The Orphan Uprising (The Orphan Trilogy, #3) (43 page)

Dalby knew exactly what Naylor was thinking as he continued to question him. He found the whole situation faintly amusing as well as highly ironic. “Oh, really?” He referred to a file he was holding. “Yet your senior physician, Doctor Andrews, contradicts you.”

Naylor felt his stomach drop.

Dalby continued, “Doctor Andrews said, and I quote, the Thule laboratory was the second one to be built after the Black Forest orphanage opened. He said, like the others, the Thule lab’s patients were almost exclusively children.”

Naylor glared at his mole as he rattled off one accusation after the other. “The good doctor also said none of the experiments had ever been sanctioned by any medical authority.”

The Omega boss felt like he was about to throw up. Everything around him started spinning. “Excuse me!” he stammered. He stood up and bolted for the restroom cubicle at the back of the cabin.

Behind Naylor, the three officials grinned at each other. They were enjoying themselves.

The first any of them realized there was a problem was when Naylor burst out of the restroom cubicle and hurled himself at the cabin’s exit door.

Dalby was the first to react. “Stop him!”

The official nearest the door lunged at Naylor, but was too slow. Naylor pushed the door open and was sucked through the opening.

In the cabin, the three officials had already forgotten about the recently departed. They were too busy hanging onto fixtures in around them to ensure they weren’t sucked out too.

92

Isabelle grinded the gears as she drove Nineteen’s four-wheel drive hire vehicle along the track leading away from Pomareville and back to civilization. Seventeen sat beside her, cradling the hunting rifle and the machine pistol she’d taken from her fellow orphan. Baby Annette slept on in a bassinette jammed on the seat between them.

Seventeen had chosen to ride shotgun in case Nineteen hadn’t been working alone when he’d come after them. She figured in the event they were ambushed or pursued, she’d be of more use if she wasn’t behind the wheel. After an hour of Isabelle’s driving, she was wondering if she’d made the right decision. Her sister-in-law seemed to be trying to run over every bump and pothole along the way.

Rounding a corner, they were confronted by a rare straight stretch of track. It extended for about a hundred yards.

“Gun it,” Seventeen ordered.

Isabelle accelerated and the vehicle shot forward. She braked almost immediately when a Jeep came into view. It was coming toward them at speed.

“Don’t stop!” Seventeen ordered.

Isabelle kept driving, but at a much slower speed. “Who could that be?” she asked.

Seventeen could hear the fear in Isabelle’s voice. “Stay calm and just keep driving.”

As the two vehicles approached, the women could make out two men in the front of the Jeep. They had no idea these were Ukrainians who were coming for them. When the vehicles were about fifty yards apart, the Jeep stopped and the passenger, Ivan, jumped out. He motioned for the approaching vehicle to stop.

“Slow down, but for God sake don’t stop,” Seventeen said as she considered the situation. She estimated there was just room for their vehicle to squeeze pass the Jeep.

Isabelle slowed until only a few yards separated the vehicles.

“Go!” Seventeen shouted.

Isabelle accelerated and the vehicle shot past the Jeep. A startled Ivan only just had time to jump aside.

Looking back, Seventeen saw Ivan reach into the Jeep and pull out an automatic weapon. He lifted it to his shoulder.

“Keep your head down!” Seventeen screamed.

Both women ducked as a burst of gunfire shattered their vehicle’s rear windscreen. Annette started crying, prompting Isabelle to look down at her.

“Keep your eye on the road!” Seventeen yelled. “I’ll watch out for Annette.” The former operative quickly checked the baby. “She’s okay.”

“Who are those people?” a terrified Isabelle asked.

“I don’t know.” Seventeen was wondering the same thing. “Never seen them before.” She knew they weren’t Omega orphan-operatives. Looking around again, she saw the Jeep was now turning around to chase after them.

Though Seventeen didn’t know the two men pursuing them, one thing was clear: she and Isabelle were still being hunted even if Omega, as an organization, was finished and even if all the agency’s orphan-operatives were dead.

“They are gaining on us!” Isabelle said, checking her rear vision mirror. “What do we do?”

“Keep driving. I’m thinking.” Seventeen went into a daydream state for a split-second – just as the Pedemont orphans’ mentor Tommy Kentbridge had taught her and all his young charges to do many years earlier. Then an answer came to her. “Let me off around the next corner!” she ordered.

As Isabelle steered around the next corner, she slowed to allow Seventeen to jump out. The former operative was clutching the rifle and the machine pistol as she jumped.

In the side mirror, Isabelle watched as her sister-in-law rolled over before scrambling to her feet and waiting for the Jeep to appear. Common sense told the Frenchwoman she should keep driving, but she slowed the vehicle to a stop and waited to see what happened. Beside her, Annette was still crying. “Don’t worry, little one,” Isabelle crooned. “Everything will be alright.”

While Isabelle consoled her baby, Seventeen stood in the middle of the vehicle track, legs astride and rifle raised, as she waited for the Jeep to appear. The leap from the vehicle had jarred her wounded collarbone, causing white hot streaks of pain to course through her. But Seventeen ignored that. She knew she’d only get one shot before the Jeep would be onto her.

A second later, the Jeep rounded the corner.

Seventeen lined up the driver, Yuriy, in her sights. What followed took less than a second, but to Seventeen it seemed more like a minute. She slowed everything down. Her breathing, her heart rate, even her thinking process – just as she’d been drilled to do over and over by her Omega instructors. Exhaling, she gently squeezed the trigger, sending one well-placed bullet into Yuri’s brain.

Then everything sped up. The Jeep slammed into a tree, sending Ivan flying through the front windscreen and disappearing into the undergrowth. A fireball then erupted, engulfing the Jeep and its driver.

Ignoring the relentless pain of her wounded collarbone, Seventeen raced to find Ivan in the undergrowth. She didn’t expect to find him alive. It was her assessment few could survive an incident like the one she’d just witnessed. When she found Ivan, he was still alive, but only just. Bloodied and broken, and only semi-conscious, his limbs stuck out at odd angles from his torso, and shattered bones protruded through the broken skin of both arms and one leg. He was also struggling to breathe.

Kneeling beside Ivan, Seventeen asked, “Who sent you?”

The injured man managed to smile at Seventeen and then spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm into her face.

Seventeen wiped the phlegm away then calmly reached down and squeezed one of Ivan’s broken arms. He screamed in agony. Ignoring his screams, she repeated the question.

“I can’t understand you!” Ivan gasped in Ukrainian.

Seventeen couldn’t understand him, but she recognized Ukrainian when she heard it. She’d never learnt Ukrainian. Switching to Russian, which she spoke fluently, she repeated her question.

“Our capo!” Ivan responded in kind.

“Who told him about us?” A screech of brakes alerted Seventeen to the return of Isabelle. The Frenchwoman had driven back when she’d seen what happened. Looking around at her, Seventeen shouted, “Stay there!” She turned back to Ivan and squeezed his broken arm again.

The injured man’s screams prompted Isabelle to disembark from the vehicle and investigate what was going on. She was horrified by what she saw. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Seventeen stood up and grasped Isabelle by both shoulders. Looking into her eyes she said, “I’m doing what I do best. Now you go back to the vehicle.”

Isabelle took one last look at the injured man then did as she was told.

Turning back to Ivan, Seventeen was alarmed to see he was fading fast. She knelt close to him again and repeated her earlier question. “Who told your capo about us?”

With his dying breath, Ivan gurgled, “His Berlin contact…an American diplomat.”

Seventeen knew beyond doubt now that Naylor had put a contract out on her and probably Nine as well. She recalled her former boss had installed a mole in the American Embassy in Berlin a couple of years earlier. She’d had reason to use the diplomat’s services while on her last assignment for Omega. So the Ukrainian’s dying words had a ring of truth to them.

The former operative digested this revelation as she returned to the waiting vehicle. It struck her that she’d always be looking over her shoulder, no matter where in the world she was.

She now had a decision to make.

By the time Seventeen reached the vehicle and jumped in beside her sister-in-law, she’d made up her mind. She would get off the grid – just as Nine and Isabelle had five years earlier and just as they were planning to do again.

93

On arriving back in Papeete, Seventeen left Isabelle and baby Annette in the hire vehicle they’d borrowed then walked down the street to an Internet café she’d spotted. The former operative wanted to check her emails.

Inside the café, Seventeen quickly accessed a free computer. She entered her password and user name then waited. It seemed to take forever. When the inbox finally opened, one email stood out from all the spam. Seventeen recognized Nine as the sender and immediately clicked on the email. When it opened, she quietly read it aloud under her breath. “All is well. Both parcels are in transit. ETA in V is forty-eight hours from now.”

Seventeen almost cried out with joy. She noted the email had been sent only that morning. The former operative couldn’t wait to advise Isabelle of the good news, but first she had to reply to Nine. Typing fast, she wrote:
We 3 OK. Mother & daughter are doing well. See you in V
.

After sending the email and closing out of the account, Seventeen hurried outside. The sudden activity aggravated her wounded collarbone, causing her to grimace and reminding her she should inspect her stitches and change the dressing soon.

Isabelle guessed Seventeen had good news even before she reached the vehicle. She’d spotted her sister-in-law as soon as she emerged from the Internet café. Seventeen had beamed at her and flashed a thumbs-up sign her way as soon as she saw her.

The former operative ran to Isabelle’s open window, reached through it and hugged the Frenchwoman. “Sebastian and Francis are fine! They are on their way to Vanuatu now.”

Isabelle dissolved into tears – tears of unbridled joy.

#

In an Internet kiosk in the transit passengers’ lounge at Honolulu International Airport, Nine had to force himself to stem back tears as he re-read Seventeen’s email. Turning to Francis, who sat next to him, he said, “I have some news for you, young man.”

“What, papa?”

“You now have a sister. Mom had a little baby girl.”

Francis’ face creased into a grin. “What’s her name?”

“We’ll find out soon. Mom and your Aunt Jennifer will tell us in good time.”

Francis was delighted to learn he now had a sister. He was looking forward to seeing her – and his aunt, too. Nine had told him about Seventeen and how she may soon be living with them.

Father and son were still in their Sikh father-and-daughter guises. More than once, Nine had to quietly remind Francis to keep his voice down in case any eavesdroppers should overhear him. Fortunately, the boy’s voice was far from breaking, so Nine was reasonably confident no-one would realize Francis was in fact a male.

As Francis chattered away, an Air New Zealand announcement caught Nine’s attention. An airline representative advised passengers that the flight to Fiji had been delayed three hours due to a technical problem.

That wasn’t what Nine wanted to hear. He could sense his ailing ticker was fast fading and he just wanted to reach his final destination and be reunited with Isabelle as soon as he could. The heartburn he’d experienced of late was now with him permanently and he feared he could go into cardiac arrest at any time.

In his present condition, flying didn’t agree with him either. He guessed it may have something to do with altitude, or perhaps it was the stress of flying. Whatever it was, his heart didn’t respond well to it.

A painful twinge in his chest caused Nine to grit his teeth.

Francis noticed something was wrong. “What’s the matter, papa?”

“Nothing, son.” Nine forced himself to remain cheerful for Francis’ sake. “Feel like something to eat.”

“Oh, yes!”

“Good. Follow me. And remember, act demure like the little girl you are supposed to be.” Nine led Francis by the hand to the nearest food kiosk.

“What’s demure?”

“Think of your mom. She’s demure.”

Ten minutes later, as Francis tucked into a hamburger, Nine sipped a mug of coffee as he absentmindedly watched a news broadcast screening on a wall-mounted television set. He came alert when a photo of Naylor filled the screen.

“Papa,” Francis asked.

“Shhh! One minute, Francis.” Nine listened as the presenter advised viewers that the Chairman of the Omega Agency, Andrew Naylor, had jumped to his death from a private jet earlier that day.

Normally, such news would have delighted Nine. Now, with so much going on in his life and so much to look forward to, Naylor’s suicide meant nothing to him. His only regret was that his former boss would never stand trial for the evil he’d perpetuated. Turning back to Francis, he asked, “Now, what is it, son?”

Francis asked if he could have an ice-cream sundae to follow his burger.

“Sure you can.” Nine ruffled Francis’ hair then remembered the boy was wearing a girl’s wig. He checked that no-one was looking then quickly readjusted it.

94

While Nine and Francis filled in time in Honolulu, Isabelle and Seventeen were putting in motion their plans to depart Papeete. They’d been busy since arriving back in the capital and there was still much to do.