The World Duology (World Odyssey / Fiji: A Novel) (59 page)

2

T
wenty three red dots flashed at various places on a digital map of the world. The dots represented the locations of the Omega Agency’s field operatives. Carrying out high-level black ops on all seven continents, the twenty three operatives included males and females of almost every race.

The red dots confirmed only two Omega operatives were currently in Asia. Seventeen, a blonde female, had recently landed in Luzon, the main island of the Philippines. Nine’s dot, which only a short time earlier had mysteriously vanished before reappearing, indicated he was also situated on Luzon.

Omega director Andrew Naylor and veteran agent Tommy Kentbridge studied the digital map grimly. Neither looked happy as the two dots in the Philippines rapidly converged.

Physically at least, the two officials were chalk and cheese. Naylor was a short, but dapper man in his late fifties. His skin was badly pock-marked and he had a lazy eye which people found disconcerting as they could never be sure if he was looking at them or someone else. Unfortunately for him, his personality matched his appearance.

Fifty-three-year-old Kentbridge looked like someone who could take control of any situation. At six foot one and with a commanding presence, he quickly earned the respect of all who came into contact with him.

An audible groan from Naylor confirmed what Kentbridge already knew. The director was seething at the latest turn of events.

Kentbridge had seen enough. The results of the past few hours had made him sick to his stomach. Hiding his concern, he swiveled his chair and surveyed the Omega Agency’s headquarters. It was a hive of activity as usual. Scientists, IT specialists, political analysts and other high-ranking officials were on duty. Sworn to secrecy, each was the best in his or her chosen field.

Although it looked like the interior of any corporate headquarters, Kentbridge knew appearances in this case were highly deceiving. For a start, these headquarters were located one mile below ground, hidden beneath a long-since abandoned hydro dam in south-west Illinois.

The secret facility was not only off limits to the general public, it was completely off the US Government’s radar. In fact, like everything else connected with Omega, knowledge of its existence was beyond
any
government.

Kenbridge was jolted back to the present when a coffee cup smashed against the near wall, leaving an ugly brown caffeine stain on the paintwork. He spun around and saw the cup had been thrown by an irate Naylor who was now pacing.

“I knew something was up when
Nine didn’t send us Yamashita’s co-ordinates,” Naylor cursed. His tone was accusing.

Kentbridge couldn’t offer any solutions. Only a few hours earlier, he’d assured Naylor his protégé wouldn’t double-cross them. Now they had a rogue agent on their hands – the first in the agency’s history.

When
Nine’s red dot vanished at Baguio Mountain Hotel, Kentbridge had sensed his star operative was attempting the unthinkable. If Nine had been killed, or even buried, the signal from his microchip would have revealed his location. When his dot had reappeared on the map at an ostrich farm an hour later, it was clear Nine had betrayed them.

Not letting up, Naylor asked, “I thought you knew your orphans, Tommy?”

“Something must’ve happened to him,” Kentbridge said lamely.

“Something happened alright. He got greedy!”

Kentbridge couldn’t argue with that. When
Nine had pondered the fact that he alone knew the whereabouts of one of the largest treasure discoveries of recent times, the temptation must have gotten to him, he reasoned.

Although Naylor’s anger was directed at Nine, Kentbridge understood the situation didn’t reflect well on him personally. After all, the twenty three operatives were his responsibility. Consequently, feelings of humiliation, betrayal and anger coursed through him.
Goddamn you, Sebastian!

Kentbridge stiffened as his cell phone buzzed. Caller ID told him it was Seventeen. He and Naylor had sent her to the Philippines to track
Nine down. Kentbridge glanced at the Omega director before answering the call. “Talk to me, Seventeen.”

#

“The plot thickens,” Seventeen said into her cell phone. As the blonde operative spoke to Kentbridge, she stood with one booted foot planted firmly on the neck of the ostrich Nine had darted earlier that day. She’d shot the animal moments before from a chartered helicopter that now waited for her on the edge of Ambuklao Lake.

Seventeen, who was an excellent shot, had deliberately wounded the ostrich which was now rapidly bleeding to death, too weak even to resist the boot that pinned its neck to the ground.
At twenty nine, Seventeen had a cruel streak in her; she liked mortally wounding animals – and occasionally people – to observe how long they took to die. “I’ve found Nine’s tracking device – stuck to an ostrich.”

She momentarily held the phone away from her ear as Kentbridge let out a string of expletives. Seemingly unconcerned, Seventeen studied the tracking device she held in her other hand while she gave Kentbridge time to digest the bad news.

“Say again,” Kentbridge ordered, calmer now.

“Nine removed his microchip and taped it to the leg of an ostrich.”

“Where are you?” This voice wasn’t Kentbridge’s. Seventeen recognized it belonged to Naylor. He’d obviously snatched the phone from Kentbridge.

“Ten miles from the farm
Nine visited, sir.” She could hear a muffled conversation between the two men at the other end.

It was Kentbridge who came back to her this time. “Seventeen, you know what you have to do, don’t you?” It was more a statement than a question.

“Yes.” Seventeen knew she had to track down Nine, recover the all-important information and dispose of one rogue orphan. She ended the call and ran back to the waiting helicopter. Behind her, the wounded ostrich could only watch her as she departed. It was too far gone to even raise its head.

“What about the ostrich?” the Filipino pilot asked as she jumped in.

Seventeen didn’t answer right away. Her icy blue eyes studied ripples on the lake’s surface. “Forget the bird,” Seventeen finally answered. “Get me to Manila, quick.”

The pilot looked strangely at his passenger and, without further argument, lifted his craft skywards and set course for the Philippine capital. Visibility wasn’t helped by the light which was rapidly diminishing as dusk arrived.

As the helicopter cruised toward Manila, Seventeen felt a twisted satisfaction knowing she’d just been given full authorization to hunt down and terminate
Nine. That was something she’d secretly wanted to do all her life.
You’re a dead man, Sebastian
.

#

Sebastian, also known as Nine, had many other nom de plumes – the latest being Jaime Ortega, the alias he’d chosen to go with the disguise he’d morphed into since breaking from the Omega Agency.

Nine had long since left Benguet Province and was more than half-way to Manila’s Ninoy Aquino International Airport. He was making good time in the jeep he’d
borrowed
from one of the mining camps he’d passed en route. Since ditching the tracking device, the rental car had been the last link to him, so he’d dumped it too.

As the last of the sun’s rays sunk below a distant mountain range, the fugitive agent flicked his headlights on. Speeding through the semi-darkness, he glanced at himself in the rear-vision mirror. He saw a Mestizo, or Eurasian Filipino, staring back.

Jaime Ortega was a character he’d created only a few hours earlier. An angry scar ran down his face from his forehead to his chin. His hair and eyes were jet black and his face was slightly swarthier than Nine’s usual complexion – all acquired through clever use of hair dye, contact lenses and make-up.

He was dressed in boots and overalls. A hard hat rested on the front passenger seat. Nine knew if anyone of consequence saw him they’d inevitably mistake him for an employee of one of the region’s many mining companies.

It was a perfect disguise. Perfect, because he was unrecognizable as well as indistinguishable from the millions of other Spanish-descended Mestizos in the country.

Nine was under no illusions. He understood if his fellow Omegans ever tracked him down, that would be the end. His masters wouldn’t spare him regardless of the millions of dollars they’d invested in him over the years. Besides, he knew the information on the flash drive in his possession was a thousand times more valuable to Omega than his own personal worth.

From now on, Nine decided, he could never allow himself to be the same person twice, let alone his normal self.

Fortunately, he was a master of disguise. As a result of the advanced education he’d received at the Pedemont Orphanage, he was an expert in make-up techniques and facial prosthetics as well as accents and languages.

For all intents and purposes, Nine was a human chameleon. Kentbridge had often referred to him as such. Feelings of loathing bordering on hatred welled up in his stomach at the thought of Kentbridge. He quickly put his mentor out of his mind.

Nine suddenly hit the vehicle
’s steering wheel defiantly. He felt like a worker bee that had left the hive with no intention of returning. For the first time ever, he experienced an inkling of what it was like to be an individual instead of a number.

The shiny eyes of some wild animal momentarily caught in the headlights reminded him he should be concentrating on his driving. Nine tried to identify the animal, but it disappeared into the darkness before he could.

As he focused on the road ahead, he touched the ruby attached to the silver necklace he wore around his neck.

3

I
n an underground tube station in London, a train slowed to a halt beside a platform packed with the usual assortment of backpackers, students and workers. Most wore scarves, gloves and other protective clothing to ward off the cold of a typical English winter.

Inside one of the carriages, a schoolgirl looked curiously at an elderly Jewish man seated opposite her. The man had a long, dark beard and wore traditional Hasidic clothing inclusive of the distinctive shtreimel, or fur hat, as well as a black long-coat.

Ignoring the schoolgirl, the Hasid glanced at the carriage doors as they opened and the early morning commuters began boarding. They surged on like a human tidal wave. The Hasid averted his eyes as some of the new arrivals sat beside him.

A warning bell rang out before the doors shut automatically. As the train departed
,  the elderly Hasid remained in a world of his own. He fiddled with his beard while looking at the carriage’s dusty floor.

The wide-eyed schoolgirl, who had never seen
an Hasid before, continued to watch the old man. Little was she to know the man was not elderly at all. Neither was he Jewish nor even remotely religious. This was Nine in another disguise. He’d purchased the Hasidic outfit from a local synagogue shortly after arriving in London.

Having evaded Seventeen back in the Philippines, the fugitive Omega agent had driven to Manila with the flash drive in his possession. There, he’d forsaken his Filipino guise and caught a flight to London using a Ukrainian passport.

The train arrived at the next underground station. Signs above the platform read:
High Street Kensington Station
. Nine stood up gingerly, as would any elderly gent who had been sitting too long. He was aware the schoolgirl's eyes were on him as he disembarked along with other commuters. Shuffling out of the station, he joined hundreds of other pedestrians above ground on bustling Kensington High Street.

A quarter of a mile along the street,
Nine stopped. He looked across the road at Kensington Gardens where noisy children played football beneath the gray skies that inevitably covered London during winter.

The rogue operative was here to trade the flash drive he’d brought with him from the Philippines. The flash drive’s contents specified the exact location of
Yamashita’s Gold
– a long lost treasure hoard Nine had located. Named after General Tomoyuki Yamashita, the stolen treasures had been hidden by the Japanese during their occupation of the Philippine islands in World War II.

Nine had discovered the location of the last of Yamashita’s Gold and was in London to trade that information for his freedom
.

Maintaining his gait to resemble that of an old man’s, he crossed the street and shuffled through Victorian-era gates. Inside the normally picturesque Kensington Gardens, nothing was blooming at this time of year. But
Nine wasn’t here for the flowers.

Just inside the entrance, he scanned every single person in and around the gardens. He felt remarkably at ease in his Hasidic attire as he observed the kids playing football on the grass nearby. To his left, he saw two young lovers kissing on a park bench, to his right a young, redheaded woman on another bench. She talked
animatedly on a cell phone. So chilly was the air, her breath was visible as she spoke.

Directly above the redheaded woman, an unobtrusive security camera caught Nine’s attention. Secured to the top of a lamp-post, the camera swiveled from side to side, its silent arc covering the full width of the gardens.

A hundred yards beyond the lamp-post was stately Kensington Palace where Diana, Princess of Wales, had lived until her untimely death and where other members of Britain’s Royal Family had resided over the centuries. Nine studied the magnificent building for a few moments. Unlike most – Brits included – he could name all the members of Royalty who had ever lived there. This was another result of the comprehensive and all-inclusive education he’d received at Chicago’s Pedemont Orphanage.

Beyond the palace, next to Round Pound, Nine noticed two policemen on foot-patrol in nearby Hyde Park. He returned his attention to his immediate surroundings. His gaze rested on a middle-aged but fit-looking Chinese man leaning against a tree.
The man checked his watch periodically and was clearly waiting for someone.

Nine sensed this was the agent he was here to meet.
After scrutinizing his surroundings once more, he slowly approached.

The Chinese man took little notice of the
elderly Hasid who shuffled toward him. Only when Nine addressed him did the Chinese man become fully alert.

“I’d rather be in the Mediterranean this time of year,” Nine said in fluent Mandarin.

Surprise flashed over the man’s normally inscrutable face as he studied the Hasid more carefully. He quickly recovered his composure. “The grass is always greener in winter,” he responded in equally fluent Mandarin.

Nine was satisfied. The response to his conversation-opener had been exactly as he’d stipulated when arranging the trade,
which, when completed, would be worth a hundred million dollars to him. Nine knew the treasure he’d discovered was valued at about two hundred and fifty
billion
dollars. However, he'd been aware from the outset he was just one man and could never be sure of siphoning such a large hoard out of the Philippines without getting caught.

Besides,
Nine had only confirmed where the treasure was buried. It would take the resources of a large organization to purchase the land and excavate the find.

As there was no American organization he could be sure hadn’t been infiltrated to some extent by Omega, he’d decided China was the country to trade with. The Chinese had agreed
to pay him the hundred million figure. Nine reminded himself with that kind of money he’d be free of Omega’s tentacles forever. There was no need to get greedy.

“Do you have the Yamashita information?” the Chinese man asked.

Nine indicated he did then paused as the two policemen he’d seen earlier walked by.

As soon as the policemen were out of earshot, the
Chinese man nodded toward a hotel overlooking the gardens. Still speaking Mandarin, he said, “My room is up there.” A sign read:
Royal Garden Hotel
. “We can complete the trade in private,” the man added.

Nine grew suspicious. Relocating wasn’t part of the arrangement. He observed his surroundings again as he considered the other's proposal.
His pulse suddenly quickened when he saw that the security camera on top of the nearby lamp-post no longer swiveled from side to side – it appeared to be solely trained on him now.

He grew evermore suspicious when he noticed the redheaded woman he’d seen earlier was staring directly at him.
Still on her cell phone, she quickly averted her gaze.

Nine inwardly froze as he realized these people weren’t who they seemed.