[Bounty Hunter Wars] - 01(75)

Another fast nod. “I can keep quiet.”



“I figured as much.” Cradossk let his smile reappear. “We’re all scoundrels here, but some of us are better scoundrels than others.” He leaned farther forward this time, close enough that the breath from his flared nostrils formed momentary clouds on Zuckuss’s eyes. “Here’s the deal. You’ve heard about the Oph Nar Dinnid job?”



“Of course. Everybody in the Guild is talking about it.”



“Including my son Bossk, I take it?”



Zuckuss nodded. “He’s the one I heard it from.”



“I

knew

he’d jump on it.” Cradossk got

some satisfaction from that; his spawn was at least ambitious, if not overly smart. “He likes the big jobs, with the big payoffs. This Dinnid job is just the kind of thing to get him

salivating. Did he say anything about putting together a team to go for it?”



“Not to me.”



“He will,” said Cradossk. “I’ll see to that per sonally. My son may show some initial reluctance to having you on the team, but I’ll make it worth his while to take you along. There’s some equipment to which I can provide access, some inside information sources I’m sure he’d find valuable-that sort of thing. More than enough to make up for whatever share he and the others would have to cut you in on for being part of the operation.”



“That’s very … kind of you.” Suspicion was discernible behind the curved lenses of Zuckuss’s eyes. “But why would you do something like that?”



There was hope for this creature yet; he wasn’t a complete idiot. “It’s very simple,” said Cradossk qui etly. “I do something for you”-he tapped his claw against the top of the other’s face mask-“and you … do something … for me.” With the last word, the point of Cradossk’s claw tapped against his own chest. “Now, that’s not too hard to understand, is it?”



Zuckuss nodded slowly, as though the claw in front of his face had hypnotized him. “What is it … that you want me to do?”



“Now, that’s simple as well.” Cradossk rested both his hands on the bony arms of the campaign chair. “You’re going to go out with the team that my son Bossk is putting together to snag this particular piece

of merchandise named Oph Nar Dinnid. The difference between you and Bossk, however, is that you’ll be coming back.”



It took a few seconds, but illumination finally struck Zuckuss. “Oh …” The nod was even slower this time. “I see… .”



“I’m glad you do.” Cradossk gestured toward the door. “We’ll talk some more. Later.”



When

Zuckuss had scurried out of the

chamber, Cradossk allowed himself a few moments of self-satisfied musing. There was lots more to do, strings to pull, words to be whispered in the appropriate ears. But for now, he had to admit to himself that he actually did like this Zuckuss creature. To a degree, thought Cradossk. Just smart enough to be useful, but not smart enough to realize how he was being used-at least, until it was too late. He might even feel some regret when it came time to eliminate Zuckuss as well.



But

such,

Cradossk knew, were the burdens

of leadership.



It had taken some doing, plus prying and digging with various tools improvised from stiff, sharp-pointed pieces of wire. But those were the sorts of skills that Twi’lek males were born with. The result, after nearly a year of surreptitious work on the part of the majordomo, was a tiny, undetectable listening hole, up near the ceiling of the anteroom to Cradossk’s private chamber. Better than any electronic snooping device; those could always be de tected with a basic security scan-sweep. The majordomo, even as he was listening to the conversation between Cradossk

and

the

young

bounty

hunter

Zuckuss, congratulated himself on his cleverness. One had to be clever to survive working for carnivores like these.



Using a combination of toeholds between the wall’s massive stones and an ornamental wall hanging depicting the Guild’s past glories, Ob Fortuna clambered down from his eavesdropping post. He had heard Cradossk dismissing Zuckuss, their secretive discussion over for the time being. Past experience enabled the majordomo to calculate precisely how long it would take for someone to turn from in front of the bench in which the Guild leader always sat, and walk the few meters to the chamber door. It was just long enough for the majordomo to get back down and brush the dust and cobweb fragments from himself, as though he had been standing there all along, waiting like a good and faithful-and non-conspiratorial-servant.