Maul was waiting just inside the cell when the Twi’lek came back from the mess hall, hiding in the shadows to the right of the hatchway. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he stepped into view.
For a moment Zero just stared at him. To his credit, he didn’t bother trying to run. He didn’t even look particularly surprised.
“Jagannath,” he said. “You’re looking surprisingly well, all things considered.”
Maul said nothing. In the twelve hours since his last fight, he’d recovered almost completely from the wounds that the Wampa had inflicted on him. His face still bore the blood-encrusted slash marks from its claws, but he’d regained full use of his arm, and his strength actually seemed to have intensified in response to the attack, like an organism that had thrived from being pruned down close to the taproot.
“You know,” Zero said, “I was wondering when we’d get a chance to meet.”
“You didn’t make it easy,” Maul said. “Sending that guard to come after me in the tunnels.”
“Well, of course, someone like me can’t afford to cast too long a shadow. I’m sure you understand. In any case,” Zero said, giving Maul a small smile, “you didn’t seem to have any trouble handling yourself.”
“I expected a setup,” Maul said.
“In which case I’m glad that I didn’t disappoint you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“A refreshing lack of pretense.” The Twi’lek smiled again. “Please, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything?”
Maul remained standing, allowing his silence to answer for him. In the hour that he’d spent waiting inside the cell, anticipating Zero’s return, he’d searched it thoroughly. The investigation had proven highly fruitful. Although outwardly similar to every other cell in Cog Hive Seven, Zero’s quarters had been customized with a thousand subtle luxuries that might escape casual observation. Beneath the bunk he’d discovered a small library, a secret storage chamber stocked with a private supply of food, drink, and utensils, and whole caches of electronic components in various states of assembly.
“Something to eat, perhaps?” Zero asked, reaching under the bed to pull out a narrow cabinet of prepared meals. “My own dinner was somewhat rudely interrupted, so I hope you’ll forgive me if—”
“I want Iram Radique.”
“I—” Zero stopped what he was doing and looked up, his expression unreadable. “I beg your pardon?”
“I know he’s here. I seek an audience with him privately, as soon as possible. And you seem to be the one who can arrange such a thing.”
The Twi’lek said nothing. Maul stood riveted to his gaze.
You must be relentless, Sidious had told him. Use every means at your disposal to gather information. We have an extremely finite amount of time in which to arrange for the purchase of the nuclear device from Radique and its delivery into the hands of the Bando Gora. But throughout it all you must keep in mind that in Cog Hive Seven, the name of Iram Radique will always be spoken with dread.
In this case, however, Zero surprised him. He looked at Maul blankly for a moment, his lips tightening, then twitching—and then burst out laughing, a spontaneous bray of amusement that seemed, for the moment at least, to cost him every ounce of his composure.
“I must apologize,” the Twi’lek managed when he finally appeared to pull himself together. “You see, it’s just … oh my…” Attempting to catch his breath, he wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up at Maul. “Iram Radique, you say? You don’t ask much, do you?” With another chuckle, he shook his head. “Tell me, is there anything else I can get for you in the meantime? Your own private starfighter, perhaps? An audience with the Galactic Senate? The lost moons of Yavin?”
Maul just stared at him, expressionless.
“Forgive me,” Zero said. “It’s not your fault. I can see that you’ve been misinformed about the scope of my abilities here. If you were looking to have a certain type of food smuggled in, or a more comfortable uniform, or even a particular pet, then yes, perhaps I could be of assistance, but …”
“I want Radique,” Maul said. “I know he’s here. And if anyone can find him, it’s you.”
The Twi’lek had settled himself completely now and stopped laughing. He lowered his weight down on his bunk, gazing up at Maul with his meal unopened on his lap.
“Let me tell you a story,” he said. “If you’ll indulge me.” Without waiting for Maul’s reply, Zero peeled back the synthetic wrap that covered some kind of glazed-looking reddish-pink fruit dish, waved it momentarily beneath his nose, and took a small nibble.
“About two years ago, another inmate arrived here—he, too, claimed to have come searching for Iram Radique. This misinformed soul, in fact, claimed not only that he’d met Radique before but that he’d actually saved Radique’s life years ago, on the other side of the galaxy—and that Radique had somehow summoned him here to Cog Hive Seven to offer him a kind of protection as a way of thanking him.” Zero took another bite of the fruit loaf, chewed, and swallowed. “Never mind the practical inconsistencies of this story. This new inmate insisted that Radique was locked up and hiding in here somewhere. No matter how many times he came to me for answers, insisting that I help him, he refused to accept the fact of the matter.”
“Which is?” Maul asked.
Zero paused long enough to finish his bite and blotted his lips before looking back up at Maul with an expression of deeply earnest sincerity.
“Iram Radique does not exist. He’s a cautionary tale, a myth—a bedtime story that small-time galactic gunrunners tell their kids at night. ‘Don’t get too big for your britches or Iram Radique will come and get you,’ that sort of thing.” Zero finished his snack, tossed the carton aside, and stood up in front of Maul, tilting his head so that he could meet Maul’s gaze, even as he maintained a careful distance from him. “Hear me well, Jagannath. The so-called man that you seek is not here.”
“What happened to the inmate?”
“I’m sorry?”
“The one who came here claiming to have saved Radique’s life,” Maul asked. “What happened to him?”
“Oh,” Zero said vaguely, “he’s still around somewhere. Eventually he gave up looking. Disabused of his delusions, I suppose. This place has a tendency to do that. You’ll discover that for yourself … if you survive that long.”
Maul said nothing.
“Now,” the Twi’lek said, “since you’ve taken the trouble to come searching for me, I feel compelled to ask, is there anything else that you’re looking for? Anything real?”
“Yes,” Maul said.
“And what might that be?”
“I need a transmitter device. An undetectable means of long-range communication—any basic subspace image transmitter would suffice. I know you’ve got the necessary parts here in your cell.”
“You …” For the first time, Zero looked nonplused. “You’ve discovered that, have you?”
“I need it as soon as possible,” Maul told him.
“What you’re asking for won’t come cheaply,” Zero said. “You must realize that the components that you saw all had to be smuggled in at great personal—”
“What do you want?” Maul interrupted.
“Well.” The Twi’lek drew in a breath, letting it out slowly. “Since you asked, I do seem to be having some recent difficulty with the gangs. The Bone Kings and the Gravity Massive, they—”
“What else?” Zero blinked up at him, bemused. “I assure you, that’s quite enough.”
“Get the transmitter ready for me,” Maul told him. “You’ll have no more trouble with gangs.”