Royal Venom

by

LC Cooper

Copyright LC Cooper, 2014

Published by LC Cooper at Smashwords

Cover design by CJD.sign

LC Cooper's Publicist is CJD.signs@yahoo.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Chapter 1

Although native to the region's heat, humidity, and sand, the portly man was no longer acclimated to such extremes. Decades of sedentary living within mist-laden hedgerows, hills, and dells left him sticky, exasperated, and wheezing as he trudged across the scortched earth. What angered him further was that the salesman walking beside him seemed oblivious to the effects of the desert.

After swatting a pair of flies away from his eyes and nostrils, the rotund man stopped walking, yanked the fez off atop his head, and blotted his face dry with it. Then, he scraped a handful of the sludge crammed between the folds of skin on his neck and whipped it at the blistered and cracked ground.

"Pirri," the man wheezed, "none of these match my requirements. What happened to ..."

"Mr. Amirmoez, please entertain a few more minutes of my self-indulgence. I am proud of my museum, just as you are of yours."

"Museum? This is a bone-yard of wrecked aircraft," Mirrikh Amirmoez said.

"Perhaps my time can be better spent assisting other customers ..."

"Please excuse my outburst, Piri. This weather makes me irritable. Now, can we move quickly to inspect my reason for coming here to this Godforsaken desert?"

"Are you certain that none of my other ..."

"No! I'm out of patience and time."

"Very well. Come along—your quarry rests no further than another 30 meters beyond the last plane in this row."

And so it was. Mirrikh Amirmoez stood in awe of the silhouetted work of art. Its graceful lines and perfect curves made it so much greater than merely a commercial airliner.

"Will she do?" Piri asked while studying his loyal customer's face.

Slipping back into his game face and bravado didn't fool Piri, but nevertheless, he played along—knowing this jet was as good as sold.

"Um, I suppose it will do." He looked down at the petite man, noting the resemblance to a rat, and then shrugged his shoulders. "Piri, I thought you said you had a special treat for me. This airliner is rather ... plain." Crossing his arms across his chest, Mirrikh added, "I've seen better."

Disappointment replaced Piri's eager and hungry expression. He and his family needed this sale—without it, he couldn't afford to send his twin sons to university this year.

Mirrikh smiled when he heard the crackle of insecurity in Piri's voice. Instead of moving in for the kill, Mirrikh uncharacteristically backed off.