Avon - A Terrible Aspect by Paul Darrow

Author:Paul Darrow
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Carol Paperbacks
Published: 1991-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

PART THREE

Axel Reiss

1

By the time a Death Squad gun ship arrived to collect him, Reiss was shivering in the intense cold. In company with Rogue Avon’s corpse, he was covered in a light dusting of snow.

He tossed a cloth bundle into the hold of the aircraft before climbing into the cockpit beside the pilot. “You took your time!” he said, but in a neutral tone.

The pilot shrugged and activated the controls. Noise from the engine defeated further conversation.

Reiss was flown to the mountain fortress called Lupus. This was protected by heavy laser guns and invisible airborne mines, and was garrisoned by the very best and most trustworthy Iron Guards.

It was here, in an old but luxuriously appointed castle, that the High Council of the Federation on Earth held court.

After allowing himself a few hours to prepare himself, Reiss, accompanied by Pel Gros and Makarov, entered the chamber where the two most powerful beings in the then Universe awaited him.

The room was enormous. On three sides were high windows that afforded spectacular views of the surrounding snow-capped mountains. On the fourth side was a plain wall upon which was hung a masterpiece that had survived over a thousand years. It had been painted by someone called Bosch and depicted a version of hell that Reiss considered particularly apt.

Beneath the art work, set out approximately three meters from the wall, stood a long, richly ornamented desk. Behind this were two armchairs padded with velvet. In front were two plain wooden chairs. Reiss and Gros occupied these latter. Makarov was in his wheelchair.

Facing them across the desk sat a slim, effete albino known as Blanca. Next to him was a tall, graceful woman. She was dressed entirely in emerald green silk. Her red hair and scarlet painted lips provided vivid contrast. She was called Vasht and it was she who spoke first.

“I trust this enquiry will not take too long?” Her voice was deep and attractive, her tone authoratitive. She was not a woman to be taken lightly.

Pel Gros, a sleek, well-fleshed diplomat who, in Reiss’s eyes, strongly resembled a mole, replied. “Surely, there is no need for an enquiry?”

“I will be the judge of that,” Vasht said icily.

Gros nodded his acquiescence.

Reiss said, “I will speak for all three of us.”

The albino, Blanca, yawned, swivelled his chair away from them and gazed out of one of the tall windows. He seemed uninterested in the proceedings.

“Very well,” Vasht said. “You may begin.”

Reiss stood up, placed the bundle of cloth he had brought with him from Rogue Avon’s killing ground on the desk in front of her and returned to his seat.

“That contains the rebel’s head,” he said quietly.

Vasht didn’t bat an eyelid. Neither did she attempt to examine the bundle.

“There is no more certain proof of a man’s death.” Reiss continued.

Vasht extracted a long, thin cigar from a jewelled box and lit it with a gold lighter encrusted with diamonds. She inhaled deeply and expelled smoke in Reiss’s direction.

He smiled his cold smile. “Any threat posed by this—how shall I call him?—this ’terrorist,’ is now removed.

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