The Ninth Orphan (23 page)

The head of the Chinese operation relayed the bad news to his employers at the MSS headquarters in Beijing.

#

At roughly the same time in Paris, Cho-Wu entered The Red Dragon Chinese Restaurant. The surly-faced agent was due to meet Lhozang and was expecting to be given his leave from France.

Cho-Wu, whose dark, sexual fantasies now almost completely dominated his every thought, was looking forward to seeing his psychiatrist in Beijing for some much needed therapy – and to receiving his bonus for the recent trade with Nine.

Inside the restaurant, diners paid little attention to Cho-Wu as he strolled through the dining area. He descended a flight of stairs to a secret basement which served as an undercover cell. The MSS had relocated to the restaurant’s basement as they’d received word from Beijing that their operation at the Chinese Embassy had been compromised.

An armed guard stepped aside and Cho-Wu entered the basement. It was a hive of activity as technicians monitored satellite and radar equipment, while other officials sent and received coded messages at computer stations along one wall.

Cho-Wu walked into the center of the basement where his supervisor, Lhozang, greeted him briefly. Lhozang had been waiting all morning to hear word from his Beijing superiors as to whether or not they had found the last of Yamashita’s Gold. Cho-Wu accepted a cup of traditional green tea served by a waitress who had been seconded from the restaurant upstairs. Before he had a chance to drink from the cup, a loud beep on Lhozang’s computer announced the arrival of an email.

Lhozang adjusted his spectacles as he opened it. “It’s from Beijing,” he announced. Lhozang squinted while waiting for the email to open. Cho-Wu tapped his fingers impatiently on the table as he awaited the verdict. Finally, Lhozang removed his spectacles and looked up. “No gold was found where the American indicated,” Lhozang said bitterly.

Cho-Wu's face hardened. He looked at his supervisor in disbelief. Furious, Cho-Wu hurled tables over, sending documents, computers and tea cups flying. Having battled in vain against his sex addiction for almost a week now, he had reached the end of his tether. “I will slay that Changing-Face Dragon!” he swore.

Only a half hour earlier, Lhozang had received a message relating to the rogue American operative. Another MSS cell in Paris had learned of Isabelle’s cash withdrawal in the café earlier that day and, after studying security camera footage, had been able to identify the hotel where the American and Isabelle were staying.

Lhozang hadn’t expected they would ever need to focus on the American again, but now that the Philippine operation was back to square one, he was their sole lead. Lhozang handed Cho-Wu a piece of paper with the name and address of the hotel.

“
The American’s at this hotel.”

Cho-Wu snatched the paper from his superior’s hand and glanced at the address.

“
Squeeze every last bit of information out of him,” Lhozang ordered. “Then terminate him and confiscate whatever documents he has in his possession.”

Cho-Wu was out the door of the restaurant in less than sixty seconds. He caught a taxi to the other side of Paris then entered the hotel he believed his target was staying at. He wasn’t to know the couple had left only an hour earlier hotly pursued by Kentbridge.

Inside the hotel, Cho-Wu found the reception counter unattended. He took the stairway to the second floor. Holding a pistol with silencer attached, he strode along the same corridor where Kentbridge had been earlier. The Chinese operative’s eyes flicked left and right as he looked for any telltale sign that could give Nine’s whereabouts away.

He froze when the hotel’s duty manager walked around a corner just a few paces ahead. The man took one look at the weapon in Cho-Wu's hand and turned to run. Cho-Wu tripped him up and knocked him unconscious with a well-timed Kung Fu blow to the back of the head. He then bundled the duty manager into a broom closet and closed the door on him before calmly resuming his search.

Cho-Wu entered the nearest room and found the same old man Kentbridge had walked in on earlier. The man was now asleep in the arms of the young hooker. Cho-Wu backed out into the corridor and paused outside the door of Nine's vacated room. Noticing it was ajar, he burst into the room only to find it had been vacated.

A fluttering curtain drew his attention to the still-open window. He strode over to the window and looked outside. Seeing nothing unusual, he walked through to the bathroom and observed the hole left where Nine had punched the wall.

Cho-Wu studied the hole thoughtfully. He could sense the Changing-Face Dragon had been in the room not long ago.

#

Only minutes after Cho-Wu left the hotel, Isabelle’s father, Monsieur Alleget, arrived with local gendarmes from the Paris Police Department. Like the MSS and Omega before them, the police had also traced Isabelle’s recent whereabouts following her ATM cash withdrawal. As usual, the police were several steps behind the intelligence agencies.

Monsieur Alleget and the gendarmes realized the same thing Kentbridge and Cho-Wu had before them: they were too late. The gendarmes conducted a cursory search of the room then left the hotel, leaving an increasingly worried Monsieur Alleget alone.

He searched the entire room more thoroughly than the gendarmes had, but found nothing of Isabelle’s. Before leaving, he had an insight to check under the bed. There, he found the digital camera Nine had purchased for Isabelle while disguised as an Arab.

Monsieur Alleget hurried down to reception where he downloaded the photos from the camera onto a hotel computer. He was shocked to find Isabelle smiling in some of the photos. He figured her captor must have drugged her.

The former politician bristled when he saw his daughter was only dressed in her underwear in one of the images. There was also a picture of her in bed with her captor. Monsieur Alleget couldn’t believe it. He was totally perplexed. As he studied the beautiful face of his only child, he felt a lump in his throat.

The one bit of good news was he now had an image of Isabelle’s abductor – something that the media could broadcast nationwide. As he studied Nine’s undisguised face, Monsieur Alleget swore he’d bring the criminal down.

#

The train Nine and Isabelle had boarded two hours earlier was now well out of Paris and trundling south through the Loire Valley. As it approached the city of Orleans, it chugged along the tracks that ran alongside the River Loire. Although not as fast as the bullet train that used an adjacent track, it was making reasonable time.

On a motorway alongside the tracks, the white shuttle van Kentbridge had stolen traveled at top speed to keep pace with the train. The senior agent kept one eye on the train and one on the traffic as he drove. He cursed himself for having selected this particular vehicle. The accelerator was flat to the floor and still the van was barely keeping pace with the train. He was thankful his quarry hadn’t caught the bullet train.

Minutes later, Kentbridge just beat the train into the Orleans Railway Station, its first scheduled stop. As the train pulled in, he waited with others on the platform. The train slowed to a halt and those waiting to board pressed forward. Kentbridge scanned the faces of the passengers in the nearest carriage. He wondered what guise Nine would have adopted.

The senior agent purchased a ticket from a conductor then waited until the last second to board the train. It wasn’t until it started to pull away that he jumped on board, satisfied his quarry had not disembarked. As he did so, he caught sight of his own reflection. He was racking his brains regarding his next disguise. He knew he needed something convincing to be able to get close to Nine.

33

I
nside his private compartment near the back of the train, Nine was unaware Kentbridge was on board. His attention was focused on his own reflection in a wall mirror as he donned a new disguise.

Isabelle sat nearby watching the transformation taking place. Nine had told her they were going to Marseille and from there they would go on a journey on a yacht. After that, he’d assured her, he would free her. Isabelle believed him. What she didn’t realize was the journey Nine referred to would be to the other side of the world and he planned to free her on his island which was separated from the nearest living person by fifty miles of ocean.

For now, Isabelle didn’t want to question Nine any further. A part of her had grown so attached to him she didn’t want to think about his leaving her, but she was realistic and assumed a man like Nine would never stay long in a woman’s life.

As he created his new disguise, Nine was focused on their reaching Marseille without further detection. The fugitive agent wondered where Kentbridge was. He was fairly confident they’d lost him back at Gare de Nord station, but couldn’t be sure.

The possibility, no matter how faint, that Kentbridge was on board, was why he needed a new disguise. There was no room for error now. Even the slightest mistake and it would be game over.

Isabelle continued to watch Nine transforming himself. A calendar on the wall of their private compartment caught her eye. She realized it was February 27 – her birthday. Having had her life turned upside down over the last few days, she’d totally forgotten. Isabelle looked back at Nine. “It’s my birthday today! I’m twenty eight.”

Nine paused and looked at her. She’d surprised him yet again. He had her pegged for twenty five. “Happy Birthday,” he mumbled before turning his attention back to laying foundations of make-up on his face which was gradually becoming darker.

“
When is your birthday, Sebastian?” Isabelle asked. Nine shrugged. Isabelle scoffed at him. “Oh, c’mon! You must know your birthday!”

Nine shook his head. “Tommy and the others only told me the year I was born. I don’t even know which month, let alone the day.”

Isabelle was dumbfounded. From her perspective, Nine’s formative years amounted to child abuse. It broke her heart to think adults could treat children like that. What made it more sickening was that it was carried out in such a systematic way. The exotic Frenchwoman felt sad as she looked out the window. Trees and farm houses flashed by; the train was now traveling at full speed as it left Orleans behind.

Elsewhere on the train, Kentbridge entered a bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal that he, too, wore a black make-up kit fastened to his chest. He unzipped the kit, which was exactly like Nine’s, and began working on a new identity.

Half way through applying his new disguise, Kentbridge remembered he’d instructed Seventeen to wait at the next station ahead.
In the event he hadn't managed to board the train at the Orleans station, she was to intercept Nine
. He reached for his cell phone and sent Seventeen a text message advising that he was on board; he instructed her to wait several stations ahead, purely as back-up. Kentbridge felt confident he could deal with Nine. He went back to creating his disguise. The senior agent had a certain character in mind he felt sure would fool Nine, or anyone else for that matter.

In the sleeper compartment, Nine added the finishing touches to his latest disguise. To all intents and purposes, he was now a Sikh, complete with a turban fashioned from a Eurorail bed sheet. He’d also darkened his skin to resemble an Indian’s. His complexion was now a caramel color like Isabelle’s.

Isabelle sat with her back to him. She held up a hand mirror and appeared to be applying makeup to her face.

“
Don't use too much makeup,” Nine warned.

Isabelle turned to face him, revealing she had glued on a moustache. She looked at him, straight-faced. Nine chuckled.

“
Oh my God, it’s a miracle! I made you laugh!” Isabelle said, surprised.

Nine suddenly felt self-conscious and resumed his usual serious demeanor. Reaching out, he gently pulled the moustache off Isabelle then glued it above his upper lip before inserting contact lenses to change his eye color to dark brown. The disguise complete, he turned back to Isabelle. She was impressed by his racial transformation. A second later, her stomach rumbled, prompting her to self-consciously place her hand over her stomach.

“
Hungry?” Nine asked.

“
Oui.”

“
Okay. I doubt anyone knows we’re on this train, but just in case, you stay here while I get us some food. Lock the door after me and don't open it for anyone.”

He turned to leave then paused. “When I return, listen for this knock.” He rapped a quick-fire
rat-a-tat-tat
on the wall with his knuckles.

Isabelle nodded. Nine left the compartment and shut the door after him. He waited until he heard Isabelle lock it from the inside then walked cautiously toward the dining car. This took him through several near-full carriages. As he walked, he surreptitiously studied his fellow passengers, hoping that, if Kentbridge was on board, he’d spot him.

Nine didn’t know the senior operative was preoccupied in a bathroom two carriages ahead. Kentbridge was adding the finishing touches to his disguise. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. The face that stared back at him was that of an ageing hippy complete with bifocals, a gray beard and an earring. A false ponytail added to the authenticity. Like Nine, he was unrecognizable.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Kentbridge wondered where he should begin. He knew finding Nine wouldn’t be easy, especially if the operative was disguised, as he was certain to be. Of course, knowing that Nine was accompanied by Isabelle would make the task easier, he thought. Kentbridge continued to wonder about the pair’s relationship.