“Because if you put a death mark on Fligh, you’d never get your money,” Qui-Gon said.
Helb laughed. “I’ll never get it anyway!”
“Fligh knows that your group has moved to Vandor-3,” Qui-Gon said. “If you kill him, the information won’t get out.”
Helb shook his head, bemused. “I told Fligh because I wanted the information to get out. I knew he wouldn’t sell it to the security force.
Only to those who need tech equipment or stolen speeders for cheap. How else would we get customers? Speaking of which, if the Temple needs equipment…”
“No, thank you,” Qui-Gon said. He stood.
“Don’t worry about Didi,” Helb said. “He always seems to land on his feet. And if you see Fligh, tell him I’m looking for him. That should scare him!” Hissing with amusement, Helb turned his attention back to his tea.
Qui-Gon started for the door. As Obi-Wan began to follow, something caught his eye. A wizened old man wrapped in layers of soiled cloaks and robes sat at a table, pushing pieces around a gameboard with a dirty finger. His eyes slowly slid back to the board as Obi-Wan glanced at him. A jolt of familiarity hit Obi-Wan, but he could not place it.
He caught up with Qui-Gon at the door. But something made him turn back. The old man was now heading toward the back of the place. He shuffled through the crowd at first, but his step quickened as he passed through the throng at the bar. It was difficult to keep him in sight through the press of bodies, but Obi-Wan focused his attention, watching for movement.
He saw a cape drop to the floor. Then another. No one noticed.
The windows along the back were shuttered as well. One was slightly more ajar than the others, the window itself cracked to let in a tiny stream of air.
The shuffling old man had disappeared. A tall female dressed in a dark tunic suddenly disengaged from the crowd and moved toward the rear.
“It’s her,” Obi-Wan breathed. He quickly turned to Qui-Gon. “She’s here.”
Qui-Gon turned. As they watched, the female dressed in black hauled herself up and then slipped through the narrow opening of the window, her body seeming to compress as she did so.
With a leap, Qui-Gon burst out the front door. Obi-Wan followed on his heels. They raced down a narrow alleyway crowded with so many durasteel garbage bins that they had to leap up and run on top of them.
Garbage squished under their boots, impeding their progress. They landed as lightly as they could, racing over the tops of the bins toward the rear. At the end of the alleyway, they leaped down onto solid ground.
She was already disappearing around a corner far down the back alley.
Qui-Gon increased his pace, and Obi-Wan spurted forward to catch up to him. His Master was a faster runner, and he dashed around the corner before Obi-Wan could get there.
Obi-Wan pushed himself to his limit, racing after Qui-Gon. The question was, if they caught the bounty hunter, what would they do? Questioning her had not exactly been productive before.
As he rounded the corner, he saw that Qui-Gon had given up. The alley widened into a small square with six different roads radiating out from the center.
“She’s gone,” Qui-Gon said.
“If that was really her,” Obi-Wan said. “Now I can’t quite believe it. I saw an old man, and suddenly he became a younger female.”
“Your eyes did not deceive you, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said. “Only a Sorussian would have been able to slip through that opening. The question is, why was she there at all? Was it a coincidence, or is she now on our trail?”
CHAPTER 7
“What are you doing here?” Astri demanded as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked through the door of Didi’s CafŠ. She wiped her flour-dusted hands on a dish towel. “Oh, forgive me, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You are always welcome, Qui-Gon. Except not just now.”
“Don’t worry, Astri, we haven’t come for a meal,” Qui-Gon told her.
“Jenna Zan Arbor is due with her party any moment,” Astri said distractedly. “One of the servers hasn’t shown up. I haven’t finished the banja cakes yet. The water won’t boil for the pashi noodles, and my sauce is too spicy!”
“It smells delicious,” Obi-Wan said helpfully.
“Thank you. If only I could feed them with smells! How does the place look? Fligh was supposed to come by and sweep, and he never showed up, that rascal. After all Didi has done for him!”
“I have never seen the cafŠ look better,” Qui-Gon assured her.
Astri had tried to brighten the place with ornate candles on the two long tables she had pushed together. A long pink cloth was on each table, and the plates and glasses looked clean and sparkling. But she could not hide the general air of disrepair of the place. The walls were dingy with the years of smoke and dirt, and the floor was pitted from the marks of thousands of boots and scuffles.