Labyrinth

Annja nodded. “Well, there’s a big point in his favor already.”

Greene leaned back and looked through the windshield. Annja felt the change in the engine’s thrum. They were slowing down. Greene’s associate took an exit off the highway, and she watched as they drew into what looked like a small town.

“We’re almost there,” Greene announced.

“Good,” said Annja. “I’m dying to get out of this van. It reeks in here.”

Greene eyed her. “I’d be very careful of judging what you don’t fully comprehend, Annja.”

“I don’t know how much is left to comprehend,” she said. “You want a book that Fairclough owns, and he doesn’t want to give it to you. I don’t blame him. And for some reason, he wants to talk to me. So fine, I’ll talk to him.”

Greene watched her for a moment and then looked down at his gun. “We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Fairclough lives on the outskirts of town in a rather large estate.”

“Is he retired or actively still in the business?”

Greene shrugged. “The internet allows him to work from the comfort of his home.”

“Technology’s not all bad.”

“That remains to be seen. Maybe when this…meeting…is over you’ll understand that.”

“Or maybe not,” Annja said.

Green hefted the pistol. “Maybe not. Indeed.”

Annja leaned back and waited for them to arrive at Fairclough’s mansion. She had her own ideas on how to resolve this situation.

Chapter 4

Fifteen minutes later, the van rolled to a stop before turning left down a long winding gravel road—to Fairclough’s estate, presumably. Annja tried her best to pick out details as the van rolled in, but the cloudy evening sky cast long shadows across much of the landscape. Still, Annja could see sprawling lawns, well manicured, and shrubs perfectly coifed, creating the idea of an English country estate. As they drew around the corner hedged in by a massive rhododendron, Annja could see Fairclough’s house for the first time.

Floodlights aimed at an angle to the brick and stone exterior displayed the full magnificence of the mansion. Light poured out of the massive windows and ivy crawled over one entire side wall.

“Impressive,” Annja said.

Greene sniffed. “It’s horrendous. A grotesque stain upon what would otherwise be a beautiful landscape.”

“You’d deny him his right to own a home like this? It’s not like he got his money from poisoning kids or burning down forests.”

Greene shrugged. “Money is greed. Its only real value is in bringing our planet back closer to the purity of its origins. Does it look as if Fairclough cares about anything but his own personal pleasure?”

Annja shook her head. “His bank account is his own business. As far as I’m concerned, Fairclough got his money doing something good—promoting the value of books. I think a lot more people could use a reminder of how great books are. No one reads much these days unless it’s an easy-to-digest sound bite. Just take a look at the last election cycle.”

Greene cocked his head to study her. “I don’t vote.”

“Then you’ve got no right to complain.”

He laughed. “You’re pitifully naive, Annja. You think your vote matters?”

“I don’t know. But it’s a right and a responsibility, so I take it seriously. Not that I’m around much during elections.”

“You’re allowed to vote only because the corporations—those with the real power in the world—let you. This is how they manipulate you into thinking you have some measure of power, when you don’t. None whatsoever.”

“What paranoia.”

Greene raised his eyebrows. “Think about it—what happens if one party gets too much power? Next election, the other party gains more power to balance it out. In recent years extremism has become mainstream with the advent of the Tea Party. I mean, really, look at that swath of candidates who came to power last year. Idiots, racists and people who wanted to destroy the Constitution they claimed they would die to protect. And you all fell for it. Pathetic.”

“So, what would you do—kill them?”

Greene shrugged. “Well, it’s not a perfect solution. But for the time being, it works pretty well.”

“Can I get out of this van now and get some fresh air?”

Greene nodded.

Annja grabbed the side panel door release and jerked it back on the rails. As it slid open, a rush of fresh air greeted her and she breathed it in deeply. It felt good to flush her lungs.

The air outside was heavy with moisture and she could see droplets of water on the grass. She stepped out and felt the gravel beneath her shoes.

Greene emerged behind her and she heard the driver’s door close with a slam. She glanced and saw Greene’s associate come around the hood of the van.

Greene waved him over. “Annja, you haven’t been properly introduced to Kessel yet.”

Kessel stood in front of Annja and folded his arms. He said nothing.

Annja looked him up and down. “Does that pose go over well with the ladies?”

Kessel said nothing. Annja glanced at Greene. “Real conversationalist you got yourself here.”

“His tongue was cut out during the first Gulf War by the Iraqis when he was captured and tortured for information.”

“Why would they cut his tongue out if they wanted him to spill?”

“Kessel told them from the start that he wouldn’t divulge any information that would compromise his unit. They didn’t like that response. So, instead of trying to break him, they simply sliced his tongue off like some piece of meat and fed it to a dog.”

Annja shook her head. “Horrible.”

“Effective,” Greene said. “But it did have an effect on Kessel that led him eventually to me. He came to see that all the wars being fought were simply proxy battles engaged in by corporate masters. That soldiers like him were being manipulated as expendable pawns. He grew to despise the vast industrialism rampant in the world today.”

“You really think that?”

Greene nodded. “Yes. I do.”

Kessel nodded, as well. “All right,” Annja said, “let’s go see Fairclough and get this over with.”

Greene stopped her. “Annja, I don’t want you thinking this is going to be a quick job. If Fairclough is as I expect him to be, you may find yourself in for quite a challenge.”

Annja frowned. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”