Part 7 (2/2)
”I have given it as much thought as it deserves.”
Rhinann bit back his frustration. This was like talking to a cryptogram generator. ”And has it not occurred to you that these items should be separated?”
”Yes. Some time ago, in fact.”
Rhinann feigned relief. ”Then you've distributed them to several different hiding places.”
”I've done what I thought necessary.”
Maddening, perverse, obstinate . . . the list of vices that no droid should ever possess grew exponentially in length. What in the name of creation could Lorn Pavan have been thinking?
”So you've given the bota to Jax already?”
”I have seen to its safety. That's all you should know, Don't you think?”
Stung, Rhinann opened his mouth to protest, but I-Five continued, ”After all, if I tell you who has the bota and you're captured by Darth Vader, then the dark side would alert him to the fact that you had information he wanted. Information he would cheerfully scour your skull to get.”
Rhinann felt the blood drain from his head. ”You're right, of course,” he murmured, surrendering. There was no use in interrogating a thing that would nor permit itself to be interrogated. ”I certainly wouldn't want to be caught with any information Vader might find useful.”
”No,” said I-Five. ”You wouldn't.”
It was evening by the chrono and everyone was home from their various tasks when the door chime sounded, Jax felt a thrill of mingled dread and antic.i.p.ation course through him. He'd been working with Kaj at improving the boy's ability to concentrate, and Jax wryly realized that the interruption had disturbed his meditations far more than it had the boy's. Kaj remained seated cross-legged, apparently a few centimeters or so above the mat upon which they meditated. Jax had dropped to the floor.
Silly, really: the enemy would not chime politely and ask to be admitted, so this was not an attack. Why the reaction? He thought of Tuden Sal and Laranth in the same heartbeat-Sal might be back to press for an answer to his proposal, and Laranth ...
He stood and found Kajin's gaze on him.
”Stay here,” Jax instructed. ”We don't want to advertise your presence, okay?”
The boy nodded and returned to his contemplations, bobbing slightly higher above the mat.
Jax shook his head as he went to the living room - Kaj made it look so easy. It had never been that easy for him.
Den had answered the door by the time he reached the outer room, admitting Pol Haus. The Zabrak police prefect looked positively grim. The emotion behind the expression on his face was so intense that Jax realized it was what had pulled him from his meditations. Haus was wrapped in dark Force threads that, though as insubstantial as smoke, were troublingly sinister and seemed to be in constant motion. They went nowhere; they simply wound themselves around the prefect in a visible a.n.a.log for the tension that showed in his face as pale gray lines bracketing his mouth.
The prefect stepped through the conapt doorway and let the door glide shut behind him before he spoke.
”We've got a situation,” he said without preamble.
Jax exchanged glances with Den. ”A situation?” he prompted.
The Zabrak fixed him with a steady gaze. His eyes, usually distracted and unfocused, were as sharp as the pointy-end of a vibrosword. This, Jax realized, was the real Pol Haus-the man who lived beneath the carefully cultivated air of shambling disorganization.
”One of your lot has murdered an Inquisitor.”
”One of my lot?”
Haus tipped his horned head to one side. ”C'mon, kid. Do I have to spell it out? A Jedi-if not officially, then a pretty powerful Force-sensitive. Seems he or she fried this Inquisitor with the energy siphoned from a couple of badly aligned repulsor fields. Is that in your repertoire?”
”Oh frip,” muttered Den.
Jax very nearly took a step backward but, sensing no hostility from the Zabrak, stood his ground. ”I don't know what you're talking about,” he said. ”Of course that's not in my repertoire. I'm not...”
”Save it, Pavan. I don't have time to let you blowsmoke at me, and you don't want to make me mad at you. Look, I'm not going to give you up to the Inquisitorius, if that's what you're wondering, so let's just see if we can't work past this momentary awkwardness and get to the heart of the nutter.”
That had, in fact, been what Jax had been wondering - if he was looking a threat in the face. Now, reaching out toward Haus with tendrils of Force, he wasn't so sure.
”Jax . . .” Den s.h.i.+fted nervously from foot to foot, glancing up at the Jedi's face. Apparently not liking what he saw there, he swore again, this time more volubly.
”No,” Jax said, in answer to Haus. ”No, it's not in my repertoire. I don't have that kind of ability.”
Pol Haus nodded. ”That's sort of what I figured. The perp was described to me as a rogue Force-sensitive, dangerous and out of control. It was suggested to me that I do everything in my power, move every resource at my disposal, to run this rampaging adept to ground.”
”Suggested by ... ?” Den asked.
Haus kept his gaze on Jax as he answered Den's question. ”Darth Vader.”
Den made an incoherent sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. Jax blinked and gave Haus's mantle of Force threads a more careful look. Yes, they made more sense now. The prefect had been touched by the emissary of the dark side. The touch still stained his personal aura-and obviously disturbed him a great deal.
”So that's why I'm here,” the prefect continued. ”If a Jedi or some rogue Force-user offed this Inquisitor, you're the best person to help me find them before they a.s.sa.s.sinate another one.”
Jax gestured at the room behind him. ”Why don't you come in and have a seat and we'll discuss it?”
Our of the corner of his eye he could sec the expression on the Sull.u.s.tan's face. Dumbfounded didn't even begin to cover it. Jax nudged Den into motion as he turned to follow the prefect into the living room.
What are you doing? Den mouthed at him.
Jax waved the journalist back, mouthing in return, Get I-Fife and Dejah, and nodding toward the workstation alcove. Den scurried away while Jax led the prefect into the living room.
Jax knew that Den had no idea what he was doing. Truth he told, Jax himself wasn't sure what he was doing, but he was painfully aware that the object of Pol Haus's search was sitting not six meters away, separated from them by a meager plasticrete wall-a wall that would prove to be no barrier at all should Kaj panic and invoke his connection to the Force.
Prefect Haus would learn then mighty fast where the rogue Force-sensitive was hiding. a.s.suming that he survived the discovery ...
Chapter Eight.
”How did you know I was a Jedi?” Jax stood where the kinetic light from Ves Volette's sculpture played across his face, obscuring his expression from the police prefect, who paced up and down the center of the living room, his dingy topcoat swirling about his legs. ”Who or what-gave me away?”
”Do you really want to know?”
”Yes.”
”No big proof. More like a body of evidence. A lot of little things. The way your companions and a.s.sociates react to you. The way you carry yourself. The way you observe what's going on around you. The way you react to it. The way you seem to disappear from my radar sometimes when I know you're there. The way your hand hovers over your left hip when you sense danger. The speed of your reactions ...” Haus shrugged. ”Someone sent a bounty hunter after you-a Sith-trained bounty hunter. You came back alive; she didn't.”
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