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Jax could feel the boy’s attention on the weapon that hung at his hip.

Kaj continued, “I mean, you’ll have to teach me to use one, right? And there’s probably not the time or resources to build two …”

Jax grinned at the youthful enthusiasm. He wasn’t that much older than Kaj, he realized—less than five years—but he felt positively wizened in comparison.

In one corner of the room near Ves Volette’s workbench, a ping alerted him to the arrival of a message. With a glance at Laranth, Jax crossed to the workstation to view the source of the message. It was Rhinann.

Jax activated the HoloNet node. “Rhinann, is anything wrong?”

The Elomin’s craggy face said that a great deal was wrong. “Pol Haus has contacted us,” he said. “He wishes to speak to you.”

“Is this about the …” Jax glanced at Kaj again. “The matter he brought to us recently?”

“Oh, indeed. He wishes to know if we ‘have anything for him on the matter of the rogue Jedi.’ Those were his exact words.”

Jax felt the “rogue Jedi’s” sudden, intense regard. It was not comfortable. “Tell Prefect Haus that we’ve been tied up with another matter and haven’t got anything for him yet. Tell him we still need to research the various connections.”

“I already told him that. He wishes to speak to you.”

“He’s there?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Are you …” Jax made a gesture with his hand that was Whiplash code for “cloaked” or “cloaking.” He hoped Rhinann would take his meaning and make sure his surroundings and location were obscured.

The Elomin inclined his head, then said, “Will you speak to him?”

“Of course.” Jax turned his head slightly and signaled Kaj to stay on the other side of the room. Wide-eyed, the youth disappeared behind his wall of woven light.

Haus appeared in the holographic display as a full-sized head and shoulders floating in thin air. “Jax Pavan!” he said in a tone that was almost jovial. “Your associate tells me you’ve no news for me about the item I’m seeking. Is this in fact the case?”

Jax caught a muffled and miffed harrumph from Rhinann. “My associate is apparently insulted that you don’t trust him, Prefect.”

“It has nothing to do with trust. It has to do with your function in that motley bunch of misfits you call an investigative team. The client has been leaning on me to get results. So far all I’ve gotten from my informants—and you from yours, I suspect—are looks that say my brain is fried on dreamspice if I think they’re going to tell me anything. May I remind you that the closer our client is to me, the closer he is to you?”

Jax took a deep breath. “I understand that part of the equation just fine.”

“Good. Remember, this isn’t a threat. It’s a warning. If the client thinks we’re stonewalling him, it will not be good for either of us. Incompetence he will overlook—for a time—but not subterfuge. We need to show him something.” Haus tilted his shaggy, horned head and peered at Jax intently. “Do your research, Pavan. But do it soon, or the client is going to force my hand.”

“I’m not sure where to start.”

“Banthaflop. I know you. That head of yours is as smart as a whip. You’ll figure it out.”

He was gone then, leaving Jax to stand rooted to the studio floor.

He knows. Somehow he knows we have Kaj.

Jax did need to complete that “research.” If he’d read Haus’s code right, he knew where he was supposed to do it. He turned to Laranth, who stood by, brow furrowed.

“You heard that?” At her nod, he asked, “Do you know what he’s hinting at?”

“Not firsthand. I don’t know any more about him than that he’s a sector prefect. Obviously we’re supposed to construe that the head of the Whiplash knows more.”

“Can you set up a meeting with Yimmon? I’d like his opinion … about a couple of things, actually.”

“Including Tuden Sal’s mad plot?”

“Do you think it’s mad?”

“Do you care what I think?” There was a challenge in those green eyes.

“Yes, of course I care. How could I not care?”

She shrugged. “When you left me in the medbay, you didn’t seem to care. You were suddenly very future-oriented.”

“When I left you in the medbay—” Jax began, then remembered that