[Bounty Hunter Wars] - 01(115)

“Excuse

the lamentable discourtesy”-a hand

with bifurcate talons tugged at Dengar’s sleeve- “but I couldn’t help overhearing… .”



Glancing to his side, Dengar found himself looking into the black bead eyes, no more than a couple of centimeters in diameter, of a Q’nithian aer-opteryx. One of the beads swelled larger as the creature’s other set of claws held a magnifying lens on a jeweled handle in front of it. Dengar had been expecting something like this; one’s business didn’t stay secret for very long in the cantina, if spoken in anything louder than a whisper.



“Let’s go over to one of the booths,” said Dengar. Those were far enough away from the cantina’s crowded main area for a measure of privacy. “Come on.”



The Q’nithian flopped after him on the flattened tips of its shabby gray wings, useless for any kind of flight. It struggled into the seat on the booth’s opposite side, then settled down as though wrapped in a feathered cloak. “I heard you mention poor Santhananan’s name.” The taloned hand protruded from under the wings so that the Q’nithian could scratch itself with the magnifying-lens handle. “He met a sad demise, I’m afraid.”



“Yeah, I’m sure it was tragic.” Dengar set his arms on the table and leaned forward. He wanted to wrap up his errand here before the bartender had a chance to pressure him into settling his account. “What I want to know is, did anybody pick up on his business?”



The lens shifted to the other beady eye. “The late Santhananan had various enterprises.” The Q’nithian’s voice

was a grating squawk. “A creature of

many interests, some of them even legal. To which of them do you refer?”



“Keep it down. You know what I’m talking about.” Dengar glanced across the cantina, then turned back to the Q’nithian. “The message service he used to run. That’s what I’m interested in.”



“Ah.” The Q’nithian made a few thoughtful clacking noises with its rudimentary beak. “What great good fortune for you. It just so happens that that is an enterprise … over which I now exercise control.”



Great good fortune-that was one way of putting it. Dengar

wondered for a moment just how

the

late Santhananan had met his end, and how much this Q’nithian had had to do with it. But that was none of his business.



“Whatever communication you require,” continued the Q’nithian, words and voice all mild bland-ness, “I think I can assist you with it.”



“I

bet you can.” Dengar looked hard into

the magnifiying lens and the mercenary intelligence behind it. “Here’s the deal. I need to send a hyperspace messenger pod-“



“Really?” The feathers above one beady eye rose in apparent surprise. “That’s an expensive proposition. I’m not saying it can’t be done. Just that-since I haven’t done business with you before-it would have to be done on a strictly credits-up-front basis.”



Dengar reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small pouch. He loosened its drawstring and poured the contents out on the table. “Will that do?”



Even without the magnifying lens, the Q’nithian’s eyes grew larger. “I think”-the bifurcate talons reached out for the little hoard of hard credits-“we may be in business here. …”



“Not so fast,” Dengar grabbed the other creature’s thin, light-boned wrist and pinned it to the tabletop. “You get half now, half when I hear that the message reached its destination.”



“Very well.” The Q’nithian watched as Dengar divided the credits into two piles, one of which went back into the pouch, and then inside Dengar’s jacket again. “That’s a regrettably standard arrangement. But I can live with it.” The talons picked up the rest of the credits and drew it someplace under the cloak-like wings. “So-what’s the message you want to send?”



Dengar hesitated. He’d known how far he could trust Codeq Santhananan-he’d dealt with him before-but this Q’nithian was an unknown quantity. Still … right now there was no alternative. And if the Q’nithian wanted the other half of the payment for his services, there was a limit to any double-dealing he might be contemplating.



“All right.” Dengar leaned even farther across the table, until he could see himself reflected in the Q’nithian’s darkly shining eyes. “Just four words.”



“Which are?”



” ‘Boba Fett,’ ” said Dengar, ” ‘is alive.’ “