The Ninth Orphan

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The Ninth Orphan Page 18

by Morcan, James


  “I wanted to adopt you,” Kentbridge continued. “Rachel wouldn't have it though. Besides, Naylor never would've allowed me to take you out of Pedemont. Not its star pupil. So I decided the next best thing was to teach you everything I knew.”

  Isabelle listened, intrigued, as Kentbridge reluctantly opened his heart to Nine.

  “It wasn’t my intention for you to suffer. I just wanted a son to inherit my gifts.”

  “You created a monster,” Nine said accusingly.

  Kentbridge stared into his protégé's anguished face. “But look what --”

  “This all ends now,” Nine interjected. “I've gone along with Omega's power games all my life!” Nine picked up a pillow from an adjoining bunk. He intended using it to muffle any noise when he shot Kentbridge.

  Isabelle tried to restrain him. “No, Sebastian!”

  Nine pushed her away. “Look the other way, Isabelle.”

  Realizing there was no stopping Nine, she turned and looked out the window.

  As Nine removed the safety, he looked at Kentbridge triumphantly. “You underestimated me, Tommy. You molded my personality and controlled every facet of my life. But there was a place in my mind you could never reach.” Nine put the pillow over Kentbridge’s chest and jammed the pistol into the pillow.

  Kentbridge closed his eyes as he prepared to die. Before Nine could pull the trigger, there was a knock at the door. Kentbridge opened his eyes.

  Nine looked at Isabelle and nodded to her. She understood immediately. “Oui?” she called out in response.

  “We are doing routine checks of each compartment,” came the answering voice.

  Nine put his face close to Kentbridge’s. He whispered, “One word and I promise I’ll finish you here and now.” He then turned to Isabelle and whispered instructions.

  Addressing the man on the other side of the door, Isabelle shouted, “We're busy right now. Can you come back later?”

  “Non, madam.” This voice belonged to another man.

  Nine now knew there were at least two men in the corridor purporting to be security guards. Considering his options, he glanced at Kentbridge. The older man was following developments with keen interest. He knew his life hung in the balance.

  35

  The two men in the corridor outside Nine’s compartment were who they claimed to be – security guards. Employed by Eurorail, they’d been assigned to this particular train on this particular evening for no reason other than a scheduled security inspection.

  This was one of those rare occasions where a genuine security issue had actually arisen. A passenger had reported seeing something unusual. The security guards had come to check, expecting the usual innocent explanation. Their suspicions were only aroused when the passenger compartment’s occupants wouldn’t immediately open the door.

  After a short discussion between themselves, the security guards drew their guns and knocked on the door again. No response. The taller of the two guards unlocked the door with a master key and cautiously opened it. Inside, they discovered Kentbridge tied to the bed with his mouth taped shut and Isabelle writhing half naked on top of him.

  Isabelle looked up at the two security guards in the open doorway and smiled innocently. “It's the way he likes it,” she purred in her most seductive voice.

  The guards thought they'd walked in on some kind of sexual act. They looked knowingly at each other and put their weapons away. There was no sign of Nine. He was hiding behind the compartment door, pistol in hand.

  Ignoring Isabelle who was still on top of him, Kentbridge swiveled his eyes in the direction of the door to try to alert the security guards to Nine's whereabouts. They mistook his rapid eye-movements for sexual frenzy and decided to leave. As they did, the taller of the pair suddenly hesitated and prepared to check behind the door.

  Sensing he was about to be discovered, Nine violently slammed the door into the taller guard, knocking him over. Before the other man could react, Nine knocked him out with a roundhouse kick to the head. He turned his attention back to the taller guard too late to avoid a punch to the jaw. The blow knocked the pistol from his hand and sent him reeling backwards. The pistol slid under the bunk. Kentbridge noted this.

  The security guard, who was obviously no stranger to the pugilist arts, followed up with more well aimed blows to the head and body, forcing Nine to cover up to protect himself.

  A female passenger passing the open door screamed when she saw the brawling men. Other passengers gathered around the doorway to watch the fight.

  By now, Isabelle was on her feet and hastily dressing. She was too preoccupied to notice Kentbridge struggling to free himself from his bonds. As Nine wrestled with the security guard, Kentbridge freed one hand and reached under the bunk for the pistol.

  The guard had Nine in a choke-hold from behind. Nine threw his head back hard, breaking the other's nose. The man grunted and released Nine who immediately knocked him down with an elbow to the side of the head. He followed this up with a powerful karate blow to the back of the neck, knocking the guard out cold.

  The fugitive agent looked at Kentbridge just as the latter’s hand closed around the Glock pistol on the floor below the bunk. At the sight of the pistol, the passengers watching from the corridor fled.

  Without hesitating, Nine dived through the doorway before Kentbridge could fire at him. Safely out of the line of fire, he waited for Isabelle. When she didn’t follow, he shouted to her from the corridor. “Isabelle! Run!”

  Isabelle had hesitated when she found herself looking down the barrel of the pistol which Kentbridge now pointed at her. She found herself rooted to the spot.

  Using his one free hand, Kentbridge tore away the tape that covered his mouth. “You stay put, madam,” he ordered in French.

  In the corridor outside, Nine was hidden from Kentbridge's view but could clearly see Isabelle. She was shaking. “Come to me,” Nine said. “He won't shoot you.”

  Isabelle looked uncertainly from Kentbridge to Nine and back to Kentbridge. She noted the pistol Kentbridge held was now aimed at her chest.

  “He wants me.” Nine assured her. “He won't shoot you.”

  Shouts from further along the corridor indicated others were coming to investigate the disturbance. Unable to take her eyes off the pistol that was still aimed at her, the Frenchwoman took a deep breath and slowly backed out of the compartment. Kentbridge kept the pistol trained on her, but didn't pull the trigger.

  In the corridor, Nine grabbed Isabelle by the hand and hurriedly left the scene. Seconds later, three more Eurorail employees arrived and burst in to the passenger compartment. Two attended to the unconscious security men while the third, the inspector whom Nine had knocked out in the refrigeration car, untied Kentbridge.

  It was only now the inspector noticed the pistol in Kentbridge's hand. He stepped back. “Who are you?”

  Kentbridge pulled a badge from his pocket and held it up. The inspector studied it. “I'm undercover, Paris Police Department,” Kentbridge lied in perfect French. “We are tracking a criminal on board.”

  The inspector accepted the story without question. “Should we stop the train?”

  “No, I've called for back-up,” Kentbridge quickly replied. “My partner will be waiting for us at the Perigueux Station.”

  The inspector nodded. Kenbridge left the compartment and began walking toward the rear of the train. Relieved to be alive, the veteran Omega agent was feeling confident now as he knew Nine was no longer armed.

  Resigned to another long search, he began a meticulous check of each carriage. This time, he had some early luck. In one of the freight cars he noticed a manhole in the ceiling was slightly ajar. He climbed up to investigate.

  At the same time, Nine led Isabelle by hand along the train’s rooftop as the train trundled through the night. Moonlight lit their way. Nine was debating whether to risk jumping. At the speed they were traveling, he wasn’t confident they’d survive.

  The train suddenly
lurched. Isabelle stumbled and twisted her ankle, causing her to cry out in pain. She looked up at Nine in agony. “I can't go on!”

  “Yes you can.” Nine lifted her to her feet and half carried her toward the front.

  Behind them, Kentbridge's head appeared through the manhole. Peering through the darkness, he could just see his quarry. They were a dozen carriages ahead and moving away from him.

  Kentbridge retreated back down through the manhole. Anxious to overtake Nine and Isabelle before they reached the front of the train, he ran through the carriages, pausing every now and then to listen for footsteps on the carriage roof above. He was aware his quarry may double back.

  On the roof, Isabelle was limping badly as she and Nine neared the front of the train. They were so focused on where they were putting their feet, neither noticed Kentbridge whose head appeared over the top of the carriage in front of them. The senior agent raised his pistol. Nine saw the threat just in time. He jerked Isabelle around and pulled her back.

  Kentbridge aimed his pistol at Nine’s retreating back. “Stop!” he shouted.

  The couple kept running. Just as Kentbridge squeezed the trigger, the train lurched again, spoiling his aim. The bullet missed Nine and hit Isabelle in the back. She was hurled forward and landed face-down on the rooftop.

  “Damn!” Kentbridge cursed himself.

  Nine reacted without thinking and threw himself down on top of Isabelle just as Kentbridge fired a second shot at him. Fortunately, it went wide.

  Before Kentbridge could fire again, the train entered a tunnel, plunging everything into darkness. In the tunnel's confines, all sounds were magnified a thousandfold. The roar of the engine and clatter of the wheels on the tracks combined to create one thunderous din. This ended abruptly as the train emerged into the open countryside.

  In the moonlight, Kentbridge could only see Isabelle now. There was no sign of Nine. Pistol in hand, the senior operative approached the Frenchwoman who still lay where she fell, unmoving. Kentbridge had both hands on his pistol which he held in the ready position. Ignoring Isabelle, he stepped over her and walked slowly toward the front of the carriage where he suspected Nine was hiding.

  Kentbridge had miscalculated. Nine had worked his way round behind him. He loomed up behind Kentbridge and felled him in a flying tackle. Nine grabbed Kentbridge's wrist, preventing him from using his weapon. They rolled over and over along the rooftop. Nine smashed Kentbridge's hand against the rooftop, forcing him to drop the pistol. It slid along the rooftop until it came up against Isabelle's outstretched arm. The two adversaries kicked and punched each other as they continued to roll around on the rooftop.

  Kentbridge fought with the strength of a young man and the experience of an old warrior. He brought his knee up into Nine’s stomach, winding him. He followed up with a violent shove that sent Nine over the side of the train. Nine managed to grab hold of an air vent, preventing him from falling to the ground. He hung full stretch, his body dangling in space, as the train clattered onto a bridge.

  On the rooftop, Kentbridge got to his feet and walked over to Isabelle to retrieve his gun. He then turned back to the edge of the rooftop and aimed the weapon down at Nine.

  A sign hanging from low slung cables strung out across the bridge loomed up out of the darkness. It hung only a meter above the carriage rooftop and was on course to smash into Kentbridge. Some sixth sense prompted him to look around. Kentbridge saw the fast-approaching sign and cables just in time.

  Without hesitating, Kentbridge leapt off the train and disappeared over the side of the bridge, clawing at the air as he plunged down into the river below.

  As he entered the icy water, the impact took his breath away. Beneath the surface, Kentbridge gasped for air and took in a lungful of water. When he finally managed to surface, he was close to drowning. He spluttered as he fought to expel the water that had filled his lungs. Even in this desperate state, he had the presence of mind to observe the disappearing rear carriage lights of the train on the bridge above.

  On the train, Nine used the last of his strength to pull himself back up onto the carriage rooftop. When his strength returned, he crawled to Isabelle's side. Groans indicated she was still alive. She was clearly in a bad way. Blood from the bullet wound in her back stained her cotton top. Nine picked her up and carried her along the rooftop.

  36

  Most of the passengers had eaten dinner and were preparing for bed by the time the train trundled through the outskirts of the famed gastronomic city of Perigueux, in the Massif Central region. The train slowed as it neared the railway station.

  On board, the passengers became aware a public fireworks display was in progress in a nearby city park. Sky rockets lit up the night sky, smoke drifted over the station and the distant bangs of firecrackers could be heard.

  Nine and Isabelle were now ensconced in the sleeper compartment of the university professor Kentbridge had observed boarding the train back at Limoges Railway Station. Kentbridge wouldn’t have recognized the man now: the professor was half naked, bound and gagged. He was lying on a lower bunk. His spectacles and black graduation cape had been borrowed by Nine who sported a false beard startlingly similar to the professor’s.

  Shivering in the cold night air, the frightened professor was trying to comprehend what was going on as he watched Nine turn himself into a mirror image of himself, while on an adjoining bunk, a badly wounded Isabelle lay groaning on her side.

  After the shooting on the roof, Nine had carried Isabelle into the nearest carriage and forced his way into the first sleeper compartment he came to. Fortunately, they hadn’t been seen as most passengers had either retired for the evening or were eating in the dining car. Unfortunately for the professor, the compartment Nine had picked on was his.

  As soon as Nine had bound and gagged the professor, he’d inspected Isabelle’s wound. Blood still oozed from the bullet’s entry wound in the middle of her back. Nine had established there was no sign of an exit wound, which meant the bullet was still lodged inside her. He was under no illusions as to the gravity of the situation.

  After bathing Isabelle’s wound with soap and warm water then bandaging it as best he could using a torn sheet, he had walked through to the dining car. There, he’d purchased a packet of non-prescription painkillers. At the same time, he’d arranged for a wheelchair to be delivered to the professor's compartment.

  Nine propped Isabelle up on the edge of the bunk and force-fed her three tablets. “Get these down you,” he ordered. “They’ll dull the pain.” He then filled a glass with water and held it to her lips. Isabelle gulped it down. She was incredibly thirsty.

  Knowing time was against them, Nine worked frantically on a new guise for Isabelle. He morphed her into an elderly cripple – a role she was now tailor-made for.

  The fugitive agent looked up with apprehension as the train pulled in to Perigueux station. He knew Kenbridge would have arranged for back-up. And that back-up was likely to be Seventeen. He just hoped the female operative wouldn’t be waiting for him at this particular station. Nine knew if she was, the odds of eluding her with Isabelle in this state were slim. He felt sure someone was going to die before the night was over and just hoped it wasn’t Isabelle. Nine also wondered whether Kentbridge had survived his fall into the river and, if so, if he’d been able to get word to Seventeen.

  He wasn’t to know that his former mentor’s cell phone had been rendered inoperative and Kentbridge still hadn’t been able to alert Seventeen.

  Nine suddenly had a split-second flashback to Seventeen as a kid. He saw her cold, blue, eyes boring into him as they sparred with each other during martial arts training. Seventeen had just stood there scowling at him as always.

  The operative dismissed the memory and focused all his attention on Isabelle.

  Outside the train, on a dimly lit station platform, Seventeen was indeed waiting for Nine. She merged in with a handful of others who were waiting either to board the train or to welco
me arriving passengers.

  Although she hadn’t heard from Kentbridge since he’d advised her he was on board the train, Seventeen felt something had gone wrong. As with all the Omega orphans, she’d been trained to listen to her intuition and go with her instincts. Part of her hoped something had gone wrong. Having wanted to terminate her fellow orphan for many years, she sensed she may get her chance tonight.

  As the train slowed to a halt, Seventeen removed the safety on her pistol. The carriage doors opened and passengers began disembarking. She carefully studied the faces of each. Every so often the platform was bathed in light as fireworks lit up the sky, making the task of identification that much easier.

  Nine was among the first passengers to disembark. In his impeccable university professor guise, he pushed Isabelle along the platform in the borrowed wheelchair. In the gloomy lighting, he didn’t notice the spots of blood Isabelle was leaving behind the chair. He saw his fellow Omegan just as more skyrockets lit up the platform. Seventeen looked directly at him as he drew level with her.

  Nine spontaneously placed a hand on Isabelle's shoulder and addressed her in Italian. “Are you alright, mother?” He remembered seeing an Italian language book in Isabelle’s apartment and hoped she could actually speak the language.

  “Yes, dear,” Isabelle responded faintly. Fortunately, she had the presence of mind to address him in Italian, which she was fluent in.

  Fooled by the pair’s immaculate Italian, Seventeen turned her attention to the other disembarking passengers as Nine pushed the wheelchair up a ramp toward the nearest exit. Outside the station, he began jogging as he pushed his wheelchair-bound passenger down the street. The occasional fireworks continued to light their way. Isabelle was slumped in the chair. “Hang on,” Nine urged her. He knew she needed urgent medical attention.

  Behind them, at Perigueux Station, Seventeen was growing concerned as the last of the passengers disembarked. She knew if Nine and Isabelle had opted to remain on board, that would require a carriage-by-carriage search of the train and that would be dangerous.

 

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