“But I’ve got something you need,” Obrim said.
Skirata switched instantly from lovable rogue to a creature of pure ice. “Don’t ever, ever try to bargain with me about this.”
“Are we on the same side or not?”
Skirata was ashen. “We’ll go it alone then.” Fi had rarely seen him truly angry, but when he had been pushed too far he went white and quiet and dangerous. “Come on, son. We’ve got work to do.”
He took Fi’s elbow and steered him to the doors. It didn’t bode well. Fi looked back over his shoulder at Obrim-a man equally white, equally tense-and the captain shook his head.
“Okay, Kal, I’ll give it to you anyway, but may the Force save your sorry backside if this goes wrong.”
Skirata turned. He seemed genuinely surprised: he hadn’t been bluffing. He really had been storming off and cutting Obrim out of the loop. “What happens if it does go wrong, Jailer? You get into trouble with your bosses. But my boys die.”
“Yeah, and so might mine if they get in the way by accident.”
“Then don’t get in the way.”
“Okay, what time did your people grab the woman?” Obrim asked.
“Midafternoon.”
“Well, there was someone trying to get hold of our irresistible friend here via a government comlink shortly before CSF went to his home an hour ago.”
“You mean there’s someone else in the GAR working with him?”
“Yes, and if we could pin down the transmission source, I’d have given it to you.”
Skirata’s shoulders sagged. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Don’t mention it. Just try to give me a warning before you start another war here, okay?”
“That was a nice smokescreen line to the media, by the way. Gang war indeed.”
“It’s very nearly true. But thank your oily friend Mar Rugeyan for that. You’ll owe him one, I’m sure.”
Skirata rolled his eyes. Fi continued to be surprised by the machinations of political life in Coruscant. He was grateful-and not for the first time-that all he had to do was shoot or be shot. There was no time to worry or plan: either you did a better, faster job than the enemy at that particular moment or you died.
“Rugeyan wants good news,” Skirata said. “Let’s see if we can find some for him.”
Obrim smiled ruefully at Fi and made a gesture of tipping back a glass of ale. “Don’t forget that drink, will you?”
They left Obrim in the morgue and took the service turbolift to disappear into the late-night crowds around the CSF complex and emerge at a taxi platform to wait for Jusik to collect them. Skirata simply glanced at three innocent Coruscanti citizens waiting there, too, and they decided they had urgent business elsewhere. Kal’buir could look anything but paternal when he felt like it.
Fi pulled his collar up, still feeling horribly exposed without his armor. Skirata rummaged in his pocket, took out a bar of candied fruit, and broke it in two. He handed Fi the bigger piece.
“What now?” Fi said.
“It’s the only solid lead we’ve got,” Skirata said. “And it’s a mess, but I’m reluctant to let it go and start over.”
“I bet the Seps are looking for another source of supply for their explosives now. If this were Qiilura or any other mining planet, they could do it easily. On an urban world like this … well, scoring a few blasters is easy, but shopping for explosives is going to attract attention. Maybe this is where we use Ordo’s little cache of stuff that goes bang.”
Skirata stopped chewing. “I’m never sure if we have the same ideas because they’re common sense, or because I trained you and now you’re as crazy as I am, son.”
“Well, they know their original consignment didn’t arrive, so now you might as well use the stuff as bait.”
“And there’s Qibbu.”
“Now, that’s dangerous.”
“No, that’s when Hutts come in useful. They’re like one big scum want-ad service. Seeing as he thinks we’re doing a bit of private business without the GAR’S consent anyway, why disappoint him? He can put the word out that Kal has something to sell.”
“But then we’ve pinpointed our operational base for them.”
“You think Qibbu will want to advertise that we’re in his precious hotel, with the possibility of unpleasantness and lots of damage following him home, too? He won’t discuss locations. He likes being alive.”
“But you’re going to tell Obrim, right?”
“Only the location when we have a delivery set up with our new customers,” Skirata said. “And then only to warn off CSF.”