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from that with our machines and our supermarkets and shopping malls. The whole thing is so ludicrous, it amazes me that more people don’t see it.”
“Yeah,” said Annja, “I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t all flock to the notion that killing people and engaging in terrorism is a viable means of helping the planet. Crazy.”
Jonas frowned. “Your sarcasm is a real downer, Annja. I hope that before this is over you at least try to keep an open mind.”
“I always have an open mind,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I let my brain and common sense fall out.”
Greene chuckled. “Good one.”
Jonas nodded. “I like her.”
“Look,” she said, “enough with the brainwashing, okay? Let’s see Fairclough and be done with this. My head still hurts from force-smoking your blunt in the van.”
“Fair enough,” Greene said, nodding to Jonas. “Let’s get inside.”
Jonas pushed the doors open and they filed in. As Annja stepped into the bedroom, she was amazed at the opulence. She’d never known the antique book market to pay so handsomely. But Fairclough had either invested wisely over his career or he had money coming in from other sources.
Fairclough’s bed was a towering four-poster surrounded by several modern paintings that looked familiar, as if she’d seen them in exhibitions.
She saw the array of medical equipment next. Machines buzzed and beeped and hummed while digital readouts kept chirping out updates and monitoring the health of the man they were hooked up to: Reginald Fairclough.
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