that would sound reasonable. 'They're hormonal-drip capsules for our baby mawkrens.'
'What sort of hormones are required?' the Bothan asked.
'Newborn mawkrens need a particular combination of solar spectrum, atmospheric conditions, and diet,' Klif put in, picking up on Navett's cue and running with it as only Klif could do. 'You can almost never get the right mixture off their own world, so you use a hormonal-drip.'
'That's them over there,' Navett added, pointing to the cage with the tiny lizards. 'We fasten the cylinders onto their backs with custom-designed harnesses.'
'I see,' the Bothan said, peering at them. 'When will this need to be done?'
'This morning, actually,' Klif said. 'Sorry, but you'll have to look around on your own for a while, Investigator Proy'skyn, if you don't mind.'
'Of course, of course,' Proy'skyn said. 'Please, carry on.' Navett stepped over to one of the overturned tables, hiding a grimly satisfied smile as he set it upright again. So much for the old woman's attempt at subtlety—clearly, he and Klif could out-subtle her any day of the week. Not only did they now have reason to postpone long official questions, not only had they soothed any possible suspicion by offering the investigators the run of the place, but they would even be setting up the final phase of their plan right under the collective nose-fur of Bothan officialdom.
Of course, they hadn't planned to institute that particular phase for a couple of days yet. But you couldn't have everything.
Setting up the restraint grid, ignoring the quietly bustling Bothans wandering around looking for clues, they set to work.
* * *
They had finished fitting ninety-seven of the mawkrens with harnesses and cylinders, with about twenty more to go, when Navett first became aware of the new odor wafting through the shop. He looked up at Klif, engrossed in attaching one of the cylinders onto the back of the tiny lizard standing in rigid immobility on the restraint grid, then let his gaze shift around the shop. The four original Bothan investigators had long since left, replaced by a group of three techs busily pulling handprints and chemical samples from the various counters and cages. None of them seemed to have noticed the smell.
Klif looked up, caught the expression on Navett's face. 'Trouble?' he murmured. Navett wrinkled his nose. Klif frowned, sniffing the air...
And suddenly his eyes widened. 'Smoke.'
Navett nodded fractionally, his eyes darting again around the shop. Nothing was visible, no flames and no smoke, but the smell was definitely getting stronger. 'She wouldn't,' Klif hissed. 'Would she?'
'We'd better assume she would,' Navett said. 'Take the mawkrens we've finished and get them over to the tapcafe.'
'Now?' Klif glanced at the bright sunshine outside the window. 'Navett, there's a full staff at work there right now.'
'Then you'd better come up with a really dandy diversion to get them out of the way,' Navett shot back. If they lost the mawkrens, this whole thing would have been for nothing. 'Wake up Pensin and Horvic; we're in full emergency mode here.'
Klif nodded grimly. 'Got it,' he said. Setting his tools aside, he started putting the last few mawkrens back into the cage—
And suddenly one of the Bothans let out a squawk. 'Fire!' he bleated. 'The building is on fire!
Morv'vyal—call the Extinguishers. Hurry!'
'Fire?' Navett asked, looking around in feigned bewilderment. 'Where? I don't see any fire.'
'Foolish human,' the Bothan snapped. 'Can't you smell the smoke? Hurry—leave everything and go.'
Navett shot a glare at Klif. So that was the old woman's plan. She couldn't figure out what in the shop their scheme needed, so she was going to force them to leave without any of it. 'But my stock is very valuable,' he protested.
'As valuable as your life?' The Bothan, ignoring his own advice, was moving rapidly around the outer edge of the shop, hands brushing along the walls. 'Go—get out.'
'What are you doing?' Klif asked.
