THE PARADISE SNARE(47)
After the shuttle let him off, Han walked around the central part of the city, checking out the lay of the land. Instinctively, he headed for an area where the houses were smaller and not as well maintained.
Finally, in a neighborhood that was definitely lower-income, and boasted more than one tavern and hock shop, he realized he’d come to the right place.
Han scanned the streets as he walked, looking for a particular type of individual. Finally, he spotted what he was looking for. A boy dressed in clothes that were borderline too small, ragged, and not very clean was sauntering along the street, glancing oh-so-casually at each passerby. Han recognized the child, though he’d never seen him before.
A pickpocket. Ten years ago, he’d been that child.
Han increased the length of his strides until he caught up with the boy.
As expected, the lad shifted his weight and altered stride to brush against Han as the Corellian walked past him. Also expected were the lightning-fast fingers that delved deep into the pilot’s jacket pocket.
The fingers came away empty; Han’s ID and the few credits he was carrying were sealed into the inside pocket of his coverall.
Han lengthened his strides until he was ahead of the boy, then, without warning, he spun on his heel and confronted the child. “Hey, there,” he said, smiling pleasantly and holding up the boy’s identdisk and money.
“Lose something?”
The boy’s mouth dropped open in amazement, then he recovered himself and glared at Han, his black eyes smoldering.
Han leaned casually against a storefront. “Careless of you to lose these things …”
The boy swelled up like a poisoned mrelfa lizard, then launched into a furious and detailed description of Han’s ancestry, personal habits, and probable destination. Han listened patiently until the urchin began to sputter and repeat himself, then he waved for silence. “I’ll give ‘em back,” he said genially, “in exchange for some information.”
The boy glared sullenly, tossing his overlong hair back out of his eyes.
“What kind of information, you son of a diseased pervert?”
Han tossed one of the credit coins into the air, caught it effortlessly, without looking. “Watch your mouth, junior. I just want to know where in this town people go to make deals.”
“What kind of deals?”
“You know what kind of deals. Deals they don’t want the law to know about. Deals for substances you can’t buy legally.” “Spice?” the boy frowned. “What kind?” “Glitterstim.”
The boy’s brow creased even farther. “What’s that?”
Just my luck; Han thought. I run into the only dumb pickpocket in Aldera.
Great.
“Glitterstim,” Han said. “It’s … well, it’s really valuable.
Even more so than carsunum or andris.”
The boy shook his head again. “Never heard of them, either.”
I don’t believe this! “What about andris? You got andris here? Used to flavor food, preserve it?”
The kid nodded. “Yeah. Andris. We got that. Expensive stuff.”
“Right,” Han said. “When you buy andris, who do you buy it from?”
“I don’t buy it, creep,” the boy said. “Now gimmee back my money and ID.”
“Just a second, be patient,” Han said, holding the items up, safely out of the boy’s reach. “So, okay, you don’t buy andris personally. But if you or your friends wanted some, how would they get it? Buy it in a store? Or a government agency?”
The boy’s expression was eloquent as he shook his head. “No, man.
We’d buy it from Darak Lyll.”
At last! A name! “That’s what I wanted. Darak Lyll. What’s he look like?”
“Taller than you. Long hair, beard. Fat around his middle.” “Old or young?” “Old. Gray hair.”
“Where’s he hang out?” Han asked.
“Do I look like his keeper?” the pickpocket demanded scornfully. Han took a deep breath. “Just tell me the names of any places where he might go on a typical day. Don’t lie, or I’ll swear out a complaint that you tried to rob me.”
The boy named six taverns, telling Han that they were all within a five-minute walk. Han straightened up and flipped the boy his ID and money. “Next time keep it inside your clothes, junior,” he said.
“Next to your skin.” He patted his own money and gave the lad a smug smile. The lad snarled at Han and walked away, cursing.
Alderaanian taverns were much too clean and well lit, Han decided, an hour later. He’d been to three of the six so far, and none of them appeared seamy enough for his purposes. No sign of Darak Lyll, either.