The Orphan Uprising (The Orphan Trilogy, #3)

by James Morcan

  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 wa
s 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.

  After Seventeen had finished checking emails at the Internet café, her first priority had been to quit the four-wheel drive hire vehicle they’d borrowed. The former operative was aware its smashed rear windscreen was attracting attention and the vehicle provided a traceable link between her and the deceased Nineteen. She parked it in a waterfront hotel car park then caught a cab back to the backstreet motel where she’d left Isabelle and Annette.

  Seventeen’s next priority had been to confide in Isabelle her decision to accompany the Frenchwoman and Annette to Vanuatu. That news had been well received by Isabelle who couldn’t imagine being separated from the former operative – especially not before she was reunited with Nine and Francis.

  The mood had been upbeat since Seventeen received Nine’s email. For Isabelle, knowing that she and her boys would all soon be reunited was a dream come true; baby Annette’s arrival was the icing on the cake.

  Though Seventeen was encouraged by recent developments, she remained cautious. The Ukrainian incident of a few hours earlier reminded her that these were still dangerous times. Seventeen didn’t know for sure whether all Omega’s orphan-operatives had been taken out of the picture. And even if they had been, there was no way of knowing whether more contract killers were on their way. For all she knew, they could already be in Tahiti.

  Isabelle, who was breastfeeding Annette, noticed her sister-in-law seemed worried. “What’s wrong, Jennifer?” she asked.

  Seventeen wanted to shield Isabelle from any further stress. She was mindful that the Frenchwoman had been through a lot since Francis’ abduction and didn’t want to load more stress onto her. However, she realized this time she had no choice.

  Over the next ten minutes, Seventeen explained to Isabelle the risks they still faced and what they needed to do to keep their rendezvous with Nine and Francis in Vanuatu. To her relief, Isabelle stoically accepted the fact they weren’t yet out of the woods. The longer she spent with the Frenchwoman, the more substance she realized she had. She’d come round to the firm belief that Isabelle was a worthy wife for her brother.

  As for Isabelle, she realized she now looked on her sister-in-law as a true friend. That revelation had come as a shock to her. A few weeks earlier she hated Seventeen and could never have envisaged growing to like the woman who had terminated her parents. However, she was wise enough to know the Seventeen of today was a different person to the one who had been operating under the mind-controlled influence of MK-Ultra. The old Seventeen would never have risked her life to help protect her and help reunite her with Nine and Francis.

  Isabelle suddenly hugged her opposite.

  “What was that for?” a surprised Seventeen asked.

  “Just for being here for us,” Isabelle said.

  The two women shared a tear as they hugged each other.

  When Isabelle pressed against Seventeen’s wound, it reminded the former operative she needed to change the dressing. Ever the professional, she broke away, saying, “Okay, we have a lot to do.”

  Isabelle smiled and resumed feeding Annette as Seventeen went to the bathroom and inspected her wound. Relieved to find it was healing well and the stitches remained intact, she changed the dressing then re-joined Isabelle and began making final preparations for their departure from Tahiti.

  #

  Next morning, Isabelle and Seventeen travelled to Fa'a'ā International Airport in separate cabs. They were now unrecognizable, having adopted different guises the previous afternoon.

  Isabelle, who was nursing a sleeping Annette in the back seat of one cab, was in the guise of a plump, matronly, new mom complete with puffed-out cheeks and padding that added quite a few extra pounds. An unflattering hairstyle combined with light brown hair dye administered by Seventeen had rendered the Frenchwoman unrecognizable even to herself. The only concession she made to her old self was she still wore the ruby and silver necklace Nine had left with her.

  In the other cab, Seventeen was in the guise of a French tomboy complete with a GI-style haircut, a nose ring, fake tattoo, hikers’ boots and mannish attire.

  The former operative had deemed it safer that she and Isabelle travel to Vanuatu separately. She knew if anyone was still looking for them, they’d be expecting to see two women traveling together. Both were aware the baby was a complication, but there was nothing they could do about that.

  To allay Isabelle’s fears, Seventeen had told her their enemies would be looking for a pregnant woman as they had no way of knowing she’d already given birth. Isabelle knew her sister-in-law was putting a positive spin on things, but she didn’t let on.

  The women were flying to Vanuatu via New Caledonia. Isabelle was supposedly going to show off her new baby to family living in the South Pacific island nation’s capital Port Vila while Seventeen was posing as a documentary filmmaker on a scouting expedition.

  The pair hadn’t had a spare minute since checking into their backstreet motel the previous afternoon. In between tending to Annette’s needs, they’d changed into their new guises – a drawn-out, sometimes-hilarious, two-hour exercise. Then they’d checked out of the motel and separately checked into an upmarket, downtown hotel under assumed names.

  After dark, they’d gone by cab to an underworld contact Nine had referred Seventeen to before she left Chicago. Bruce Zhi was a Chinese migrant on the payroll of Hong Kong’s 14K Triad gang. Nine had used the man’s unique services whilst on assignment for Omega eight years earlier.

  Zhi had relocated to Papeete three years ago. His mission was to establish safe houses in Tahiti and elsewhere in the Pacific Islands for 14K triads who were attracting too much heat from Asian law enforcement agencies. One of his special skills was forging passports, and that’s why Seventeen and Isabelle sought him out.

  Nine had paid the triad in advance, and the entire process ended up being quick and painless for the two women. Zhi had taken their photos and secured their details that night, and then hand-delivered the false passports to their hotel early the next morning.

  #

  Three uneventful hours later, Isabelle checked Annette’s baby restraints in the seat next to her as the Air Tahiti Nui airliner lifted off. Mother and daughter were flying Business Class; Seventeen was up front in the First Class compartment.

  Isabelle was fortunate to have a window seat. The Frenchwoman was able to view Tahiti and its outer islands as the aircraft headed west toward New Caledonia. She looked at the northern horizon for a glimpse of her beloved Marquesas Islands even though she was aware they were too far away to see.

  Isabelle’s emotions were in turmoil. Sad to be leaving French Polynesia and the memories and friends she’d made there over the past five years, she was happy beyond words to know she’d soon be reunited with Nine and Francis, and she had a healthy, beautiful baby girl.

  #

  While Isabelle, Annette and Seventeen were leaving Tahitian airspace, Nine and Francis were still waiting to depart Honolulu. Their three-hour delay had ended up an overnight delay as Air New Zealand engineers grappled to resolve the technical problem that had struck their aircraft. The airline had put the affected passengers up in an airport motel.

  Normally, Nine would have taken such a delay in his stride, but this was different. His condition was deteriorating with every hour, and every hour’s delay increased the likelihood that he wouldn’t survive long enough to be reunited with Isabelle
or see their new baby daughter.

  Nine’s heart pains were recurring with frightening regularity. He knew he should seek medical help immediately.

  95

  Thirty-six hours after departing Tahiti, Isabelle and Seventeen had their first real argument. Their Air Tahiti Nui flight to New Caledonia had been uneventful, as had the brief stopover there and the final leg aboard a Qantas plane to Port Vila, in Vanuatu. The women had expected Nine and Francis to be waiting for them when they arrived at Port Vila Airport. Instead, they learned that flight delays had put the pair behind schedule.

  Putting that disappointment behind them, Isabelle and Seventeen had rented a comfortable beachfront villa on the outskirts of town. They’d dispensed with their disguises and had thankfully reverted to being themselves, albeit under false names – although Seventeen had still been left with her unflattering GI-style haircut.

  Under normal circumstances, their stay would have been an enjoyable one. However, the latest delay was getting on their nerves – especially Isabelle’s. She couldn’t wait to see her husband and son.

  So, as the hour of their delayed arrival neared, Isabelle insisted on traveling to the airport to greet them. Seventeen opposed that, explaining it would put Nine and Francis at risk if anyone was still tracking them.

  Isabelle fired up and argued heatedly with her sister-in-law until sanity finally prevailed.

  “We must wait for them to come to us,” Seventeen said soothingly. “Otherwise we could be putting them in danger.” She knew that was unlikely, but didn’t want to take the risk.

  Close to tears, Isabelle asked, “How will Sebastian know where to find us?”

  “I left a note for him at the airport’s Information Office. He knows to call in there as soon as he gets through Customs.”