Chapter Ten

Seated in a thick plush chair in the second-floor atrium, Wedge Antilles leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. Propping his datapad against his upraised knee, he cut a portrait of an aging general leisurely catching up on the day's news on the Holonet.

In reality, he kept his gaze focused on the two sets of doors to either side of the atrium. One was the Grand Hotel's casual restaurant. The other was a small commissary selling all manner of drinks, snacks, and prepackaged meals.

He didn't know the current location of the mysterious GAG agent Jaina Solo had encountered – and knocked unconscious – yesterday. Nor did he know where this Luthor Korde fellow – if that was his real name – would turn up next. But he did know the exorbitant price of room service in the Grand Hotel, and the ridiculously high prices in all of the other restaurants. He also surmised – reasonably enough, he thought – that Mystery Man Korde was unlikely to be operating on a massive budget. Nor did the man have the look of a career soldier, one who would bring his own military rations and eat them in the solitude of his room. Therefore, Wedge had concluded, if the man planned to eat, he was probably going to choose one of these two establishments to do so.

Wedge did not have the power of the Force, but he did have the power of logic.

Suddenly his comlink trilled, snapping Wedge out of his reverie. He reached down to his belt and retrieved the device, then held it up to read the message. A numeric code. Immediately he tapped in the affirmative code in reply as he rose from his chair. Slapping the comlink back to his belt, he strode off toward the rendezvous point. He didn't know who he'd be meeting there – but whoever it was, they had news.

Briskly Wedge moved through the spacious, luxuriously decorated corridors of the Grand Hotel. Every now and then he tipped his head or raised a quick wave to a familiar face or a hotel staffer, but for the most part the hallways were surprisingly sparse of beings. He even had an entire turbolift car all to himself. Which was just as well, because Wedge didn't have time for delays like squeezing past bloated entourages or idle banter with casual acquaintances.

Within minutes he reached his destination: a wide veranda spreading out from the foyer on the twelfth floor. His boots clipped the stone tiles as he marched to the edge and took up position at the third potted tree along the northern edge of the balustrade.

Breeze ruffling his hair, Wedge gazed out over the ocean – and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

Behind him came the quick clip of small feet bearing a petite form. He turned to see his daughter Myri approaching him – not that she really much resembled the usual Myri. All this skullduggery had given her an excuse to return to the bad habits she'd picked up while posing as a card dealer aboard the Errant Venture. Not only was she changing her hair color and fake tattoos every day, but he was pretty sure her hair had been a different hue earlier this morning.

With a few more quick strides she reached him. "Hey, Dad."

He grinned. "You're getting pretty good at this incognito thing."

She looked him up and down. "Yours still needs some work."

"That's because I'm not actually trying to hide my identity."

"Sure. If you say so."

He chuckled. She was taking more after her mother every year. "So, what did you find?"

"Answers, I think." Myri offered up a small, handheld datapad. "This is our guy, right?"

Wedge toggled through the seven images. The resolution was poor, especially on the zoomed-in ones, but it was the best they could have expected from the tiny spycam. And all that really mattered was that they were clear enough to show him what he needed to know. "That's him, all right. I assume I'm correct about who I think that is he's talking to?"

Myri nodded. "Daala. I got a much better look with the mini-'nocs."

"Well," he said, running a hand along his chin, "that sure makes things a lot more interesting."

"I thought so, too. And we just lucked out on the timing. If I'd made him ten minutes later, the meeting would have already been over and we'd have no idea about this."

"How long were they talking?"

"Not long." Myri furrowed her brow. "No more than fifteen to twenty seconds."

"Long enough to give him orders though."

Frowning, Wedge handed back the datapad, then looked out over the smooth sea.

She stepped up beside him at the balustrade. "Not good, huh?"

"No." He took a slow breath. "So where is he now?"

"Uh…" Myri looked up at him, a pained, embarrassed expression on her face. "I don't know. I stopped watching him when I came to show this to you."

He raised a brow. It wasn't like her to make such a rookie mistake.

"Dad!" Myri broke into a wide grin, and laughed aloud. "You really are getting gullible in your old age."

Wedge laughed too. No, getting suckered by friends and family wasn't exactly a new development. "Well played, sweetheart. Now, are you going to tell me who really is watching Mister Korde's Mystery Adventure?"

"Mom."

"Perfect." No way would Iella lose track of this guy. Still, there was no reason to take any chances. "You found him, you should keep on him. Now that we know who he's working for, I'll retask Syal to help me."

"Good idea. Mom and I can handle the surveillance."

"I'd better let you get to that, then." Wedge reached out and gave her a fatherly squeeze on the shoulder. "Great work, honey."

Myri smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

Watching her hurry back into the foyer, he retrieved his comlink and sent a simple numeric code to his older daughter. Less than a minute later he received the affirmative code in response. He waited another two minutes just to be sure Myri had time to get clear, then headed back toward the turbolifts himself.

Syal was already there when he arrived at the unremarkable intersection of two long corridors in the guest-rooms wing of the twenty-third floor. In a relaxed pose, she stood with one shoulder leaned against the wall, as if slightly bored while waiting for an overdue companion. Which was probably less acting and more real than Wedge cared to admit.

He stopped next to her and took up a similar pose. You could never be too careful, not when a random passerby – or a randomly patrolling security guard – might happen by at any moment. He kept his voice quiet, but not hushed. "We've located him."

Her brow rose, just a little. "Good."

"It appears he's working for Daala."

This time her brow leapt up considerably. "Not good."

"My sentiments exactly." He glanced quickly around them. "Myri and your mother will keep him under observation, but we can't count on that revealing what he's up to. Now that we have a lead, you and I are going to work other angles and see if we can figure out more about this guy."

She nodded. "How should we start?"

"I was thinking we could –"

"Wedge?" A woman's voice carried down the corridor. "Is that you?"

He scowled. Maybe he did need to work harder at maintaining anonymity. When he turned toward the sound of the voice, though, he realized he wouldn't have stood much of a chance regardless. Fooling his sister was nearly an impossible task.

He waved, and she headed toward them at a quicker pace. Before she could get to them, he glanced to his daughter – who gave him a wink and a fleeting, knowing upward curl of her mouth. She understood. Good.

"If I didn't know better, Wedge," the elder Syal said, reaching out to clasp his hands, "I'd think you were avoiding me."

"Not at all," he said, leaning in to peck a quick kiss on her cheek. "I've just been… busy."

She raised a brow. "You're on vacation at a grand resort awaiting a wedding tomorrow. And not one of your daughters'. How busy could you possibly be?"

Wedge tried not to laugh. "You'd be amazed. Things just keep popping up."

"I'm sure." She smiled knowingly, just like her niece's a moment before. She didn't believe him for a second, but she knew better than to ask. "But you can't hide from me forever, little brother. I'll get a lunch out of you yet."

"Soon," he replied, and meant it. "Before we all leave Bolis Island. I promise."

"Excellent." His sister sighed theatrically, an excessively melancholy performance right out of one of her old holodramas. "Well, I'd best keep moving. I've agreed to sit for an interview with one of our esteemed Holonet journalists a few suites down."

Wedge affected a mock hurt expression. "They never ask to interview me."

His daughter grinned broadly. "That's because you're boring."

"Thanks, dear."

"Any time, Dad."

He chuckled, then indicated the hallway. "Come on," he said to his sister. "We'll walk you there."

The three of them ambled their way to the designated suite. As they approached, Wedge could see the suite's main door was opened in expectation of the imminent arrival. Catching a glimpse of his daughter at his side, a truly mischievous thought sprang to life in the back of his mind.

He leaned over to his sister. "Out of curiosity… Are they addressing you by Fel? Or Starflare?"

She peered at him quizzically. "Just Syal Antilles, actually. Why?"

Without prompting, his daughter snickered. "Dad," she said, "you're not really thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"

He grinned at her. "I'm afraid so."

The elder Syal narrowed her eyes. "What are you two up to?"

"Mayhem and depravity," Wedge replied. Holding up his sister by the elbow, he waved his daughter through the open door. "You take it from here, kiddo."

"Wedge…"

"Trust me, it's fine." He stepped in front of his sister so she couldn't follow the younger Syal into the room. "How is Jag holding up? He's not too nervous, is he?"

She smiled. "Not about marrying Jaina. He never stopped wanting this."

"Good."

"But," she continued, "he's been rather out of sorts since yesterday afternoon. It seems Jaina has been acting rather strangely." She narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Wedge?"

"Uh…" He didn't want to lie. In fact, not only would telling the truth be easier on his conscience, but it would no doubt get him some Fel assistance in figuring out this whole mess. But that was exactly why he couldn't tell her. He just had a feeling the Empire wouldn't be able to keep this quiet and under wraps – the way it needed to be handled if they had any chance at cracking the case before tomorrow. "No. Not really, no."

"Wedge…" Now her voice carried that distinctively rising pitch of maternal irritation that made every little boy – and grown man – want to run and hide.

"I'm sure it's –"

"How disappointing." His daughter's words were barely distinguishable amid her giggling as she walked out of the journalists' suite and rejoined them in the corridor. "For a second there I really thought they might go through with that interview."

Wedge chuckled. "Oh?"

"It took me a minute to get them to understand that I really am Syal Antilles. Once they realized who I was, they didn't want to admit their mistake. They were just about to sit me down and start the interview when one of the producers finally got up the courage to tell me the person they really wanted to interview was the other Syal Antilles, my aunt."

He laughed. Despite herself, his sister laughed too.

"Wedge," his sister said, "you are a very, very bad man."

"I know." He lowered his head in shame. "I'm terribly sorry."

"Liar." With a final shake of her head, the elder Syal swallowed her laughter and stood tall, every bit the Wynssa Starflare of old. "I'd better get inside. After all, we must give the people what they want."

His daughter hadn't defeated her own laughter yet, though. "Thanks, Dad. I needed that."

He wrapped his arm around her. "You're welcome."

She slipped her arm around his waist, and tugged him back down the hallway toward where they'd started. "All right. Time to get serious. Let's go figure out what we're up against."

"Yes," Wedge said. "Let's."