Star Wars: The Han Solo Trilogy I: The Paradise Snare (35 page)

Once there, he looked around to make sure he was alone and unobserved, then he knocked sharply, in a preordained pattern. He waited, and after another minute the sound of an electronic lock being released sounded from the other side of the door. Han raised the tapestry, slipped under it, and walked through, into the back room.

The proprietor was an old, old man, still spry despite his stooped body, wrinkled face, and wispy yellow-white hair. Galidon Okanor had looked exactly the same in the five years since Han had first met him. Now he looked up and smiled at Han. “Well, it’s … um … who, today, son?”

Han smiled. “Jenos Idanian, sir. How are you?” He genuinely liked the little man, who was, at one and the same time, a genuinely respected art assessor and appraiser, and a very competent and trustworthy fence.

“Oh, can’t complain, can’t complain,” said the little man. “Because if I did, what good would it do me?” he added, emitting a wheezing chuckle.

“You got a point,” Han said.

Okanor sat down on a high stool before a table that was lit with a jeweler’s and appraiser’s light, specially angled and illumined to show flaws in gemstones and cracks or flaws in antiques. He waved to a seat opposite his. “Sit down, sit down, Jenos Idanian. What have you brought me today?”

“Lots of things,” Han said. “I’d like a price for the lot, and I’d like the credits deposited immediately in the Imperial Bank on Coruscant.”

“Fine, fine,” said Okanor. He rubbed his aged, veiny hands together. “You usually have good taste, Jenos. Now let’s see what you’ve brought me!”

“Okay,” Han said, and began unloading the knapsack, placing each item on the table beneath the light. He held back his favorite treasure, though, a tiny golden statue of a long-extinct Corellian paledor. It was beautiful, and its eyes were flawless Keral fire-gems.

Okanor watched avidly, occasionally uttering a soft “oh”
or “ahhh,” but he forbore to speak until Han was finished. Then he carefully picked up each piece, studied it intently, sometimes through a jeweler’s glass, then placed it on the table again and went on to the next.

“Remarkable, most remarkable,” he said, finally. “I am going to break a rule of mine and ask you where in the name of the galaxy you found all of this? In a museum? I do not approve of stealing from museums, you know.”

Han shook his head. “Not a museum.”

“A private collection?” Okanor pursed his lips. “I am
most
impressed, lad. The collector in question is a sentient of taste and discrimination. I will also tell you, young man, that he is not very particular about his acquisition sources. I recognize, from their description, that at least half of these items have been reported stolen. Some have been on
WANTED
lists for years.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Han said. “And you, you’ll sell ’em to museums, won’t you?”

“Most of them, most of them,” Okanor agreed.

“Okay, then, that’s good,” Han said, thinking that would please Bria. “That’s where they should be. So … how much?”

Okanor named a figure.

Han gave the old man a look of withering contempt and reached for his knapsack. “There’s a guy over in Kolene who will be thrilled to get a look at this stuff. I can see I should have visited him
first
,” he said, reaching for the scrimshawed bantha tusk from Tatooine.

Okanor named another, higher figure. Silently Han began stowing items in the backpack.

Okanor sighed as though he’d just breathed his last and named another figure, considerably higher than the previous sum. “And that’s final,” he added.

Han shook his head. “It better not be, Okanor. I need at least five thousand more than that.”

Okanor clutched his chest and watched with anguished eyes as Han continued to stow items away in the backpack. Finally, as Han reached for the last, the tiny sculpture carved from living ice, he squeaked, “No! Don’t! You are
killing me! Impoverishing me! I shall be naked in the streets, Jenos, lad! Would you do that to an old man?”

Han gave him a feral grin. “In a heartbeat, Okanor. I know what I need to get out of this deal, I have a pretty good idea what it’s worth, and I ain’t taking less.” He gave the old man an intent stare. “Frankly, Okanor, I can’t
afford
to take less. I’ve got something important to spend these credits on. If what I’ve got in mind works, you won’t see me again. I’ll be outta all this for good.”

Okanor nodded. “All right. You’ve broken me, Idanian. I’ll meet your price.”

“Good,” Han said, and began taking the items out of the backpack again.

He left the store with a satisfied smile, and carefully stowed his “Jenos Idanian” IDs and the bank record into his credit pouch. He’d travel under different IDs and leave “Jenos Idanian” “clean,” only using him for the bank withdrawal. He planned to store the golden paledor in a safe place he knew about. It never hurt to keep a little something in reserve for emergencies …

Knowing that Okanor’s credits would be waiting for him on the capital world of the Empire, Han headed down the street toward the shuttle station, whistling.

   When Han walked up to and through the gates of the Tharen estate, he noticed a small, very sporty landspeeder hovering in the paved courtyard. He approached the door and found a young man standing inside, in the parlor. Pavik Tharen and his mother were there, talking to him. When Sera Tharen saw Han, her face fell.
She was hoping I’d cut and run
, Han thought sourly.

“Hi, Lady Tharen,” Han said. “Is Bria around?”

The young man turned to regard Han. He was a good-looking fellow, perhaps a year or so older than Han himself, and he was tastefully but fashionably dressed for an afternoon of net-ball.

“Hello,” the young man said pleasantly, holding out his hand. “I’m Dael Levare, and you are—” His gaze sharpened,
and before Han could speak up, he exclaimed, “Wait a minute! I
thought
you looked familiar! Tallus Bryne, right?”

Han could think of no curse profound enough. He smiled weakly and shook hands. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Tallus Bryne?” Pavik Tharen said sharply.

“But he’s—” Sera Tharen stopped abruptly when her son nudged her, none too gently.

Dael Levare was oblivious to the byplay as he wrung Han’s hand. “What an honor this is! I still remember the day you set that record, and you did it by flying
through
the tunnel on Tabletop Mesa rather than
over
it! Everyone thought you were a goner, but you pulled it off!” He turned to Pavik. “You mean you didn’t recognize him? Is
this
Bria’s new suitor? The swoop racing champion of all Corellia! Your record still stands, Bryne. Or may I call you Tallus?”

“Tallus is fine,” Han said with a mental shrug.
The vrelt’s in the kitchen for sure, this time …

Bria’s entrance was a welcome interruption. Han tried to catch her eye and give her a “look sharp” high-sign, but all her attention was for the newcomer. “Dael! What are you doing here?”

“Your mother invited me over,” Dael said. “You’re looking wonderful, Bria. I’m so glad to see you back safely—and with such a distinguished escort! I’ve wanted to shake this man’s hand ever since he won the swoop racing championship, last year!”

She looked at her mother. “You
invited
him over, Mother? How nice …” Han didn’t miss the edge in her voice, and the flash of guilt in Sera Tharen’s eyes.
I get it
, Han thought angrily.
Mama here wanted Bria to see me next to her rich-guy ex-fiancé, figuring I’d come out looking like some kind of low-life jerk
.

“Well, yes, dear … I knew Dael would be able to catch you up on all the news with the young crowd … much better than I could …” Sera Tharen twittered nervously. Bria’s lip curled, and she turned away from her mother to smile at Dael.

“Well, Dael, it was lovely of you to drop by. Perhaps we
can all get together for lunch someday. Who are you seeing these days?” As she spoke, she moved toward Dael, and in one smooth motion took his arm and started him moving toward the door. Han smiled inwardly.
Slick, Bria, honey … nicely done
.

“Sulen Belos,” Dael said. “She’d love to meet Tallus, too. She’s quite a swoop racing fan.”

“Tal—” Bria caught herself immediately, and laughed. “Well, she always was!” She cast a flirtatious glance at Han. “I’ll have to watch you, won’t I,
Tallus
? Sulen Belos is gorgeous, and she’s never been able to resist a swoop racer.”

Han smiled at her good-naturedly.
Great. Just great. From bad to worse
. “You gotta watch us swoop racers, too. We live for danger.”

Half out the door, Dael Levare laughed, as though Han had said something clever. “Well, I’ll call you. Nice meeting you, Tallus!”

“Nice meeting you, too,” Han said.

“Don’t forget to call,” Bria urged, and then she shut the door behind Levare and leaned against it.

Silence ensued.

Han had never heard such a profound silence, even inside a spacesuit in vacuum. He glanced quickly from Bria, to Pavik, to Sera. All three were staring at him grimly. Han cleared his throat. “Think I’ll take a little walk,” he announced. “Get some air.”

Not meeting anyone’s eyes, he left.

   Bria felt like screaming, then sobbing, but she struggled to control herself. The situation was bad enough without her dissolving into hysterics. She was pacing back and forth in her mother’s dressing room. Pavik was sitting on the couch, waving his arms and raising his voice, and her mother was sitting in a pink brocade chair, alternating between gasped exclamations of “Oh, dear!” and “Bria, your brother is right, we must
do
something!”

“You heard him last night!” Pavik shouted. “He denied
having swoop-raced, and he gave us a fake name! Han Solo—right! Who knows what his real name is?”

“Stop it!” Bria cried. “Han Solo is his
real
name!”

“Then why is ‘Tallus Bryne’ listed as the swoop racing champion of Corellia last year?” Pavik said. “He can’t be both, Bria. Face it, the guy’s using an alias, and the only reason to do that is that he’s got stuff to hide! And this is the guy you want us to accept with open arms, just because you say so?”

“Oh, dear!” Sera wrung her hands.

Bria bit her lip to keep from shrieking.

“And another thing,” Pavik said. “My memory is starting to come back on this, and ‘Tallus Bryne’ wasn’t Solo’s only alias. The time I remembered was about three years earlier. He was just a kid, eating barbecue after a swoop race. That time, ‘Solo’ was ‘Keil Garris,’ the son of Venadar Garris. Remember him? That guy who went around one summer selling shares in that duralloy asteroid, and the whole thing turned out to be bogus? A scam?”

Bria
did
remember. “But even if this Garris man was a con artist, that doesn’t mean that Han—”

Pavik threw up his arms in exasperation. “Sis, don’t you remember how a couple of our friends’ parents were nearly wiped
out
from buying worthless shares in that nonexistent asteroid?” He snorted. “That whole Garris family was nothing but a bunch of con artists—and that includes your new boyfriend, Bria!”

“This is terrible!” Sera Tharen said. “Perhaps we should
do
something!”

Both Bria and Pavik ignored their mother.

“But Han was just a kid then,” she pointed out, fighting not to give in to tears. “You admitted that. He can’t be held responsible for what you say his parents did.”

“But he doesn’t
have
any parents—or so he told us!”

Bria glared at him. “Well, maybe they were his parents, and he’s disowned them because they were crooked,” she said. “Pavik, Han is a good person! He’s had a tough life and wound up having to do things he didn’t like to survive, I already know that. But he’s turned around now! He’s trying
to make something of himself, and you won’t give him that chance!”

Pavik snorted derisively. “If they even
were
his parents,” he said. “Sis … don’t be blinded by good looks and the fact that he rescued you! Face it, this guy may have romanced you because he’d checked our family out and found that Dad has money!”

“Oh, dear!” Sera said. “Do you mean that the boy is a
thief
?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Mother,” Pavik said.

“I should go and check to see whether anything is missing,” Sera Tharen gasped. “Oh, dear, oh, dear, where shall I have him sleep tonight?”

“Mother, he’s not going to
be
here, tonight,” Pavik said. “I’m calling security. I’m sure this guy is wanted for all kinds of things.”

“Don’t you dare!” Bria cried. “If you call security I’ll never speak to any of you again! You’re wrong about Han! He had absolutely no idea my family was wealthy when we met. I never told him until we got here!”

“A guy like that has sources to check,” Pavik pointed out. “He probably checked you out within days of knowing you, and found out everything he needed to know.”

“No, he didn’t!”

“Bria … I’m not trying to be an ogre!” Pavik said. “I’m just trying to make you see reason! I don’t want you to be hurt, and I don’t want you to get involved with someone who lives on the wrong side of the law!”

“Han isn’t like that!” Bria cried, then taking a deep breath, she amended, “Okay, I admit that in the past he probably was. But he’s different now. He’s going to enter the Imperial Academy and become an officer. Can’t you give him a chance? He’s trying to change his life!”

“That’s what he’s told you, Bria, but guys like that lie for a living,” Pavik said. “I’m calling security.”

“Oh, dear!”

“No!” Bria stared wildly at her brother, for a moment wishing she were wearing a blaster. She couldn’t let him do this!

Pavik’s hand was actually on the
CONNECT
button on the comlink, when a voice from the doorway stopped him in his tracks. “Don’t, Pavik. I forbid it.”

All of them turned to see Renn Tharen standing there.

“But, Dad, you don’t know—” Pavik began.

“Yes, I do,” Tharen said. “I’ve been in my study, and the door was open. I’ve been listening to this entire disgraceful scene, and I’m telling you, Pavik, you’re
not
calling security.”