282

At such close range the shots are deafening. You shake as each one explodes in your ears, scarcely daring to hope that you will survive being hit at point-blank range. So resigned are you to your doom that it takes you several seconds to realize that you have not been shot at all.

Tentatively you open your eyes to see Avenal kneeling in front of you, still holding the pistol, a coil of smoke rising lazily from its barrel. You pat your chest to confirm that you have not been drilled full of holes, and then glance over your shoulder to see where the bullets have gone. A leather-jacketed clansman lies face-up on the plaza, unmoving, his chest and stomach stained bright red. A bowie knife is clenched in one of his bony hands, and a grenade, its pin undrawn, is gripped tightly in the other.

‘Despite what you think o’ me, Phoenix,’ shouts Avenal, ‘I ain’t no traitor. There’s your traitor.’ He points towards the street bordering the plaza. There you see John Barlow running half-crouched towards a clan scout who is sitting astride a motorcycle.

The clansman is shouting encouragement, and, as Barlow scurries nearer, he shuffles forward to make room for the traitor on the back of his riding seat.

If you possess a missile weapon and wish to fire it at Barlow, turn to 14.

If you do not possess a missile weapon, or if you choose not to fire it at Barlow, turn to 217.