Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 01_ The Paradise Snare - A. C. Crispin [53]
The automated shuttle’s canned program indicated points of interest as they passed. Han saw museums, gigantic enclosed gallerias, office and government buildings, and finally, as they approached the heart of the city, he saw the tall, sharp spires and shallow domes of the royal palace gleaming white and gold in the sun. Han smiled wryly, wondering if the child princess he’d seen was somewhere on those grounds, living her rich, perfect life. With any luck, I’ll soon be rich, too …
Han stayed aboard the transport as it glided along its route, and he continued scoping out the city. They were out of the big buildings, now, and heading through the residential suburbs.
Han had to admit that it looked like a nice place to live, as he gazed at the many fountained plazas and courtyards, the affluent homes, clean streets, and the well-dressed people they passed. But this isn’t the area I want … I’d better do some exploring on my own. They don’t want tourists to see the places I want to go …
After the shuttle let him off, Han walked around the central part of the city, checking out the lay of the land. Instinctively, he headed for an area where the houses were smaller and not as well maintained. Finally, in a neighborhood that was definitely lower-income, and boasted more than one tavern and hock shop, he realized he’d come to the right place.
Han scanned the streets as he walked, looking for a particular type of individual. Finally, he spotted what he was looking for. A boy dressed in clothes that were borderline too small, ragged, and not very clean was sauntering along the street, glancing oh-so-casually at each passerby. Han recognized the child, though he’d never seen him before.
A pickpocket. Ten years ago, he’d been that child.
Han increased the length of his strides until he caught up with the boy. As expected, the lad shifted his weight and altered stride to brush against Han as the Corellian walked past him. Also expected were the lightning-fast fingers that delved deep into the pilot’s jacket pocket. The fingers came away empty; Han’s ID and the few credits he was carrying were sealed into the inside pocket of his coverall.
Han lengthened his strides until he was ahead of the boy, then, without warning, he spun on his heel and confronted the child. “Hey, there,” he said, smiling pleasantly and holding up the boy’s identdisk and money. “Lose something?”
The boy’s mouth dropped open in amazement, then he recovered himself and glared at Han, his black eyes smoldering.
Han leaned casually against a storefront. “Careless of you to lose these things …”
The boy swelled up like a poisoned mrelfa lizard, then launched into a furious and detailed description of Han’s ancestry, personal habits, and probable destination. Han listened patiently until the urchin began to sputter and repeat himself, then he waved for silence. “I’ll give ’em back,” he said genially, “in exchange for some information.”
The boy glared sullenly, tossing his overlong hair back out of his eyes. “What kind of information, you son of a diseased pervert?”
Han tossed one of the credit coins into the air, caught it effortlessly, without looking. “Watch your mouth, junior. I just want to know where in this town people go to make deals.”
“What kind of deals?”
“You know what kind of deals. Deals they don’t want the law to know about. Deals for substances you can’t buy legally.”
“Spice?” the boy frowned. “What kind?”
“Glitterstim.”
The boy’s brow creased even farther. “What’s that?”
Just my luck, Han thought. I run into the only dumb pickpocket