Star Wars_ X-Wing 08_ Isard's Revenge - Michael A. Stackpole [68]
While Wooter’s experience had been in minor criminal cases, when Xenovet went into receivership, Wooter had been appointed a trustee for the firm. He paid the site’s expenses out of his own pocket, looking to recoup his losses when the site was sold. The bankruptcy records Iella had pulled from Commenor computers appeared to be very tidy and perfectly in order, which was a marked contrast to Wooter’s filings in criminal cases. Still the bankruptcy court had no problem with him since he made no unreasonable demands on them and documented all his expenses. The case judge had even made a note in a file to the effect that if Wooter spent as much as the site cost, the court might just award him the property and close the file.
Mirax flipped on the glow panels in the file room and looked around at an endless array of shelves filled with datacard boxes. “Well, this won’t be an easy search.”
“No, but we’ll have plenty of time to do it.” The building’s blueprints had been cross-checked against utility records, showing that Wooter’s security precautions began and ended with the Kambis 9400. “No alarms, no surveillance equipment. We’re in the clear.”
Mirax frowned as she pulled one box of datacards from a shelf and set it on the long table running down the center of the rectangular room. “Wooter’s certainly a contradiction. Smart enough to have a good lock, too dumb to have a security system. Smart enough to handle the Xenovet facility for the Imps, dumb enough to display his wealth by taking this sort of office.”
“Makes things seem kind of obvious, doesn’t it?” Iella set her duraplast helmet down on the table. “But that’s what brought us here anyway, right?”
“True.” Mirax plucked a datacard from the box. “Look at this one. It’s the Xenovet accounts.”
Iella took Mirax’s datapad from her and slipped the card into it. “Encrypted, but I’ll make a copy of the data and we can slice it elsewhere.”
A shiver shook Mirax. “It’s too easy. There’s something about this I don’t like.”
Iella handed back the datacard and slipped the datapad into her coverall’s left thigh pocket. “You’re beginning to sound like Corran. Don’t tell me you have Jedi blood in you, too.”
“Worse, my father raised me to be suspicious.”
“Then he didn’t do a good enough job.” A man standing in the file room doorway slipped a blaster carbine from beneath his long nerf-hide coat and leveled it at them. “You’ll be coming with us.” He stepped into the room and to the right, allowing them to see another man similarly armed standing in the office foyer.
Iella slowly raised her hands and Mirax followed suit. Long years of training, first with CorSec and later with the Rebellion, told Iella that to make any sort of move would be suicidal. While she knew that going with the two of them meant the chances of her living through the encounter were slender, in the file room they had no place to run. Shooting us here would be easier than blasting a bantha in a turbolift box.
Mirax exited the room first with her hands held high. Iella followed close on her heels and was impressed that the man coming after her didn’t poke her in the back with the muzzle of his blaster carbine. Doing that would let me know where the weapon is, which might give me a chance to knock it out of the way and attack him. His caution showed he wasn’t some streetlurker out to prove how tough he was. He’s a professional, which means he’s not going to panic. That’s good.
In the hallway outside the office two more men joined the first two. They came out of the next office over—the legend on the door proclaimed them to be accountants. Iella smiled. “You ran surveillance gear in through air ducts so the power hookups would be billed through