THE HUTT GAMBI(41)

Both Hutts indicated that they did. “Well, Teroenza reports to his Hutt overlord, the way he did to Zavval when I was there,” Solo said.

“But he’s the one who makes the decisions, and who oversees the day-today administration of the Ylesian colonies. Teroenza’s pretty smart, and he’s an efficient administrator. I gather profits were pretty good—though I’m sure they had a bad year after I destroyed the glitterstim factory.”

At the thought of the destruction of so much valuable property and spice, both Hutts winced. Solo shrugged again. “Yeah, it bothered me, too. But I needed a diversion.”

“How did Zavval really die?”

“The ceiling collapsed on him,” Solo said. “While we were raiding Teroenza’s treasure room we got caught, and—” Jabba’s eyes narrowed.

“Treasure room? What treasure?”

“That’s what we called it,” Solo explained. “Teroenza’s a really singleminded collector of rare things—art, antiquities, weapons, musical instruments, furniture, jewelry. You name it, and he’s got some. He’s built a big room to house his collection down in the bowels of the Administration Building on Ylesia. He lives for his collection, ‘cause there’s not much to do on Ylesia. It’s mostly jungle.”

“I see …” Jiliac said thoughtfully, with a sideways glance at Jabba.

The younger Hutt could tell that his uncle’s mind was busily churning out a plot based on the information Solo had just given them.

Jiliac continued to question Solo about the spice factories on Ylesia, how the operation was set up, how many guards there were, etc. Jabba listened with interest. His uncle was an experienced and devious leader of the kajidic. What did he have in mind now?

Finally, Jiliac dismissed the Corellian, and Solo and the Wookiee turned and left the audience chamber.

“So, Uncle,” Jabba said, “What are you thinking?”

Jiliac slowly took his hookah out of the bottom of the snackquarium and began puffing on it. Jabba smelled the sweetish odor of marcan herbs, a mild euphoric drug. It was several minutes before the kajidic leader spoke. “Jabba, my nephew, I am thinking that all this enmity between Besadii and Desilijic must cease. Sooner or later one of their attempts against us will succeed, and that would be a tragedy.”

“I agree,” Jabba said, feeling his hide prickle as he imagined what an assassin’s vibroblade would do to him. Or perhaps they’d just dump him into vacuum without a suit … he shuddered at the thought.

“But what can we do?”

“I believe we should call for an inter-clan meeting, to be held on neutral ground,” Jiliac said slowly, between puffs. “And that we should offer a nonviolence pact to Besadii.”

“Will they accept it?” Jabba couldn’t see why they should. “Aruk is no fool. He will at least appear to accept it, Nephew.” Jabba knew there had to be more to it than that. “What is behind this request?”

he asked slowly. Jabba knew he himself was a clever Hutt, but sometimes Jiliac could be downright devious.

“My agenda for this meeting will include a request for up-to-date profit disclosure on both sides,” Jiliac said. “And a request for income equalization.”

“Besadii will never agree to that!”

“I know. But it is a valid reason for requesting profit disclosure, and Besadii will recognize that.”

“And you think Besadii will share their information with us?”

“I believe they will, Nephew. Aruk will enjoy the chance to flaunt their profit margins before Desilijic.”

Jabba nodded. “He will, you are correct.”

“I believe that he will take this chance to bring in the leadership of Ylesia in order to validate their figures, so Aruk can boast about their profits.”

“Who is the current overseer?”

“Kibbick is in charge of the Ylesian operation.”

“But Kibbick is an idiot,” Jabba pointed out. He’d met the younger Hutt before, at an interkajidic conference.

“True,” Jiliac said. “My guess is that the true leader of Ylesia will also be summoned to report.”

Jabba’s eyes widened, then narrowed, at the thought. He chuckled aloud. “I begin to see your drift, Uncle …”

Jiliac puffed serenely on his hookah. The corners of his wide, lipless mouth turned up.

Teroenza was relaxing in his sling when the most famous bounty hunter in the Empire arrived to see him. Ganar Tos came hurrying into the t’landa Til’s inner sanctum, twisting his warty green hands anxiously.

“Sir! Your Excellency! Boba Fett is here, and says you are paying him to come for a personal interview! Is that true, sir?”