Ganz narrowed his eyes at the viewscreen image of Kajek, whose Nausicaan visage he found inscrutable. “He got the drop on you?” The Orion furrowed his green brow in confusion. “You’re sure it was Quinn?”
“Absolutely certain.” A hint of amusement crept into his tone. “He wants me to give you a message. He says Zett came after him on a personal vendetta and got what he deserved. My life was spared to prove Zett’s death wasn’t personal.”
A grim chuckle rumbled deep inside Ganz’s chest. He shook his head and muttered, “Dead or alive, that human never ceases to surprise me.” He picked up a decanter of green Orion rum, removed the stopper, and refilled his glass.
Kajek half suppressed a low growl. “So, what now? Shall I pursue Quinn and his woman? Or wait for you to send someone after me?”
“Neither.” Ganz sipped his drink, which was in equal measures sweet and tart. “His story has the ring of truth to it. I know Quinn; he’s not the vengeful type, but Zett was. If Zett forced a showdown and lost, it was his own fault.”
“What about his ship?”
“Spoils of war. Let Quinn have it.”
“And the second half of my fee?”
“Was payable upon Quinn’s death, which you failed to accomplish.” Sensing the bounty hunter’s rising temper, Ganz held up one hand to cut off Kajek’s protest. “However, as I’ve canceled the contract, I offer you one half your remaining fee as compensation for your invested time and effort.”
The Nausicaan dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “I accept.”
“Good. Now forget about Quinn. I need you back here.”
“I will return as soon as possible.” Kajek terminated his transmission without wasting time on such pointless niceties as saying good-bye. The viewscreen on Ganz’s desktop went dark, and he switched it off.
On the other side of Ganz’s office, Neera lounged in an alluring pose across the long sofa. She teased him with a smirk. “Such restraint. Are you actually learning to cut your losses?”
“I’m learning to adjust my priorities.” Ganz stood and walked to the open doorway of his balcony that overlooked the Omari-Ekon’s gaming floor. The thumping bass of primal rhythms pulsed from the traveling casino, and the air was sweet with fruit-scented smoke. He breathed it all in . . . and then frowned at the scene’s sole discordant note, its one foul odor, its singular blemish: Diego Reyes, who paused in his nonchalant stroll past the dom-jot tables to look up over his shoulder at Ganz and crack a cold, mirthless smile. “We have bigger problems,” Ganz said as he turned back toward Neera.
“Be patient. Reyes is only a temporary annoyance.”
“He challenges my authority daily.”
Neera shrugged. “So? Your authority is just an illusion, anyway.”
Ganz absorbed the blow to his ego and continued. “Regardless, that illusion is vital to our control over those we employ. Every time Reyes defies me and you forbid me to react, you undermine my power aboard this ship.”
“A small sacrifice.” The sable-haired mistress of the Omari-Ekon made a show of studying her immaculately manicured fingernails. “Until we have enough wealth and power to shift our operations off these traveling circuses and onto worlds across the Federation and Klingon Empire, we need to court the goodwill of the powers that be. For now, that means we can’t risk giving Starfleet any reason to revoke our docking privileges here at Vanguard.”
It took all of Ganz’s limited self-control not to point out that while Neera was the power behind the throne aboard the Omari-Ekon, most of his underlings were not aware of their arrangement. Which meant, if he was so inclined, he could order his men to do away with Neera whenever the mood might strike him. Of course, there would be grave consequences when the syndicate captains to whom Neera answered learned of her disappearance, but Ganz was fairly certain a generous payoff would be sufficient to assuage their desire for retribution.
“At the very least, let’s ban him from the gaming floor.”
The suggestion seemed to amuse Neera. “Why?”
“Because he keeps on winning.”
Neera smirked. “It’s your own fault for offering him a line of credit. At any rate, banning him now would make no sense: he’s up. The odds favor the house. So, let him keep playing until he loses.”
“I’m not sure he knows how.”
Neera got up and walked over to the doorway. “No one draws winning hands forever.” She draped herself over Ganz’s right arm. “Sooner or later, everyone loses. The trick is to keep your customers playing until it’s their turn.”
“And if our turn comes first?”
“That’s why we rig the games, darling.”
Down below, Reyes bladed through the crowd on his way toward the exit. Much as Ganz tried to ignore the human, he couldn’t stop staring daggers at the man’s back. His hands curled into fists. “We can’t be rid of him soon enough.”
“All in good time, love. I know you resent him for pushing you around when we first came here, but you need to take a lesson from Zett’s fate: don’t let it become personal. Right now, having Reyes on board is good business. When it becomes bad business, we’ll put an end to it. I promise.”