Some strangers will be coming to give you an additional droid, Sidious had said, a battle droid. You are not to question them, nor the purpose of the droid itself. You will simply instruct the droid to join the others you brought to Eriadu. It will respond to your commands.

Gunray had been feverish with questions, but he had managed to restrain himself when the strangers arrived at his quarters with the boxed battle droid. He hadn't even informed Lott Dod of the communication, even when the senator-alone among the Trade Federation delegation-had casually remarked that he could have sworn that they had arrived on Eriadu with only twelve droids.

The shipping manifest would bear that out, of course. But considering that the Trade Federation enjoyed diplomatic status, it was improbable that Eriadu customs would raise a concern when the delegation returned to the spaceport with the extra droid in tow.

It was the second of the Sith Lord's directives that continued to prey on Gunray's thoughts, in any case, and was the cause of his present disquiet.

Even now he saw that the ensemble of musicians were assembling on the floor, in preparation of trumpeting the fanfares that would inaugurate the summit.

It was only a matter of minutes.

Gunray made note of where Lott Dod was seated.

Discreetly, he mopped away some of the perspiration that beaded his face, and he tried to calm himself.

Mostly, however, he counted down the minutes in silence.

From the padded seat of a repulsorlift chair Boiny had helped him commandeer from an oblivious veteran of the Stark Hyperspace Conflict, Cohl gazed across the summit hall to where the Trade Federation delegation had an area to itself, opposite Supreme Chancellor Valorum and the Coruscant bunch.

His vision was unfocused and narrowed to a tunnel, and his body was racked with pain, despite the injections Boiny had been administering with increasing frequency.

Cohl's seeming and actual nurse, the Rodian stood behind him, training a small pair of electrobinoculars on the Trade Federation's complement of thirteen droids.

"Only one of them is missing a restraining bolt," Boiny said, close to Cohl's left ear. "The droid with the yellow blazes on its head and midsection.

Just to the Neimoidian's right, at the head of the line on that side of the rostrum." Cohl put the electrobinoculars to his eyes.

"I've got him," he said weakly. Then he began to scan the immense hall with the glasses. "Havac's somewhere in here, probably with a remote control in hand." Boiny glanced around. "It's possible that the droid has been programmed to respond to a certain event, or at a specific time. But even if Havac has a remote, it won't necessarily have to operate by line of sight. He could be anywhere in the hall, or outside it." Cohl shook his head. "Havac's the type who needs to watch this happen. He planned it. It's his show."

Boiny's gaze continued to wander over the tiers of seats. "He can't be in the delegate's section.

And I doubt he plays the trumpet-was Abruptly, Cohl looked over his shoulder at the Rodian. "What was Havac before he turned to terrorism, Boiny- before he joined the Nebula Front?" Boiny thought about it. "Some kind of holomaker, right?" "A documentary holomaker. A freelance media correspondent."

In concert they raised their eyes to the media booths high overhead.

Fresh from the rooftop chase, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan joined Saesee Tiin and Adi Gallia on the floor of the hall, just inside the north entrance. Valorum was seated to the right and above them; the Trade Federation Directorate, to the left. In front of them, the members of the Eriadu delegation were taking their places in the stands that had been erected in the center of the hall.

Below the stands, a group of drummers and trumpeters were tuning their instruments.

The air was charged with excitement.

"The six we captured maintain that they've never heard of Cohl or Havac,"

Qui-Gon explained to the other Jedi, "and that they don't know anything about an assassination attempt." "Then what were they doing on the roof, armed and dangerous, and firing on you with a rocket launcher?" "They claim to be a band of thieves, who thought they could take advantage of the disorder surrounding the summit by breaking into the Seswenna Sector Bank." "Did you tell them about the roofscape image found in the holoprojector?" Tiin asked.

"There was no point. They might have been hoping to assault the Supreme Chancellor's hovercade from the roof, but I think they were simply there to distract us. That's what Cohl and Havac have been doing from the start, as far back as the incident at the Galactic Senate.

"Even if any of the six eventually admit to having been hired by Cohl, they could continue to claim that robbery was their intent. None were carrying documentation, so we don't even know who they are or what worlds they hail from. Eriadu security is running their likenesses and retinal prints, but, assuming Cohl gathered them from distant worlds, it could be weeks before any matches are discovered." "Then we have nothing more to go on," Adi said.

"Only that the rest of Havac's assassins are somewhere in this hall."

"There have been no incidents at the entrances," Tiin said. "No one has been arrested." "That means nothing," Qui-Gon said. "For experts like Cohl and Havac, this hall is as permeable as a Podrace finale. They would have no trouble getting inside." Tiin compressed his thin lips. "The only thing we can do is be prepared to defend the Supreme Chancellor." Qui-Gon glanced in Valorum's direction.

"Will he permit us to get any closer to him?" "No," Adi said. "He gave explicit orders that he doesn't want the proceedings disrupted-notor does he want us by his side. He wants the Jedi to be seen as impartial in this trade dispute." "Nevertheless, we can't stand here, waiting for something to happen, " Tiin growled. "We should divide and look around; locate the trouble before the trouble finds Valorum." Obi-Wan, who had been standing quietly throughout the exchange, noticed a familiar look come into Qui-Gon's eye. It was as if Qui-Gon's gaze was fixed on some invisible presence the living Force had highlighted.

"What is it, Master?" he asked quietly.

"I can feel him, Padawan." "Havac?" "Cohl." The tiny, dingy booth assigned to the Eriadu Free HoloDaily consisted of a couple of rigid chairs, a control console of dust — covered flatscreen displays and holoprojector pads, and a large single-pane window that looked out on the hall.

Havac stood by the window, staring down at the mostly seated crowd while he mounted a holocam in its stand. Behind him, and armed with blasters they had secreted in the summit hall weeks earlier, sat two of his human confederates. One of them wore a wrist comm.