Most of the bodies hadn't been removed yet, and the odor wafted up to the roof where the Kermit had set down. Cole turned to Val before opening the hatch. "No sudden moves. These guys figure to be more on edge than most." "Got it," she replied with no show of concern. "I mean it, Val. If your hip itches within four or five inches of your burner or your screecher, let it itch. You reach to scratch it, I can almost guarantee someone's going to take that as an excuse to shoot." She frowned. "Then why the hell am I here anyway?" "Not to face thirty or forty armed men," said Cole. "But once we get in the studio or whatever it's called, I want you to keep your eyes open." "You don't really think the Republic's got a spy here?" she said dubiously. "No, not after what happened," replied Cole. "But don't forget— there's still a twenty-million-credit price on my head. You don't have to favor either side to want to collect it." She nodded.
