The Orphan Uprising (The Orphan Trilogy, #3) (39 page)

Naylor watched and listened in stunned silence. He could feel another headache coming on and his lazy eye was starting to twitch uncontrollably. His worst nightmare was coming true.

“Mister Hannar has provided information to CNN that would seem to support his allegations,” the reporter continued. “CNN’s lawyers are investigating the legal ramifications of releasing details of the allegations. Until their findings are in, we are limited in what we can say. However, we can say the most concerning of the allegations are to do with clandestine Omega Agency-run medical laboratories. Mister Hannar alleges these facilitate unsanctioned scientific experiments on children who are either orphans or who have been forcibly removed from their natural parents. We understand law enforcement officials are en route to the laboratories named to investigate these particular allegations now.”

“Are you watching this?” Henderson asked.

Naylor was so transfixed and engrossed by what was unfolding on screen he’d forgotten his fellow director was on the other end of the line. In their separate offices, they watched as photos of themselves and the other Omega directors appeared on screen. The reporter named the directors, giving prominence to Naylor and fellow director Marcia Wilson.

“Andrew Naylor, said to be one of the original founding members of the agency, has been named as chairman of Omega’s board, while fellow director Marcia Wilson is none other than the current Director of the CIA,” the reporter said. “Omega’s whistle-blower claims Miss Wilson’s involvement with the secret organization represents a conflict of interest that threatens the very security of the United States.”

Naylor had seen and heard enough. He switched his television set off and tried to marshal his thoughts.

“What the hell are we going to do, Andrew?” Henderson asked.

Naylor couldn’t think straight. This was a worst case scenario and, truth be known, he hadn’t planned for it because he never believed it would come to this. Now that it had, he could feel himself slipping into panic mode.

“Andrew?”

Pulling himself together, Naylor said, “Stay by your phone. I’m going to organize a conference call right now. It’s imperative we are all on the same page when the media vultures descend on us.” The Omega boss ended the call then began massaging his temple. His headache was becoming intolerable.

Naylor pressed a buzzer beneath his desk. A moment later, his PA looked in.

“You called, sir?”

“Organize an immediate conference call involving all the directors. No exceptions. Tell them it’s urgent.”

“Yes sir.” The PA hurried to do Naylor’s bidding. She could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t exaggerating when he said it was urgent. Something was up. Something big.

83

Following the same underground route and consulting the same plans he’d used to access the lab at the Air Force base, Nine had reached the disused warehouse outside the base’s perimeter fence in less than fifteen minutes. The return journey had been incident-free except five minutes into it Nine had to ask Ten to carry Francis as the boy was becoming too heavy for him. Ten saw that something was ailing his friend, but hadn’t said anything.

Dawn was breaking as they emerged from the tunnel into the disused warehouse. Nine cautiously led the way to the rental van he’d left parked outside. Opening its rear door, he looked at Francis. “Can you be a good boy and lie down on the seat?” He didn’t want anyone seeing his son in case the word was already out that Francis had been taken from the lab.

Francis, still wide awake, nodded. He was starting to enjoy this new adventure with his hero.

The former operative lay Francis down on the rear seat. “Good boy.” He turned back to Ten. “I’m sorry I had to get you involved in this.”

“Listen, old friend,” Ten said sincerely. “You opened my eyes back there. I don’t know what I was thinking.” It was clear he didn’t have a clue he’d been in a mind-controlled state, and Nine didn’t have time to explain it to him. “Anyways, I’d rather die a free man than live like a robot.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Nine grinned. Then he grew serious. “Listen, we have to part company here. I- -”

“You don’t have to explain,” Ten interjected. “I’m already ahead of you.” The operative knew exactly why Nine was suggesting they split. He tapped his right forearm, indicating he hadn’t forgotten the miniature microchip embedded in it. Like Nine, he was very aware he could be tracked at any time by his Omega masters. “I’ll get it removed first thing.”

“Make that a priority. They’ll be looking for you as soon as they know you’ve bailed.”

Ten nodded. He understood. By his reckoning he had a couple of hours before anyone would notice he or Francis had gone missing. The big danger was someone could find One in the meantime, but there was nothing he could do about that. Either way, he knew he had to act fast.

“Where will you go?” a concerned Nine asked.

“To the first medical clinic I find open in Vegas.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a lift into town then we really must separate.”

“Sounds good.”

The two jumped into the van and drove back toward Las Vegas. Much as Nine felt grateful to his friend, he couldn’t wait to part company because of the danger Ten’s microchip presented to himself and to his son. He knew someone at Omega could be watching Ten’s movements at that very moment on a computer screen. And if for any reason they were suspicious, they could arrange for the operative to be apprehended, or worse, by someone on the ground in Las Vegas in no time at all.

As if reading Nine’s mind, Ten pointed to cab parked in a cab rank up ahead. “Drop me there.”

“You sure?”

“Yup.”

Nine pulled up opposite the cab rank and held his right hand out to Ten. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for us.”

“Me either,” Ten grinned.

“As soon as you’ve attended to that microchip, get off the grid and stay off it. Got that?”

“Got it.”

“That means no credit cards, no phone calls, no contact with anyone you know.”

“Yes mother.”

“And never be yourself again. Get into disguise and stay in disguise.”

“Don’t you have somewhere you should be?” Ten grinned mischievously at Nine then turned around and winked at Francis. Jumping out of the van, he slammed the door shut, banged the side of the van twice with the palm of his hand then waved Nine on his way.

As Nine resumed driving toward downtown Las Vegas, he observed his friend in the rear vision mirror and silently wished him well. At that moment, Ten was where he had been five years earlier when he’d fled Omega and gotten off the grid.

The distant howl of sirens reached Nine through the van’s open window. It came from the direction of Nellis Air Force Base. No sooner had he heard it than more sirens shattered the early morning calm. Seconds later, three police cars sped past, sirens howling and lights flashing. They were heading toward the base.
And so it begins
. Nine guessed his emails had already set new events in motion.

Moments later a CBS News van sped past. It was also heading toward the base, leaving Nine in no doubt his emails were behind the sudden activity.

84

The Omega Agency’s board was in disarray. That much was obvious even before the urgent conference call Naylor had requested got underway. Marcia Wilson had resigned from the board as soon as the media storm broke; Naylor’s longsuffering PA tasked with organizing the call advised her anxious boss that two other directors had gone to ground and couldn’t be contacted, another had ended up in hospital with chest pains and yet another – founding member Bill Sterling – had committed suicide.

Marcia’s resignation wasn’t unexpected. In her capacity as Director of the CIA, her involvement with Omega had become untenable since she and the agency had so publicly been linked. There was already widespread speculation that she would soon be relieved of her post at the CIA and may face criminal charges. Similar rumors and speculation swirled about Naylor and, indeed, around all Omega’s directors.

When the conference call finally got underway, pandemonium ruled with the directors all talking over each other and demanding answers. The one question they were all asking was:
How could this happen?

Naylor took it upon himself to restore order by shouting over his fellow directors and demanding silence. When he finally had their attention, he summarized the current situation as succinctly as he could. Naylor didn’t attempt to guild the lily. He knew they were caught up in the worst situation possible, but now was not the time to panic. The Omega boss insisted his fellow directors remain professional to the end and look to limit the damage.

“Andrew is right,” founding member Fletcher Von Pein said. “None of us is going to come out of this looking good. It’s all about damage control now.”

“I agree,” Lincoln Claver said.

“Yes,” Scott Henderson added. “If we don’t sing from the same song sheet the media will crucify us.”

“I think that ship may have sailed already,” Von Pein groaned. “The public will demand scapegoats and the media will be happy to oblige.”

A gloomy silence descended as the directors considered Von Pein’s prediction.

Naylor chose that moment to re-enter the discussion. “Alright people, here’s how it is.” Omega’s chairman launched into a twenty-minute monologue, summarizing the limited options the board had and suggesting what needed to happen to ensure that the directors could survive the maelstrom that was most assuredly coming their way.

In that twenty minutes, Naylor demonstrated why he was chairman of the board. He also gave his fellow directors hope – hope that they could survive, or avoid going to jail at least.

Naylor advised that a restructuring of Omega’s no-longer-secret medical laboratories was already underway. That was the first instruction he’d given. He said the children and other experimental subjects of those labs were already being quietly transferred to foster families whose cooperation had been ensured through the longstanding payment of a generous annual retainer.

That news was greeted by a collective sigh of relief from everyone listening.

To their relief, the directors also learned that a revamp of the agency’s headquarters was underway. Omega’s personnel – from the most senior manager to the most junior clerk – had their cover stories in place after having been fully briefed by Naylor, and the agency’s IT specialists were in the process of destroying incriminating electronic files. Fortunately, Omega was a paperless organization, so there was no physical paper trail of any of its activities – good, bad or otherwise.

High on the list of urgent proposals Naylor put to the board was that Omega’s remaining operatives be terminated immediately. He said he considered them loose canons who knew too much. “One talkative operative could be the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

When his fellow directors reacted favourably to that proposal, he then explained how the operatives’ deaths could be expedited quickly and efficiently without risk of any comeback.

“What about Nine and Seventeen?” Claver asked.

“I think it’s patently obvious,” Naylor said with more than a hint of condescension in his voice. “They represent the biggest risk of all. Especially Nine.”

“But the media spotlight will be on them as soon as they surface,” Claver complained.

“He’s right,” Von Pein said. “We can’t risk doing anything that could link us to them.”

“I realize that!” Naylor snapped. “Our Ukrainian friends are already working on a solution.”

Naylor’s fellow directors knew that he referred to members of the Ukrainian Mafia he’d been using on occasion to provide solutions for problems Omega’s fully stretched operatives couldn’t handle. The
problems
usually involved the assassination or removal of a target. As always, Naylor had contacted the Ukrainians via a middleman, a Berlin-based Russian diplomat, so there was no direct link between them and Omega.

“And what about the boy?” young Scott Henderson asked, referring to Francis.

“He’s of no interest to us now,” Naylor said grimly. The Omega boss tried not to think of the lost opportunities – and lost megabucks – that Francis represented. He’d had high hopes the scientific testing planned for the boy would have fast-tracked Omega’s cloning program. Now those dreams had turned to dust. The silence that followed confirmed to Naylor his fellow directors basically agreed with everything he’d said so far. “Now gentlemen, any questions?”

Everyone spoke at once, barraging the chairman with questions.

It was young Henderson who asked what was uppermost in the minds of all. “What do we say when the media get hold of us?”

Those board members who hadn’t yet been pestered by reporters knew that was unlikely to last given the intense media scrutiny Omega was now coming under, not to mention the fact they’d been named in Nine’s emails.

Naylor sympathized with their concerns. He and Marcia had already been hounded by the press even though the story had only broken a couple of hours earlier. “It’s imperative you don’t speak to the media,” he cautioned. “You say you are not at liberty to comment because the agency’s chairman is handling all media enquiries at this point.”

“Which begs the question,” Von Pein interjected, “what will you say to the media?”

“I’m still trying to work that one out,” Naylor said honestly. “Stay on the line if you would when we finish up here. I want to run a few things past you.”

“Sure thing.”

“Anything else?” Naylor asked.

There were no further questions for the moment. The chairman of the board had summarized the situation well, highlighting the immediate priorities and spelling out how Omega as an organization, and the directors as individuals, could best limit the storm that was surely coming their way.

85

As the conference call Naylor had ordered came to an end, and as Nine and Francis made good their escape from Nellis Air Force Base, Seventeen was being helped out of Chai’s Land Rover by members of Isabelle’s adopted Tahitian family at Pomareville, in the middle of Tahiti.