The Deadly Hunter

12

Obi-Wan stood uneasily in the lobby of the luxury hotel. He had been in palaces and grand houses before. He had seen luxurious surroundings, thick carpets, fine metals, ornately carved furniture. He had observed without feeling part of it, as a Jedi should. He had never felt awkward, even in the palace of a queen.

But here he felt differently. The walls were of a white polished stone with veins of pinkish gold. The floor under his feet was black hard stone, polished to a high sheen. He was afraid to sit on the plush sofas and chairs. He suddenly noticed the stains of his dessert on his tunic.

The rich swirled around him, coming to and fro from the many restaurants off the lobby, or picking up mail and keys. Their eyes slid past him, as if he was not worth their notice. Their voices were low and hushed, unlike the busy chatter on the crowded streets.

As usual, Qui-Gon looked perfectly at ease. He walked to the desk and asked the clerk to ring Jenna Zan Arbor’s room.

The clerk spoke into a private comlink headpiece and listened for a moment. “You may go up,” he said. Then he directed them to the turbolift that would take them to the seventy-seventh floor.

Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon into a large lift tube lined with a rosy stone that made him feel as though he were in the center of a flower. The tube doors opened, and he stepped out onto a thick, cushioned carpet.

Jenna Zan Arbor waited in the doorway of her suite. She was dressed in a septsilk robe of deep blue that hung stiffly to her feet. Her blond hair was again twisted in an elaborate style and wound through with multicolored fabric.

Qui-Gon bowed. “Thank you for seeing us. I am Qui-Gon Jinn and this is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

She returned the bow. “Jenna Zan Arbor. I’m honored to greet the Jedi.” She gave them another look. “But you were at the café.”

“We are friends of Astri and Didi Oddo,” Qui-Gon said.

Jenna Zan Arbor looked a little less welcoming

She turned and led them into a vast room with the same polished black stone floor as the lobby. Plush white sofas were arranged in two seating areas, one intimate and one grand. Gauzy white draperies hung at the floor-to-ceiling windows and pooled on the floor. Outside, the lights of the passing traffic were like traveling stars through a fine mist.

Jenna Zan Arbor ushered them to the most intimate grouping. Obi-Wan sat down and immediately sank into the cushions. He tried to sit erect but found himself slipping backward.

Zan Arbor waved her hand at the room. “I don’t feel comfortable with all this. But the conference is paying for it. I’m used to a more… practical environment. I spend most of my time in my lab.” She turned luminous gray eyes to them. “What can I do for you?”

“We are investigating a murder,” Qui-Gon said. “Someone you spoke with at the Senate. His name was Fligh. He posed as a Senatorial aide and gave you a card for Didi’s restaurant—”

“Of course, I remember,” Zan Arbor said immediately. “He had one green eye. He praised the food and atmosphere of this place. I don’t know Coruscant very well, so I followed up on the tip.”

“Why did you leave the café so abruptly tonight?” Qui-Gon asked.

The scientist gave a low laugh. “Because my guests were miserable. It was not what I had been led to expect. I know that sounds snobbish, but I was trying to make a good impression. The conference has a number of grants for scientific projects. I need funding.” She shrugged slender shoulders. “So we came back here and the hotel accommodated us.” She paused. “But why should my dinner have anything to do with this person’s death?”

Instead of answering, Qui-Gon asked another question. “You are friends with Senator S’orn?”

“Yes.”

“And you know that her son died, and how he died, I presume,” Qui-Gon said.

Zan Arbor nodded, but a frosty look took over her warm gaze. “Of course I do. I hardly think it’s your business. That was a great tragedy for Uta.”

“Not for you, though,” Qui-Gon stated.

She gave him a hard look. “No. I was sorry for my friend, but it was not a personal tragedy. What are you implying?”

“Nothing at all,” Qui-Gon said easily. “We are just investigating. Could I have a list of the guests at your dinner?”

“Why?” Zan Arbor asked, irritation now coloring her even tone.

“Because someone attacked the owner and his daughter after your party left,” Qui-Gon answered. “I don’t think it’s necessary, but later it might help if we could question them.”

“I hardly think…” Zan Arbor’s irritated tone ended in a shrug. “Why not. I have nothing to hide.” She crossed to a desk and scrawled some names on a durasheet, then handed it to Obi-Wan. He tucked it in his tunic.

She sat down again. “Can I ask you what Ren S’orn’s murder has to do with this Fligh person, or the attack at the café?”

“Maybe nothing at all,” Qui-Gon said.

The scientist’s gaze was cool. “I think I’m beginning to understand. You don’t want information from me. You think I may be involved.”

“I did not mean to imply that,” Qui-Gon said.

“Yet here you are,” she pointed out crisply. “I assume you know who I am.”

Qui-Gon nodded.

“I’m not accustomed to someone coming to my private quarters and linking me to a murder. Murder is not a topic that is familiar to me. I live in the world of transgenic research. So you must forgive me if I’m a little confused and upset.”

“Of course,” Qui-Gon said. “Murder is an upsetting topic.”

Zan Arbor gave a brief smile. “Especially for the victim. Let’s finish this. What else do you need to know?”

“Why didn’t you report the theft of your data pad?” Qui-Gon asked. “You must have been upset about it.”

“I was not upset. I have backup of all my files on data cards.”

“Uta S’orn was upset,” Qui-Gon said.

“She had a reason to be,” Zan Arbor answered, an edge to her voice. “She had private information on that data pad. She was forced to resign before pushing through an important piece of legislation.”

“Do you happen to know what that is?” Obi-Wan asked. He had been content to watch Qui-Gon ask the questions. But the legislation had come up before, and he was curious to know what it was.

“Yes. Uta told me all about it. I wasn’t that interested, frankly. My head is full of science. But apparently she was trying to put together a coalition of planets to join together to fight some sort of black market tech gang. She probably had all the votes she needed. But her resignation changed that. Without her to hold the alliance together, things will probably fall apart. Are we through?”

Obi-Wan did not look at Qui-Gon, but elation surged through him. This was a crucial clue. The Tech Raiders had a reason to want to discredit Senator S’orn. She was trying to pass a law that could lead to their destruction. Helb knew both Fligh and Didi. Here was the link. No doubt Helb had recruited Fligh to steal the Senator’s data pad. Fligh had gone further and stolen the scientist’s; most likely for his own profit. All they had to do now was figure out how Didi was involved.

So Senator S’orn and Jenna Zan Arbor were just what they appeared to be: two powerful women who were simply victims of petty theft.

He did not need to glance at his Master to know that Qui-Gon had reached the same conclusions.

“We’re through,” Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan felt a thrill as they left the hotel suite and entered the turbolift.

“This is it,” he said. “This is the connection we’ve been looking for. We’re close to solving the mystery.”

“Perhaps,” Qui-Gon said. “We need to talk to Helb again, that is certain.”

“Tomorrow we’ll solve the mystery, and Didi and Astri can come home,” Obi-Wan said. “If we confront the Tech Raiders with what we know, they’ll have to recall the bounty hunter. It’s got to be them, doesn’t it? They wanted to prevent that legislation from going through. Somehow Fligh got Didi mixed up in it. Maybe they hoped to sell both data pads to some other party. That would definitely anger Helb.”

The lift tube doors opened and they walked out into the grand lobby. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the black night outside.

“It’s too late to find Helb now,” Qui-Gon said. “Let’s return to the Temple. We both need sleep.”

Outside the side door was a large landing platform for the many vehicles of the guests of the hotel. Qui-Gon had left their speeder close to the door so that they would be able to leave quickly, but now a row of other vehicles had blocked it in.

He signaled to the parking clerk. “Can you move those other vehicles?”

“Right away, sir,” the young boy replied. He jumped into the first speeder to move it.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan headed toward their own vehicle. Qui-Gon slipped into the driver’s seat. Obi-Wan had a bit more trouble getting into the passenger side. The speeder was jammed up next to another. He had to swing one leg up and over in order to enter.

He was in the middle of the maneuver when he felt a sudden jolt send him flying backward. The clerk had backed his speeder into the one behind. Obi-Wan slid backward on the smooth metal. Behind him was the railing. Past that was only the empty air.

“Hey, you—” Qui-Gon suddenly vaulted out of the driver’s seat, alert to danger.

He was too late. The clerk hit the speeder behind his again, and the Jedi’s speeder jolted backward. Obi-Wan felt himself slide off the back end of the speeder. He was thrown over the railing, straight into space.