Garak spent the next half hour picking the right fabric and thread to fix up the shredded jacket. While he worked with what was left of the hefty garment he kept thinking up scenarios that would have led the owner through this particular set of circumstances.

The Nausicaan had certainly been near the Cardassian/Klingon border within the last few days. Could he have simply gotten mixed up in the fighting while trading or traveling? Doubtful. Nausicaans may do smuggling or mercenary work at times but that wouldn't have led both sides to shoot at him. The jacket appears to be armored with a rather impressive and durable lining. For the shots to do this much damage to it, the Nausicaan must have waded right through the middle of an intense firefight.

As his brain tossed the possible pasts of his latest customer, another visitor stepped in. Garak was so wrapped up in his train of thought that he almost didn't notice his new guest. Looking up from the jacket to what looked to be a Human male, he put on a smile and greeted him.

"Hello good sir, what can I do for y..." was all he could get out before the man grabbed Garak's throat and pressed him to the wall.

"A Nausicaan visited here, where is he? Don't try to lie to me Cardassian, I see his clothing there and he was spotted stumbling in here as soon as he got off his ship. Tell me!"

With that last exclamation, the man shoved Garak into the wall again as if to emphasize his need for the information. Had his throat not been so constricted he likely would have gotten in further danger with the witty reply he tried to gurgle out.

Realizing that he couldn't get the Nausicaan's position from a man without a trachea, the angry stranger relaxed his grip enough to allow Garak to breathe again. The small lull that followed gave Garak just enough time to analyze his attacker.

He was certainly too strong for a Human and too emotional for a Vulcan. A Romulan would be far more subtle. The hands were too warm, even for someone in such a furious state. Perhaps...

Garak's eyes suddenly glowed with understanding and managed to smile despite the pain.

"I knew that your people had started to rediscover a judicial system recently but I had no idea your espionage services were starting to function again. It's just such a dishonorable practice."

The stranger's eyes widened and his grip relented. Garak slumped a bit as he tried to regain his composure and his visitor seemed to allow it.

"Your reputation is well earned Cardassian. I would not have come to you if the damn Ferengi hadn't disappeared, but you are what I have to work with. This matter doesn't need to concern you any further as long as you tell me what I want to know. That Nausicaan could be hiding the whereabouts of Dominion spies so it is in the best interests for everyone in this Quadrant that I recover it."

Another brief pause and Garak decided it was time to make the rare leap of telling the truth.

"I'm afraid that your friend simply dropped off his jacket and moved on. I didn't spend any more time with him then that."

The stranger seemed to understand that he wouldn't be getting more information from Garak and walked up to the jacket. After patting it a couple of times he swiftly pulled out a knife and tore at a few places on the jacket.

Checking the new holes for hidden items, he put away his knife and said, "I will be on the station until I get what I came for. I expect you to have more information the next time I find you."

The stranger tossed the jacket to Garak and stormed out. Garak wasted no time in picking up the items that had been knocked over by the brief altercation. Sparing a glance at the jacket occasionally, he realized that his tailoring work had become slightly more complicated than he anticipated. What weighed on him more than the jacket though, was the new data that the stranger's appearance added to the mystery of the Nausicaan. With the stranger now in the mix, what was a simple thought exercise had become far more important.

The sound of more footsteps at his door made him wince. Why couldn't there be a threshold on interesting things occurring? Perhaps it was just a customer. Some mindless needlework would allow him time to reflect on the day's events and put some of the pieces together.

As long as it wasn't another Klingon...