Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 02_ Omen - Christie Golden [51]
“We have exactly one minute and thirty-three seconds,” Jag assured her.
“Let’s go,” Jaina said. They turned and ducked into the side door that led into the kitchens, which had doubtless been pressed into use as an escape route before. As the door closed, she glanced back just in time to see the main door to the dining area opening.
Stang … those doubles did look convincing. The door slid shut and Jaina smiled at the kitchen staff. Some of them smiled back at her, but most appeared disinterested. Trysts between high-powered couples were apparently nothing new at one of the most popular restaurants in the Senate District.
Jaina sniffed appreciatively. Her stomach rumbled and she eyed some of the prepared dishes wistfully.
“One of these days,” she said, “we really will have to come here just for dinner.”
“I promise,” Jag said. “But for now—we have a mission, remember?”
TYRR FUMED QUIETLY FOR A FEW MOMENTS, BUT THEN RESIGNED HIMSELF to the situation. It could still be turned to good use, and an evening spent dining on nerf steak and thakitillo, washed down with a nice glass of Crème D’Infame, was not one to be regretted.
He caught glimpses of them from time to time as the door opened and the waiter brought in wine, appetizers, and the main course. They didn’t look like two high-ranking figures in deep discussion about politics, or Jedi principles, or anything. They looked like … a couple out on a date.
His opportunity came when the serving droid tweetled past, a small unit bearing a sinful-looking array of pastries, puddings, and candies. It paused to permit an elderly couple to leave, and in those few seconds Tyrr removed a tiny cam, the size of a pinkie fingernail, from his pocket. He activated it with a remote in his other pocket, and the little cam sprouted legs like a spider and scurried onto the serving droid. It hastened up and embedded itself beneath the napkin on the tray, and Javis Tyrr grinned.
The Pa’lowick singer stepped up to the microphone and began to croon a currently popular love song. Her Basic was surprisingly good.
It’s all just a dream, isn’t it?
This thing we call love …
A marvelous scheme, isn’t it?
This thing we call love …
Javis listened with half an ear. He liked the song, and the performance was a good one, but his attention was most definitely elsewhere. A moment later, the droid paused before the closed door of the private dining room and bleeped a few times. The door opened to let it through, then slid shut behind it.
It’s just an illusion,
A trick of the heart,
A pleasant delusion
When two are apart—
Tyrr nursed his own dessert and after-dinner drink, pulling out what looked like an ordinary datapad and perusing files. To all observers, he looked like the newsman he was, reading up on notes his assistant had gathered for his latest story. And indeed, that was what was on the screen—at the moment. But in a small corner, which could be enlarged with a tap of the finger, was an up-close-and-personal glimpse of … white napkin.
He manipulated the controls in his pocket and the tiny cam droid scurried down to the thick carpet. He could hear them talking:
“Oh yum … Vagnerian canapés. Mom loves these. Have you ever had one?” Jaina. Tyrr frowned. Perhaps the audio receivers were maladjusted—she sounded off, somehow.
“No.” The sound of a fork clinking on plate, and then, “Mmm … okay. That’s pretty amazing.”
Yes, the audio was definitely off. Jag’s voice sounded slightly deeper than normal, and more nasal. Oh, well, at least their words were being recorded. Tyrr again touched the controls and the little droid climbed up the table leg as the two continued to chat about the merits of various desserts and whether or not caf or Cassandran brandy was the proper beverage to consume with them. Tyrr sighed. It was an utterly banal conversation. He was about to write the evening off as a waste—except for the lovely meal—when the cam