Labyrinth - Alex Archer Gold Eagle Rogue Angel

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For his part, Fairclough looked tiny in such a huge bed. His frame was thin and wiry and his face appeared gaunt. A mop of white hair topped his head, which seemed almost unnaturally large for his body.

       Annja saw the IV drip stand next to the bed and watched as the clear liquid in the plastic squeeze bags dripped down the tube and into the old man’s arm. God knows what they’re pumping into his bloodstream, she thought. No matter who he was, Fairclough didn’t deserve to be treated this way.

       No one did.

       “What are you poisoning him with?”

       “I told you,” Greene said. “It’s a little concoction we came up with based on Jonas’s experience in the rain forest. It’s quite a compelling cocktail of native herbals.”

       “And the great thing is,” said Jonas, “if he helps us, we can reverse the effects almost immediately.”

       “You can?”

       “Well.” Jonas hesitated. “If he tells us soon. Otherwise, it will get progressively worse until it’s irreversible.”

       “What happens then?”

       “He’ll lapse into a vegetative state.”

       “And then he’ll die,” Greene said. “So I suggest we get started.”

      Chapter 5

      Reginald Fairclough, Annja decided, looked exactly the way she thought an antique bookseller ought to look. With his oversize head and white hair, he had the appearance of being highly intelligent. His thin frame indicated that he probably spent a lot more time thinking than engaging in physical activity.

       “Is he in a coma?”

       “I think he’s asleep,” Jonas said. “Let me see if I can do something to bring him around.”

       Annja watched as Jonas leaned in and adjusted one of the taps on the IV bag. The drip slowed and then Jonas tapped Fairclough on the shoulder. “Wake up, old man. Got someone here to see you.”

       “Quite the wake-up call,” said Annja with a frown. “Your bedside manner is horrible.”

       “I didn’t hire him for his bedside manner,” Greene snapped. “His skill with toxins is incredible.”

       “Should I call him Dr. Poison?”

       “Jonas is fine,” Jonas said. He tapped Fairclough again. “Can you hear me?”

       Fairclough shifted under the blankets and his eyelids fluttered slightly. A croak escaped his mouth.

       “Does the poison make him sick?” Annja asked.

       “It’s actually a stronger version of what I shot you with,” Greene explained. “It’s a bit like being very drunk without the nausea and vomiting.”

       Jonas blanched. “I’m not good with vomit.”

       Annja cocked an eyebrow. “You’re a medical doctor and you can’t stand the sight of vomit?”

       “Never could,” said Jonas. “And anything to do with urine or feces is out, too. Just freaks me out, man.”

       Annja filed that nugget away. Knowing that Jonas had weaknesses could come in handy. In the meantime, she looked at Fairclough as he started moving. His eyes rolled open and he squinted in the bright light.

       Greene nudged the bed. “Come on, Reggie. Wakey-wakey. You see who we went and found for you?”

       Annja leaned closer. “Mr. Fairclough? I’m Annja Creed.”

       Fairclough’s eyes rolled to Annja and he seemed to focus on her for a moment. Annja watched a glint appear in his eyes. He seemed to recognize her. But for the life of her, Annja couldn’t figure out where she might have known him from.

       “Annja Creed.” Fairclough’s voice rasped as if he hadn’t had a drink in days.

       Annja looked at Greene. “Can you at least get him some water?”

       “Sure, we’re not complete savages here.” He nodded to Jonas, who reached for a glass of what appeared to be water on the bedside table. He put the straw up to Fairclough’s lips.

       Annja watched as Fairclough drank and then sputtered some of it back out with a sharp cough. He looked like hell and, even if she didn’t know he was being poisoned, she would have thought he had some serious health issues.

       Fairclough managed to take in some more water and then pushed Jonas away with one of his hands. There was anger in his eyes as he recognized Jonas and Greene.

       But he smiled at Annja. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

       Annja felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t. I wish I did, but I just can’t place you. Have we met before?”

       “Indeed,” Fairclough said. He looked at Jonas. “Help me sit up, you ignorant errand boy.”

       Jonas glanced at Greene, who nodded. Jonas helped Fairclough into a better position, at which point Fairclough backhanded Jonas across the mouth. It was a sudden flash of Fairclough’s character, and it caught both Jonas and Greene completely by surprise.

       Jonas reeled away, clutching his face. Annja saw a line of blood start to trickle down and grinned. “Looks like he hasn’t quite been neutralized just yet, huh?”

       Jonas looked at Greene. “That bastard hit me!”

       Fairclough looked quite pleased with himself, but Annja saw that the exertion had cost him a lot of his strength. She might not have remembered him, but she admired his resolve.

       Greene nodded at the door to Jonas. “Go get that cleaned up.”

       “You want me to leave you here alone?”

       “Kessel’s out front. And I don’t think Annja’s going to try anything right now. She’s too interested in what our host has to say.”

       Jonas left and Greene added, “I should remind you that if you try anything, it won’t go down well for you.”

       “No need to repeat yourself,” Annja said. “I’m well aware of what you’re capable of. After all, I’ve already seen you kill three innocent people today. I’d say that qualifies you for scumbag of the month.”

       Greene smiled. “Talk to him. Convince him to give me the book and you might just go home alive.”

       Fat chance of that, Annja thought. There was no way in hell Greene would let her walk out of here. But she put that concern out of her mind for the time being. She’d deal with that eventuality when she had to. Worrying about it now was a waste of time and energy.

       Fairclough reached out for her hand and she let him take it. “Come closer, Annja.”

       She sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the IV dip. She wondered what would happen if she ripped the thing out. Would it somehow injure Fairclough more? Would it kill him?

       She couldn’t risk doing anything just yet. “I’m here,” she said.

       “A few years ago at a history conference on the Egyptian influence on world history, you gave a talk on the Late Period’s Thirtieth Dynasty that was truly compelling.”

       Annja squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

       “Egypt is one of my passions, you see. And it was thrilling to hear such a talk coming from someone like you. I mean, I’ve seen that dreadful TV show—”

       Annja held up her free hand. “I’m nothing like the other host, I assure you.”

       “And I realized that, after you gave your presentation. I actually tried to say thanks, but you were whisked away immediately after your talk. I thought you might have had a family emergency or something so I didn’t

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