Qui-Gon raised his hood. It would conceal his face somewhat. “It’s getting chilly,” he remarked.
“We’re almost there,” Den replied.
He led them a few blocks on. A tall gray tower was surrounded by a high polished gate of bronze metal.
“Well, here we are. Do you have an appointment?” Den asked. “They won’t let you in without an ID tag. It’s top security.”
Qui-Gon eyed the sleek facade of the building. There were no windows and there appeared to be only one entrance. Once they got in, they would have to get out the same way.
“Our appointment is for tomorrow,” he said. “We just wanted to see where it was.”
“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Den asked. “I live in a place where you can rent guest rooms. It’s close to here.”
Qui-Gon hesitated. It had not slipped his notice that Den seemed to appear whenever they needed help. He did not sense danger from him, but he was still wary.
But an uneasiness that had nothing to do with Den had been ticking away inside him. Obi-Wan was now a wanted criminal. They had barely been on Telos an hour, and already the situation had escalated out of control. Qui-Gon had felt sure back on Coruscant that if events got out of hand, he would be able to order Obi-Wan back to the Temple. Now the boy was trapped on the planet. He would not be able to pass through security in order to leave.
He had brought the boy into danger. He had done it with his eyes open. Guilt pierced him. He had to protect Obi-Wan now. He could not let his passion for bringing Xanatos to justice interfere with the boy’s safety.
“Well, come along and have a look, at least,” Den urged in a friendly way. “I’m only a few blocks away.”
Qui-Gon nodded. He could see that Obi-Wan looked tired, and suddenly reflected that the boy had not eaten a bite since breakfast. Obi-Wan needed rest and food. He could find that for him at least.
He would trust his instincts. Den might be a gambler, but he didn’t seem like such a bad character.
Den turned off the main road and led them down an alley that twisted behind the tall buildings. The structures grew more modest as they entered a residential area. Den led them to a shabby building painted in various shades of green, blue, and red.
“My landlady is paying me to paint the place, but she can’t decide on a color,” he explained with a grin.
He opened the door and ushered them into a small anteroom. “Riva?” he called toward the back of the house. “I brought guests. Paying guests.” He leaned in closer to them. “That will bring her on the run.”
As if on cue, Qui-Gon heard the soft sound of running feet.
Den grinned broadly. “See what I mean?”
“That’s coming from outside.” Qui-Gon strode to the window and moved the curtain a fraction to look at the street outside.
Security police were racing silently down the street. An officer signaled for them to surround the building.
Qui-Gon’s hand fell onto the hilt of his lightsaber. His instincts had been off. Den had betrayed them. He had led them into a trap.
Chapter 5
As soon as Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon reach for his lightsaber, he activated his own. The two weapons glowed pale blue and green in the dim light of the room.
Den stumbled backward. “Jedi! Whoa! I mean, I knew you were weird, but I didn’t know you were Jedi.”
“You betrayed us for the reward,” Qui-Gon said.
“Who, me?” Den asked, holding a hand over his heart. “Joke, right? Kill me now, because I’m mortally wounded, I wouldn’t betray a fellow criminal. Sure, I saw that alert. But I wouldn’t turn you in.”
“A fellow what!” Obi-Wan asked.
Den peered out the curtain. “Those security police could be here for me. I thought they were looking for me in the Katharsis Dome, too. Not that I’m a criminal, exactly. I’m more like a … facilitator.”
“And why should we believe you?” Obi-Wan asked.
“Um, let’s review. Because you’re a criminal, too?” Den stepped back from the curtain. “You can put away those saber things. I’ve got a way out.”
Obi-Wan exchanged a glance with Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon shrugged. What else could they do? Better to trust Den a little longer than to tangle with twenty security officers.
Den led them down the hallway to the kitchen. He hurried to a panel in the wall and pushed it open. “After you,” he said to Obi-Wan.
A foul smell rose in Obi-Wan’s nostrils. “The garbage chute?”
“Do you have a better idea?” Den asked. “Okay, if you insist, I’ll go first.”
He swung himself into the small space and then let go. They heard the sound of banging and a small ow! Then Den’s voice came to them hollowly.