He shrugged, fighting his hormonal responses to her, and leaned away from her against the back of his chair, pulling his hands back to his side of the table. “They can disassemble the prototypes. See what makes ’em work. Make their own.”
Donari Caron rolled her lustrous eyes; sweat broke out on Ash’s upper lip. She was certainly an exemplary example of her species; a regular pheromone factory. He desperately wanted to lean into her—to draw closer—but he kept his relaxed pose, slouched in his chair, one hand toying with his half-empty glass of cinnamon liqueur.
“Without the specs? Please, Acer, my clients have high expectations of me. I’d need twenty or thirty of the things at least if they’re going to have to reverse-engineer them. Or all five of the ones you’ve got and the specifications. I’m sure you understand the imperative.”
She put her hand over his on the table.
He withdrew his hand. “You’re kidding, right? I can’t get the specs. They’re a closely guarded secret.”
Her frustration was palpable. “What can you get? Can you at least get me ten of the devices?”
Ash laughed. “You seem to be under the impression that I could get you more of the bloody things if you offer the right incentives, but that I’m just trying to drive a hard bargain. I swear that’s not the case. I can get them, but not quickly and not in great numbers. What with Palpatine, Darth Vader, the inquisitive Inquisitors, and the fraggin’ Security Bureau, my supply lines are—shall we say—squeezed.”
Her eyes lost their gleam and she sat back, withdrawing herself—and her considerable hormonal presence—completely. “That’s bad news. I guess I oversold your ability to get things done. My clients will be disappointed … to say the least.”
He shifted toward her, hungry for the warm flush he’d felt moments before, then realized she was using his own tactics against him. The knowledge didn’t help much, though he was able to regain a bit of his poise.
“Donari, I can get things done, trust me. It’s just that things are a little tight on Coruscant right now, security-wise. But that’s going to change real soon.”
“Really? And why is that?”
“Let’s just say that Palpatine isn’t going to be a factor for much longer, and once he’s out of the picture, Vader and his spooks and his little black-shirted goon squad will be running around trying to figure out what happened. And while they’re busy doing that, I’ll take the opportunity to get all sorts of stuff out under their noses.”
She blinked at him, then gave him a cockeyed smile that lit him up like a homing beacon. “You seem awfully sure of your intel. What do you know?” She leaned toward him again, elbows on the table, her eyes bright and speculative.
Ash shook his head, chuckling. “Sorry, Captain, but I can’t tell you a thing about a thing. It’s just a feeling I got. You know how it is with … feelings.”
Her smile deepened. “I do, indeed. Now, what kind of deal can you give me for my temple art?”
They ended up striking a deal for three of the personal shields he had against one of the temple paintings she had with a promissory handshake for another set of ten shields. If he could produce the specs or another set of ten personal shields, a second artifact would be his.
They sealed their deal in the captain’s quarters aboard her ship, the Touch of Gold.
Three days.
In three days, the last of the selected Senators would collect at Emperor Palpatine’s villa on the shore of the Western Sea and enter into secret meetings. That was the day they would strike. To most men planning an operation of this type, the heightened security required for such a meeting might have argued against carrying out an assassination attempt. But Tuden Sal had observed many times over that the chaos caused by such events could afford the perfect cover for such a mission.
He was counting on it being so this time, as well.
There were multiple security organizations involved—Imperial forces, the Senators’ personal bodyguards and security detachments, their administrative personnel—all of which created overlap and gaps, and distracted rote-trained forces from their daily routines and habits. In such times as these, competing security protocols and agendas often came into conflict, and when they did it forced those involved to focus much more tightly on one another than on what was going on outside and beyond them.
It also put a whole group of operatives into play who