[Republic Commando] - 03(18)

“Then we’d be especially interested in any evidence of planned payments to Kamino for more clones beyond, say, the end of the next financial year. Or not.”

Besany guessed that this was the point at which she ought to have decided she had no need to know more. “Okay. What aren’t you telling me?”

Mereel shrugged. “That I took a big risk getting the information that led me to ask you for more information.”

“What’s Kal’s view on this?” She didn’t even have to ask if Kal Skirata knew. The Nulls didn’t seem to take a breath without asking him first. Their allegiance was to him, not the Republic; but while she could understand the power of his aggressive charisma, she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. “And what happens if I get caught?”

“One-he trusts you,” Mereel said, deadpan. “Two? They’ll probably shoot you.”

He wasn’t joking now. She knew it.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll make a start in the morning. How do I contact you?”

“Comlink.” He held out his hand, and she dropped her comlink into his palm. Then he cracked open the case, frowned at the device’s entrails, and took out a tiny tool kit that looked like a toy in his palm. “Once I’ve made it secure… dear oh dear … ma’am, tell me you haven’t called Ordo on this.”

“No, I haven’t.” She felt useless and naive. “I thought it might compromise his safety.”

Mereel looked up for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Right answer. That’s why we trust you.” He prodded and poked in-side the comlink for a while and then snapped the case shut again. “Totally secure now, at least once you use the prefix I’m going to give you. You can even call Ordo.”

“He might be defusing a bomb or something when I call.” Besany always thought things through in meticulous sequence, which made her all the more horrified to see how easily she took this dangerous leap of faith. “I’ll wait for him to call me, thanks.”

“See? Kal’buir said you had the right stuff.”

“Common sense.”

“Got a sister?”

“No.”

“Shame.” He replaced his helmet and suddenly became just another Galactic City cop. “Anyway, got to go. Any message for Ordo?”

Should have thought ahead. Stang. What can I say? She and Ordo weren’t exactly a romantic role model. They’d just had a drink in the CSF bar and then a string of awkward, embarrassed conversations when everything was implied and not much said. But the bond was strong, and so was her duty to do the right thing for his brothers. “Tell him I miss him. Ask him what his favorite meal is and tell him I’ll cook it for him when he comes back.”

“It’s roba sausage with gravy, and he’s fussy about the pepper oil.”

“Hang on.” Besany looked around for something to send him, but there was nothing in a woman’s apartment that would be of any use or amusement to a soldier. There was food, though. Clones were always peckish, all of them. She rummaged in the conservator and hauled out a family-sized cheffa cake whose top was paved with glittering candied nuts, something she’d kept just in case unexpected guests showed up, but they never did. “Have you got room for something small?”

“How small?”

She was nothing if not exact. “Okay, twenty-five-centimeter diameter.”

“I’ll warn him not to swallow it whole.” Mereel tucked the container under one arm, then reached inside his jacket. He withdrew a small blaster. “Kal’buir insisted I make you carry this. Go careful, ma’am.”

Besany took it, numb, while a voice at the back of her mind asked if she’d lost her senses. He stepped out onto the platform, and a few moments later the police speeder lifted into the evening sky, vanishing in a blur of taillights.

She locked the balcony doors and drew the blinds, the blaster still gripped in her hand. She felt observed. There was no other word for it. But that was her conscience nagging. When she looked at her fingers curled around the weapon, it seemed like someone else’s hand, and nothing to do with her at all.

So he thinks I might need to use this.

Better work out how I’m going to cover my tracks.

She was a forensic auditor. She knew how to uncover the hidden tracks of others, all the places they hid data or salted away credits or blew smoke across the audit trail. It was just a matter of reversing the process to cover her own.

The only complication was that the trail might lead to the very highest level of government.

She’d never been so scared-and alone-in her life.