Baasen caught his eye. His grin was warm and avuncular and false. “Just like old times, isn’t it?”
“Not any times I remember,” Han said.
“In spirit, I mean.”
“All right. Sure.”
“For what it carries, I do hope this works. I wasn’t looking ahead to feeding you to the Hutt with any pleasure.”
“Enough banter,” Scarlet said. “Focus now.”
She put her tools into her pockets and onto her belt with a calm, military efficiency, then gestured to Baasen. “We’re going to twenty-four-D. I’ll be popping the seal. You and Solo make sure I’m not interrupted.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Baasen said.
“See that it’s not.”
The Mirialan smiled and pointed at her with his stump. “I like you. Not the type to play safe or overthink. Quick on the uptake. See the value in things, even when they’re unexpected.”
Scarlet made a small, insincere curtsy. “You know, if it wouldn’t have raised an alarm, I would have shot you and your little friend.”
Baasen looked at Han. “I don’t think she’s fond of you, my boy. Your charms are slipping.”
Scarlet stepped out to the hallway, her expression quizzical. She closed the room door behind them.
“Oh, he’d have been fine,” she said. “I’m a very good shot. Come on, now. Let’s get this done.”
Scarlet started off at a brisk walk, not running but wasting no time. Han and Baasen had to trot a little to catch up with her. At the corner, Baasen caught Han’s gaze and nodded toward the woman’s back.
“Was she joking about that?” the Mirialan asked.
“I can never tell,” Han said.
THE LONG STONE HALLWAY outside 24-D was empty, for which Han breathed a silent sigh of relief. Baasen had his blaster in his good hand, and the bounty hunter wasn’t one for subtlety; he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot a bystander if he thought it needed doing. Scarlet crouched at the door and started manipulating the locking panel. Baasen rocked on the balls of his feet while she worked.
After a few long seconds, the door to Hunter Maas’s room snapped open. “So much for the easy part,” Scarlet said and entered, Baasen right on her heels. Han paused a moment in the corridor, looking both directions, making sure they weren’t being followed.
“You keep saying that,” Han said. “It’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”
When no one ran into the hall shouting at them or triggering alarms, he followed Scarlet into the room and closed the door. In the very short time he’d had the room, Hunter Maas had managed to trash it. The bed wasn’t just unmade, it was dismembered: pillows pounded into unlikely shapes, sheets half pulled off, and blankets in a lumpy pile on the floor. Wet towels lay knotted on the bathroom floor. There were articles of clothing distributed randomly around the room. The R3 that Maas had brought sat in one corner of the room with a wrinkled shirt draped across it and the rat-bird sitting on it. The rat-bird had defecated on the shirt several times, white-green streaks covering the cloth. When it saw them, it shrieked and danced angrily on the little droid’s head.
Scarlet was already opening the closet doors and looking for the safe. Baasen poked the pile of blankets with his toe. The rat-bird squawked loudly at him, and he pointed his blaster at it.
“Don’t,” Han said. “Might set off the hotel’s alarms.”
“I don’t like the ugly thing.” Baasen continued to point his blaster at it, but didn’t fire.
“If it’s scary, you can stand behind me,” Han said, smirking at him.
“Keep pushing, boyo,” the bounty hunter replied with a smile. “Keep pushing.”
The rat-bird screeched and shifted from foot to foot, flapping its wings at them. It noisily relieved itself again.
“I hope Hunter wasn’t planning to wear that to the parties tonight,” Han said.
“Filthy disgusting creature,” Baasen said. “Can you imagine what the inside of this man’s ship must look like?”
Han chuckled, remembering a time when he and Baasen hadn’t been enemies. When they’d had a few laughs in shady cantinas across the galaxy. Han could imagine himself making the same choices Baasen had made. Reaching a point where there just wasn’t enough smuggling work to make ends meet, and the allure of fast cash for bounty hunting became too great. Could he have wound up there? Desperate enough to hold an old friend at blasterpoint for a quick payoff?
If it weren’t for running into an old man and a dumb kid in a Tatooine backwater, maybe. Han didn’t have much use for mysticism or ancient religions like the Force, but sometimes it did seem as if something was maneuvering events behind the scenes. One chance meeting, and now here he was, working for Leia and the rebels, and not hunting old friends for money.
“Found it,” Scarlet said. She rapped on the safe door with her knuckle. It was in the back of the room’s largest closet. She dropped to one knee and started pulling tools off her belt. “He probably wasn’t stupid enough to leave his keycard lying around, but maybe he was. See if you can find it.”
Baasen responded by yanking the sheets off the bed and flipping the mattress over. He holstered his blaster and pulled a large knife, then started cutting the mattress open.
“When,” Han said, “would he have had time to sew anything into it?”
Baasen grunted in irritation, but he put the knife away and flipped the bed frame over instead. Han went into the small refresher and opened all the drawers, dumping the contents in the sink. Most were empty, but one had a few personal grooming implements in it. Nothing that looked like a keycard.
Out in the sleeping area, Baasen was banging on the R3 unit and demanding that it speak. It had backed as far into the corner as it could and hunched down, trying to make itself as small as possible. Baasen kicked it, and it beeped forlornly at him. The rat-bird on its head hissed and snapped at Baasen’s one good hand.
“Unless you have a protocol droid handy, you won’t get much out of that,” Han said. “But check the bird.”
“You’re kidding,” Baasen said, squinting back at him. “You trying to cost me the few fingers I’ve got left?”
Han rolled his eyes and lunged across the room to swat the rat-bird off the droid. It fell on the floor with an undignified squeak and started flapping its leathery wings. Han grabbed it by the back of the neck and picked it up. It hissed and spit and soiled the carpet, but Han didn’t let go.