THE PARADISE SNARE(100)

The proprietor was an old, old man, still spry despite his stooped body, wrinkled face, and wispy yellow-white hair. Galidon Okanor had looked exactly the same in the five years since Han had first met him.

Now he looked up and smiled at Han. “Well, it’s …um … who, today, son?”

Han smiled. “Jenos Idanian, sir. How are you?” He genuinely liked the little man, who was, at one and the same time, a genuinely respected art assessor and appraiser, and a very competent and trustworthy fence.

“Oh, can’t complain, can’t complain,” said the little man. “Because if I did, what good would it do me?” he added, emitting a wheezing chuckle.

“You got a point,” Han said.

Okanor sat down on a high stool before a table that was lit with a jeweler’s and appraiser’s light, specially angled and illumined to show flaws in gemstones and cracks or flaws in antiques. He waved to a seat opposite his. “Sit down, sit down, Jenos Idanian. What have you brought me today?”

“Lots of things,” Han said. “I’d like a price for the lot, and I’d like the credits deposited immediately in the Imperial Bank on Coruscant.”

“Fine, fine,” said Okanor. He rubbed his aged, veiny hands together.

“You usually have good taste, Jenos. Now let’s see what you’ve brought me!”

“Okay,” Han said, and began unloading the knapsack, placing each item on the table beneath the light. He held back his favorite treasure, though, a tiny golden statue of a long-extinct Corellian paledor. It was beautiful, and its eyes were flawless Keral firegems.

Okanor watched avidly, occasionally uttering a soft “oh” or “ahhh,” but he forbore to speak until Han was finished. Then he carefully picked up each piece, studied it intently, sometimes through a jeweler’s glass, then placed it on the table again and went on to the next.

“Remarkable, most remarkable,” he said, finally. “I am going to break a rule of mine and ask you where in the name of the galaxy you found all of this? In a museum? I do not approve of stealing from museums, you know.”

Han shook his head. “Not a museum.”

“A private collection?” Okanor pursed his lips. “I am most impressed, lad.

The collector in question is a sentient of taste and discrimination. I will also tell you, young man, that he is not very particular about his acquisition sources. I recognize, from their description, that at least half of these items have been reported stolen. Some have been on Where are lists for years.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Han said. “And you, you’ll sell ‘em to museums, won’t you?”

“Most of them, most of them,” Okanor agreed.

“Okay, then, that’s good,” Han said, thinking that would please Bria.

“That’s where they should be. So … how much?”

Okanor named a figure.

Han gave the old man a look of withering contempt and reached for his knapsack. “There’s a guy over in Kolene who will be thrilled to get a look at this stuff. I can see I should have visited him first,” he said, reaching for the scrimshawed bantha tusk from Tatooine.

Okanor named another, higher figure. Silently Han began stowing items in the backpack.

Okanor sighed as though he’d just breathed his last and named another figure, considerably higher than the previous sum. “And that’s final,” he added.

Han shook his head. “It better not be, Okanor. I need at least five thousand more than that.”

Okanor clutched his chest and watched with anguished eyes as Han continued to stow items away in the backpack. Finally, as Han reached for the last, the tiny sculpture carved from living ice, he squeaked, “No! Don’t! You are killing me! Impoverishing me! I shall be naked in the streets, Jenos, lad! Would you do that to an old man?”

Han gave him a feral grin. “In a heartbeat, Okanor. I know what I need to get out of this deal, I have a pretty good idea what it’s worth, and

I ain’t taking less.” He gave the old man an intent stare. “Frankly, Okanor, I can’t afford to take less. I’ve got something important to spend these credits on. If what I’ve got in mind works, you won’t see me again.

I’ll be outta all this for good.”

Okanor nodded. “All right. You’ve broken me, Idanian. I’ll meet your price.”

“Good,” Han said, and began taking the items out of the backpack again.

He left the store with a satisfied smile, and carefully stowed his “Jenos Idanian” IDs and the bank record into his credit pouch. He’d travel under different IDs and leave “Jenos Idanian …. clean,” only using him for the bank withdrawal. He planned to store the golden paledor in a safe place he knew about. It never hurt to keep a little something in reserve for emergencies …