The Orphan Uprising (The Orphan Trilogy, #3) (37 page)

“Papa?” Francis looked wide-eyed at the shadowy figure behind the torch.

“Yes it’s me, son.” Nine grabbed his son and hugged him tight.

“Is Mama with you?”

“No, but I’m going to take you to her.” Nine held Francis out at arm’s length and inspected his face. Apart from looking stressed and a little drawn, he appeared to be in good health.

The first Nine knew he was in trouble was when he felt the cold, steel barrel of a pistol pressed against the back of his head.

“Hello Nine,” the man holding the pistol said. “They warned me you may show up here.”

Nine recognized the voice. It belonged to his fellow orphan, Ten.

Noting the alarm on Francis’ face, Nine said, “Don’t worry, son. Everything will be alright.” He cursed that he’d been so intent on finding Francis he hadn’t remained alert.

Someone behind Ten turned the dorm’s light on, revealing yet another familiar face. It was the first-born orphan, One, a huge Native-American the other orphans had always referred to as
Numero Uno
. He, too, held a pistol. The biggest of the orphan-operatives at six foot six, he had a deserved reputation for being a good friend and a bad enemy.

Numero Uno and Nine had also once been friends, but no more. Looking into the big operative’s eyes – and into Ten’s – Nine could see no sign of friendship. Nor could he see any recollection that they’d ever been friends.

The realization hit him that they were in a mind-controlled state, just as their colleagues in Greenland and the DRC had been, and just as Seventeen had been until recently. He knew then that he could expect no favors from them. And, for the first time since setting out to find his son, he could taste defeat. It tasted bitter.

78

Nineteen had been driving around Papeete’s hotels, motels and guesthouses looking for Seventeen’s rental car ever since he had sighted it outside his hotel after the hoax fire alarm. He was about to give up and go back to bed when he saw it. The car was parked outside a modest hotel several streets back from the waterfront, and its registration number tallied with the number he’d written down.

The mixed-race operative parked his vehicle around the corner, checked to ensure his pistol was loaded then made his way on foot to the hotel. Posing as an undercover gendarme, he entered the hotel and flashed a fake identity card at the night-duty receptionist. Speaking fluent French, he said, “Mademoiselle, I am looking for the driver of a Honda Avis rental car parked outside your hotel.” He recited from memory the car’s registration number.

The receptionist, a teenage girl who looked to be asleep on her feet, consulted the hotel’s guest book. Yawning, she confirmed the car was being driven by New Zealand tourist Shelley Bycroft who was staying in room 101.

Nineteen requested and received a spare key for that room. He thanked the receptionist and headed for the stairs.

In room 101, Seventeen was having trouble sleeping. What little sleep she’d managed to get had been disrupted by nightmares. She kept seeing the faces of Eight and the other Omega operatives she’d killed.

Terminating her fellow orphans had affected her more than she initially realized. Killing was different to how she remembered. Previously, as a working operative, she’d killed without compunction, and she’d been good at it. But this was different.

Even though she’d never formed friendships with her fellow orphans – and in fact had been the least popular of any of them – she found terminating them akin to murdering her brothers and sisters, and it was starting to take its toll.

Seventeen climbed out of bed to make a cup of coffee when she heard a floorboard creak outside her door. A glance at the door confirmed someone was there. A motionless shadow could be seen in the narrow gap between the carpet and the bottom of the door.

Retrieving her car keys, cell phone and loaded pistol from a bedside table, Seventeen quickly slipped into a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. She then placed two pillows end to end on the bed and pulled the top sheet over them. Satisfied they could pass for a sleeping person, she then hid behind curtains that separated the room from an outside balcony.

Seventeen didn’t have long to wait. The telltale
click
of the door lock signaled that the intruder had unlocked the door. Peering through a tiny gap in the curtains, Seventeen recognized Nineteen as soon as he crept into the room. The sight of him sent a cold shiver up her spine. The man frightened her. He reminded her of a tall, foreboding undertaker or hangman – someone well versed in the ways of death.

Nineteen tip-toed to the bed, reached out and prepared to pull back the top sheet. At the same time, a slight gust of wind outside caused the curtains Seventeen was hiding behind to flutter, attracting the operative’s attention.

Two gunshots rang out simultaneously. Seventeen’s shot caught Nineteen in the right shoulder, causing him to drop his pistol; his shot caught Seventeen in the collarbone, shattering it; the impact of the bullets dropped both operatives to the floor.

Despite the severity of her wound, Seventeen was able to climb over the balcony rail and clamber one-armed down a fixed fire-escape to the ground. She was already halfway to her car before Nineteen had retrieved his pistol and made it out onto the balcony. He managed to squeeze off two hurried shots before Seventeen jumped into the relative safety of her car, started the motor and sped away.

Nineteen hurried from the room, descended the stairs five steps at a time and ran to his vehicle. He planned to give chase and finish off the former operative once and for all.

One block away, Seventeen knew she was on borrowed time. She was badly wounded, bleeding heavily and close to losing consciousness. The former operative also knew she couldn’t outrun anyone in her little four-cylinder Honda. Not for the first time, she wondered why she’d rented such a gutless vehicle.
So much for wanting to remain inconspicuous
.

One block later, she spotted a car parking building. Checking her rear vision mirror to ensure there were no cars following her, she switched off her lights then drove through the building’s entrance and continued up to the third level. There, she parked the Honda between two other cars, turned off the ignition and waited with baited breath.

Five minutes passed. After ten minutes, Seventeen knew – or hoped – she was in the clear.

Since entering the building, she’d been considering her options. They were exceedingly slim. Still bleeding and lapsing in and out of consciousness, she knew she needed help, and she needed it fast. She retrieved her cell phone and speed-dialed the number for Chai, Nine’s Thai friend. “C’mon, Chai! Wake up.”

Finally, the young Thai answered. “Jennifer?” Even half asleep, he’d recognized Seventeen’s phone number.

“Chai, I need your help!” Seventeen managed to tell him where she was before losing consciousness.

#

Isabelle lay on her side in bed, staring at baby Annette who was asleep in a bassinette next to her. Moonlight flooded in through the open door and window, casting shadows on Annette’s angelic features.

Tired as she was, Isabelle hadn’t been able to sleep since giving birth. Nor had she let Annette out of her sight.

As always, her thoughts turned to Nine and Francis. How she wished they were here to share in her joy.

Thinking of her boys tempted her to phone Nine. In the excitement, she’d forgotten there was no cell phone coverage in this remote part of Tahiti. Rolling off the bed, she walked to a cupboard and retrieved her cell phone. Before speed-dialing Nine’s number, his words came back to her.
Don’t phone me under any circumstances. They will be monitoring our calls
. Putting that out of her mind, she punched in his number.

The
No Signal
notice came up instantly on her phone, reminding her there was no coverage. Disappointed, she returned the phone to her cupboard and wandered outside. The night air refreshed her. The Frenchwoman marveled at how her body had changed since giving birth. Beforehand, she’d found the nights hot and unbearable. Now they were bearable at least.

Isabelle wondered yet again if Nine had found Francis, and if so when she would see them again. She’d heard nothing from Seventeen and the waiting was becoming unbearable.

79

Nine’s fellow orphans looked on as a uniformed security man tied the former operative to a chair in an office that served as their temporary headquarters while they were based at Nellis. When he’d finished, the security man looked at Ten who dismissed him with a curt nod.

Ten and One weren’t taking any chances. After apprehending Nine, they’d clapped a set of handcuffs on him and pulled a hospital restraint jacket over his shoulders. Though under the influence of MK-Ultra, they remembered how resourceful and determined their former colleague was.

Tight restraints weren’t Nine’s only problem. The heartburn he’d experienced just before his latest heart attack had returned with a vengeance. He desperately needed to swallow a couple of the heart pills he’d brought with him, but they were in his pocket and he couldn’t access them. Realizing it would be pointless asking his former colleagues for their help, he gritted his teeth, determined to ride out the pain.

Now alone, the three orphans just looked at each other. This was a new experience for all of them. Once as close as brothers, they hadn’t shared each other’s company for a decade or more.

Observing his surroundings, Nine noticed his backpack was now lying against the wall. He thought of the smart phone inside it and wished he had sent the two emails stored in its memory banks when he’d had the chance.
Wrong decision
. He’d debated whether to send them as soon as he’d found Francis, but had decided to delay for some reason that seemed unimportant now. 

It was Ten who chose to break the ice first. “Why did you turn your back on us, Nine?”

“By
us
I assume you mean Omega?” Nine asked.

“You know damn well who he means!” One grumbled. “He means us. Your brothers.”

“I got tired of being ruled by others,” Nine said. “By people who couldn’t care less about any one of us.”

“Those people you referred to gave us life and nurtured us,” Ten said reproachfully.

“They nurtured us for their own ends,” Nine responded. “Those ends being to further their own New World Order agenda and to line their own pockets.”

Ten and One looked at each other and raised their eyes to the ceiling as if to say they were dealing with someone who had lost the plot.

Assessing the operatives, Nine considered them as nothing more than strangers compared to the two orphans he’d been raised with. Ten, who had been his closest friend, had always joked around and pulled pranks, while One had never been slow to join in the fun – not that there was ever a lot of fun at the Pedemont Orphanage. Now, thanks to MK-Ultra, the pair were all business and seemed to have no recollection of their earlier friendship.

Looking at his former colleagues, Nine asked, “What happens now?”

“Now we wait,” One said. “The boss is phoning back with instructions.”

Nine guessed
the boss
he referred to was Naylor, and he had no doubt what his instructions would be. The former operative considered it was time to level the playing field a little.
I need to split these two up
. He looked up at them. “You don’t think I came here alone do you?”

One chuckled. “You always work alone, Nine.”

“I used to. No more, though. I’m getting too old for this stuff.”

One and Ten glanced at each other. Then they looked back at Nine, trying to establish whether he was telling the truth.

Nine stared at them poker-faced. In the ensuing silence, a plan was starting to form in his mind.

Ten turned back to his associate. “I better go look around just in case this fool isn’t joking.”

“No, you stay here,” the big Native-American said. “I’ll do it. I need to stretch my legs anyway.” With that, One left the room intent on conducting a search of the premises.

Now alone with his former best friend, Nine wasn’t about to delay putting his plan into motion. He began talking about the old days at the orphanage when the two of them used to kick around together, getting up to all sorts of mischief. In the course of the one-way conversation, he cautiously dropped in the odd word from among the code words used to induce mind-control under MK-Ultra. “Do you remember that time
Mercury
that we raided that orchard across the road from the orphanage,
Venus
?” he asked, emphasizing the planet names.

Ten didn’t appear to notice anything strange about Nine’s question. He just shook his head disinterestedly.

Nine continued, “I still chuckle
Earth
when I remember how you
Mars
gave that orchardist such a fright he fell into that trough
Jupiter
.”

Ten still showed no indication that Nine was speaking oddly. Nor did it appear that he had any recollection of childhood events.

Nine grew bolder, dropping the names of more names planets into his conversation. “Then there was the time
Saturn
and
Uranus
hid
Neptune’s
Pluto
in the
Mercury
garden and then found it in time for
Venus
.”

Now Ten showed a spark of interest. The glazed-over look in his eyes was fading as his one-time friend continued to reminisce aloud.

While Nine was aware the planetary names were the voice-prompts that Omega used to induce mind-control in its operatives, he was also aware prolonged repetition of those same prompts had the opposite effect. After all, that was the technique his FBI friend had employed to help him and, more recently, Seventeen, to diffuse the voice-prompts. It had also saved his life when he’d clashed with Three in the forest in Greenland.

By now, Nine’s heartburn had subsided and he was able to concentrate on reciting the planets’ names over and over. “Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto.”