The Ninth Orphan (13 page)

Nine pulled his hostage aboard a train that was preparing to depart from the station. As the train moved out, he led Isabelle down the aisle of a crowded carriage. Through a carriage window, they saw the man whose coat Nine had taken. He was running up and down the platform trying to find his stolen property.

The rogue operative escorted Isabelle to an adjoining carriage. He was looking for a bathroom. As they pushed their way through, he imagined people were looking at them.
We need better disguises
, he reminded himself.

Two carriages later, he found what he was looking for. He opened the bathroom door and pulled Isabelle inside, locking the door behind him. Without wasting any time, he removed his coat and shirt then unzipped the black make-up kit on his chest. He studied himself briefly in the wall mirror then went to work.

Isabelle watched as her abductor expertly used the make-up to change his appearance yet again – this time to that of an older, slightly wrinkled man.
She noted his left forearm was bandaged and wondered what was under the dressing.
Isabelle wasn’t to know it covered the wound that was left as a result of the surgery Nine had performed on himself. Fortunately for Nine, the wound was healing nicely.

She also noticed the ruby that hung from the silver necklace he wore. Isabelle recalled he'd worn the same item of jewelry when disguised as an African.

After shaving, Nine ran silver hair tint through his hair to produce a realistic graying effect then gave himself an old-fashioned, center part.
As a final touch, he donned a pair of bifocals.

The Frenchwoman continued to be amazed by Nine’s shapeshifting abilities. This latest transformation had taken less than five minutes. She shook her head, still trying to come to terms with her predicament. “Please. Just let me go,” she pleaded.

Ignoring her, the now clean-shaven Nine removed the scarf Isabelle was wearing and forcibly turned her face toward him. He began applying make-up to her face. She tried to resist, but stopped when Nine threatened her. He forcefully applied more make-up.

Before her very eyes, she was transformed into an older woman complete with gray streaks in her hair and age spots on her skin. As expertly as any hairdresser, Nine rolled her long hair up into a bun. To complete the transformation, he transferred the bifocals from his face to hers. As an afterthought, he produced a set of false dentures from his black kit and squeezed them into his mouth, giving him a buck-toothed appearance.

When he was satisfied they were both unrecognizable, he escorted Isabelle out of the bathroom. He gently but firmly steered her to a window seat and sat down next to her. None of the other passengers gave the old-fashioned, middle-aged couple a second glance.

Nine quickly scanned his fellow passengers. In less than two seconds he established they comprised several elderly folk, a couple of backpackers, and young mothers and their children whose number included a handicapped girl. He breathed easy for the first time in many hours.

Turning to Isabelle, he surreptitiously pulled back the front of his trench coat, giving her a brief glimpse of the pistol he carried in his belt. The message wasn’t lost on his hostage. Nine closed his eyes and allowed himself the luxury of a catnap, holding Isabelle’s hand tight to ensure she made no sudden moves.

As she sat there, Isabelle tried to reconcile the elderly-looking American now sleeping beside her with the African and Russian who had terrorized her in her apartment on consecutive nights. The now familiar feelings of panic began to rise up inside her.

Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she managed to calm down enough to focus on her dilemma. She had no idea why this cold-blooded man was keeping her captive. Maybe it was for sex, although if he had wanted to rape her he
’
d had ample opportunity to do so.

Could it be something to do with my father?
Was it an act of revenge for one of the many policies her father had initiated in the French parliament during his political career, she wondered. Or maybe it was just a straightforward kidnapping and her abductor would be demanding a ransom for her release. It was all speculation because, in truth, she had no idea why this was happening to her.

Isabelle glanced once more at the man asleep beside her. Even disguised as a harmless, middle-aged traveler, he still had the aura of a dangerous individual. She wondered how many people he had killed.

Clearly, he was above the law. That much she knew. And he was never the same person twice, so it would be near impossible to capture him let alone convict him.
What
’
s his interest in me?
she asked herself for the hundredth time.
Why did he come back to my apartment? And why bother dragging me along when his life is in danger? I
’
ll only be slowing him down.

The confused Frenchwoman looked around at her fellow passengers and debated whether to alert them to her predicament. All she had to do was call out for help. Then she remembered her abductor was armed. She sensed he wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who tried to apprehend him and she didn’t want that on her conscience. The other passengers were ordinary people who were minding their own business.

Isabelle transferred her gaze to the passing scenery outside the train.

19

A
fter an uneventful train journey, Nine and Isabelle disembarked at a Paris Metro station. Outside the station, they had to push their way through a group of New Zealand tourists who were queuing to board a coach. Their driver was loading their suitcases and travel bags into the coach’s exterior luggage locker.

Without slowing, Nine casually picked up a suitcase as smoothly as he had the trench coat earlier. His action was so subtle, even Isabelle didn’t immediately notice. By the time any of the tourists noticed, the thief had disappeared around the corner.

After a brief stroll, the pair entered a modest hotel in the city’s Latin Quarter. Again, no-one gave the middle-aged couple a second glance.

In the lobby, before approaching a chubby hotel manager who was engrossed in paperwork, Nine stopped and whispered in Isabelle’s ear. “Remember, we are Germans, here on holiday.” Isabelle nodded wearily. “Any funny business and you’ll be signing his death warrant,” Nine said, nodding toward the hotel manager. When he was sure his hostage understood, he approached the reception counter. “Hallo. Could we have a double room please?” He spoke English in an utterly convincing German accent.

The manager nodded, looking at Isabelle. “Have you traveled far today?”

“
Ya,” Nine jumped in. “From Stuttgart.”

Nine casually put his arm around Isabelle. Surprised, she glanced at her abductor. Even though he was smiling, his eyes remained as cold as ever. Isabelle immediately realized his physical affection was all part of the façade. Nine was obviously
in character
and simply indicating to the manager that they were indeed a couple.

The manager checked in his new guests and gave Nine a room key. “Do you need help with your suitcase?”

“
Nein, thank you,” Nine responded.

The manager watched, bored, as his latest guests slowly walked to the elevator. Like a loving husband, Nine kept one arm around Isabelle.

Once they were in their room and Nine had locked the door, Isabelle literally collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.

Nine busied himself checking the contents of the
borrowed
suitcase. He’d chosen well: the case obviously belonged to a man as it contained items of male clothing. A woolen cardigan caught his eye. He slipped into it. It was a little baggy, but passable.

The orphan glanced at Isabelle. She’d fallen asleep.

#

That evening, still in their hotel room, Nine sat on a chair staring at Isabelle. She remained fast asleep on the double bed. He was no longer in disguise.

Sounds of the city drifted in through an open window. The howl of an ambulance siren woke Isabelle. She saw Nine looking down at her. Having never seen him completely out of disguise before, she didn’t recognize him at first. Her sleepy state didn’t help.

Only when she noticed the ruby attached to his silver necklace did she connect the stranger watching her with the Russian who had abducted her or with the African who had assaulted her. She looked at Nine with an expression bordering on pity. “The other American called you Sebastian. Is that your name?”

“
Haven't got one. Just a number.”

Exasperated, Isabelle swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood up. “I’m leaving. These are your problems.” She started walking toward the door.

Nine blocked her path. “You'll stay with me until I say you can go.” Snippets of the articles he’d speed-read on Isabelle’s father flashed through his mind. The name Fabrice Alleget followed by a location in the
Pyrénées
jumped out from his photographic memory. He looked back into her eyes and added, “I know who your parents are and where they live.” Isabelle digested the menace behind Nine's words. She felt close to tears. “From now on, you do exactly as I say,” Nine continued. “For your sake, don't provoke me.”

Isabelle was frightened by his thinly veiled threat against her parents and incensed by how manipulative he could be. “You bastard,” she swore. “You're a monster!”

Nine was strangely affected by her words. Past acquaintances had expressed their hatred of him and it had been like water off a duck’s back, but for some reason Isabelle’s words cut him. “I know you can’t understand this, but I’m trying to help you. Anyone else in my position would’ve just…” He chose not to finish his sentence.

“
Help me? Oh, well thank you very much!” Isabelle exclaimed sarcastically. “Thank you for hitting me.” She pointed to her eye where he’d slapped her. “And thank you for nearly killing us both in the Porsche!” She raised her voice. “Merci! Merci! Merci!”

She was beginning to shout so loudly Nine became worried she might alert other guests or hotel staff. He clamped his hand over her mouth to silence her. “Listen, woman. You took my photograph, and you saw…” Nine’s voice trailed away again as he stopped short of reminding her she saw his airline ticket. Still angry, he tried to make Isabelle understand without giving anything away. “You’ve seen things you shouldn’t have. That's why we're in this mess.” He slowly removed his hand from her mouth.

Isabelle failed to remotely comprehend why she was being held captive. She could feel her heart pounding. The frightened young woman tried to think clearly for a second. Her dark eyes darted back to Nine a moment later and she looked at him shrewdly. “My father is closely associated with the heads of this country’s secret service.” She spoke authoritatively in French this time. “You can be sure they are after you now.”

“
Exactly. Now you understand. If I let you go, I’ll be leaving a trace a mile long.”

Isabelle had no answer for that. She was out of her depth and she knew it. Tired, she lay back down on the bed and sighed.

Nine walked over to the nearest window. The fugitive agent caught his reflection. His face revealed his conflicted emotions. He fingered the ruby on his necklace as he thought back to another woman in another hotel room. He was sixteen and he’d lost his virginity that night. Nine recalled even that had been organized by Kentbridge.

Kentbridge knew from experience the fairer sex could hinder Nine and the other male orphans from becoming elite operatives. Rather than denying them their own experience though, he’d encouraged it, albeit on his terms.

He wanted to ensure his male students’ first experience with the opposite sex was just as controlled as the rest of their lives. When each boy turned sixteen, Kentbridge hired one of Chicago’s classiest female escorts to allow the boy to experience a woman for the first time. Similar arrangements were made for the female orphans.

When Nine and the other male orphans had passed their first rite of passage with the opposite sex, Kentbridge allowed them to pick up women any time – provided they never forgot the golden rule:
Never get so attached to a woman you can't leave
.

As Nine snapped back to the present, Kentbridge’s golden rule reverberated in his head. He turned away from the window and studied Isabelle. Exhausted by all the recent events, she’d fallen asleep again on the bed.

Now that Kentbridge and Seventeen were in Paris, Nine re-assessed his options. He could just let Isabelle go. Of course, that option wasn’t practical as she had seen his intended final destination on the airline ticket. All his plans would amount to nothing if he freed her. His island in the Marquesas archipelago could not be compromised.

The second option was to terminate Isabelle. After all, she was a liability and a threat to his mission – not only because of the logistics involved in dragging her around with him, but also because of what she’d learned about him. Killing her would allow him to carry on with his mission as if nothing had happened.

Fully recovered from his recent meltdown, Nine’s killer instincts had returned. He pulled out the pistol he kept in his belt, screwed on the silencer and pointed the weapon at Isabelle’s sleeping form. As he prepared to pull the trigger, hesitation crept in yet again.