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After a few minutes Sechel had the strength to stand up. He brushed his clothes off, trying to compose himself.

“Where is Murtog?” he eventually asked, keeping his voice low.

“Dead,” Scourge replied.

Sechel’s eyes flickered wide for an instant, but otherwise he showed no reaction. “It seems I underestimated this woman,” he said, his tone not in the least bit apologetic. “I assume since you survived that she now shares Murtog’s fate?”

“How much did Nyriss know about the meeting?” Scourge demanded, ignoring Sechel’s question.

“Nothing.”

“You didn’t mention it to her?”

Sechel sniffed indignantly. “You have an overly high opinion of yourself if you think Nyriss cares about some anonymous female from your past. This is beneath her notice.”

Scourge nodded. Sechel guarded his cards closely; he wouldn’t mention anything to Nyriss until he had decided how best to turn the situation to his advantage.

“What about Murtog?” Scourge asked. “Would he say anything? Would he tell Nyriss where he was going?”

“She doesn’t keep tabs on us like children,” Sechel sneered.

“How long until she begins to miss him?” Scourge asked.

“You mean how long until she finds out you got him killed?” Sechel mocked. “I’d say you have another three days before she begins to wonder about his absence.”

“Three days,” Scourge muttered. “We’ll have to move fast.”

“What are you talking about?”

Sechel had obviously sensed Scourge’s urgency; he must have assumed something had gone very, very wrong at the meeting. He thought Scourge was in trouble. He wrongly believed the Sith Lord had come here looking for help, and it was making him arrogant.

Scourge decided it was time to clarify the situation. “I want your files.”

“What files?”

“The ones implicating Nyriss and the other Dark Council members. I want everything you’ve gathered that could be used to expose them as traitors.”

To his credit, Sechel didn’t deny the files existed. It would have been a pointless endeavor; Scourge knew him too well. The adviser was loyal to Nyriss, but his primary concern would always be for himself. If things ever went bad, he would need something to bargain with, and what better bargaining chip than detailed records of everything Nyriss and her co-conspirators had been involved in ever since they’d started plotting against the Emperor?

“You’re crossing a dangerous line,” Sechel warned. “Nyriss has turned a blind eye to my collection; I’m too valuable for her to cast me aside. You, however, are expendable. If she finds out about this, she’ll have your head.”

“Nyriss is not your concern. I am. Give me the files. I won’t ask again.”

Sechel knew the lengths Scourge was willing to go in pursuit of information; the scars on his cheek reminded him every time he looked in a mirror. And this time he couldn’t count on a timely interruption to put an end to the torture.

“Wait here,” he said, turning and heading into the apartment.

Scourge, who had no intention of letting Sechel out of his sight, followed right behind him.

Sechel glanced back and sighed in resignation. He made his way to a small closet in the back of the apartment and slid the door open. At first glance the closet appeared empty. Sechel dropped to one knee and slid back a small hidden panel on the floor, revealing a security keypad. With Scourge watching closely over his shoulder, he punched in the access code. A panel in the back wall of the closet slid aside, revealing a hidden safe. Sechel punched another code into the keypad, and the door opened with an audible click.

“Slowly,” Scourge warned.

“There’s a blaster inside,” Sechel confessed. “But I have no intention of trying to use it against you.”

“A wise decision.”

Sechel pulled gently on the corner of the safe’s door, allowing it to swing wide and reveal the contents. As he had said, there was a small hold-out blaster inside. There were also several data disks, each labeled with a date and arranged in chronological order.

“Is this everything?