Jiggs smiled as Reynik dropped the pouch and shifted forward to the edge of his seat so that he could reach it. He hefted it in his hands for a moment like a man trying to guess at the weight of gems or gold, then nodded to himself.
“More reasonable than I’ve been led to believe too,” he muttered, having clearly expected a bit more of a fight. “Right, your information. I’ll tell you what I told her; their hideout is in the shadow sector, twenty levels down from the Imperial prison. They were squatting there before, but that was a month ago. I’m pretty sure that most of them are already gone, but there may be a few left,” Jiggs drawled. “They rented out a hangar in the space port, but that’s been empty for weeks now and their destination was a fake. Just before they left there was a break out at the prison. Apparently the carbonite wing was almost entirely emptied, but no one saw anything during or after and all of the video was corrupted beyond repair. In other words, friend, if you hope to track them off world, you’ve probably already lost your shot. Should have sent someone who could do the job the first time.”
The Twi’lek picked up his plate and set it in an empty space on the table, standing with the pouch of credits clutched in his hand. With his free hand, he dug a small chip from a pocket and extended it to Reynik. “This contains all the vital data you need. Coordinates, codes, security footage; everything you need to clean house. Beyond this planet, though, you’re on your own.”