Tales of the Gold Wookie, Part 8

Vader knew his boss was not going to be happy about losing the twins. He'd expected at least Luke to come with him. Leia...had too much of his temper for her own good. She'd be more difficult to deal with.

He met Palpatine in his room at the Hotel Ville Du Nuage less than an hour after his children escaped. The older man reposed quietly in a chair, a Paris newspaper open on his lap and a cup of strong Coruscant black coffee in his hand. “You weren't able to get them.” He wore a black satin robe and had a knitted blanket over his lap, despite the warm day.

“They escaped with Carlyle and one of his men.” Vader remained standing. “By the time our men were able to pursue them, the plane had been gone for an hour. They're likely half-way across the Atlantic by now.”

“They're going to Los Angeles.” Palpatine pursed his lips at the bitter brew. “True Guardians are drawn to one another, even if they don't realize it at first. It's why Kenobi couldn't resist returning to you, why your wife went after you before her death.”

Vader's hiss faltered, as it always did when discussing his late wife. “Leia,” he whispered. “She looks like Padme. Just like her. There's Wisdom in her soul, in her very voice. She has my temper, but her mother's ability to persuade anyone to do anything.”

“Except you.” Palpatine brushed the newspaper aside. “We can't go after them now. It's more than likely they'll go to the FBI. The last thing I want is Dr. Mothma and her tame agents involved in this.”

“It wasn't a total loss.” He pulled the papers out of his jacket. “My son got the notebook, but I have Dr. Organa's maps and other notes.”

“That should work to our advantage.” Palpatine pushed himself up on his black cane. “While they're dealing with Mrs. Hutt in Los Angeles, we'll be getting an early start to Guatemala.”

“We know where the temples are,” Vader hissed, “but not what we'll find when we enter them. The Alderaanians set up traps to keep the Spanish and other tribes from their treasures in and around the Temples of the Guardians, some quite gruesome.”

Palpatine waved off his concerns. “We'll figure out how to deal with that when we get there.” He started to the phone, walking more easily than a man of his age and infirmity would normally be expected to. “Now, let's call Admiral Piett and start organizing your crews and equipment. We'll need special weapons from your factory in the United States to deal with the natives and those...traps...in the temple as well.”

Vader's cough came out more like a rough bark. “Master,” he began, “when the time comes, I would like to train my children in the ways of the Guardians. I know we'd discussed that you wanted to, but...”

“There will be no buts.” Palpatine reached up and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “And this is why I'll be the one who teaches them. You're still learning, Vader. You were nothing but a crackpot tomb-robber with a head full of outlandish theories when I rescued you, took you in. I gave you everything. Everything you have, everything you are, belongs to me. You are not ready to be a teacher. You can barely handle your own temper.”

Vader only nodded. “Yes, master.” Inside, he was seething. Twenty years was a long time to be a student. He was starting to wonder when...or if...Palpatine would ever let him graduate. He'd quarreled with UCLA and the remaining Jedi of their treatment of him and his theories...but he was wondering if their ignoring his ideas was preferable to being the closest thing one could be to a slave without wearing a collar and cuffs.

He followed Palpatine into his parlor room to make the necessary calls...but inside, he was starting to form a plan of his own.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Twin Suns Club was one of Hollywood's most lavish and popular night spots. Everyone who was anyone in Tinseltown dropped by after hours for one of their spicy Desert Palace cocktails with cinnamon and brandy. They'd dance the night away under the Art Deco starburst lamps to the music of resident orchestra Barry Fortune and His Desert Devils, surrounded by murals of Old Mexico and reproduction Aztec warrior masks and armor.

Show girls in barely-there costumes made of colorful feathers and beads kicked their legs and swung their hips in time to what sounded like a rhythmic native chant on a stage surrounded by real and paper mache tropical plants and palm trees. One man with a face so wrinkled, he resembled a human prune, grabbed the elbow of a tall young woman with thick black hair wound in braids with green ribbons and pushed her off-stage before the number was even done. Leia wondered what that was all about, but she didn't have the chance to consider it before she heard someone call out to Yasmin Hutt.

Yasmin Hutt was not the type of woman Leia expected her to be. When Leia walked in on Charel's arm, she figured Mrs. Hutt would be as formidable as she was described in the newspapers. They said she was a bitch of a businesswoman who wouldn't hesitate to sell her mother if the old lady hadn't conveniently died in 1930.

Her late husband Gerry Hutt had been over 300 pounds and had spent half of his life hunched over a rich meal (when he wasn't slapping her rear), but he still found the time to teach his wife everything he'd learned in 50 years about the smuggling trade. He finally dropped dead over a plate of sardines and toast four years ago. The coroner claimed it was a heart attack, but though Yasmin had been out of town, whispers circulated that a few fishy poisons had been added to his lunch.

She should have been wearing crown jewels, or at least holding a jeweled spear. Mrs. Yasmin Hutt was a tall, curvy platinum blond who filled out every inch of her sand-pink Chanel gown. Her lipstick was red enough to stand out on her slightly bronzed face. Even in her red dress from Bespin and with her hair piled on top of her head, Leia felt dowdy next to Yasmin.

Laurence waved a hand at her as she and Charel settled down at a table. Artie came up to their table, looking dapper in a pristine white dinner jacket. “Hello, everyone. Welcome to the Twins Suns Club.”

“Artie,” Leia whispered, “have you seen Harry yet? Where are the others?”

The short man shook his head. “No, and we've been looking for him. Luke said he's going to be around later. He's talking to Yoda and his lady boss. Something about making a few phone calls to some old friends of Miss Tano's.”

“Harry has to be around here somewhere!” Leia's hiss sounded almost like Vader's. “The way Laurence was talking on the way here, she basically regards Harry as a plaything, something nice for her arm. Where would she...”

Her voice stopped the moment the front door opened. Roberto Fettara, now dressed in a black tux that seemed a little too big for him, lead Harry in, gently tugging on his arm. He'd never looked more gorgeous. The white tuxedo with the black vest and the red carnation and his shorter hairstyle gave him a movie-star sheen. He moved stiffly and without his usual swagger. His eyes were unfocused and clouded.

“Harry!” Even Yasmin's voice had a throaty purr. “My dear boy.” She ran her fingers along his chest, pulling him closer. “I'm never letting you go again.”

“Ahem.” Leia had managed to elbow her way through the crowd long enough to make it to Yasmin's side. “Hello, Mrs. Hutt. My name is Dr. Leia Organa. I'm an archaeologist at UCLA who specializes in Latin American culture, and I'm very interested in these pieces you have here.”

“It's nice to meet a real scientist, not just a collector like me.” Yasmin's Pepsodent-white teeth had sharp edges. “My husband Gerry used to talk about the warriors of old Latin America, and he got me interested. I suppose you know all about their delicious methods of torturing their enemies. They used to do gruesome things involving removing hearts and rib bones.”

“Yes.” Leia quickly changed the subject. “Who's your friend?” She tried to push closer to Harry, but he didn't acknowledge her. He didn't even look her way. He stood frozen by Yasmin's side, like he was carved from ice. Yasmin fondled his chest and stroked his cheek and neck like he was a puppy. He whimpered deep in his throat, but otherwise said nothing.

“Oh, this is Mr. Harold Solomon.” Yasmin squeezed his hand. “He's my close friend.” She leaned over Leia's ear, her blue eyes briefly narrowing. “Very close, personal friend, so don't get any ideas.”

Leia's pasted a fake smile on her face. “Wouldn't dream of it.” Harry's eyes were completely empty, showing no recognition at all. She coughed, trying not to lean around Yasmin and kiss him until the light came back into those hazel orbs. “I heard from certain sources that you have a Sword of Wisdom among your artifacts. I'd like to buy it, or study it. Alderaanian culture is my main area of study. My godfather Dr. Bail Organa searched for the swords for years.”

Yasmin shook her head. “I don't know what your sources told you, but it's not for sale. It's the most valuable piece in my collection.” She leaned over Harry, nibbling on his ear. He gave her a rather stupid smile. “Isn't that right, my cute little Harry-puppy? Mama doesn't sell her artifacts for anything. Not for even a million dollars.”

Leia wanted to grab Harry by his broad shoulders and shake him, or shake Yasmin, or shake both of them until they rattled like china. “Then perhaps we can discuss them together? I've recently come across...other artifacts...and thought you might be interested.”

The baby-blue eyes lit up like the sunburst sign on the side of the Twin Suns Club. “Perhaps we could discuss this tomorrow morning? I live at a place up in the hills. Very quiet, very cozy. Gerry built it as a love nest for us, and I can't bring myself to sell it. Besides,” her throaty chuckle lacked anything like warmth, “it's a good place to conduct...certain business.”

“Hey boss.” One of the security guards waddled between them. Leia suspected they were more enforcers than security guards. Almost every one of them were uniformly fat and heavy-set, with fleshy jowls that made them closely resemble green pigs. “It's time for the ceremony. We got that Oola dame all ready for ya in the dressin' rooms.”

“This is a bad time, Hunky.” Yasmin's brilliant smile was now slightly pasted-on. “Would you excuse me, Dr. Skylark? Tonight's headlining act is about to begin.” She linked her arm with Harry's. “It's time for tonight's ceremony, cutie pie. We'll get my pretty wittle boy settled down in our room for a little fun after I finish here.” Leia nearly upchucked her dinner when Yasmin blew a strand of chestnut hair off his ear, and he actually giggled. It was nauseating.

Leia tried to step closer to Harry the moment Yasmin made for the dressing rooms, but three of her fat bodyguards instantly surrounded him. “Uh uh uh, doll face.” Roberto Fettara showed her a nasty, toothy grin. “No touchie. Solomon is the boss lady's property now.” He chuckled the chin of one of the chorus girls as she hurried off-stage, then sneered at Leia. “What the boss lady wants, the boss lady gets.” He eventually followed the goons as they lead a dazed Harry to a booth in the raised section in the back, hidden behind real palms and glittering green celluloid bead curtains that gave it an intimate, jungle-like air.

“I don't like this.” Clarence joined Leia as she pushed her way further to the front of the dance floor. “Mrs. Hutt hired me to translate Alderaanian into English for what she called a major 'spectacular' she's putting on for the audiences here. Most of those passages involved human sacrifice.”

“I'm more concerned about what she's done to Harry and to the Sword.” Leia frowned. “And her men took one of the chorus girls off-stage a few moments ago. From the way he looked, I don't think it was to give her a solo in the next number.”

Even as Leia spoke, the house lights dimmed. The chorus girls returned, this time dancing in two rows down a bright floral carpet, their feathered costumes and fans flowing around the audience members as they glided and kicked. They were followed by six men in tight leather shorts and feathered headdresses, their long be-ribboned poles and feather-trimmed capes likely intended to make them resemble Alderaanian Jedi warriors and healers.

The drums that had been thumping incessantly from the orchestra reached a crescendo. Everyone looked up as four men in scanty loincloths carried two women on a litter that was lavishly decorated with tropical flowers, vines, and straw fringe. One of the women was Yasmin, who had traded her elegant gown for a leopard-print, halter-top blouse, wide belt with turquoise beads, and short skirt trimmed with fluffy pink marabou feathers. Pink, green, and yellow feathers sprouted from her head like a massive bird of paradise.

The chorus girl was by her side, but she seemed quite different than she was before. She now wore mainly ropes of white beads and crystals, her assets scarcely covered by strategically-placed white fabric flowers. Yasmin swung something heavy and golden in front of her eyes before quickly pushing it under her feather cape and shoving her out on the carpet to dance for the crowd. The girl's feet, so quick and able before, now moved sluggishly, as if she were in a dream. She had the same clouded eyes as Harry, and the same empty smile.

The women followed Yasmin up to the stage, where she reclined on a throne of wood covered in paste jewels. The litter bears tied the chorus girl to a heavy wooden table that had rose from under the stage floor.

“Some floor show, huh?” Laurence came up behind them, joining them and the crowd around the stage. “Yasmin used to be a hoofer herself. She knows something about theatrics.”

“Shh!” Leia waved him away as four of the dancers sprinkled flower petals over the young woman, then did a routine that mostly involved shaking their hips and their chests before the music stopped and they posed on either side of the stage. Yasmin came up to the table, swinging the big pendant. “They're starting!”

“Ladies and gentlemen of our court,” Yasmin began in a throaty rumble that resembled a tiger's growl, “we welcome you to the Kingdom of the Aztecs, the people of the sun and the worshipers of the great gods! We are here tonight for the wedding of our god with a virgin personally selected by the god's high priestess to become their bride!”

The lights went crazy as the girls danced around the table, Yasmin herself leaning over the “virgin” as she swung the pendant and whispered something into her ear. As the music and dancers reached a nearly deafening frenzy, a red-gold silk curtain like fire came down over the scene. When it rose again, the table was empty. The girl had vanished.

“The Gods have spoken!” Yasmin's shark grin was frightening in its intensity. “They have taken their bride into the Great Blue Beyond, where we know,” she gave her purring chuckle, “that they will be very happy.”

Leia frowned and turned to Laurence and Clarence as everyone bowed. “What was that all about? That wasn't an Aztec bridal ceremony. I've studied them. That was the final act of the night at Minksy's. I was waiting for Gypsy Rose Lee to come out and start tossing off her feathers.”

Laurence frowned. “Rieekian told me that the lady on the table was Oola Twylar, a government agent. She's been undercover here and at Yasmin's place for months, trying to get the goods on her smuggling operations.”

“At this point, I don't care what she's doing. I just want Harry back and to find the Sword.” Her fingernails dug so far into her palm as she made a fist, her skin turned dead white. “Did you see him, Larry?”

“Yeah, I saw him.” Larry frowned. “You be careful. I'm guessing she drugged him, from the dazed look on his face. I don't want you to end up like him.” Charel shook his shaggy mane and grumbled. Larry made a face. “He wasn't drugged? His eyes didn't look drugged? How do you know?” Charel's stream of Russian had an awfully satisfied sound. “You've seen other smugglers at Yasmin's try the product. Ok, Mr. Big Shot, if he isn't drugged, what is he?”

Leia started towards Harry, but Yasmin had already come out, now wearing her glittering pale pink gown again. They were surrounded by the piggy thugs in the green suits. The woman gangster was all but sitting in Harry's lap, playing with his hair and swinging the pendant in his eyes. His smile was dazed and rather stupid. Fettara was on their other side, nursing a Bloody Mary and grimacing at her sickening baby talk.

“We'll figure it out later.” Leia started towards the door, before she punched Yasmin's perfect shark teeth out. “Come on. I told Luke we'd meet him at our apartment. He had a meeting with his boss at the paper today. Something about an idea for an article.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Luke had something to write about, all right. Leia heard him wake up in the middle of the night after their landlady banged on their door and said his boss wanted him. Luke could be up all night when he and Ben...when he was chasing a scoop. She tried to get back to sleep, but nightmares kept her tossing all night. Images of Harry dressed in a warrior's outfit, drugged and helpless, being dragged to a stone rock and chained hand and foot by a goddess in feathers, who leaned over to pluck out his heart...

She finally gave up sleeping around 5 AM and went to make herself coffee and eggs. They'd cleaned up the mess in their apartment after they got in the day before. Mama Breha wanted them to stay with her, but Leia concentrated better in her own home.

Her mind was almost functioning when there was a knock at the door. A young boy, no more than 12, handed her the early edition of The Daily Star. She'd sat down with it even before the kid was out the door with his money...and the headline made her nearly jump out of her seat again.

WOMAN DRIVES OFF CLIFF; FBI INVESTIGATING

Evidently, somewhere around 3 AM, she'd sped through a guard rail on an especially tight curve in the Hollywood Hills and had plummeted to her death on the jagged rocks below. The lurid black-and-white photos on the front page showed every gruesome detail they could get away with.

“That's her.” Leia's eyes widened. “That's the girl from the ceremony last night.” The small photo next to the article showed the woman who had been pressed into service as “the god's bride.”

“Miss Skylark?” Her landlady knocked on the door. “Your brother's calling you. Says it's a matter of life or death.”

“I'll be there in a minute!” Leia dressed quickly in her most businesslike brown suit and heels, with the new trilby hat with the dashing feather she'd bought from Bullock's in a moment of weakness. “Here!” She dashed downstairs and took the phone from the older lady behind the counter. “Hello?”

“Leia!” Luke's voice sounded urgent and unusually weary for her eternally energetic sibling. “Did you see the Daily Star?”

“Yes, I did.” She grinned, leaning against the counter. “Did you write that? Was that your first front-page story?”

“Yes, it was.” The line crackled before her brother's worried tones resumed. “Leia, no one can figure out why that woman did this. I've talked to Agent Rieekian. He thinks there might be foul play involved.”

“I know so.” Leia pulled into an alcove, away from her landlady's extremely acute sense of hearing. “I overheard Yasmin Hutt's goons say they had her 'ready' in the dressing rooms. Probably drugged her down there and pushed her car off a cliff later. ”

“It wasn't pushed. There was no one else there.” The loss of Ben and his week with Yoda must have sobered up her brother a bit. “I was there at the site for most of last night. The police did a thorough examination. Nothing seems to be amiss. The car didn't look like it was tampered with. Rieekian insists she had no problems, and had actually came to him yesterday about a possible big break in the case.”

“Luke, I'm going to Yasmin's house today. I'll be leaving in a few minutes, actually.” Leia checked her watch. She had just enough time to call Artie and have him bring around the Packard. Luke probably took their car last night. “Yasmin Hutt wanted to discuss her collection of Alderaanian antiquities.”

“Are you crazy?” Luke squawked so loudly, she had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Leia, wait there. I'm going with you.”

“I have Artie, Luke.” She sighed. “I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

“No, Leia.” Papers shuffled and a typewriter dinged. Her brother must have already been at the Daily Star building, working on his next article. “I'm coming with you. This woman is dangerous. If she has the Sword of Wisdom...”

“How would she know how it works?” Leia sighed louder. “Fine, Luke. You could say you're asking for an interview. How about you come at 10:30? I want to talk to her on my own before you do your job.”

“All right.” His voice was a bit muffled as he called for a copy boy, but he quickly returned to his sister. “Be careful.”

“I will.” She hung up and quickly headed out, before her landlady could ask any questions.