Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights II Streets of Shadows - Michael Reaves [71]
Laranth was at the work center repairing a comm unit. She didn’t speak or look up. Even Den’s longtime companion I-Five did not break whatever silent cybernetic conversation he was involved in to voice his opinion.
Jax put the hard copy aside. No point in reading it; the meticulous former bureaucrat would, as he said, already have read and analyzed every aspect of the official document, if only to alleviate his boredom. “What charge are they holding him on?”
“Impersonating a police officer. But not to worry—I’m sure a word or two from your close personal friend the prefect will see him back on the street within minutes.”
“I suppose we can’t do anything via comm channels?”
“No. If it’s to be done at all, his release must be realized in person. I nominate you.”
Jax gave him a look of annoyance, an effort that was wasted since the Elomin had already turned away. The Jedi turned to I-Five. “You want to come with me? There might be details I’ll need to quickcheck.” But the droid, lost in the maze of cybernetic data processing, did not respond. Jax shrugged. “Guess I’ll go by myself.”
As he started for the door, Laranth looked at him. “Come back to us,” she said to him. Encouraged by her tone, he paused and looked back.
“Are you saying you’d miss me if I didn’t?”
“No,” she replied, utterly deadpan. “I’m saying that we don’t have sufficient funds to bail out two of you, and I don’t want to have to decide which of you goes free.”
* * *
Ennui had its uses, Jax decided as he and Den exited the heavily armored, windowless front of the police subpost. It was a state of being that crossed species lines. It was as good a reason as any why the cools had walked (or, in one case, slimed) through the necessary interviews and the hectares of flimsiwork that had eventually allowed the Jedi to extricate the Sullustan from custody. The bail that had been required to accomplish Den’s release was as good as forfeited, he knew, since Den had no intention of reporting for trial on the date set.
“What were you thinking?” he asked as they made their way down the Level 14 street, heading for the nearest public transport.
“I was looking for a way to get some information out of a certain Vernol—a real mopakhead named Shulf’aa. He’s a merchant over in—”
“We’ve spoken with dozens of merchants, all to no avail.”
“Ah, but not in the capacity of an investigating police officer.”
Jax looked at him. “Tell me you learned something.”
“Shulf’aa’s an art dealer.”
Some of Jax’s enthusiasm faded. “Let me guess: he owns some of Ves Volette’s sculptures.”
“Two pieces, to be precise,” Den elaborated. “They’re still in one of his several galleries, because the artist’s price has gone way, way up since his death. And each time it goes up, Shulf’aa raises his asking price. It’s a fairly straightforward piece of commercial brinkmanship. He keeps hoping that one day a buyer will pay at the top of the asking bid.
“But that’s not what I found especially interesting.”
“He told you something he didn’t tell the police?”
“He told me something, in my transitory guise as a police representative, that he hasn’t had a chance to tell Haus and his goons, because they hadn’t asked him yet. It seems that the two Volette light sculptures Shulf’aa acquired didn’t come to him through normal, that is to say legal, channels.”
“They were stolen?”
Den was enjoying his moment of triumph. “Less than a year ago.”
Jax said slowly, “Dejah never said anything about that.”
“Why should she?” the Sullustan pointed out. “We didn’t ask her.
“Anyway, so I pressed Shulf’aa, threatened to take him in for attempting to vend stolen goods, and he offered me a bribe to keep quiet about the whole matter. I told him that I would—but that he could keep his money, in return for the name of the individual who provided him with the goods.”
“Which is?”
“Spa Fon. A Nuknog fence and extortionist.”
Jax thought about it. Even shorter than Sullustans, the typical Nuknog