Labyrinth (3 page)

Somewhere in the distance, she heard an engine and guessed that Greene’s associate had gone for some vehicle. Sure enough, seconds later, a dark van rounded the corner and drew to a stop next to them.

She heard the side panel door slide back on its rails. “All right, Annja, in we go.”

Annja felt herself heaved into the back and then the door slid shut and darkness closed over her.

She took a deep breath. The pile of blankets beneath her felt soft. Warm.

Almost comfortable.

Western Massachusetts, she thought.

Well, maybe a little trip wouldn’t be so bad.

Provided she didn’t end up like the recently deceased Mike Jackson.

Chapter 3

Annja tried to blink and realized something had been tied around her head, over her eyes. A blindfold. Had she passed out during the trip? She felt strangely rested, but she could also tell there were some lingering effects from the drug Greene had shot her with.

Her legs ached and Annja tried to stretch them out. She kicked something solid.

“So, you’re awake.”

Annja propped herself into a sitting position. “Can I take this off?”

“Your hands aren’t tied. You can do whatever you like.”

“In that case, I want to go home,” Annja said. But she reached up and pulled the blindfold off. The interior of the van was still dark. Judging from the hum of the engine, Annja figured they must have been cruising along at about seventy miles per hour. Fast enough to get to their western Massachusetts destination within a few hours, but slow enough not to provoke any police they’d be passing on the highway.

Smart.

In the darkness, she saw a match flare followed by the red glow of what had to be a cigarette. Greene’s face was briefly illuminated before it went dark again. He was sitting in the backseat with her.

Annja stared. “You smoke cigarettes?” Somehow that seemed directly contradictory to Greene’s avowed mission of saving the planet.

Greene inhaled deeply. “This is not a cigarette.”

And a second later, Annja caught a whiff of the smoke. Marijuana. “You smoke pot?”

“Yes. Is that a problem for you?”

Annja coughed. “Aside from suffocating on your passive smoke, no. I’m curious how you justify it, though.”

Greene shrugged. “What’s to justify? It’s not like I’m buying into the massive health conspiracy that was covered up by the tobacco companies.”

“Yeah, but you’re still smoking.”

Greene laughed. “I don’t think your argument is going to prove convincing, Annja. I’ve been smoking pot for a number of years now. And I quite happen to appreciate the efficacy of the cannabis herb. It’s wonderful stuff.”

“I just wouldn’t have expected that sort of thing from you. I mean, I imagine you’re pretty healthy—what, a vegan?”

Greene shook his head. “Vegetarian, yes. Not vegan. That’s too strict for me.”

“And fit, too. You work out a lot. Someone trained you somewhere at some point in the past.”

“Yes.”

“And yet you put that carcinogenic substance in your lungs. I don’t get it.”

Greene leaned over and blew a puff of smoke into Annja’s face. “Yes, well, perhaps you don’t deserve to get it. Ever think of that, Annja? Or are you so presumptuous to believe that you have a lock on the workings of the universe?”

Annja waved the smoke away. “I’m not presumptuous.”

Greene leaned back. “That remains to be seen.”

Annja looked at the front windshield. The wipers flicked intermittently, scattering the small accumulation of drizzle. “Where are we headed?”

“Springer Falls. Have you ever heard of it?”

“No. I don’t get up here all that much.”

Greene nodded. “I’ve had a chance to read up on some of your exploits. You’ve been all over the world recently.”

Annja sighed. “It feels like I’ve been away forever.”

“But never to Springer Falls. Maybe this trip will be a departure—a chance for you to enjoy yourself,” Greene said. “And maybe afterward we could find a way to work together, you and I.”

Annja smirked. “I’ve seen how you work, Greene. You drop people without even thinking about it. Why in the world would I work with you? I’d never feel easy with you around.”

Greene inhaled and let out another stream of marijuana smoke. “I’m decisive. Ask any successful person and they’ll say attitude is absolutely necessary for achieving your goals.”

“By decisive, they were probably talking about something a little less extreme than, say, murdering people.”

“You interpret it your way,” Greene said. “But I happen to believe I have a better handle on it than you.”

Annja waved her hand again to dispel more of the smoke. “I hope we don’t get stopped.”

Greene hefted his pistol. “I hope so, too. For the trooper’s sake.”

Annja shook her head. “You planning on leaving a trail of bodies in your wake, Greene? Sooner or later they’ll track you down and give you the death penalty for your crimes.”

Greene sniffed. “If I was scared of dying, I wouldn’t be the man I am today.”

“A murderous, pot-smoking lunatic?” Annja sighed. “Some man. What sort of greatness have you achieved?”

“Greatness is measured in many ways. My exploits may not make sense in your limited world view, but some day, my supposed crimes will be seen for what they truly are—revolutionary.”

“Ecoterrorism,” said Annja. “You can phrase it however you’d like. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a killer.”

“Potato, potahto. Your judgment doesn’t concern me in the slightest.”

“Apparently.”

Greene inhaled again. “Do you know what it’s like to watch the planet being ravaged and destroyed right in front of your eyes?”

“I’ve been around the world,” Annja said. “I’ve seen abject poverty, environmental disasters. And, usually, they’re caused by people like you who con themselves into believing their cause is just. Except justice is a facade. You’re all after power or money. Greed drives you and others like you. You can try to spin it, but it doesn’t change that you’re out for yourself.”

Greene slapped her so suddenly that the shock of it sent Annja reeling. She tasted blood in her mouth and took a breath.

“You don’t know me, Annja Creed. And you have no right to criticize the work I’ve done.”

Annja wiped her mouth. “You were the one who kidnapped me, Greene. I don’t want to be here. But you gave me no choice. So, as far as I’m concerned, I have every right to comment on your petty little world vision. Don’t like it? Then you can drop me off here.”

“Or I could just kill you.”

“Nah, you need me. Reginald’s waiting, remember?”

“I told you I could find another way if it became necessary.”

Annja smirked. “Yeah, you said that. But I don’t believe you. If there was another way, then you probably wouldn’t have driven to Brooklyn to kidnap me. But the fact you drove down to New York tells me you’ve run out of options.”

Greene sat smoking quietly for a few moments. “All right, I’ll be honest. I do need you. But would you prefer to do this in relatively decent health or in a world of pain?”

“You’re into torture, too? Well, there’s another character trait to be proud of.” Annja shook her head. “You’re just full of greatness, aren’t you?”

Grudgingly, Greene laughed. “Compliments will only get you so far, Annja.”

She could, of course, use the sword to kill Greene and his associate behind the wheel. But what would that achieve, except her freedom? Annja would never find out what Reginald Fairclough wanted with her. Or how he even knew her.

She racked her brain but the name still didn’t ring any bells. Of course, it was a little tough thinking when she was feeling the secondhand effects of Greene’s marijuana.

Her head swam, but Annja blinked the dizziness away. “Tell me more about the book dealer.”

Greene eyed her. “We have a detente?”

“We don’t have anything, Greene. You’ve got a captive—for the moment—and my piqued curiosity. I don’t think I know Fairclough, yet he wants to see me. That intrigues me.”

“Lucky me,” Greene said. “I’ve piqued your curiosity.” He chuckled quietly and then coughed. “Fairclough is one of the most renowned experts in early history texts. I don’t suppose you know much about that, do you?”

Annja shrugged. “You’d be surprised.”

“I’m sure.”

“Fairclough apparently thinks I’ve got some value.”

Greene mercifully stubbed out his cigarette and regarded Annja. “He’s bordering on insane.”

“Well, good, then you two will have a lot to talk about.”

“He’s also dying right now. As we speak.”

“From what?”

Greene smiled. “I’ve got him hooked up to a slow IV drip. It’s currently leaking a motley assortment of narcotics into his bloodstream. I’d give him about thirty-six hours before he’s dead.”

Annja looked at Greene. “Why in the world are you killing him?”

“He’s got something I want. I thought I told you that earlier.”

“You mentioned that. But you didn’t tell me what it was you’re after.”

“I want a certain book in his collection. It’s very old. Ancient, in fact. Fairclough acquired it a few years ago. It’s his most prized possession.”

“Well, I don’t blame him for not wanting to give it to you. A manmade book? You’d probably just burn it.”

“I will do no such thing,” Greene protested. “In fact, I want to study it and learn what it has to teach.”

“What’s so special about this book?”

“It’s an ancient account of the history of the world. The tome used to be in the library at Alexandria. Of course, the history ends with the destruction of the library.”

Annja narrowed her eyes. “I thought the texts in the library were incinerated during the fire.”

“They were.”

“But not all of them.”

“Not all of them,” Greene agreed. “And Fairclough got his hands on this text. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“Maybe.”

“
The Tome of Prossos,
the ascetic.”

“What do you hope to learn from it?”

Greene shrugged. “It might tell me a lot about how the world used to be before we all got into the business of destroying our home.”

Annja waited for him to continue. When he didn’t she prodded, “Is that it?”

“Does there need to be more?”

“I guess not,” Annja said. “But I don’t think you’re being honest with me. Whatever. I’ll talk to Fairclough. But don’t think for a moment that I’ll help you get it back from him.”

“You might change your mind once you meet him. He can be quite persuasive.”