The Orphan Uprising (The Orphan Trilogy, #3) (30 page)

Behind him, Lusambo gave a shout of joy. “Sonny!” He’d recognized his nephew.

Then, in another room, the young rebel uttered a shout of recognition. He’d found a young girl who was the spitting image of a girl in one of the photos.

By now, Nine had already determined that Francis wasn’t on this floor. He’d checked every room and was becoming increasingly desperate for some sign that his son was here. Without waiting for his companions, he raced for the stairwell leading down to the next floor.

As he descended the stairs, Nine didn’t give any thought to the possibility he could encounter more resistance. It hadn’t occurred to him that Naylor would have sent more than four elite operatives to stop one ailing, over-the-hill, former operative whose best days were most certainly behind him. All he could think about was finding Francis.

So it was a shock when a dark, muscular figure launched itself at him at the bottom of the stairs. Nine was quick enough to avoid the wickedly sharp blade that had been meant for his throat, but too slow to avoid the karate punch that knocked him to the floor and sent his machine pistol flying from his grasp.

63

Thirteen had opted to kill Nine silently rather than use his machine pistol and advertise his presence to one and all. Suspecting his fellow operatives had all been killed, the Polynesian operative didn’t fancy his chances of fighting his way out of the building on his own. Not with so many Mai Mai rebels to contend with. Hence the decision to use his knife.

Though stunned, Nine had the presence of mind to roll over and over as soon as he hit the floor. That action saved his life. Thirteen had launched himself at Nine a second time, intent on finishing him quickly. His flashing blade missed its target again, striking the floor and jarring his wrist. He grunted in pain and cursed his fellow orphan.

Only now, as he jumped to his feet, did Nine recognize his attacker. “Thirteen!”

The Polynesian’s eyes seemed glazed over and only registered fleeting recognition of the former operative. Nine identified the symptoms immediately.
MK-Ultra!
He’d seen the same glazed-over look in the eyes of Three and Fourteen when he’d clashed with them in Greenland, and in Seventeen’s eyes before that.

In the precious seconds he’d bought himself, Nine had drawn his hunting knife from its sheath. He awaited Thirteen’s next assault.

Breathing hard, the two orphans began warily circling each other, knives extended.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Thirteen said.

“You shouldn’t have tried to stop me rescuing my son.”

Thirteen came at Nine, his blade flashing. Nine was forced to back-peddle before the onslaught. His head was still fuzzy from the initial attack and he desperately tried to clear it while parrying his opponent’s blows.

Nine didn’t see the knife-thrust that caught him. The blade sliced through his right shoulder, causing him to drop his knife. Crying out in pain, he automatically placed his left hand over the wound to prevent the blood from gushing out.

Thirteen followed up with a ju-jitsu style kick that felled Nine. As he prepared to finish the former operative off, a shot rang out and Thirteen fell to the floor, mortally wounded.

At first, Nine wasn’t sure where the shot had come from. Then he saw the young Congolese rebel. Lusambo had sent him to assist after he’d seen his client run downstairs. The rebel was preparing to shoot Thirteen dead. “No!” Nine shouted.

Pushing himself painfully to his knees, Nine moved over to Thirteen. Blood was trickling from the operative’s nose and mouth, and he was struggling to breath. It appeared he’d been shot thorough the lungs.

Nine cradled Thirteen’s head in his hands. Blood from his shoulder wound dripped down onto the dying operative’s face. “Where’s my son?” he asked.

“Your son’s not here,” Thirteen gasped as his life rapidly faded.

“Where is he?” Nine was becoming desperate. He could see Thirteen was barely alive.
Don’t die on me now, you son of a bitch!
He shouted, “Where is he, man?”

Thirteen seemed to rally, as if making a conscious effort to communicate with another human being one last time. “At Omega’s lab in Nevada,” he whispered. His words were so faint, Nine had to put his ear close to his fellow orphan’s mouth to hear.

“Where in Nevada?”

The light in Thirteen’s eyes began to fade.

“Where in Nevada?” Nine shouted.
Stay with me!
He shook his fellow orphan.

“At Omega’s new laboratory…at…Nellis…Air Force…Base.” Thirteen exhaled one last time as his life expired. His final breath was accompanied by frothy, reddish-pink spittle that settled on his lips and chin.

Nine was left looking at Thirteen in disbelief. He was having trouble coming to grips with what he’d just heard. If the Polynesian operative had told the truth, Omega had sent Francis to a new secret lab at Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada – a facility Naylor hadn’t mentioned and a facility that hadn’t shown up in the confidential files Nine had accessed at Naylor’s residence.

The former operative looked up the young Congolese rebel. His bemused expression indicated he hadn’t a clue what was going on.

Nine didn’t know it, but of all the operatives he could have questioned about Francis’ whereabouts, Thirteen was the only one who knew. While Naylor had made a point of not divulging which Omega lab the boy had been sent to, for some reason known only to himself the Polynesian operative had made it his business to find out.

Nine was suddenly possessed with the need to find out if Thirteen had been telling the truth. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he pushed himself to his feet, recovered his fallen machine pistol and embarked on a desperate search of the floor he was now on.

The bottom floor was a virtual replica of the floor above. More barracks-like rooms accommodated another fifty or so kids. All were African. Francis wasn’t among them. Nor did any of them recognize Francis from the photo Nine showed them.

By now, the former operative was so despondent he felt like shooting himself. Shouts of alarm from a nearby room distracted him. He ran to investigate.

The young rebel had found half a dozen lab scientists and other staffers huddled together in a small office. They’d left their flight from the lab building too late to escape the gunfire that erupted after the rebels attacked so had opted to hide out on the bottom floor in the hope they’d remain undiscovered.

By the time Nine arrived, the staffers were cowering in fear before the young rebel who looked like he was ready to shoot them. Nine deliberately didn’t do or say anything to alleviate their fears. Instead, he grabbed a middle-aged, female scientist and held his pistol to her head. “What’s your name?”

“Madeleine Swindell,” the frightened woman stammered. Her eyes swivelled from the pistol Nine held to the blood that now soaked his shirt and back to the pistol.

Nine noted her accent was American. He held the photo of Francis up to her face. “Have you seen this boy?”

Madeleine shook her head. “No.”

“Are you sure he’s not here? His name is Francis Hannar and he’s my son.” He glared at Madeleine as if he held her personally responsible for his son’s welfare. “Well?”

“I’m sure. He’s not here.”

Nine showed the photo to the other staffers for the same result.
Damn it! Thirteen was telling the truth
. The sinking feeling he’d experienced earlier returned tenfold. He pushed Madeleine back over to the others. “Where’s the database of this facility’s inmates?”

The staffers looked at him blankly.

“Patients!” Nine snapped. “Where can I find the database of your patients?”

“In the IT room on the ground floor,” a senior scientist said.

Nine looked at the man’s name tag. It read:
Professor Michael Lindsay
. “Take me there, professor,” Nine said, motioning with his pistol for the man to lead him to the IT room.

Professor Lindsay jumped to his feet and led Nine upstairs. As they proceeded, they passed rebels walking down, intent on finding more of the children they’d come for.

Half way up the stairs, Nine stumbled as sharp heart pains coursed through him. He had to grab the handrail to prevent himself from falling over.

64

“You okay?” Professor Lindsay asked.

Ignoring him, Nine focused on getting through the pain. He knew it would pass. It always did.

This time however, the pain persisted. Nine searched his pocket for his heart pills. He momentarily panicked when he couldn’t find them then remembered he’d stored the small container of pills in another pocket. Locating the container, he opened it and popped two pills. They took a little time to work – longer than usual – but they worked eventually and the pain passed. Nine motioned to the professor to resume walking.

On reaching the floor above, Nine found Lusambo was holding his nephew, Sonny, and reassuring him. The seven-year-old looked confused and frightened, but otherwise okay.

Lusambo didn’t know it, but he was in for a shock when he finally saw Sonny without his top. He would find burn marks all over his upper torso – a result of experimental electric shock treatment Sonny had undergone over the past two years.

Nine noticed three other young children in the care of the rebels. He recognized their faces from the photos, but only just. Each child now had deformities or unusual features that could only be the results of experiments gone wrong. One little African girl had white skin and all the other symptoms of an albino; another had a bone sticking out of her arm; and a young teenage boy had severely bowed legs and abnormally large feet.

Lusambo caught Nine’s eye and pointed to his watch. Nine nodded. Time was running out fast and he knew it.

Nine jabbed Professor Lindsay with his pistol and motioned to him to keep moving. The professor led the way upstairs to the ground floor. There, all seemed quiet outside. It was evident the rebels had secured the refinery grounds. Nine knew that would all change when the reinforcements arrived from Kindu.

Professor Lindsay led Nine into a large office that accommodated the lab’s IT Department. Without waiting to be asked, the professor entered a password into one of the computers and brought up a list of all the lab’s patients. They were in alphabetical order, as they had been at Thule.

Nine pushed the professor aside and scrolled down the hundred odd names on the list. As he feared, Francis’ name wasn’t there. He turned to Professor Lindsay. “Where’s the list of recent arrivals?”

The professor took over the mouse from Nine and accessed a list of seven children who had been admitted in the past month. Again, Francis’ name wasn’t among them.

Nine felt totally defeated. He’d come on another wild goose chase, of that there was no doubt. The realization he’d been well and truly duped hit him. Frustrated, he raised his head and shouted, “Damn you, Naylor!” Thirteen’s dying words came back to him. He looked around at Professor Lindsay. “How many orphanages does Omega have around the world?”

“Only one other that I know of.”

Nine pulled the professor to him and rammed the barrel of his pistol into the man’s open mouth, chipping two of his teeth as he did so. “I’m only going to ask you once more. How many of these horror chambers does Omega have?”

The professor’s eyes bulged as he pleaded for his life. “Please, I’m telling the truth.” His words were muffled.

Nine withdrew the barrel from the terrified man’s mouth.

“I can show you,” Professor Lindsay said quickly. He immediately accessed another file on the computer. It was headed:
Confidential: Icon Corporation’s Medical Laboratories
.

Nine recognized
Icon Corporation
as codename for the Omega Agency.

The professor scrolled down the first page, revealing two labs only: the one he and Nine were currently in and the one at Thule. He looked up at the former operative. “There was one in Germany, but I understand it was closed down recently.”

Nine sensed instinctively the professor was telling the truth – or the truth as he knew it at least.
And therein lies the problem
. He wondered whether Thirteen knew something the professor didn’t, or whether the operative’s final words had been the delusional ramblings of someone whose brain had been scrambled by MK-Ultra.

Three shrill whistle blasts followed by three more echoed throughout the ground floor. Nine recognized that as the pre-arranged signal for the raiders to depart. He pointed his pistol at the professor once more. “I should shoot you now,” he hissed. God knows he was tempted to pull the trigger.

Professor Lindsay cowered before the pistol. “Please. Don’t kill me!”

“Go back to your lowlife friends in your rat hole downstairs,” Nine ordered.

The frightened professor took off before Nine had a change of heart.

Alone now, a myriad of thoughts flashed through the former operative’s mind. He wondered if Francis was dead then banished that thought as quickly as it occurred.
What to do?
Assessing his options, he quickly reached a decision: he would go to Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada.
There’s no other choice.

As Nine departed the IT room and hurried to re-join the departing rebels, Thirteen’s final words were etched on his mind. That was all he had to go on – the dying words of someone who was undoubtedly in a mind-controlled state at the time. It was a tenuous lead and he knew it.

65

Seventy-two hours after the dramatic event she and Seventeen had experienced in the Papenoo River valley, Isabelle was feeling safer than she’d felt in a while. She was staying with a Tahitian family in a small settlement well off the beaten track in the island’s rugged interior.

After Seventeen had rammed the convertible her former Omega colleagues were traveling in, she and Isabelle had continued to the north coast highway in their stolen station wagon. Then, at the first settlement they’d come to, they abandoned the station wagon and hired a rental vehicle. From there, they’d returned to the same Thai commune they left nearly two weeks earlier, but only after they’d stopped at an Internet café to check their emails. As usual, there was no word from Nine, which only served to depress Isabelle further.