“Ah.” Into that one word, the Neimoidian squeezed a tremendous amount of selfappreciation. “Not so.” He led the way along the glittery corridor, past two sets of residential double doors, and stopped at a smaller unmarked door. He held up a datapad and keyed in a number. The door popped open with a quiet whoosh indicating that a seal had broken, and warmer air washed over the Jedi.
The Neimoidian pulled the door open. The room beyond was dark until glow rods above blinked on, illuminating a narrow chamber lined with stored goods-cleaning solutions, deactivated mouse droids, bins of replacement electronic parts. “You see, three hours ago, I plugged new comms into her comm jacks and sent a message from one to the other. It never arrived. Yet sending a message from the second to the first, that one did arrive.”
“Ah.” Mara offered him a slight smile, the first sign of approval she’d given him. “And here is where the interception was taking place.”
“I did not touch it,” he said. “I remember your words about traps. Bombs. Poisons.” He offered a shudder. “I have left it for you.”
“Where is it?”
“Before I tell you, I wish to leave. To have a head start in case you trigger an unfortunate event. And before I leave, I wish to be paid. For if you are dead, I can never be rewarded for my efforts.”
Mara exchanged a glance with Luke. He nodded, confirming that he, too, had detected no sign of deception in the Neimoidian’s story.
Luke pulled a credcard from his pouch and handed it over. “Thirty seconds,” he said.
The Neimoidan half bowed again. “In anticipation of close timing, I left the turbolift on standby.” He gestured upward, to the top of the shelving directly above Luke’s head, and then he turned and ran.
Luke snorted, amused.
Mara leapt up and, with a little propulsion boost through the Force, landed, seated, on the top shelf.
What the Neimoidian had found was obvious. In his search, he had removed a ceiling panel that provided access to a series of data cables and water pipes. Spliced into one of those cables was a commercially available datapad. Mara brought out her electronics tools and got to work on it.
Luke remained at floor level. “Is it a trap?”
“Of course.” With gloves, tongs, and tools, she already had the exterior panels off the datapad. “The battery compartment has a smaller-than-standard battery, plus an explosives charge, just enough to destroy the datapad and blow your hand off.” Belatedly, she felt a little twinge of sympathy and looked down at her husband. “Oops, sorry, farmboy.”
Luke glanced at his new hand. “That sounds like a small charge from someone as dedicated to overkill as she seems to be.”
“It is.” She returned her attention to the device. “That’s because it’s backed up by poison. Trihexalon beneath a very thin layer of spray-on sealant. How nice that I didn’t touch it. I’d be dead, the bomb would go off, the rest of the poison would go gaseous, the explosion would breach the air duct, the duct would draw the gas in …”
“Economical.”
“Got it. Defused. Now …” She set the poison and explosives package aside, then swiftly cabled in her own datapad. After a brief analysis she said, “A simple intercept-and-redirect. Communications from three hundred seven-twelve alpha to three hundred seven-twelve beta are intercepted and redirected-to neg three four-thirteen.”
“Basement level three? Is that bedrock level?”
“Yes, or close to it.” Mara disconnected her datapad, restored the panel over Lumiya’s ‘pad, and placed the explosives and poison package into a self-sealing container. Then, tools and container in hand, she dropped to the floor. “I think we need to see another set of quarters.”
CHAPTER TEN
The bedrock-level quarters were far less impressive than those on upper stories. The hallway walls were plascrete painted a neutral blue and otherwise undecorated; the ceilings were low; the doors were flimsy-looking metal with large package delivery slots beside them. There was a smell to this level, an inescapable odor of a chemical sanitizing agent, suggesting an attempt by management to combat the leakage of sewage or industrial runoff.
As Mara was performing her check of the electronics on the door into the suspect quarters, Luke saw two beings a Gamorrean and a human-leaving other sets of quarters. Both were clad in blue jumpsuits emblazoned with the Zorp House apartment tower logo; they barely glanced at the Jedi before heading off toward the turbolifts.
“Looks as though this floor is mostly quarters for building workers,” Luke said.
Mara nodded. “Mostly or entirely. Which makes me wonder how Lumiya got a place here. Did she forge an ID and records, which is certainly within her capabilities, or did she bribe the building manager and it’s just a little detail he’s conveniently forgotten? Oh, here we go, stand back.” She stepped away from the doorway, and though he felt no presence of danger, Luke did likewise.