Mara’s throat tightened as a sudden, horrible thought occurred to her. “You’re not going to give Skywalker to them, are you?” she demanded.
“Alive, you mean?” Karrde countered.
For a long moment Mara just stared at him; at that small smile and those slightly heavy eyelids and the rest of that carefully constructed expression of complete disinterest in the matter. But it was all an act, and she knew it. He wanted to know why she hated Skywalker, all right-wanted it with as close to genuine passion as the man ever got.
And as far as she was concerned, he could go right on wanting it. “I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you,” she bit out, “that Solo and Calrissian might have engineered this whole thing, including the Etherway’s impoundment, as a way of finding this base.”
“It’s occurred to me, yes,” Karrde said. “I dismissed it as somewhat farfetched.”
“Of course,” Mara said sardonically. “The great and noble Han Solo would never do something so devious, would he? You never answered my question.”
“About Skywalker? I thought I’d made it clear, Mara, that he stays here until I know why Grand Admiral Thrawn is so interested in acquiring him. At the very least, we need to know what he’s worth, and to whom, before we can set a fair market price for him. I have some feelers out; with luck, we should know in a few more days.”
“And meanwhile, his allies will be here in a few more minutes.”
“Yes,” Karrde agreed, his lips puckering slightly. “Skywalker will have to be moved somewhere a bit more out of the way-we obviously can’t risk Solo and Calrissian stumbling over him. I want you to move him to the number four storage shed.”
“That’s where we’re keeping that droid of his,” Mara reminded him.
“The shed’s got two rooms; put him in the other one.” Karrde waved toward her waist. “And do remember to lose that before our guests arrive. I doubt they’d fail to recognize it.”
Mara glanced down at Skywalker’s lightsaber hanging from her belt. “Don’t worry. If it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon not have much to do with them.”
“I wasn’t planning for you to,” Karrde assured her. “I’d like you here when I greet them, and possibly to join us for dinner, as well. Other than that, you’re excused from all social activities.”
“So they’re staying the day?”
“And possibly the night, as well.” He eyed her. “Requirements of a proper host aside, can you think of a better way for us to prove to the Republic, should the need arise, that Skywalker was never here?”
It made sense. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. “Are you warning the rest of the Wild Karrde’s crew to keep quiet?”
“I’m doing better than that,” Karrde said, nodding back toward the comm equipment. “I’ve sent everyone who knows about Skywalker off to get the Starry Ice prepped. Which reminds me-after you move Skywalker, I want you to run his X-wing farther back under the trees. No more than half a kilometer-I don’t want you to go through any more of the forest alone than you have to. Can you fly an X-wing?”
“I can fly anything.”
“Good,” he said, smiling slightly. “You’d better be off, then. The Millennium Falcon will be landing in less than twenty minutes.”
Mara took a deep breath. “All right,” she said. Turning, she left the room.
The compound was empty as she walked across it to the barracks building. By Karrde’s design, undoubtedly; he must have shifted people around to inside duties to give her a clear path for taking Skywalker to the storage shed. Reaching his room, she keyed off the lock and slid open the door.
He was standing by the window, dressed in that same black tunic, pants, and high boots that he’d worn that day at Jabba’s palace.
That day she’d stood silently by and watched … and let him destroy her life.
“Get your case and let’s go,” she growled, gesturing with the blaster. “It’s moving day.”
His eyes stayed on her as he stepped over to the bed. Not on the blaster in her hand, but on her face. “Karrde’s made a decision?” he asked calmly as he picked up the case.
For a long moment she was tempted to tell him that, no, this was on her own initiative, just to see if the implications would crack that maddening Jedi serenity. But even a Jedi would probably fight if he thought he was going to his death, and they were on a tight enough schedule as it was. “You’re moving to one of the storage sheds,” she told him. “We’ve got company coming, and we don’t have any formal wear your size. Come on, move.”