Labyrinth

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.”