Nine handed over the pistol without a moment's hesitation then knelt down. Kentbridge aimed the weapon at the orphan. He hesitated as he looked down into Nine's cloudy, unfocused eyes.
The conflicted senior agent looked away for a moment. He was distracted by the soft rain that was illuminated by the narrow shaft of light coming from below ground. The rain sparkled with all the colors of the rainbow. Kentbridge was momentarily captivated by this natural phenomenon. Children's voices coming from the underground orphanage added to the magical effect.
Kentbridge watched the mesmerizing light for several long moments then turned back to Nine who was still kneeling before him. He was surprised to see his protégé fighting hard to come out of his mind-controlled state. He’d been told it was impossible for a hypnotized subject to become even partially conscious until the MK-Ultra program wore off. But looking at Nine’s eyes it seemed as if a small part of his mind was rebelling. Almost as if Nine’s will power was struggling to override his defeated brain.
“Help me,” Nine mumbled.
Touched by Nine’s indomitable spirit, Kentbridge found he couldn't pull the trigger. Instead he pocketed the pistol, knelt before Nine and held him as a father would hold a young boy. Still in a trance-like state, Nine hugged Kentbridge tightly.
Behind them, Seventeen suddenly appeared out of the dense foliage, pistol in hand. Breathing hard, she pulled up and quickly assessed the situation. Then, holding her pistol in the ready position, she advanced on the two men.
Spotting her, Kentbridge released Nine, stood up and stepped toward Seventeen. He noted her gun was trained on Nine and there was murder in her eyes. Nine remained in an altered state and unaware of the danger he was in. Kentbridge stepped directly in front of him, spoiling Seventeen's line of fire.
Determined to terminate Nine, Seventeen motioned for her superior to move aside. “What are you doing, sir?” she asked, alarmed.
46
Kentbridge walked closer and looked into Seventeen’s eyes. “Jennifer Rosemary Hannar,” he recited. “Activate MK-Ultra Program. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto.” Seventeen's eyes glazed over when she heard the voice-commands. Kentbridge continued, “Your mission is to drop your weapon.”
In her now mind-controlled state, Seventeen dropped her pistol without question. As she did so, Nine suddenly snapped out of his MK-Ultra trance. His mind was foggy and he had no memory of the last few minutes. Disorientated, he looked up to see Kentbridge standing over him. Nine then noticed Seventeen. Spotting her pistol on the ground, he grabbed it, aiming it at her.
Nine’s rapid recovery caught Kentbridge off guard. He was surprised to see Nine was about to terminate Seventeen who remained in trance. “No more killing!” he ordered.
Ignoring Kentbridge, Nine prepared to finish Seventeen. “Sebastian!” Kentbridge said. “She's your sister.” Nine hesitated and turned to the older man. “Take a look at her ring,” Kentbridge added.
Nine grabbed Seventeen's hand and held it up to the light. A ruby ring on her index finger glowed red in the light.
“She loved rubies,” Kentbridge said.
“Who did?”
“Your mother – Annette Hannar.”
Shocked, Nine stared at the ruby. He felt as though he was drowning in its swirling crimson depths. He then looked into Seventeen's glassy eyes. How could you be my sister?
Realizing she was no longer a threat, he turned back to Kentbridge. “What happened here? I don't remember a thing. How did you --”
“I recited some MK-Ultra voice-commands to induce a mind-controlled state.”
“MK-Ultra? But I was never --”
“Yes, you were. All the orphans were guinea pigs in the program,” Kentbridge said regretfully. “Naylor and I had you and the others initiated into the program when you were still toddlers.”
Nine looked at Seventeen who remained docile and on her knees. “So why did I come out of it and she didn't?”
Kentbridge shrugged. “I have no idea. MK-Ultra's supposed to hypnotize subjects for at least three hours. It’s almost as if your higher brain was overriding it.” The senior agent looked at Nine with undisguised admiration.
Still confused, Nine pointed the pistol at Kentbridge. He felt conflicted as he noticed compassion in the older man’s eyes. Nine despised the duality in Kentbridge. He hated how the man acted so ruthlessly one minute then so humane the next. If only he could be consistently evil, he thought. It would make it a hell of a lot easier to finish the old bastard off. “Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you, Tommy.”
Kentbridge looked down at the ground as he thought about his own life and what it was worth – if it was worth anything. In that instant, he became fully conscious of the sins he’d committed in the course of his life. All the guilt rose to the surface. His shoulders slumped as he comprehended the destructiveness of his actions. Like his protégé, he’d evolved to the point where he could no longer perpetuate the brutality demanded of Omega agents.
He looked up at Nine. “I want to redeem myself, Sebastian. It's time to right the wrongs.”
“You mean like how you killed my mother?”
“I never terminated Annette,” Kentbridge replied emphatically. “Naylor ordered me to, but I refused. He had another operative do it.”
Nine could see he was telling the truth. The lifelong anger he’d felt toward Kentbridge was beginning to dissipate. Nine slowly lowered his pistol.
Kentbridge felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Now that we're both awake, let's free ourselves.”
Nine thought for a moment. “What now?” he asked. He looked at Seventeen then back to his former mentor. “This is not the part where we ride off into the sunset together.”
Kentbridge gave him a wry grin. “Remember I once told you every enemy has an Achilles heel?” Nine nodded. “Omega has an Achilles heel too. You must strike there.”
“But how? I'd have to kill every agency official who's connected --”
“Not with violence, Sebastian.” Kentbridge tapped his forehead with his finger. “With your mind. Knowledge is power. And there's one thing you know that could threaten Omega if it was leaked.”
Nine paused and looked back in the direction of the subterranean orphanage then back to Kentbridge. The older man stared at him knowingly. Nine asked, “Where’s he staying?”
“Naylor’s flying to London now. He’ll be at the Bilderberg Conference in Cornwall this weekend. He's using his Bilderberg connections to try to become the CIA’s director. If you can corner Naylor there, you'll find him at his most vulnerable.”
“What about Yamashita’s Gold?”
“The race is over. Omega has the treasures in its possession. They’re transporting the gold to America as we speak.”
As Nine digested this, he wasn’t to know the Omega Agency had recently sent Eleven and Twenty Three, two of his fellow orphans, to the Philippines. In the daring operation, the pair had managed to track the Japanese consortium that had beaten the Chinese to the hoard. Terminating the Japanese bounty hunters, the orphans successfully confiscated the quarter-of-a-trillion dollar find.
Kentbridge added, “But Naylor still wants you dead. You know too many secrets, Sebastian.” Noises from the subterranean orphanage distracted him. He listened for a second then continued, “And as for retiring in some exotic, far-away location – that's a pipedream. There's no place Omega won't track you down. The Bilderberg Conference is your one and only chance to secure your freedom. And Isabelle’s.”
Kentbridge looked at the hypnotized Seventeen then back to Nine. “You’d better get out of here.” He stared pointedly at the pistol in Nine's hand. “But before you go, shoot me.”
Nine looked at his former mentor incredulously.
47
“Do it. Shoot me in the leg,” Kentbridge ordered. “Naylor must believe I did everything I could to terminate you.”
Nine could see the logic in tha
t. He reluctantly aimed his pistol at Kentbridge's leg and fired one shot. The older man grunted as the bullet lodged in his thigh. Blood flowed from his wound. He looked down at it then shook his head and softly chuckled to himself. Nine bent down beside him.
Kentbridge suddenly reached up and placed the palm of his hand against Nine's cheek. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he gasped, “I'm sorry for what I did to you, Sebastian.”
In a rare moment of sentimentality, Nine stared at his surrogate father. His reverie was interrupted by the sounds of people approaching. Nine jumped to his feet, took one last look at Kentbridge, and at Seventeen who remained in her hypnotic state, before sprinting away. He was quickly swallowed up by the forest.
Seconds later, a dozen or more scientists appeared out of the darkness. They were accompanied by several young orphans. The group approached the two remaining operatives.
Somewhere nearby, a chopper flew low over the Black Forest. The chatter of its rotors carried to the small group. They looked for it, but couldn’t see it.
Nine, who was jogging toward the highway in the hope of making a quick get-away in the Renault, stopped in his tracks when he saw the chopper hovering above the rest area where he’d left the car. Even in the dark, it was identifiable as a military helicopter. Its searchlight traversed the two unoccupied vehicles before continuing its flight over the forest.
Realizing it was now too risky to drive the Renault, Nine set off along the highway on foot. He kept close to the edge of the road, ready to dive into the trees if the chopper returned or if a vehicle came along. He wasn’t too worried. Sooner or later, the opportunity to borrow another vehicle would present itself to him. As he walked, he vaguely wondered who was on board the chopper as it flew toward the orphanage site.
Ninety feet above the forest, Andrew Naylor studied the treetops caught in the chopper’s bright searchlight below. He sat next to the pilot, a flight lieutenant with the French Air Force. The pilot studied the terrain on his side as he expertly flew the craft.
“There she is!” Naylor shouted as Seventeen was caught in the searchlight’s beam. He was pleased she was alive. Naylor alone knew he had unfinished business with her.
The chopper’s beam then settled on Kentbridge who was sitting nearby. He appeared to be talking to a small group of scientists and children from the underground orphanage. Naylor wondered where the duty guard was. The guard was under firm orders to ensure the children never ventured above ground. Naylor pointed at the group and the pilot dropped the chopper down toward them.
On the ground, Kentbridge recited the MK-Ultra voice commands to bring Seventeen out of her mind-controlled state. At the same time, he suggested to the scientists they return below ground with their charges. They retreated immediately.
Seventeen regained consciousness. Kentbridge could tell by her expression she had no recollection of recent events. Confused, she looked down at her superior’s wounded thigh. Before she could question him, Kentbridge ordered her to assist him to the chopper which had now landed nearby. This she did as easily as if she were carrying a sack of potatoes. Her strength didn’t surprise Kentbridge: he knew what she was capable of. Safely inside the chopper, Kentbridge acknowledged Naylor with a nod.
Naylor looked at his senior agent’s wounded thigh. “Did you see which way he went?” he asked without preamble.
Kentbridge pointed eastwards – the opposite direction to which he knew Nine was headed. “Yes, sir. He went that way.”
Naylor nodded to the pilot who lifted off and flew eastwards. In the seat behind them, Kentbridge glanced at Seventeen. She looked suspicious. Kentbridge couldn’t care less. He studied the operative’s ruby ring through sad eyes. After everything that had gone down, he wondered how different things could have been for Seventeen, and for Nine and the other orphans, if he hadn’t mentored them so zealously. At the time, he thought he was doing the right thing. Now, in hindsight, he knew differently.
#
On the highway below, Nine jogged to ward off the cold. As he ran, he thought about what had just happened. Nothing had gone as expected, yet he wasn’t deterred: he now had a golden opportunity to secure his and Isabelle’s freedom and he wouldn’t have to kill anyone. The fugitive agent was thankful for that. He sensed he’d turned a corner. There was no longer room for hatred in his heart. Resentment and mistrust maybe, but not hatred. He knew he had Isabelle to thank for that.
The thought of Isabelle turned his mind to his next mission which was, as Kentbridge had advised, to gate crash the Bilderberg Conference and confront Naylor. He was under no illusions. Infiltrating that conference would be difficult. Given that it attracted many of the world’s most powerful leaders, security would be extremely tight. Some would say impossibly tight.
Nine examined different strategies in his mind. Each one led to a dead end. Inevitably, his thoughts returned once more to Isabelle. He wondered how she was faring.
#
As Nine was thinking of Isabelle, he was also on her mind. She had been left alone for hours in her Andorran CIA prison cell. Isabelle hadn't a clue how long she'd been there. There was something about Mountain Retreat that made her lose all sense of time. She wasn't aware the prison had that affect on all the detainees.
Determined to keep her mind intact, Isabelle suddenly felt the urge to walk. She fought through the pain and forced herself out of bed, swaying unsteadily as she stood for the first time since being shot.
Tears started to stream down her face as she heard a fellow detainee screaming out during a torture session. She also tried to repress the memory of her parents’ deaths, but it was all too much. Isabelle collapsed back onto her bed.
The fingers of her hand curled around the ruby on the necklace she now permanently wore. Its touch brought her comfort, as it had Nine. Where are you, Sebastian?
48
Sightseers meandered along a walking track that followed Cornwall’s picturesque, rocky coastline, in south-west England. Nine was among them.
Masquerading as a hiker, complete with pack, hiking boots and fake suntan, Nine paused to look at the medieval castle that was perched atop the tiny island of Saint Michael's Mount, about four hundred yards offshore. He couldn’t help thinking that even on an overcast day such as this, Saint Michael's Mount looked majestic.
Nine watched as several groups of sightseers took advantage of the present low tide to walk across the mudflats to the historic island.
The rogue agent was here on the advice of Kentbridge. Saint Michael’s Mount was the venue for this year’s Bilderberg Conference. Heads of state from North America and various EU countries were in attendance along with some of the world’s most powerful businessmen. But it was Omega head Andrew Naylor that Nine was here for.
The fugitive knew this would be his last chance to secure his freedom from the Omega Agency once and for all. He’d thought of little else since Kentbridge had suggested this course of action in the Black Forest. Although Isabelle was never far from his thoughts. The uncertainty over her whereabouts and her safety created something of a ticking clock inside him. He desperately wanted to track her down and assist her, but first he needed to follow Kentbridge’s advice and attack Naylor where he was most vulnerable.
The plan was simple: he’d get Naylor alone and blackmail him. Nine found it ironic that a lifetime of enslavement to Omega was about to end with negotiation rather than physical force. I must be getting soft.
When he resumed walking, Nine noticed half a dozen smartly-dressed, security men up ahead. They were part of the security presence associated with the Bilderberg Conference and were keeping an eye on the tourists and locals who were out in force.
Fit-looking, the men stood out with their dark sunglasses, suits and close-cropped hairstyles. Several communicated via two-way radios. Their accents were British and American. Behind them, on Saint Michael's Mount, more security men could be seen patrolling the perimeters of the castle and the island's foreshore.
Nine casually joined the tail end of a group of Dutch backpackers who were laughing and joking as they sauntered along. He engaged them in conversation and was soon swapping jokes in their native tongue. Nine noted the security men were watching the group he was with. As he walked past, he was relieved none gave him a second glance. There was no reason they should. For all intents and purposes, he was just another tourist.
The orphan spotted a film crew setting up equipment nearby. An independent journalist was preparing to speak to camera and record a news report. She stood facing the shore so that viewers would see the island behind her. Several twitchy security men hovered close by. They seemed nervous about having a news crew in the vicinity.
The cameraman gave the journalist the thumbs up. She began her report. “Here in Cornwall, the historic Saint Michael's Mount behind me is this year's venue for the annual conference of the influential Bilderberg Group. As you can see,” she looked pointedly at the security men, “security here is extremely high. As usual, the conference organizers are tight-lipped about who is attending this year's event.”
Looking on, Nine noticed several security men move closer to the journalist. They looked anxious and appeared to be receiving orders from their superiors via earpieces.
The journalist continued, “However, local rumors are rife that the British Prime Minister and the US President are just two of the many heads of state in attendance.”
On hearing this, one of the security men stepped in front of the journalist while another removed the camera from the disgruntled cameraman.
Nine wasn’t surprised. He knew every Bilderberg conference dating right back to the fifties had total media blackouts. Bilderberg's modus operandi reinforced in his mind the complexity of the global hierarchy. He didn’t know if Omega controlled the Bilderberg Group or vice versa, but the situation reminded him that no matter how much anyone thought they knew about the New World Order elite, there were always higher levels in the plethora of secret societies and shadow organizations that ruled the planet.
The Ninth Orphan Page 23