The Ninth Orphan (22 page)

Although he was still on edge, he felt the most assured he’d been in a long time. Of course, once Isabelle was safely installed on his island he’d have to break the news to her that she could never leave, but he was confident he could eventually win her heart.

Nine unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped the black kit that was, as always, fastened to his chest. He looked at the empty spot inside the kit where he’d formerly kept the flash drive relating to the Yamashita discovery. He wondered how the Chinese were getting on locating the treasure in the Philippine site he’d directed them to. He expected to receive their additional eighty million dollars within the next day or two.

As his mind returned to the present, he suddenly noticed a handful of Euro notes protruding from a pocket in Isabelle's discarded clothes. His heart instantly sank. He grabbed the cash and hurried to the bathroom where Isabelle was washing the blonde dye out of her hair in the shower. She jumped when Nine burst in and snatched a towel to partially cover herself.

Nine waved the notes in front of her face. “Where did you get this money?”

“
Why does it matter?”

Nine reached past her and turned the shower off. “Answer me.”

“
Out of an ATM machine. I used my credit card.”

“
Where?”

“
At the cafe. Earlier this morning.”

Nine cursed to himself.
Just when I thought we were in the home straight!
He’d been visualizing a straightforward journey to Marseille, but now he knew nothing would be straightforward. Kentbridge, Seventeen, the Chinese and the French authorities would soon be all over them. Nine shook his head angrily. At times it felt like the whole universe was conspiring against him. Frustrated, he punched the wall behind Isabelle, driving his fist right through it. Isabelle was frightened by the sudden violence.

Nine calmed himself. He pulled Isabelle gently but firmly by the arm into the main room and scooped up her clothes for her. “Get dressed,” he ordered. “We're leaving.”

“
I don't see what the problem is. I just used my credit card.”

“
The streets are lined with surveillance cameras, Isabelle. They can easily trace your movements from the cash machine back to this hotel.”

Nine tensed when they heard voices coming from the hallway outside their room. He put his forefinger to his lips, indicating Isabelle should remain quiet. Nine opened the door a fraction and peered out into the hallway. Behind him, Isabelle quickly dressed.

Ten yards down the hall, a bearded man spoke to the hotel's young duty manager in halting English. From Nine’s vantage point, the conversation was faint but audible. “My name Mikael Podlaski,” the bearded man said. “I here to check plumbing in the rooms.” He spoke halting English with a thick Polish accent.

Nine froze when he realized the man was Kentbridge in disguise.

In the hallway, the hotel’s duty manager handed the senior Omega agent a master key and walked off. As soon as he was out of sight, Kentbridge drew his pistol and unlocked the door to the nearest room. Holding his pistol behind his back, he entered the room where he discovered an old man noisily making love to a young hooker. Kentbridge backed out into the hallway and entered the next room.

Having already locked the door to their room, Nine hastily gathered their possessions then led Isabelle to the nearest window. He opened it and looked down. Guessing his intentions, Isabelle pulled back and shook her head adamantly.

“
This is the only way,” Nine said. He climbed out the window and, holding a drainpipe for support, looked up at Isabelle. “Climb onto my back.”

Looking down at Nine, Isabelle knew this was a defining moment. She could easily flee and leave Nine where he was, hanging from the first floor window. Nine looked back at her. He knew what she was thinking. Their eyes locked.

Isabelle sensed if she left him now she could be leaving behind a dead man. On top of that, she didn’t trust Kentbridge, so it was a case of better the devil she already knew. Besides, this was a devil she’d begun to fall for. Logic told her it was best to just leave him now, but her heart was in no mood to compromise.
I must be insane
, she thought. Finally, without a word, she climbed through the window and onto Nine’s back.

Using the drainpipe and other precarious hand-holds, Nine climbed down the side of the building with Isabelle on his back. Although she was light, it took all his strength.

Seconds later, inside the hotel, Kentbridge paused outside the door to Nine's vacated room. Unlocking the door, he raised his pistol and burst into the empty room. A fluttering curtain by the open window caught his attention. He strode over to the window and poked his head outside just in time to see the fugitive couple running down the road toward Gare de Nord Railway Station.

Kentbridge remained at the window, watching to ensure they did enter the station. As they ran, he wondered at the pair’s relationship. Although the undisguised Nine was pulling Isabelle along by the hand, she didn’t appear to be an unwilling hostage. There was no sign of resistance and she seemed to be running as fast as she could. A minute later, as they disappeared inside the railway station, Kentbridge hurried from the room.

Within the busy station, the fugitive pair found themselves being jostled by crowds of commuters. Nine spotted a female janitor heading for the Ladies restroom. Holding tight to Isabelle’s hand, he followed the janitor. Inside the restroom, they found her preparing to clean a mirror. Nine locked the door then walked up to the janitor and pointed his pistol in her face. She opened her mouth to scream but was silenced by Nine's menacing glare. “We need your clothes, madam,” he instructed her in French.

The terrified woman removed her hat and clothes. Nine snatched them from her and handed them to Isabelle who, without needing to be asked, changed into them and placed the hat on her head. The hat was a little big. It hung low over Isabelle’s eyes.

“
Perfect,” said Nine in mock seriousness. He then turned to the janitor and fixed her with his most threatening stare. “If you want to live,” he said in French, “then don't leave here for fifteen minutes. Understand, madam?”

The wide-eyed janitor nodded furiously, indicating she understood very clearly.

Nine moved the near-naked janitor into a cubicle and jammed the door shut. He then led Isabelle out of the restroom and onto the main station platform at the same time as Kentbridge pushed his way through the crowds and entered the station. Like Nine, the senior agent was no longer in disguise.

Entering the departure terminal, Nine scanned his surroundings while walking as quickly as the crowds would allow. Isabelle followed several paces behind in her janitor's disguise. Nine's eyes rested on a tarpaulin-covered trolley almost totally concealed behind a pile of outbound goods. He turned to Isabelle and nodded toward the trolley. Guessing his intentions, she walked over to it.

Nine continued through to the main platform where he joined travelers queuing to board a train. According to the electronic Arrivals Departures board, it was bound for Marseille.
Good timing
. He then spotted a ticket machine nearby.

One floor above, Kentbridge stood alongside ticketing staff and scanned the faces of passengers queuing for tickets. Something caught his eye on the floor of the departure terminal below. He ran for the exit door. Seconds later, he emerged from a stairwell and hurried to intercept a middle-aged, male tourist with a moustache.

The closer he got, the more Kentbridge was convinced the man was Nine in disguise. The tourist, who looked Latin American, seemed nervous and constantly looked over his shoulder. Kentbridge wasn’t to know the man was a Bolivian who had a nervous condition and a fear of traveling on trains or on any form of public transport.

The senior agent caught up to the Latino and threw him against a wall. He reached out and tugged the innocent tourist's moustache in an unsuccessful attempt to confirm it wasn’t a fake.

“
¡Párese! ¿qué hace usted?” the surprise Latino exclaimed.

Ignoring his protests, Kentbridge frisked the man to ensure he wasn’t carrying a weapon and thereby eliminate any remaining doubt this could be Nine. At the same time, he apologized in perfect Spanish, explaining he was conducting a security check.

Satisfied the man was who he appeared to be, he walked away without another word. Behind him, the angry tourist let fly with a torrent of Spanish swear words. Kentbridge waved one hand dismissively as he resumed his search for Nine.

Walking toward the senior agent at that very moment, wheeling a tarpaulin-covered trolley, was Isabelle in her janitor’s disguise. Following Nine’s instructions, she was heading for the entrance to the Departures terminal. Her heart lurched when she saw Kentbridge. He was too close to consider any kind of evasive action. Praying he would not recognize her, she looked straight ahead and kept walking. She breathed a sigh of relief when Kentbridge barely gave her a second-glance.

Now on the station’s main platform, she pushed the trolley toward the Marseille-bound train’s nearest freight car and, with some difficulty, wheeled it up a ramp. Inside the freight car, two railways clerks ignored her as they ticked off items of cargo.

Isabelle pushed the trolley through to an adjoining passenger carriage, checking compartment numbers as she went. The effort of handling the trolley alone was causing her to sweat profusely. That and she was incredibly nervous. Thankfully, no-one challenged her as she wheeled the trolley through to the next carriage.

Stopping outside a sleeper compartment door, she checked the number against the number of the ticket Nine had hastily purchased from the ticket machine moments earlier. Isabelle wheeled the trolley into the sleeper compartment and locked the door behind her. She removed the tarpaulin to reveal the still undisguised Nine curled up in a pile of women's clothing. Isabelle helped him out. She giggled as she lifted a bra off his shoulder.

Nine suppressed a smile as he hurried to the window and pulled down the blind. He then turned to Isabelle. “You did well. Thank you.”

Meanwhile, on the platform, Kentbridge was anxious. He sensed his quarry was on the departing train, but couldn’t be sure. The senior agent looked up at the electronic board to confirm the train’s destination. By now, the train had left the station.

Behind Kentbridge, the female janitor whom Nine had accosted suddenly appeared. Now wrapped in a blanket, the distressed woman attracted considerable attention as she ran up to a gendarme. Kentbridge suddenly noticed her. At the same time, he remembered the trim janitor he saw pushing the trolley toward the train earlier. Putting two and two together, he sprinted for the station exit.

Emerging into the station car park, he headed for the nearest manned vehicle, a white shuttle van whose driver was reading a paper while waiting for passengers. Kentbridge flashed his fake police ID at the driver and addressed him in French. “I need your vehicle.” Kentbridge pulled the startled driver from the van.

“
What the hell do you think you're doing?” the driver asked.

“
This is official police business and I’m a senior officer.”

“
I don’t care if you’re the President!”

Ignoring the man, Kentbridge jumped in, started the engine and drove off at speed.

32

M
oonlight shone brightly onto a limestone cave five thousand feet above sea level in the Philippines. Located on a mountainside near Baguio, in Benguet Province, the cave's narrow entrance had been concealed for decades by overgrown vines.

Two dozen MSS secret agents posing as miners and laborers had been drilling for Yamashita’s long lost treasure since night fell. Having purchased the surrounding land and paid off certain corrupt Filipino politicians, all that was left to do was seize the gold and precious artifacts then transport them safely to China.

In double quick time, they’d set up silver mining equipment above the cave, which was located on the precise co-ordinates Nine had supplied Cho-Wu in their recent exchange. The operation was complex as the Japanese had buried the war booty in a series of tunnels they’d dug beneath the cave. The site had also been booby trapped.

One of the MSS special agents found an ancient Chinese artifact with a golden dragon painted on it. His colleagues took this to be a good omen, especially as the Chinese New Year had only just fallen.

Their hopes proved to be false, however, when the drilling team eventually confirmed there was no treasure where Nine’s maps indicated there should have been. Instead of gold and ancient artifacts, the Chinese found only empty treasure chests.

What the Chinese couldn’t know was just days earlier, a Japanese treasure hunter had beaten them to it. The man, a distant relative of General Tomoyuki Yamashita, had spent many years searching for the gold after inheriting the general’s war diaries. Collaborating with a Japanese consortium, the treasure hunter and his team had removed the two hundred and fifty billion dollar windfall only forty-eight hours before the Chinese arrived at the location.

In a strange twist of fate, after remaining undiscovered for sixty odd years, the last of Yamashita’s massive hoard had been found in quick succession by two treasure hunters: first by Nine and then by the Japanese man.