Star Wars_ The Old Republic_ Revan - Drew Karpyshyn [102]
He brought his speeder in for a landing a block away from the club, jumped out, and walked to the building. The slave on duty greeted him as he entered the lobby.
“Welcome, my lord,” the young human said, bowing low.
“I have a message for Sechel,” Scourge told him.
“Of course, my lord. Follow me.”
As the slave turned to enter the club, Scourge reached out a hand and grabbed him by the shoulder. “I did not say I wish to speak with him,” he hissed, “I said I had a message.”
“F-forgive me, master,” the slave stammered, obviously terrified. “P-please tell me what you wish me to do.”
“Wait until I leave,” Scourge explained slowly, as if he were talking to a simpleton. “Then tell Sechel that Murtog needs to meet him. He’ll know where.” He stared down at the slave. “Do you understand?”
The slave nodded, his eyes wide with fear.
“Do not tell him I was here,” Scourge instructed. “Do not mention me at all. Simply deliver the message. If you fail me, I will have them flay the flesh from your bones.”
They both knew it was not an idle threat; by right Scourge could inflict any punishment he chose on a disobedient slave. Of course, the young man would also be punished if anyone discovered he had lied to a member of the club, but Scourge had far more important things to worry about than the fate of an insignificant slave.
The young man stood, still and silent, knowing anything he said could only make things worse.
Scourge turned and left the club. Once outside, he ducked around a nearby corner where he could watch the door.
Sechel emerged a few minutes later and made his way quickly down the street. He didn’t appear to be particularly worried or cautious; he had been expecting to hear from Murtog, so he had no reason to be suspicious.
Scourge followed him at a safe distance, careful not to draw attention to himself. Sechel didn’t head back to Nyriss’s stronghold; as Scourge expected he had a private location where he could conduct business he didn’t want others to know about.
He continued for several blocks, then stopped at a small two-story apartment building in one of Kaas City’s residential districts. He punched in the security code to unlock the door and slipped inside. Scourge waited a few seconds, then approached the building.
Glancing around to make sure there were no witnesses, he pulled out his lightsaber and ignited the blade, jamming it into the security panel. The lock sparked and sizzled, the circuits frying in an instant. A second later the door slid open; as he’d suspected, the panel had been programmed to open the door if it malfunctioned so the residents wouldn’t be locked in or out of the apartment complex.
The interior was little more than a hall giving access to the various apartments. There were four doors on the lower level, but Scourge ignored them—Sechel would never lower himself to rent a ground-floor unit. There was no turbolift, but in the back of the building there was a staircase leading up to the second level.
Scourge made his way up. The suites on the top floor were obviously larger: instead of four doors there were only two. Scourge picked one of the doors at random and pressed the buzzer. He waited for nearly a minute, but there was no reply. Either the unit wasn’t occupied, or the resident was not at home.
He tried the buzzer on the other door. A few seconds later he heard footsteps approaching, then the door slid open. From Sechel’s expression it was clear he was caught off guard at finding Scourge instead of Murtog waiting for him on the other side.
Before he could react, Scourge jabbed out with his hand, driving his fingers into Sechel’s throat.
The other Sith dropped to his knees, gasping for air. Scourge stepped inside the apartment and closed the door behind him.
Sechel struggled to speak, but all that came out was a rasping cough.
“Make any sound louder than a whisper and your life will end in unbearable agony,” Scourge warned him.