to be fooled by the other’s careless speech and manner—whoever and whatever he was, he knew exactly what he was doing.
On the plus side, she still had the blaster hidden beneath her sleeve; and she would give long odds that her assailant wouldn’t expect that a weapon that potent might be small enough to conceal there. The fact that he hadn’t already searched her seemed to confirm that assessment.
But whatever she was going to do, she had to do it now, while she was still facing him. Unfortunately, with her hands spread apart there was no way for her to get at her weapon without telegraphing the movement. Somehow, she needed to distract him.
“A deal, huh?” he asked lazily. “What kind o’ deal you got in mind?”
“What kind of deal do you want?” she countered. If there’d been a box anywhere near her feet, she might have been able to scoop it up with her foot and throw it at him. But though there was a fair amount of junk littering the street in this part of town, nothing suitable was within reach. Her half-boots were firmly fastened around her ankles, impossible to get loose without him noticing. Rapidly, she ran through an inventory of items she was carrying or wearing—nothing.
But the Emperor’s intensive training had included direct manipulation of the Force as well as the long-range communication abilities that had been her primary value to his regime. Those skills had vanished at the moment of his death, reappearing only briefly and erratically in the years since then.
But if the sensory tingles and hunches had started again, perhaps the power was back, too …
“I’m sure we can double whatever you’ve been offered,” she said. “Maybe even throw in something extra to sweeten the pot.”
His grin turned evil. “That’s a real gen’rous offer, Red. Real gen’rous. Lotta men’d jump on that right away, sure ’nough. Me”—he lifted the blaster a little higher—“I like stayin’ with a sure thing.”
“Even if it means settling for half the money?” Two meters behind him, piled carelessly up against a retaining wall, was a small stack of scrap metal parts waiting to be picked up. A short length of shield tubing, in particular, seemed to be rather precariously positioned on one edge of a battered power cell case.
Setting her teeth, clearing her thoughts as best she could, Mara reached her mind out toward the tubing.
“On my pad, half a sure thing’s better than twice o’ nothin’,” the man said. “Anyway, I don’t ’spect you can outbid the Empire.”
Mara swallowed. She’d suspected it from the first; but the confirmation still sent a shiver up her back. “You might be surprised at our resources,” she said. The length of tubing twitched, rolled a couple of millimeters—
“Naw, don’t think so,” the other said easily. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Mara tilted a finger back toward the dead man crouched at the box behind her. “You mind telling me first what happened here?”
Her assailant shrugged. “What’s t’ tell? I needed a decoy; he was wanderin’ around the wrong place at the wrong time. End o’ story.” His grin suddenly vanished. “Enough stallin’. Turn around and start walkin’ … unless you’re lookin’ t’ spite me by makin’ me settle for the death fee instead.”
“No,” Mara murmured. She took a deep breath, straining with every bit of strength she possessed, knowing that this was her last best chance—
And behind her captor, the tubing fell with a muffled clank onto the ground.
He was good, all right. The tubing had hardly even finished its fall before he’d dropped to one knee, spinning around and spraying the area behind him with a splattering of quick cover fire as he searched for whoever was sneaking up on him. It took less than a second for him to recognize his mistake, and with another spray of blaster fire he spun back again.
But one second was all Mara needed. His desperate blaster spray was still tracking toward her when she shot him neatly in the head.
For a long moment she just stood there, breathing hard, muscles trembling with reaction. Then, glancing around to make sure no one was running to see what all the commotion was about, she holstered her weapon and knelt down beside him.
There was, as she’d expected, precious little to find. An ID—probably forged—giving his name as Dengar Roth, a couple of spare power clips for his blaster, a backup vibroblade knife, a data card and data pad, and some working capital in both local and Imperial currency. Stuffing the ID and data card into her tunic, she left the money and weapons where they were and got back to her feet. “There’s your twice of nothing,” she muttered, looking down at the body. “Enjoy it.”
Her eyes shifted to the piece of shield tubing that had saved her life. She’d been right. The twitches of power, as well as the hunches, were back. Which meant the dreams wouldn’t be far behind.