Read Online Star Wars: Scoundrels by Timothy Zahn - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Timothy Zahn
Ads: Link
up to date?” Bink asked.
“Mostly,” Rachele said. “As far as I can tell, none of the previous owners did anything drastic to the building. The biggest renovation was those skylights over the entry atria and the wings, which were installed about fifty years ago. But none of the basic structure or layout was changed until Villachor took over.” She keyed her datapad again, and the view zoomed in on a large ground-floor room near the southern end of the building’s south wing. “This is the junior ballroom. Villachor’s first—and biggest—renovation was to turn it into his vault.”
Lando whistled softly. “What does he keep in there, small starships?”
“I gather that most of it’s still empty space,” Rachele said. “We know he’s armored the walls and ceiling somewhat. Not all that seriously—I looked at the old material requisitions, and I’m guessing there’s no more than four or five centimeters of warship-class hull plate in place, with the door made of the same material. Nothing to sneer at, but not as bad as it could be. Unfortunately, the whole vault’s also magnetically sealed, and there’s probably a layer or two of sensor shielding in there, too.”
“You said the armoring is just on the walls and ceiling?” Dozer said. “Nothing on the floor?”
“There might be some down there, too,” Rachele said. “But given that the entire south wing sits on ten meters of solid stone, I doubt he bothered.”
“The walls shouldn’t be a problem,” Zerba said, one finger prodding thoughtfully at his lower lip. “Even at your upper estimate it shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes for me to carve us our own door.”
“Even with the magsealing?” Kell asked.
Zerba nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“What could be a problem is if the plating is honey-trapped,” Bink warned. “Even something that thin has plenty of depth to work with.”
“What’s a honey trap?” Eanjer asked.
“Honeycomb-style booby traps,” Bink explained. “You put pockets of explosives, acid, or pressurized poison gas inside your walls so that whoever’s behind the cutting torch gets a lethal surprise halfway in.”
“It’s all the rage among the better class of paranoid criminal bosses,” Dozer added dryly. “What about it, Kell? You have any experience with those? Or do you just blow things up and leave the defusing to others?”
“No, I can do both,” Kell said, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “I can probably handle any explosive traps we find, provided Zerba doesn’t set them off before I can get there.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not so sure about the acid and gas, though.”
“Actually, I doubt the walls will be our biggest problem,” Rachele said. “It looks like what he’s got inside the room will be the real challenge.”
“And what exactly would that be?” Lando asked.
Rachele made a face. “That’s the problem,” she admitted. “No one knows. At least, no one I can get to.”
There was a moment of silence. “No problem,” Han said. “Just means the first job is to get someone inside to take a look.”
“Yes,” Rachele said uncertainly. “Only no one’s allowed in there. There are guards on duty at the vault doors around the clock—armed and armored—and Villachor’s the only one they’ll let in.”
“Or Villachor and a friend,” Han said. “It has to be set up so he can bring someone else in if he wants to.”
“Only one way to find out,” Dozer said. “Which of us gets to be Villachor’s new best friend?”
“No contest,” Lando said, smiling at the twins. “I nominate Bink.”
“Why, thank you, sir,” Bink said, smiling sweetly back at him. “I just love making new friends.”
“You really think he’ll fall for that?” Eanjer asked, sounding confused.
“I’m quite certain he won’t,” Tavia said stiffly, countering Lando’s smile with a frosty look of her own. “May I suggest instead that we send in Zerba and his
“Mostly,” Rachele said. “As far as I can tell, none of the previous owners did anything drastic to the building. The biggest renovation was those skylights over the entry atria and the wings, which were installed about fifty years ago. But none of the basic structure or layout was changed until Villachor took over.” She keyed her datapad again, and the view zoomed in on a large ground-floor room near the southern end of the building’s south wing. “This is the junior ballroom. Villachor’s first—and biggest—renovation was to turn it into his vault.”
Lando whistled softly. “What does he keep in there, small starships?”
“I gather that most of it’s still empty space,” Rachele said. “We know he’s armored the walls and ceiling somewhat. Not all that seriously—I looked at the old material requisitions, and I’m guessing there’s no more than four or five centimeters of warship-class hull plate in place, with the door made of the same material. Nothing to sneer at, but not as bad as it could be. Unfortunately, the whole vault’s also magnetically sealed, and there’s probably a layer or two of sensor shielding in there, too.”
“You said the armoring is just on the walls and ceiling?” Dozer said. “Nothing on the floor?”
“There might be some down there, too,” Rachele said. “But given that the entire south wing sits on ten meters of solid stone, I doubt he bothered.”
“The walls shouldn’t be a problem,” Zerba said, one finger prodding thoughtfully at his lower lip. “Even at your upper estimate it shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes for me to carve us our own door.”
“Even with the magsealing?” Kell asked.
Zerba nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“What could be a problem is if the plating is honey-trapped,” Bink warned. “Even something that thin has plenty of depth to work with.”
“What’s a honey trap?” Eanjer asked.
“Honeycomb-style booby traps,” Bink explained. “You put pockets of explosives, acid, or pressurized poison gas inside your walls so that whoever’s behind the cutting torch gets a lethal surprise halfway in.”
“It’s all the rage among the better class of paranoid criminal bosses,” Dozer added dryly. “What about it, Kell? You have any experience with those? Or do you just blow things up and leave the defusing to others?”
“No, I can do both,” Kell said, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “I can probably handle any explosive traps we find, provided Zerba doesn’t set them off before I can get there.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not so sure about the acid and gas, though.”
“Actually, I doubt the walls will be our biggest problem,” Rachele said. “It looks like what he’s got inside the room will be the real challenge.”
“And what exactly would that be?” Lando asked.
Rachele made a face. “That’s the problem,” she admitted. “No one knows. At least, no one I can get to.”
There was a moment of silence. “No problem,” Han said. “Just means the first job is to get someone inside to take a look.”
“Yes,” Rachele said uncertainly. “Only no one’s allowed in there. There are guards on duty at the vault doors around the clock—armed and armored—and Villachor’s the only one they’ll let in.”
“Or Villachor and a friend,” Han said. “It has to be set up so he can bring someone else in if he wants to.”
“Only one way to find out,” Dozer said. “Which of us gets to be Villachor’s new best friend?”
“No contest,” Lando said, smiling at the twins. “I nominate Bink.”
“Why, thank you, sir,” Bink said, smiling sweetly back at him. “I just love making new friends.”
“You really think he’ll fall for that?” Eanjer asked, sounding confused.
“I’m quite certain he won’t,” Tavia said stiffly, countering Lando’s smile with a frosty look of her own. “May I suggest instead that we send in Zerba and his
Similar Books
