The Orphan Factory (The Orphan Trilogy, #2) (47 page)

Seventeen tried to focus on her assailant. At first she couldn’t see his face, but she saw the Magnum in his right hand. She had the presence of mind to note its safety catch had been disengaged. Then the guard’s face became clear. It was his startling green eyes she saw first. Gone were the spectacles, gray wig and false moustache.

Nine!

As the realization set in that her nemesis had her at his mercy, she could only watch as he screwed a silencer onto the end of the Magnum. The relentless pressure of his boot on her throat ensured she remained subdued.

Nine was enjoying every minute of Seventeen’s pain. He’d dreamed of nothing else since she’d left him for dead in the Amazon. “You almost succeeded back there in the jungle, you crazy little bitch.”

Seventeen tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Nine removed his boot again to allow her to talk.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Seventeen gasped.

“You know exactly what you did, so quit playing little Miss Innocent.”

“Prove it,” Seventeen said.

By the steely look in his eye, Seventeen could see Nine was intent on killing her. Resigned to her fate, she still wanted to hurt her fellow orphan before he did what he had to do. “You might want to check up on your Greek lover girl,” she snarled.

Nine had hardly thought of Helen since he’d blackmailed her into silence about the Pedemont Orphanage a few weeks earlier. His curiosity was piqued. “Why? What happened to Helen?”

Seventeen smiled sadistically.

Nine was suddenly alarmed. He sensed something ominous had happened. “Tell me!” He kicked Seventeen again, further injuring her broken ribs.

Seventeen was left doubled up in pain. Coughing, she spat blood out onto the ground. As soon as she could, she looked up at Nine more defiantly than ever. “Maybe it’s best you don’t find out what happened to her.”

Infuriated, Nine placed his boot on Seventeen’s throat again then bent down and pointed the Magnum right between her eyes. He was pleased to see her expression was now one of pure fear.

Seventeen closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable.

Nine squeezed the trigger.

Seventeen screamed. A moment later she opened her eyes, realizing she wasn’t dead. Relief flooded through her. Confused, she looked up at Nine. His boot remained on her throat, but he’d put his Magnum away. It slowly dawned on her that the revolver hadn’t been loaded. Struggling for air, she looked to Nine for an explanation.

“Believe me, I wish I had left a bullet in the cartridge,” Nine said, “but I know Naylor’s got a hard-on for you.” He was very aware Omega’s director had put Seventeen up on a pedestal since the Guyana mission, and he’d heard the rumours Naylor had the hots for her. “If I’d given you what you deserve, Naylor would make sure I suffered the same fate. That’s the only reason you’re still alive.”

Guilt now registered on Seventeen’s face, and for once she had no witty comeback.

Nine shook his head in pity. “One day you’re going to realize we are both victims. I know you never asked for this life, but neither did I.” He removed his boot from her throat and started walking toward the gates. “You’ll find the guard I replaced in the canteen at the rear of the factory,” he called back over his shoulder.

As he walked briskly away, Nine felt hard done by that he hadn’t killed Seventeen. Nevertheless, he was satisfied he’d at least made her experience some of the fear he’d felt when she’d left him for dead. He started jogging toward the car he’d left hidden behind a nearby belt of trees.

Behind him, Seventeen pushed herself painfully to her feet. Her throat was bruised and raw, and her ribs felt like they were on fire. And she was still spitting blood. Cursing Nine, she set about changing her car’s flat tire. She’d already forgotten about the security guard Nine had left tied up in the canteen. He could wait. She would report his incarceration after she got herself to the nearest hospital and had her injuries attended to.

As for Nine’s little show of aggression, Seventeen planned to keep that to herself. Her hatred of her long-time rival burned deeper than ever.

She took satisfaction from knowing her opportunity for revenge would come. One day.

#

Not far from the cement factory, in greater Washington D.C., Nine entered an Internet café. He saw at a glance it was full of teenagers playing violent video games. Sitting down at the only free computer available, he typed the words
Helen Katsarakis
into a search engine.

The Internet connection was slow and he had to wait, trying his hardest to ignore the excited shouts and profanities coming from the teenage gamers who surrounded him.

Finally, a photograph of Helen appeared on his screen. It wasn’t the photo that caught his attention. It was the headline above it that read:
Promising University of Illinois student commits suicide
.

Shocked, Nine felt as though he’d been physically struck. He nearly punched one of the gamers nearby when the young teen stood up and yelled triumphantly, having just won the video game he was playing.

Speed-reading the news article below the photo, Nine knew it wasn’t suicide. He was certain Omega was responsible and had made it look as if Helen had taken her own life.

Why the hell did they need to that?

Nine asked himself why over and over. He had assured Kentbridge that Helen had given up her investigation into the orphanage and definitely wouldn’t be pursuing it any time in the future. Nine had made it clear in his report that he’d ensured her silence by blackmailing her over their one-night stand and also threatening her father’s life.

Kentbridge seemed to have accepted Nine’s report as gospel, and the orphan had believed that would be the end of the matter. After all, Kentbridge had stated it would be.

Nine assumed Naylor had decided, independent of Kentbridge, that it wasn’t worth the risk and it was better to terminate Helen for peace of mind.

Naylor, you prick. You had Helen killed so you could sleep better at night.

As he walked out of the Internet café, Nine wondered which operative Naylor had used to terminate Helen. He wondered if it was Seventeen.

87

In the underprivileged neighborhood of Riverdale, on Chicago’s far south side, it was shaping to be a sunny spring day and the local residents were going about their everyday business as normal.

As always, the streets were littered with rubbish, used condoms, discarded wine cartons and beer bottles – some broken – and even the rusting remains of abandoned cars. The air of impoverishment was all pervasive.

A paperboy cycled past the Pedemont Orphanage on his rounds, throwing a copy of the morning paper onto the unkempt front lawns of dilapidated homes on either side of the old building; an elderly man with a walking stick clutched a bottle of milk in one bony hand as he shuffled back to his home from a nearby corner store; an overweight jogger ran past the old man and unruly school children jostled each other as they queued for a bus.

None of Riverdale’s residents were aware one of their neighborhood’s greatest secrets was about to be buried forever: the building that had served as home for the products of the Pedemont Project for the past eighteen years was in its final hour. Nor were the residents remotely aware what had gone on inside the orphanage during that time.

Only now as demolition crews, trucks and cranes began assembling outside the orphanage did a few passersby stop to stare. Kentbridge was among them. He’d been there, waiting across the street in his brand new Chrysler, for the past half hour. Now, as the workers began making their final preparations to demolish the building, he climbed out of the car and leaned against it.

The special agent looked up as a new silver Audi sports car pulled into the street. Nine was behind the wheel. He seemed right at home, though his car looked very out of place in this neighborhood, and it attracted attention.

Kentbridge wasn’t surprised to see Nine. He’d asked him to come witness the demolition of what had until recently been the orphans’ home all these years.

Nine had arrived just as a large wrecking ball was being swung into position by one of the crane operators. He parked the Audi behind Kentbridge’s Chrysler, but didn’t join his mentor immediately. The orphan-operative remained behind the wheel for a moment to gather his thoughts. He knew this would probably be the last time he would ever visit his old neighborhood. After today, he’d have no reason to return.

It felt surreal to Nine to be saying goodbye to the orphanage once and for all, especially as this day had come around so quickly.
It didn’t seem that long ago he was desperately trying to escape from the place he’d always considered a dump. So much had happened in his short life it felt as though time had sped up and even though he was still only eighteen, he felt closer to eighty at times.

Finally, he climbed out of the Audi and strolled over to join Kentbridge.

The special agent greeted him with a warm smile. “Glad you could make it, Sebastian.”

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

The two shook hands and then turned their attention to the demolition crews’ preparations.

Anyone casually observing the pair as they leaned against the Chrysler could be excused for thinking them father and son. Of similar height and appearance, each exuded strength and confidence, and they seemed totally at ease in each other’s company.

Both men remained silent for a full minute as the huge wrecking ball began its ominous arc through the air, each swing carrying it closer to the orphanage’s top floor. The ball’s first contact with the building’s timbered exterior was an anti-climax: it hardly touched the timber, and the only sound it made was a barely audible
clink
.

As the ball resumed its arc through the air, both men found they were holding their breath in anticipation of what was coming. Finally, the wrecking ball smashed into the orphanage, sending splintered timber flying in all directions and leaving a gaping hole in the side of the building.

“And so it begins,” Kentbridge said. “Just think. Nobody outside of Omega is aware of the incredible things twenty four orphans achieved inside that humble old building--”

“Wait a minute,” Nine interjected. “You mean twenty three orphans, right?”

Kentbridge shook his head. “You were never meant to know this, but I was Number Zero. You see, I was orphaned when I was two. My folks both died in a car crash.”

Surprised, Nine attempted to connect this news with the man he knew so well. He would have never have guessed Kentbridge understood what it was like for a child not to have the support of parents. He’d always pictured his mentor growing up in a tightly-knit family in a stereotypical American household.

“Even if I say so myself,” Kentbridge continued, “Naylor deemed me to be the perfect operative. He decided I was to be the prototype for you guys.”

Nine had been rendered speechless. He watched the wrecking ball as it carried on with its relentless destruction of the orphanage while Kentbridge continued to open up to him.

“Naylor had this theory I was a superior operative because I was an orphan with no family distractions. I was his inspiration for creating the Pedemont Project, so he officially registered me in the program as Zero.”

Nine still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He tore his eyes away from what was left of the orphanage and looked at Kentbridge in a whole new light. “Why did Naylor choose the number zero?”

“Zero comes before the number one, yet in a way it doesn’t exist. And I came before you and all of your fellow orphans, yet I don’t exist on your genetic frequency. So even though none of you have my genes, you all kind of derived from me as I taught you everything I knew.”

Kentbridge grew distracted as a loud screeching noise came from the crane across the street. Its motor misfired a couple of times and then shut down altogether. The two Omegans looked on as the crane operator began tinkering with the motor in an attempt to restart it.

Although Nine watched the operator, his thoughts were elsewhere. He was trying to come to grips with what he’d just learned. He looked back at his mentor, willing him to keep talking.

Kentbridge didn’t take the bait. He considered he’d already told his protégé enough about himself for the moment. Changing the subject, he said, “You know, this was the last orphanage in America.”

“I didn’t know that.” Nine was tempted to remind Kentbridge that Pedemont wasn’t a real orphanage, or even a legitimate one. 

“Funny, at first I hated that building and being in charge of you kids. I always wanted to remain an operative in the field, like you are now. But standing here today, I know I’m going to miss the family atmosphere we had in there.” He nodded toward the remains of the orphanage. “I wish that could’ve gone on forever.”

Kentbridge paused as he thought of his wife and the failed IVF program he’d put her through – and himself through for that matter. Now in their forties, he and Rachel had given up trying for children of their own. The events surrounding the Guyana mission had brought home to him that the orphans were effectively
his kids
, even if they didn’t carry his genes.

The crane fired back into life and the wrecking ball resumed its deadly arc through the air. Both Omegans watched as the ball smashed into the building’s lower floors.

Kentbridge continued, “I sense I’ll look back on my time in there with you guys as the best years of my life.”

“Personally, I’m glad it’s being demolished,” Nine said harshly. “All the memories I have of that place, and all the propaganda you instilled in us, should be buried forever.”

Surprised, Kentbridge looked at his protégé enquiringly.

“Remember that time after you tracked me down in California, you brought me back here and explained Omega’s grand design?”

Kentbridge nodded.

“Do you recall what you told me?”

“Not clearly, no.”

“You said regular citizens were all prisoners of their own limited realities. Their own limited understanding of the way our world really works.”