For now, Isabelle didn’t want to question Nine any further. A part of her had grown so attached to him she didn’t want to think about his leaving her, but she was realistic and assumed a man like Nine would never stay long in a woman’s life.
As he created his new disguise, Nine was focused on their reaching Marseille without further detection. The fugitive agent wondered where Kentbridge was. He was fairly confident they’d lost him back at Gare de Nord station, but couldn’t be sure.
The possibility, no matter how faint, that Kentbridge was on board, was why he needed a new disguise. There was no room for error now. Even the slightest mistake and it would be game over.
Isabelle continued to watch Nine transforming himself. A calendar on the wall of their private compartment caught her eye. She realized it was February 27 – her birthday. Having had her life turned upside down over the last few days, she’d totally forgotten. Isabelle looked back at Nine. “It’s my birthday today! I’m twenty eight.”
Nine paused and looked at her. She’d surprised him yet again. He had her pegged for twenty five. “Happy Birthday,” he mumbled before turning his attention back to laying foundations of make-up on his face which was gradually becoming darker.
“When is your birthday, Sebastian?” Isabelle asked. Nine shrugged. Isabelle scoffed at him. “Oh, c’mon! You must know your birthday!”
Nine shook his head. “Tommy and the others only told me the year I was born. I don’t even know which month, let alone the day.”
Isabelle was dumbfounded. From her perspective, Nine’s formative years amounted to child abuse. It broke her heart to think adults could treat children like that. What made it more sickening was that it was carried out in such a systematic way. The exotic Frenchwoman felt sad as she looked out the window. Trees and farm houses flashed by; the train was now traveling at full speed as it left Orleans behind.
Elsewhere on the train, Kentbridge entered a bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal that he, too, wore a black make-up kit fastened to his chest. He unzipped the kit, which was exactly like Nine’s, and began working on a new identity.
Half way through applying his new disguise, Kentbridge remembered he’d instructed Seventeen to wait at the next station ahead. In the event he hadn't managed to board the train at the Orleans station, she was to intercept Nine. He reached for his cell phone and sent Seventeen a text message advising that he was on board; he instructed her to wait several stations ahead, purely as back-up. Kentbridge felt confident he could deal with Nine. He went back to creating his disguise. The senior agent had a certain character in mind he felt sure would fool Nine, or anyone else for that matter.
In the sleeper compartment, Nine added the finishing touches to his latest disguise. To all intents and purposes, he was now a Sikh, complete with a turban fashioned from a Eurorail bed sheet. He’d also darkened his skin to resemble an Indian’s. His complexion was now a caramel color like Isabelle’s.
Isabelle sat with her back to him. She held up a hand mirror and appeared to be applying makeup to her face.
“Don't use too much makeup,” Nine warned.
Isabelle turned to face him, revealing she had glued on a moustache. She looked at him, straight-faced. Nine chuckled.
“Oh my God, it’s a miracle! I made you laugh!” Isabelle said, surprised.
Nine suddenly felt self-conscious and resumed his usual serious demeanor. Reaching out, he gently pulled the moustache off Isabelle then glued it above his upper lip before inserting contact lenses to change his eye color to dark brown. The disguise complete, he turned back to Isabelle. She was impressed by his racial transformation. A second later, her stomach rumbled, prompting her to self-consciously place her hand over her stomach.
“Hungry?” Nine asked.
“Oui.”
“Okay. I doubt anyone knows we’re on this train, but just in case, you stay here while I get us some food. Lock the door after me and don't open it for anyone.”
He turned to leave then paused. “When I return, listen for this knock.” He rapped a quick-fire rat-a-tat-tat on the wall with his knuckles.
Isabelle nodded. Nine left the compartment and shut the door after him. He waited until he heard Isabelle lock it from the inside then walked cautiously toward the dining car. This took him through several near-full carriages. As he walked, he surreptitiously studied his fellow passengers, hoping that, if Kentbridge was on board, he’d spot him.
Nine didn’t know the senior operative was preoccupied in a bathroom two carriages ahead. Kentbridge was adding the finishing touches to his disguise. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. The face that stared back at him was that of an ageing hippy complete with bifocals, a gray beard and an earring. A false ponytail added to the authenticity. Like Nine, he was unrecognizable.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Kentbridge wondered where he should begin. He knew finding Nine wouldn’t be easy, especially if the operative was disguised, as he was certain to be. Of course, knowing that Nine was accompanied by Isabelle would make the task easier, he thought. Kentbridge continued to wonder about the pair’s relationship.
The senior agent decided to start at the back of the train and work his way forward. As he headed toward the rear carriage, he scanned the other passengers.
Kentbridge eventually found himself in the dining car. It was full of diners. Some instinct prompted him to join the queue of passengers waiting to buy food. Studying each, he noted a nun immediately in front of him, a Sikh beyond her, two students beyond the Sikh and a businessman at the head of the queue. None seemed a likely candidate for Nine.
Two places ahead in the queue, Nine, in his Sikh guise, placed croissants and buns on a tray. He nonchalantly looked around as more passengers entered the dining car. Nine and Kentbridge briefly looked at each other, but so intricate were their disguises neither recognized the other.
Finally, it was Nine’s turn to be served. A cafe assistant studied the food on his tray. “Will that be all, sir?” she asked.
Nine was about to order two coffees then thought better of it. “One coffee, please,” he responded with a heavy Indian accent. The assistant filled a coffee cup with steaming black coffee and indicated to Nine to help himself to milk and sugar. “Thank you very much,” Nine smiled.
After paying for his food and coffee, the fugitive agent turned and began walking out of the dining car. As he passed Kentbridge, he noticed the other's hands. Something about them triggered a childhood memory. Although he couldn’t remotely connect the overall appearance with his former mentor, Nine recognized the distinctive square shape of Kentbridge’s hands. For some reason, Nine’s sponge-like mind never forgot a person’s hands.
He gave nothing away and kept walking. Kentbridge didn't give him a second glance. As Nine continued down the corridor, a little girl bumped into him, causing his moustache to fall off. The girl looked strangely at Nine who continued on his way minus his moustache. The fugitive agent knew if he picked it up, Kentbridge would notice.
Once safely into the next carriage, Nine hurried back to his private sleeper compartment and rapped rat-a-tat-tat on the door. A few seconds later, Isabelle opened the door. Nine burst into the compartment. “We have to get off,” he said urgently.
Isabelle sighed as Nine hurriedly removed his Sikh disguise. She was getting used to these sudden changes of plan. “What about this?” she asked, referring to the janitor’s uniform she still wore.
“Keep it for now.” Nine knew Isabelle’s guise wouldn’t fool Kentbridge, but it should fool their fellow passengers at least.
Back in the dining car, Kentbridge's sharp eyes spotted Nine's discarded moustache on the floor. He bent down and picked it up. Studying it carefully, he thought back to the Sikh. Kentbridge smiled to himself.
#
At dusk, the train made its second scheduled stop when it pulled into Limoges Railway Station, in central France. Kentbridge was the first passenger to disembark. He’d retained
his ageing hippy guise as he was certain Nine hadn’t recognized him earlier.
The senior agent lit a cigarette as he waited for other passengers to disembark. Pretending to be bored and casually filling in time, he watched a university professor wearing a black cape board the nearest carriage. The professor was obviously dressed for a graduation ceremony or similar formal occasion.
On board, more passengers queued to disembark. Among them, Nine pushed a tea-chest along on a trolley. He was now dressed in a railways uniform and hat. A whistle hung around his neck. In his rush to disembark, he knew his latest guise wasn’t as convincing as the Sikh disguise, but it would have to do. He was aware any hesitation at this stage could be fatal.
Nine cautiously stuck his head out the carriage door and looked up and down the now-crowded platform. Satisfied Kentbridge was nowhere in sight, he prepared to wheel the tea-chest onto the platform.
Still in her janitor’s guise inside the tea chest, Isabelle studied the platform through a peephole. Dust got up her nose. She tried to refrain from sneezing. It was a losing battle and she finally gave a small sneeze which she largely managed to smother.
Only Nine heard the sneeze. Without moving his lips, he uttered, “Shhh!”
Nine’s admonishment reached Isabelle. She remained perfectly still and quiet.
As he wheeled the tea-chest off the train, Nine suddenly noticed Kentbridge in his ageing hippy guise some twenty yards away. Kentbridge looked strangely at Nine then drew his Beretta pistol from his concealed shoulder holster. Back-peddling fast, Nine pulled the tea-chest inside the carriage before Kentbridge could squeeze off a shot. The senior agent began sprinting toward the carriage door.
Out of sight of Kentbridge for the moment, Nine opened the tea-chest, reached inside and pulled Isabelle out by the collar, taking care not to dislodge her janitor’s cap.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
Not stopping to explain, Nine pushed other passengers out of the way as he dragged Isabelle down the corridor, away from the open doorway. He prayed their fellow passengers wouldn’t recognize Isabelle. None did. Just before reaching the adjoining carriage, he saw Kentbridge enter their carriage.
Kentbridge caught a glimpse of the pair before they disappeared. He hurried after them, giving other passengers no more respect than Nine had, pushing them to clear his way. Kentbridge kept his pistol hidden so as not to alarm them.
34
A shrill whistle announced the train's imminent departure. Passenger numbers momentarily thinned as more passengers disembarked and just as quickly numbers swelled again as new ones boarded. The sudden influx of people hindered Kentbridge’s progress as he pursued his quarry through the carriages toward the end of the train.
Nearly two carriages ahead, Nine urged Isabelle to move faster as he tried to stay ahead of his fellow Omegan. As they entered yet another carriage, he debated whether they should exit the train and try their luck in the station. He knew Kentbridge would be expecting them to try that, so decided to remain on board.
Another shrill whistle coincided with the automatic doors closing and the train beginning to pull out of the station. In less than a minute, it had cleared the station and was soon picking up speed. Through the carriage windows, the lights of factories and houses flashed by. Night had fallen and there was a full moon hanging in the sky.
The deadly game of hide-and-seek continued as Kentbridge pursued his prey toward the end of the train. Sensing he’d soon catch up to them, he drew his Beretta and held it at the ready. A woman screamed and several passengers shrank back at the sight of the weapon. “It’s alright, I’m security,” Kentbridge assured them in French.
Up ahead, Nine knew he was nearing the end of the train. There, he realized, there’d be no place to go. The train was now moving too fast to jump off it. Seeing a bathroom, he pulled Isabelle into it and locked the door. They remained dead still as someone hurried past. Nine hoped it was Kentbridge. He listened to the mystery person’s disappearing footsteps then pulled Isabelle out of the bathroom and back toward the front of the train.
Behind them, Kentbridge reached the last carriage only to find it was empty. He realized he’d been given the slip. In his haste to reach the end of the train, he hadn’t stopped to check the bathrooms in each of the carriages he’d passed through. He’d known that had been a calculated risk, and it had backfired.
Kentbridge began checking the bathroom of each carriage. He didn’t hurry now: he knew it was only a matter of time before his quarry ran out of hiding places.
At the far end of the train, Nine and Isabelle entered a carriage that resembled a walk-in freezer. It was, in fact, a purpose-built, refrigeration car used for transporting frozen meat. Carcasses of beef and large legs of mutton hung on hooks from the ceiling. The carcasses swung in time to the steady motion of the train.
Nine looked at Isabelle. “This will have to do.” Isabelle didn’t seem thrilled by the idea of spending the night in a freezer. “Don’t worry, it will only be for an hour or two,” Nine assured her. “We’ll get off the train at the first opportunity.” Nine knew there was hilly terrain ahead and he was counting on the train slowing sufficiently to allow them to jump off without being killed.
#
It was a good ninety minutes later before Kentbridge reached the last carriage, the refrigeration car. Having made an exhaustive search of the rest of the train, he knew his quarry must be hiding here – unless they’d jumped off the train. Knowing how Nine’s mind worked, Kentbridge felt certain he’d still be on board. With pistol held high in the ready position, he approached the refrigeration car’s door.
Inside the car, Nine held Isabelle tight to keep her warm. Both shivered as they stood motionless among the swaying beef carcasses. The pair held their breaths as the freezer door creaked open, letting in light from the corridor outside. A shadow on the floor indicated someone was standing in the doorway. Nine drew his trusted Glock pistol.
Just inside the freezer entrance, Kentbridge peered through the gloom. He studied the swaying carcasses intently. Holding his pistol out in front of him, he ventured further into the freezer.
The fugitive pair shivered violently as they tried to remain still, their eyes fixed on the shadow that grew ever-bigger on the floor. They tensed as the shadow drew near.
Nine could sense rather than see the shadow belonged to Kentbridge. It was still too dark to make a positive identification. He aimed his pistol at the shadowy figure. Still he couldn’t be sure it was Kentbridge. Give me a sign, Tommy. Nine hoped it was him. If it was, he’d have no hesitation in blowing him away.
Nine’s finger tightened around the trigger. He knew from experience the Glock’s trigger mechanism would offer no more slack. The faintest additional pressure would send a bullet on its way. The only thing stopping him firing was the fact that he couldn’t be sure the intruder was Kentbridge.
At the last second, he reached up for a spare hook he’d noticed hanging from the overhead rail that supported the nearest carcasses. He pulled the hook, dislodging the rail, then grabbed Isabelle and yanked her down onto the floor.
Kentbridge looked up too late to see the carcasses flying toward him. A dozen or so fell from the overhead rack and landed on top of him. Nine scrambled over to Kentbridge. He pulled the carcasses aside and found his former mentor lying unconscious underneath.
The rogue operative put his pistol away and began dragging Kentbridge toward the door when a railways inspector suddenly entered the refrigeration car. The inspector was alarmed to see the carcasses on the floor and even more alarmed when he saw Nine coming at him out of the darkness. Before he could react, Nine dropped him with a solid punch to the jaw. The man was unconscious before he hit the floor.
Nine turned his attention back to Isabelle who was now so cold she looked close to passing out. Stepping over the unconscious pair, he hurried back to her. “Can you make it back to our compartment on your own?”
Shivering uncontrollabl
y, Isabelle nodded. Nine steered her gently into the corridor then scouted around and found a laundry trolley laden with fresh linen. He pulled the trolley back into the refrigeration car and bundled the still-unconscious Kentbridge into it. Covering his former mentor with the linen, he began pushing the trolley back to his passenger compartment.
#
Kentbridge regained consciousness to find himself tied down on top of a bunk in Nine’s compartment. Struggling to focus, he saw Nine wrapping blankets around a still-shivering Isabelle. Although ten minutes had elapsed since they’d escaped the confines of the refrigeration car, Isabelle continued to tremble violently.
Nine finished warming Isabelle, drew his pistol and turned to face his captive. “Before I end this once and for all, I want you to know I'm outta the game, Tommy. I’m getting off the grid so I can live out my days in peace.” Just saying that made Nine feel good. It was like an affirmation. Before he killed Kentbridge, he wanted him to know he’d finally broken free of Omega's chains. “You created me. Now I must destroy you.” Nine pointed his Glock at Kentbridge. “But first, tell me why you began all this.”
Suddenly alarmed, Isabelle touched Nine's shoulder. “Sebastian?”
Nine ignored her. He locked eyes with Kentbridge. “You always favored me over the other orphans. Why did you invest so much time and energy in me? What was in it for you?”
Kentbridge stared out the window as he reflected. The lights of farm houses flashed by. “Rachel couldn't give me children,” he reminisced, “and you were different to the other orphans. You reminded me of myself.” He paused as his gaze returned to his protégé.
Behind Nine, Isabelle strained to make sense of the conversation. She sensed she was witnessing the first-ever honest communication between the two men. The Frenchwoman also sensed something terrible was going to happen, but felt powerless to stop it. She could only watch and listen.
Nine knew the older man was stalling for time, but Kentbridge wasn’t going anywhere so he was prepared to humor him. Let's see you talk your way out of this one, old man.
The Ninth Orphan Page 17