Then he smashed through the studio door.
Inside the main studio was Jane Talbot, wet hot tears streaking down her cheeks and looking like she’d just been involved in a major collision on the highway. She fought O’Brian, too, God love her, clutching the edges of her chair in a death grip. O’Brian had no choice but to punch a nerve bundle in her upper chest, numbing both arms so that he could pry her loose. They stumbled backward into the hallway, Talbot screaming the whole time. O’Brian dragged her toward the exit.
By that time, Roeding had subdued Labyrinth.
The man looked strangely normal. Handsome, except for all of the blood and the contusions on his face.
Over the Atlantic Ocean
“They have him,” Natasha said, “as of five minutes ago. He was captured at a small television studio in Johannesburg. Roeding and O’Brian made the arrest, and the Johannesburg police arrived shortly after. They’re bringing him to another location for questioning.”
Dark listened to her silently.
“Did you hear me?” Natasha said. “It’s over. We can go back now to get properly reamed out.”
“No. This is not over.”
“What do you mean, not over?”
“I think we should keep going.”
“Why?”
Dark looked at her, thinking of Riggins. If it didn’t feel right, it wasn’t right. How many times had he said that? While Dark preferred to ponder a case in a dim, cold, quiet room, Riggins had been all about fire in the blood, breaking down doors, pushing further and further.
“My gut,” Dark said.
chapter 34
As it turned out, there had been no bomb under Jane Talbot’s chair in the studio. Labyrinth, apparently, had been bluffing.
Still, damage far worse than any bomb had been done. In the frenzied hours that followed, reporters began to pick apart the evidence that Labyrinth had posted online in a thousand different places. Every few minutes a new piece of evidence would surface, spread by curated news orgs and social network posts—fodder for endless discussion and snide comments and sarcasm. Labyrinth’s on-air allegations were just the beginning. Jane Talbot was finished, and immediately went into seclusion while her lawyers sprung into action. Even though Talbot’s show only syndicated in South Africa, the UK, Australia, New Zealand, and a handful of European stations, the worldwide impact was huge. If you hadn’t heard of Jane Talbot before, you’d certainly heard of her now.
She was worse than infamous.
She was Internet-infamous.
Unbelievable! Never heard of Jane Talbot until now, but . . . what a scumbag.
3 minutes ago
Anyone else notice that he promised not to kill her . . . and he didn’t?
2 minutes ago
He should have killed her. I would have enjoyed watching that.
2 minutes ago
I really thought it was going there, but didn’t. Maybe Lab has a heart?
1 minute ago
She’s worse than dead—she’s been exposed as a phony. Help me expose others.
1 minute ago
Labyrinth himself was brought to Johannesburg Metropolitan Police Department HQ by a military elite response unit and a bomb squad detail. The lessons of Los Angeles would not be forgotten. The mass murderer couldn’t be trusted, and might have packed his own body with the same explosives that had been packed inside the homeless man in Los Angeles. Instead of the usual cells, Labyrinth was brought to an empty police vehicle bay—reinforced concrete walls, no windows, and a good distance away from any civilian structure. Doctors, paired with bomb squad techs, stripped Labyrinth naked and gave him a full exam, from blood work to MRIs, to detect anything that could be considered explosive.
There was nothing.
Labyrinth said nothing the entire time.
Despite being verbose in the studio, the man refused to speak or ask for legal representation. Instead he gestured for a writing instrument. When he was supplied with a dull pencil, he wrote three words, block-style, on a piece of legal paper:I WANT BLAIR
No one knew who he was talking about—except the head of the JMPD, who had been working with Global Alliance since the delivery of the South African package. The man wanted to speak to Damien Blair, in person.
After they landed at JFK, Natasha relayed the news to Dark.
“Blair’s going to Johannesburg to interview the suspect. He wants the complete team together as soon as possible. We’re to fly down there immediately—tickets are waiting for us at the gate. All is forgiven if we leave now.”
“Why the hurry?” Dark said. “Blair’s convinced he has his man. What else can we possibly do?”
“Blair doesn’t know if this is the real Labyrinth or not—either way, he may not be working alone. Other threats may already be in the works, and squeezing him is our only chance.”
“Good luck,” Dark said. “I’m staying here. Because there’s definitely another package coming to New York City, if it’s not here already.”
Natasha squinted, as if trying to read Dark’s mind. “What makes you so sure?”
“Did you hear what ‘Labyrinth’ said on the Talbot show? Education shouldn’t be a business. Right there, he’s telling us where he’s going to strike next. The heart of the business community.”
The public shaming of Jane Talbot nailed it for Dark. So far, Labyrinth had tackled the entertainment industry, then the oil industry. With Jane Talbot, he’d tackled the media and the education system—a two-for-one deal that was already dominating headlines around the world.
The next industry, and most obvious: the financial.
Labyrinth would try to strike at the very heart of it.
“What about the riddle made you think of New York City?”
“The imagery. The birds flying, the shadow over the water. What came to mind repeatedly was 9/11—the last time someone attacked the financial heart of the world.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Natasha asked. “There are many financial centers in the world. Not just New York.”
“But think about Labyrinth’s targets so far. He has a thing for America—or what he perceives as the American empire. He kept hammering her on the word business, and that was no accident. What’s the heart of the American empire? Wall Street.”
“So why Jane Talbot in South Africa?”
“She was the ideal target. Labyrinth discovered that she was hiding something. He wants us to believe he’s only targeting the guilty, remember? People won’t jump on his bandwagon if he starts targeting people believed to be innocent.”
Natasha said, “You stay here and chase shadows all you want, but I’m off to Johannesburg. We’ve got a suspect in custody. Even if he’s not Labyrinth, he’s obviously part of this. That’s the best chance we have.”
“I’m going to go find something to eat,” Dark said. “A beer would be great right about now.”
Natasha just stared at him, but after a few moments, she followed him down the terminal to a bar catering to weary travelers who wanted to numb their senses with enough booze to last a long flight.
Dark ordered beer for both of them. Natasha said she didn’t drink beer. Dark said fine, he’d have hers. The bar was practically empty, as it was the middle of the morning, and only the heartiest travelers would consider an alcoholic beverage at this hour.
“Why do I have the feeling you know more than you’re letting on?” Natasha asked.
“You think I’m Labyrinth?”
“No,” she said. “You’re even more cryptic.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m being serious. You seem so dead sure that Labyrinth’s going to strike here, and your reasoning doesn’t exactly seem logical.”
Dark took a long pull of beer, then eased back into the booth. “Blair sees Labyrinth as this ultimate nemesis. Back in Special Circs, we had a category for killers that went off the charts in terms of depravity and skill and general inhumanity.”
“Your so-called Lev
el 26 killers,” Natasha said.
“Right. I know what it’s like to go up against the worst. I also know how easy it is to follow one of these monsters right down into the darkness to where you’re blind. That happened to me years ago.”
“You think this is happening to Blair?”
“I know it’s happening to Blair. He’s got a hard-on for this killer, and it’s very familiar.”
Natasha smiled. “You know, he was incredibly excited about you joining the team. You were all he talked about for weeks.”
“I’m just the new guy. And the honeymoon’s over.”
“No, it’s not that. I’ve been with Global Alliance since the early days, and Blair was never like this with the others. He sees you as a kindred spirit. And he was relieved that you were on the scene from the first Labyrinth package.”
“He likes me, he really likes me.”
Natasha frowned. “Now you’re being an ass.”
Dark looked mock-hurt for a moment, then took another pull of beer. Natasha reminded him of Constance Brielle, his former partner at Special Circs. Knew how to deal with people just as well as she did forensic evidence. He wasn’t sure if she was sitting here in this booth to humor him or to report back to Blair that he should be dismissed from Global Alliance.
“What do you think?” Dark asked. “Is Blair thinking with a clear head?”
She averted her eyes for a moment, then said diplomatically, “I think he’s been focused on the hunt for Labyrinth for a long time.”
“So are you going to stay here in NYC and help me catch this guy?”
“Are you going to stop drinking beer at nine thirty in the morning?”
“Pretty sure I’m still on California time. Which makes it six thirty.”
“Which is even worse,” Natasha said. “Come on. Blair has a Global Alliance safe house downtown.”
“Really?”
“We’ve got places everywhere. You’ll never have to pay for another hotel room ever again.”
She reached out, took the beer from his hand, and put it down on the table. Then she rubbed her thumb across his bottom lip and smiled.
“Shall we?”
chapter 35
Brussels, Belgium
Alain Pantin obsessively flipped through all of the Labyrinth footage he could find online. The reaction to the latest attack was stunning. It wasn’t a violent attack at all; instead, Jane Talbot was given a public shaming.
And if the public seemed shy about embracing Labyrinth before, the shyness was quickly forgotten.
The news orgs were full of essays about Labyrinth and Jane Talbot, with the majority of them expressing more shock and outrage at Talbot rather than the diabolical killer. “Yes, we already knew he was bad, but Jane Talbot?” seemed to be a running theme.
There were pro-Labyrinth looters running wild in Johannesburg, smashing bricks through the plate-glass windows of various businesses and institutions that Jane Talbot had supported and promoted over the years. The graffiti was clear: JANE THE LIAR.
And all around the world, reports of street taggers spraying Labyrinth’s earliest messages on the sides of banks and government buildings: I WILL
HELP YOU
OUT OF THE
LABYRINTH
AndTHE WORLD
IS NOT
BEYOND SAVING
Trey had given him no time to rest. Pantin essentially halted the business of his office for a full media cycle, granting print, phone, and on-camera interviews about Labyrinth.
The message now: Uncover the phonies.
Pantin told one CNN reporter, “No, you don’t have to hold someone hostage to make them confess to their sins. We need more accountability in all areas—I’m talking government, media, education, business.”
He told someone from The Guardian: “This is a bad time to be a public figure with something to hide. Sure, Labyrinth’s actions are deplorable. But it makes you think about accountability, doesn’t it? The need for a higher standard among the people who claim to want to lead us?”
By the end of the day Pantin was so punch-drunk from the endless stream of interviews that he started to fantasize about someday meeting Labyrinth, shaking his hand, maybe even convincing him to turn himself in for the greater good, and then going about his public rehabilitation in a series of concert and lecture tours....
Stop it, Pantin told himself. You are talking about a killer here.
But a killer who’d breathed new life in his political career. You couldn’t ever forget that.
As he stared out at Leopold Park, mind fuzzed over and adrenaline still racing through his blood, a push notice sounded on his cell phone.
AP World
Breaking: Sources claim “Labyrinth” is in custody in South Africa.
chapter 36
BLAIR
Johannesburg, South Africa
The bomb squad techs offered Damien Blair everything from a blast suit to a Kevlar vest, but he waved them away. Instead, he asked to be taken directly to where they were holding Labyrinth—the humid, rusted-out police vehicle bay. As he was led down a too-bright corridor, Blair quietly yet sternly informed his hosts that he was to see the suspect completely alone. No guards, no other police officials. Some of the officers began to protest, but their commander knew better. The man was a career politician on the force, and he knew who backed Global Alliance—more important, knew better than to get into a turf war with the rest of the world. The commander told his men that Blair would be allowed access, exactly as requested.
Blair stepped into the room, heard the door lock behind him, then walked to the gurney where the suspect had been triple-strapped. He was positioned at a forty-five-degree angle. Wordlessly, Blair approached, took the suspect by the chin, and turned his head this way, and then that, before crouching down to look into his eyes.
“Are you looking into my soul, Damien Blair?”
“You’re not him,” Blair said quietly.
“Of course I am,” the suspect said. “But are you the real Damien Blair? They didn’t send down a body double, did they? That would be so disappointing, because I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time. Your handsome mug don’t show up much in the newspapers. In fact, not at all. Where’s the rest of your team? Your Global Alliance?”
“I want you to tell me everything about Labyrinth.”
“I am Labyrinth.”
“No, you’re not. This is your only, and final, chance to cut a deal.”
“Can’t we just talk a little? What’s the American expression—shoot the shit?”
“I don’t think you understand your position,” Blair said, then took a Glock out of his jacket pocket and aimed it at the suspect’s heart. “My organization is one of the few international police agencies that has the power to accomplish things. Interpol? They investigate, make recommendations. We’re different. We act. We investigate and remove threats. Dozens of signatory nations give us three things—funding, secrecy, and autonomy. They trust us to do what is right.”
“That’s good, that’s really good.”
“That means I could shoot you now and nobody would even blink.”
“You’ve been chasing me for years. You’re not going to kill me now. You’re going to want answers. Explanations. Rationales. You’re going to want me to show you where all of the bodies are bur—”
Blair lowered the gun, almost casually, as if he couldn’t care less about what he hit, and squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed through the vehicle bay, followed by Labyrinth’s screams. Loud. Pitiful. Confused. Blair had been aiming, after all. A precision strike: The bullet ripped through the prisoner’s Achilles tendon, which caused his foot to curl up in a hideously painful way, as if his entire leg were trying to roll itself up into his torso.
“I’ll take you apart,” Blair said, “one bullet at a time. The tendon’s just for starters.”
“NO!” the suspect shrieked. “T-t-that’s not how it works. You’re a c-c-c-op . . .”
<
br /> “No,” Blair said, “I’m not.”
Then he positioned the Glock directly over the suspect’s scrotum.
“Please, NO!”
“Where is he?” Blair demanded. “The next bullet takes away your manhood.”
“I don’t know I don’t know please believe me oh God I don’t know!”
The suspect talked, of course. At great length, especially after he’d been given enough painkillers.
He continued to insist that he was Labyrinth, that’s the only name he’d ever known, swearing on the lives of his mother (who he didn’t remember, either), and begging to be believed. He didn’t know about any other attacks—God, he wouldn’t kill anybody! Didn’t they understand that? Blair was good at reading people and was surprised to find himself believing the suspect. That this man truly thought he was a mastermind avenger who called himself “Labyrinth.”
The man’s been turned, Blair thought to himself. Turned so deep that he’s lost all traces of his former self.
Still, when a fingerprint match came back with the name Anthony Biretta, and Blair spoke the name aloud, you could see the pieces begin to shatter behind the suspect’s eyes. Yes, that name was familiar. Why was that name familiar? The suspect shook his head, as if that would assemble the pieces into the right order. Why was that name familiar?
Gradually the full story would emerge, but Blair could already fill in the gaps. Biretta was probably an aspiring actor who was granted the role of a lifetime. Labyrinth would have spent a long time with him—months, maybe even years, for this single performance.
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