“I don’t care if you sent a wreath and took care of his widow. Do you know where I can find the man who killed him?”
“Shall we step outside onto the balcony?” Fraig gestured and picked up his drink. “It’s a sensitive matter to discuss in front of my guests.”
“Suit yourself,” said Fett, and decided instantly where he was prepared to be maneuvered. Step outside. Right. Mirta stood guard at the open doors, but the Hamadryas bodyguard tried to move her out of the way. He made the mistake of putting his hand on her back, and a little too low at that. She simply raised her clenched fist to shoulder height and ejected her gauntlet vibroblade.
“Touch me again, chakaar, and I’ll ram this into your carotid artery.”
“I haven’t got one.”
“Then I’ll have to keep stabbing you until I find somewhere else that bleeds copiously.”
Fraig intervened. “Serku, let’s not upset the lady, shall we? Let her wait wherever she wishes.”
Fraig was making a lot of mistakes tonight for a crime boss. It was just as well Fett always assumed the worst. Fraig might have thought that a balcony reduced Fett’s options, but it didn’t represent much of a problem for a man with a jet pack. Fraig didn’t have one. He also lacked a fiber cord line.
This wouldn’t take long.
Amateurs.
Fett had to fight an urge to explain to Fraig how to do it right. Out on the balcony, Kuat City’s lights shimmered through a veil of rushing water in the dusk. An overhang diverted the water a couple of meters from the face of the building.
Fett leaned one hand on the rail, feigning casual disinterest but actually testing the strength of the metal. He cast an eye over Fraig to estimate his weight. “Let me repeat that simple question. Tell me anything you know about the Mandalorian who whacked your predecessor.”
“I had nothing to do with it. Cherit upset a lot of folks. Occupational hazard.”
“Question still stands. I’ll bet your organization was keen to find out, too.”
“We didn’t know who he was. All we knew was that he had a grudge about a certain Twi’lek clan. We do business with Twi’leks in the entertainment industry.”
“I’ll bet.” Fraig meant Twi’lek girls. “What land of grudge?”
“He didn’t think we were treating them properly. We lost a couple of very popular entertainers thanks to him.”
Fraig was lying scum. And the clone in Mandalorian armor was settling a score for some Twi’leks, but he wasn’t a bounty hunter. Another link, then: personal, not professional.
Time. He didn’t have time for this.
“Seen him since?”
“No.”
“Want to tell me who the Twi’leks were?”
“Why do you want this man so badly? It has to be something big for you to be hunting him.” Fraig examined his manicured nails. “Or perhaps some of my associates regret Cherit’s passing, so they’ve hired you to come after me.”
“Not for hire right now.” Fett could never understand why they didn’t listen. They never heard what he said. He played it straight, and they always looked for a second meaning. “I want the Mando in one piece. I need him to do something for me.”
Fraig had missed his chance. Fett switched to the helmet corn-link and got Mirta’s attention, which was fixed on himand the Hamadryasanyway. “I’m just going to help our friend remember a few things.”
Useful stuff, fibercord.
Fett shot out the line in a loop from his backpack and whipped it around Fraig, jammed the grappling hook between the bars, and shoved him over the railing. It took two seconds. Fraig screamed, clinging to the top rail, but a good hard whack on the knuckles with the butt of the blaster made the scumbag let go. Fraig plummeted and Fett braced for the inevitable thump into the rail when the rope ran out. It nearly winded him. Fraig bounced and twisted in the line’s
strangling grip, still shrieking. Fett kept a few meters of line secured in reserve in the winch assembly.
Mirta was taking good care of the Hamadryas. She’d half closed the transparisteel doors on him, but the bodyguard wedged his body in the gap and tried to get a blaster shot through the opening. His arm was trapped. Fett watched, impressed, as Mirta head-butted the guard a second time, shoved the vibroblade into his thigh, and forced himshrieking in pain, nice touchback through the doors so that they crashed shut. Then she fired a few rounds into the controls.
“Make it quick, Ba’buir?” She flexed her shoulders as if easing torn neck muscles. “The doors might be blasterproof, but they’ll get them open sooner or later.”