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Shada looked around. A few new faces had come into the cantina since they’d begun their search, but most of them had the look about them of men who didn’t want to be disturbed. She looked in turn at each of the booths lining the walls, wondering if they might have missed someone.

And paused. There, right behind them, were the Jedi Knight and the kid. Talking to the Wookiee and a man she hadn’t seen come in. “Check him out,” she said, nodding toward the latter.

Karoly peered at the scanner readout. “Name’s Han Solo,” she said. “Smuggler. Does a lot of business with Jabba the Hutt—”

“Put it away,” Shada interrupted her, looking toward the cantina lobby. “Quick.”

Karoly followed her gaze, and Shada felt her stiffen. Striding down the steps toward the bar, heavy weapons held at the ready, were a pair of stormtroopers. Who clearly weren’t here for a drink.

“I wonder if there’s a back door out of here,” Karoly murmured.

“I don’t know,” Shada said, running a finger along her slender wineglass as the Imperials summoned the bartender over. Thrown against the face of a stormtrooper helmet, it ought to slow him down long enough for her to slide her knife blade into a critical junction …

The bartender pointed somewhere behind them. Shada frowned, then understood. “They must be asking about the Jedi Knight,” she said, turning to look at the booth. A knot of aliens brushed past, momentarily blocking her view. They continued on—

The old Jedi was gone. So was the kid. The stormtroopers stepped up to the booth, eyed Solo and the Wookiee a moment, then moved on. For a moment, as they looked around, their armored masks seemed to pause on Shada and Karoly. But they said nothing, and continued on their way toward the rear of the cantina.

Karoly nudged her. “Now’s our chance,” she said. “Let’s go talk to him.”

Shada turned back. Solo and the Wookiee had left the booth now, Solo heading for the lobby while the Wookiee went in the direction the stormtroopers had gone. Probably where the back door was, which would explain how the Jedi and the kid had disappeared. “Right,” Shada agreed, taking one last sip from her glass and putting it back on the bar. She turned again—

To find that Solo was no longer walking toward the lobby. He was, instead, backing into a booth at the wrong end of a blaster held by a dirty-looking Rodian. “Uh-oh,” Shada said. “Friend of his?”

“Doubt it,” Karoly said, palming the scanner. “Hang on … his name’s Greedo. He’s a bounty hunter.”

For a long moment Shada stared at the quietly tense discussion in the booth, trying to decide what to do. Taking action would jeopardize her cover as Brea Tonnika, and certainly there was no shortage of smugglers in the cantina. But there was something about the way Solo carried himself that she liked. Or maybe the fact that he’d been talking with the Jedi Knight …

“I’m going to take him,” she told Karoly. “Get ready to back me up.”

She reached for her knife; but before she could draw it, Solo solved the problem on his own. From the booth came a flash of muffled blaster fire, and the Rodian slumped over onto the table. Warily, Solo slid out of the booth, holstered his blaster, and continued on toward the lobby, flipping a coin to the bartender as he passed.

Karoly let out a breath. “Good thing we weren’t interested in Greedo. This isn’t a very healthy place to hang around.”

“No kidding,” Shada said. “Let’s go catch Solo before he gets away.”

And then, from behind her, a sweaty hand closed on her wrist. “Well, well, well,” a voice said. “What have we here?”

Shada turned. The sweaty hand belonged to a sweaty Imperial colonel, his uniform streaked with sandy dust, a maliciously pleased look on his face. Behind him were the two stormtroopers who’d come through earlier. “Brea and Senni Tonnika, I do believe,” the colonel went on. “How nice of you to drop back into sight again. You can’t imagine how brokenhearted Grand Moff Argon has been since your departure. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you again.” He lifted an eyebrow. “As well as the twenty-five thousand you stole from