The Call to Vengeance

5

Qui-Gon knew he should not have left Manex’s residence without telling Obi-Wan or Mace where he was going, but he did not regret it. More talk meant more delay. If he had taken Obi-Wan with him, he would have put his Padawan in a bad position. If Qui-Gon was going to have conflicts with Mace Windu, he did not want Obi-Wan to be involved in them.

And, truth be told, his instincts told him that he needed to do this alone. Four Jedi equaled four opinions, more talk, more discussion. He didn’t have the time. If he were going to find Balog, he had to move fast.

His comlink signaled. It was the third time in an hour. He knew it was Obi-Wan. He could feel that his Padawan wanted urgently to speak with him. Qui-Gon hesitated and then shut his comlink off. He would contact Obi-Wan when he had hard information. His Padawan would understand, he hoped.

Yanci’s information could be useless. It wouldn’t take him long to check out four clinics. In the meantime, Mace could go to the United Legislature and talk all he wanted.

So far he had been to three clinics. Oleg was not listed on the roster of patients. Of course, Oleg could have used an assumed name, but that would be hard to do. Medical treatment was free on New Apsolon, and records were kept on all citizens who needed treatment. The records were accessed by retinal scan. When Oleg needed treatment, the clinic would need his records in order to treat him. No doubt he would have to take the chance and use his own name.

Qui-Gon approached the last clinic on the outskirts of the Civilized Sector. So far it had been easy to determine whether or not Oleg had been a patient at a clinic. Qui-Gon had been able to bluff or charm his way into getting the information out of the clerks. The clinics were not run on high security. He expected the last one to be easy as well. Soon, if he was lucky, Balog could be within his grasp. His hopes rose as he strode toward the entrance.

A woman stood outside, hesitating. Qui-Gon moved forward to open the door, then saw that she was blind. He stopped and watched as she reached out, searching for the door access panel.

How many times had Tahl snapped at him to let her do something herself? He had learned to let her pour the tea, access a datafile, lead the way to the lake.

I can’t bear it when you hover, she would say. I know I’m blind, but I still have a sense of direction.

Even the smallest memories of Tahl brought him such great pain. Maybe the small memories were the worst. It was thousands of such small memories that made up their long friendship. For the rest of his life, they would swim to the surface of his consciousness. He would remember things about her he had forgotten. Each time would be agony.

“To your left,” Qui-Gon said politely.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

The woman reached for the door access panel and pushed the signal.

The door slid open. She moved through and proceeded to the desk, which was straight ahead. Qui-Gon could now see that she was using a laser sensor device to guide her movements. As a Jedi, Tahl had decided to rely on her other senses so that she would not have to depend on such technology.

The woman spoke briefly to the clerk, who directed her in a loud, careful voice to a seat. Looking at the clerk’s thin-faced, haughty expression, Qui-Gon sensed he would have trouble. He glanced at the clerk’s name plate and walked forward.

“Good day, Vero,” he said. “I’m hoping you can help me. My nephew Oleg is missing. I think he’s a patient here. It would help if I knew—”

Vero interrupted him immediately. “No release of any med information without the proper authorization.”

“I appreciate your attention to the rules,” Qui-Gon said. “However—”

“No exceptions.” Vero turned away. He barked out the name of the next patient, ignoring Qui-Gon.

This was certainly a different experience. In the other clinics, he’d found sympathetic clerks who had listened to his story and tried to help him. Qui-Gon could have used the Force on Vero, but he knew that everyone in the clinic was listening. If the rude Vero suddenly changed his approach, they would think it odd. Still, he wasn’t about to walk away without finding out what he needed to know.

Suddenly a loud clatter came from behind him. The blind woman had upset her chair, then the one next to her. She began to try to right them, getting in the way of another patient. An argument began.

“Stop, stop! This is a clinic! What are you doing? Don’t touch that! Don’t move!” Vero hurried around the counter, upset at the commotion.

With a keen gaze, Qui-Gon saw the woman deliberately upset a flower vase.

“Not my ginkas!” Vero screamed, diving for the flowers.

She was doing it for him, Qui-Gon knew. She was giving him a little time.

He reached over the counter and swiveled Vero’s datascreen to face him. Quickly, he clicked in Oleg’s name. To his relief, his records showed up. Oleg had given an address close to the clinic. His next appointment was in two weeks.

Qui-Gon quickly swiveled the datascreen back into position. He walked past Vero, who was picking up flowers and scolding the woman for upsetting them. Qui-Gon righted a chair and gave a hand to the woman to help her sit down. He bent close to her ear. “Thanks for your help.”

“You know when to give help, and when not to,” she said. “That’s rare.”

“I had a good teacher.”

Qui-Gon walked out quickly. The door slid shut behind him, sealing off the commotion. He had memorized the address and remembered the street, which he’d passed on the way to the clinic. Qui-Gon quickly made his way there.

The address was a small hotel. Qui-Gon asked for Oleg and was told he had checked out, but to try the café around the corner. A bit surprised that Oleg was not more discreet, Qui-Gon headed to the café.

The owner was wiping down tables in the front. Qui-Gon asked for Oleg and was directed to a table in the rear.

A slight, blond man sat at the table, his hands curled around a cup of juice. Qui-Gon sat down opposite him.

“It’s about time,” Oleg said nervously. “I’ve put myself in danger every minute.”

“I got here as soon as I could,” Qui-Gon said. Obviously, Oleg had been waiting for someone he did not know. That explained why he hadn’t bothered to use an assumed name. It was just as apparent to Qui-Gon that this young man was not used to dealing with danger. His head constantly swiveled, looking for trouble. Anyone looking for him would have picked him out immediately.

“I have the file,” Oleg said. “It’s not on me, but it’s not far. But I’m warning you, if you try anything, I’m prepared to shoot. I have to up the price.”

“Why?” Qui-Gon asked. He would play this out. He assumed, of course, that Oleg was talking about the list. He didn’t want to buy it from him. If Oleg still had it, that meant that Balog didn’t.

“I have to leave the planet,” Oleg said, wiping his wet forehead with his napkin. “Do you think this is easy? Too many people are searching for me now.”

“I might be able to come up with more,” Qui-Gon said.

“Decide now,” Oleg snapped. “I have no time to waste.” His comlink signaled, and he listened for a moment. With his eyes on Qui-Gon, he replied, “Yes, that’s right. I still have it. Will you meet my price? Good. I’ll meet you there, then. Can’t you make it earlier? All right.”

He shut off the comlink. “There are others who will pay, as you see,” he said. “I made an appointment, but you can buy it first. So decide. It’s now or never.”

“Never,” Qui-Gon said. “The price is just too high. Sorry.” He stood.

Oleg looked even more nervous. “Listen, I don’t have to sell to this guy. I don’t like him. He’s an Absolute, and I hate them. They ruined my health. I’d rather the list end up with a Worker, believe me. I look like a traitor, but I’m just looking out for myself. Maybe we can negotiate.”

“Sorry,” Qui-Gon said again. He turned and left the café. He positioned himself out of sight of Oleg, but was able to see him through the reflection of the café window. Was the bidder on the comlink Balog? He had a strong feeling it was. Oleg had broken out into a sweat. And he had said he didn’t want the list in the hands of the Absolutes.

Qui-Gon was close now. He could feel it. All his concentration was centered on that slight, nervous man in the café. The anger and grief he had compressed into a burning ball inside him threatened to flame up, and he tamped it down. Patience, he chided himself. Balog would be his very soon.