Qui-Gon quickly swiveled the datascreen back into position. He walked past Vero, who was picking up flowers and scolding the woman for upsetting them. Qui-Gon righted a chair and gave a hand to the woman to help her sit down. He bent close to her ear. "Thanks for your help."

"You know when to give help, and when not to," she said. "That's rare."

"I had a good teacher."

Qui-Gon walked out quickly. The door slid shut behind him, sealing off the commotion. He had memorized the address and remembered the street, which he'd passed on the way to the clinic. Qui-Gon quickly made his way there.

The address was a small hotel. Qui-Gon asked for Oleg and was told he had checked out, but to try the cafc around the corner. A bit surprised that Oleg was not more discreet, Qui-Gon headed to the cafc.

The owner was wiping down tables in the front. Qui-Gon asked for Oleg and was directed to a table in the rear.

A slight, blond man sat at the table, his hands curled around a cup of juice. Qui-Gon sat down opposite him.

"It's about time," Oleg said nervously. "I've put myself in danger every minute."

"I got here as soon as I could," Qui-Gon said. Obviously, Oleg had been waiting for someone he did not know. That explained why he hadn't bothered to use an assumed name. It was just as apparent to Qui-Gon that this young man was not used to dealing with danger. His head constantly swiveled, looking for trouble. Anyone looking for him would have picked him out immediately.

"I have the file," Oleg said. "It's not on me, but it's not far. But I'm warning you, if you try anything, I'm prepared to shoot. I have to up the price."

"Why?" Qui-Gon asked. He would play this out. He assumed, of course, that Oleg was talking about the list. He didn't want to buy it from him. If Oleg still had it, that meant that Balog didn't.

"I have to leave the planet," Oleg said, wiping his wet forehead with his napkin. "Do you think this is easy? Too many people are searching for me now."

"I might be able to come up with more," Qui-Gon said.

"Decide now," Oleg snapped. "I have no time to waste." His comlink signaled, and he listened for a moment. With his eyes on Qui-Gon, he replied, "Yes, that's right. I still have it. Will you meet my price? Good.

I'll meet you there, then. Can't you make it earlier? All right."

He shut off the comlink. "There are others who will pay, as you see,"

he said. "I made an appointment, but you can buy it first. So decide. It's now or never."

"Never," Qui-Gon said. "The price is just too high. Sorry." He stood.

Oleg looked even more nervous. "Listen, I don't have to sell to this guy. I don't like him. He's an Absolute, and I hate them. They ruined my health. I'd rather the list end up with a Worker, believe me. I look like a traitor, but I'm just looking out for myself. Maybe we can negotiate."

"Sorry," Qui-Gon said again. He turned and left the cafc. He positioned himself out of sight of Oleg, but was able to see him through the reflection of the cafc window. Was the bidder on the comlink Balog? He had a strong feeling it was. Oleg had broken out into a sweat. And he had said he didn't want the list in the hands of the Absolutes.

Qui-Gon was close now. He could feel it. All his concentration was centered on that slight, nervous man in the cafc. The anger and grief he had compressed into a burning ball inside him threatened to flame up, and he tamped it down. Patience, he chided himself. Balog would be his very soon.

Qui-Gon did not think it possible that a being could nurse a glass of juice as long as Oleg. He did not seem to notice the surly stare of the cafc owner, or the press of customers who came in, looking for a table as the cafc grew crowded.

Qui-Gon began to feel conspicuous, so he moved down the alley to another window. After a few minutes he moved to the back, where he could see the interior through a small, grimy window. He kept up his post there, pretending to loiter until people began to come home from work and windows lit up across the alley. Qui-Gon headed back to the front and crossed the street. He stationed himself at a juice bar with a good angle on the front of the cafc. Dusk fell. His patience wore thin. Was the conversation a bluff? Had Oleg merely been trying to get Qui-Gon to meet his price?

Qui-Gon was beginning to consider approaching Oleg again when he saw him head out of the cafc, glancing nervously over his shoulder. Qui-Gon joined the stream of people on the walkway and followed him.

At first, it was easy to keep Oleg in sight. The people on the streets were good cover. But as Oleg crossed over into the Worker Sector, the crowd grew larger. Oleg was a slight young man, and he soon got lost in the crowd. It was difficult to keep him in sight without running into him.

Gradually, Qui-Gon became aware that he was not the only one tailing Oleg. He did not turn his head or alter his stride in any way, but he threw his attention around him like a net. Someone was tailing Oleg from across the street.

It was Balog. He saw him reflected in the shiny surface of an approaching landspeeder. He recognized the stocky frame, the way the muscular legs seemed to power the body forward like a machine, not a man.

Qui-Gon did not know if Balog had seen him. Perhaps his focus was on Oleg. If he was lucky, that would be the case. But he could not rely on luck. His heart began to pound, and he had to discipline himself to keep his focus. He wanted to turn and rush at Balog in a full-scale attack. He wanted to make him pay for every breath Tahl had struggled to take, every second her life systems slowly failed. He would make each moment of Balog's suffering an eternity….

Where did that thought come from? The ferocity of it shocked him. It had risen from the depths of him. It sounded like vengeance. He did not know such an emotion could exist inside him. The knowledge made him uneasy.

I can control it. It will not take me over. I can capture Balog and not let my anger overtake me.

He said the words to himself, just the way he would have said them to Obi-Wan. He was a Jedi. His training would keep him on the right path. It had to.

His hands trembled, and he clasped them together for a moment. Help me, Tahl, he said fervently. He had never said such a thing to her when she was alive, though now he realized how many times he had gone to her for help. She had known that it was hard for him to ask for it. It was the one thing she had never teased him about. Instead, she had simply given him whatever he needed: information, assurance, compassion.

To his left, Balog speeded up. Qui-Gon melted back. Now he must keep both Balog and Oleg in sight.