Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights II Streets of Shadows - Michael Reaves [68]
He responded to Boulad’s statement. “Your perception flatters you.”
This produced a deep grunt that might have indicated satisfaction, recognition, or perhaps indigestion. Unfamiliar as he was with Cragii punctuation, Typho chose to accept it as encouraging. He gestured behind him.
“Your mate? A niece, perhaps? Attractive as well as competent.”
The Cragmoloid’s tiny eyes opened wider. Typho had chosen his opening well. He knew that the pachy-dermoids would rather discuss clan or relationships than just about anything else, so they spent the next twenty minutes talking family, with the captain letting his host carry most of the conversation. By the time Boulad had finished waxing rhapsodic about his current wife, Typho had been accepted as an honest broker, if not quite a member of the family.
“For one of the feeble trunkless, you are a pleasant exception,” Boulad told him. “Still, it is time that you stated your business.”
“Just so,” Typho agreed. “I seek the disposition of any Sith on a certain world at a specific time.”
Even for the representative of a species that valued honesty and directness above all, Boulad was taken aback. His trunk elevated in surprise. “Why not ask me something easy to obtain, like the Emperor’s personal taste in beverages, or the home of the current mistress of the Senate vice president?”
Typho proceeded to fill in his host on the necessary details. When Boulad had recorded them all on an appliance designed to accommodate his massive digits, he grunted anew.
“All this is a simple matter to research, except for all of it.”
“You understand,” Typho said, “why I couldn’t walk into Imperial Records and ask for a hard copy.”
Boulad’s trunk waved affirmation. “By now there would be little of you left to question. The Emperor does not like anyone prying into such interdicted material, even for something as simple and innocent as travel itineraries. How resourceful of you to find it all by yourself, without any assistance from anyone. Especially anyone like me.”
The captain smiled. “I amaze myself sometimes.”
“And now to the matter of money, which cannot be avoided. For such a dangerous service, at risk of inviting potentially lethal attention, I must charge five thouand credits. If you cannot pay such an amount, then you may utilize the exit, for our business here is done. I respect your manner, but I will not take such a risk for anything less. And if you know the people of Ankus, you know that we do not bargain in such things. Our word is our bond.”
Typho was not a man of unlimited means, by any stretch of the imagination, but he had determined from the beginning of his quest that money could and would be no object. “Very well,” he said, pulling out his coinpurse. “I assume cash is acceptable?”
“Mandatory.” Boulad leaned forward, towering over his guest. “My people have already secured the information you want. At least, as much as was available.”
Typho blinked in surprise as he paid his host. “That was fast.”
“I was curious to know the why and wherefore of what you sought. If you were able to pay for it, so much the better. If not, it was worth researching to see if it might prove valuable to someone else.”
A flicker of fear shot through the captain. If the Sith or any of their minions learned that someone was delving into their travel records … without thinking, he said as much to Boulad.
His host was no Jenet, for whom Typho’s uncertainty would have been a compliment. “You wound me, visitor! I am an honest broker, as are all in my family.” He gestured to his left from where another, somewhat smaller Cragmoloid was joining them. “Including my third son Arlumek, whom I believe has brought the information you requested—and have now paid for, in full.”
While the elder Cragmoloid counted and pocketed his payment, Arlumek placed a small emitter in front of the expectant Typho. Heavy