Wasting no more time, the fugitive agent grabbed Naylor in a Sleeper Hold and rendered him unconscious. He then placed him under the bed covers, making it look like he was fast asleep which, of course, he was. Nine debated whether to bind and gag Naylor, but calculated he’d be half way to Heathrow by the time the older man awoke.
Checking he had everything, he walked to the door. Before turning off the light, he glanced back at the sleeping Naylor. Only his head was visible above the covers. Nine couldn’t help thinking how serene he looked. He switched the light off and left the room.
Minutes later, he'd recovered his dive gear, suited up and begun the underwater journey to shore via the same pipe he'd used to access the castle earlier.
51
In his own room within a private hospital in Paris, Kentbridge lay in bed watching a pretty nurse who dressed the bullet wound in his thigh. Nine had made a good job of it. The bullet hadn’t shattered any bones or gone near any major arteries.
Kentbridge conversed with the nurse in French as she secured his wounded leg in a splint which she then elevated above the bed. He soon had her giggling.
The sudden appearance of Naylor caught Kentbridge off guard. “Andrew. I wasn't expecting you.”
The nurse smiled at Kentbridge then left the two men alone.
“I wanted to check in on you before I head back to the States,” Naylor said.
This was the first time they’d seen each other since the Black Forest incident earlier in the week. Naylor sat on the side of the bed. He studied Kentbridge’s bandaged leg. “How is it, Tommy?”
“The doc says I'll live.”
Naylor grinned. His half-smile quickly faded. “Sebastian tracked me down at the Bilderberg Conference,” he said at length. Kentbridge did his best to look surprised. Naylor continued, “It's time for us to cut our losses, so I managed to strike up a deal with him.” Intrigued, Kentbridge listened. “I've granted him an early retirement, provided he stays out of trouble.”
The hint of a smile flickered over Kentbridge's face for a split second only. It was not lost on Naylor.
“I'm sorry I couldn't catch him,” Kentbridge said.
“I know you did the best you could, Tommy.”
Even though Naylor spoke respectfully enough, there seemed to be an underlying sub-text behind his words. Something he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. It was very subtle, but still Kentbridge detected a slight accusatory tone. He worried Naylor suspected he had somehow assisted Nine in his efforts. The two men stared at each other for several tense seconds.
Naylor suddenly stood and prepared to leave. “Rest up and I'll see you back in Illinois next week.”
“I look forward to it,” Kentbridge said unenthusiastically.
Naylor paused on his way out and looked back at Kentbridge. “This reminds me of when we met back in Cambodia.” The Omega head reflected for a second as he thought back to some thirty years earlier when they were both young men in their twenties. “That crappy little hospital in Kompong Cham. You'd been shot three times, if I recall correctly.”
Kentbridge nodded. “Yeah. Three times.”
Naylor took one last look at Kentbridge before leaving.
In the corridor, just outside the door, Naylor found Seventeen waiting. She looked at him expectantly. Naylor moved close to her and looked deeply into her eyes. “Jennifer Rosemary Hannar,” he whispered into her ear. “Activate MK-Ultra Program. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto.”
As before, Seventeen's eyes glazed over when she heard the voice-commands. She was now completely under the spell of MK-Ultra.
Naylor continued, “Your target is Senior Agent Thomas Kentbridge. Terminate him then exit the building for the safe zone.” Grim-faced, Naylor pulled a syringe out of his coat and placed it in Seventeen’s jacket pocket before walking quickly away.
Seventeen watched Naylor's retreating back until he disappeared through the ward's exit doors at the far end of the corridor. Then, without further hesitation, she entered Kentbridge’s room.
Kentbridge looked surprised to see her. “What brings you here?” he asked gruffly.
Seventeen didn't reply. She closed the door then walked over to the side of his bed.
Noticing her glassy eyes, Kentbridge knew immediately why she was here. He opened the drawer of his bedside table and reached for his pistol. Seventeen prevented him by slamming the drawer shut on his fingers and pulling on the splint that supported his wounded leg. Kentbridge grunted in pain. Seventeen reached into her jacket pocket and produced the syringe Naylor had given her.
Kentbridge watched in horror as she deftly removed the instrument’s protective cover. Realizing she was under the control of MK-Ultra, he quickly began to recite, “De-activate MK-Ultra Program. Mercury, Venus –”
Before he could complete the coded sentence, Seventeen plunged the syringe into his neck. The lethal chemical she injected into him had an immediate paralyzing effect. Kentbridge's face contorted as the chemical took effect. His last thought was for Nine, the son he never had.
Kentbridge died within seconds. Seventeen removed the syringe and briefly looked into her victim's sightless eyes before exiting the room.
52
Nine disembarked from a taxi outside the same private hospital Kentbridge had been admitted to earlier. No longer in disguise, he strode along the pavement toward the hospital entrance.
There was a bounce in his step now. He knew he had Naylor over a barrel. The Omega director would have put the word out by now to leave Nine alone. Naylor had too much to lose and the former operative knew it.
After crashing the Bilderberg Conference in Cornwall, Nine had immediately returned to Paris. There were two things he needed to attend to in that city before beginning his new life as a normal human being. First, he needed to check on Kentbridge.
He was worried his former mentor’s life could be in danger. After all, the man had given him the key to securing his freedom. Since the unexpected kindness Kentbridge had extended to him, not to mention sparing his life, Nine had begun to think of him as his surrogate father once more, just as he had while growing up.
He paused as an ambulance pulled up nearby with a screech of brakes outside the hospital’s Emergency Department. Its rear doors flew open and two paramedics emerged wheeling a patient on a stretcher. Nine watched as the paramedics wheeled the patient inside the hospital. He immediately headed over to the now empty ambulance and looked through its still-open rear doors. Checking to see no-one was watching, he reached inside and snatched a spare paramedic uniform.
Nine suddenly caught himself. He realized he was acting out of force of habit. You’re a free man, he reminded himself. Almost embarrassed, he returned the uniform to its rightful place and continued into the hospital.
It had been so long since he’d been undisguised in public, Nine felt naked. He began having doubts and worried Naylor may not have got word out yet to leave him alone. He also feared Seventeen was a loose canon who may choose to disregard such an order. Nine banished these uncertainties from his mind as he entered the hospital waiting room.
At the enquiry counter, a receptionist was busy typing. Nine approached her to ask which ward Kentbridge occupied then thought better of it.
He spotted the patients’ register lying open on the desk next to the receptionist. Biding his time, he sat down in a chair near the counter.
The minutes dragged by. The former operative was about to see if he could distract the receptionist when she suddenly stopped typing and walked through to an adjoining office, leaving the front office unattended. Nine hurried to the counter and speed read the entire patients’ list. It took him five seconds flat to discover which ward and room Kentbridge occupied. He was striding toward the stairs as the receptionist returned.
At the same time, in the hospital’s recovery ward two floors above, a gendarme and a forensic detective looked on as a male nurse pulled a sheet over Kentbridge’s face
. The room had been cordoned off by yellow police tape, indicating it was now the scene of a criminal investigation.
Moments later, Nine entered the ward. As he approached Kentbridge’s room, his heart skipped a beat when the gendarme emerged from it. Nine’s training immediately kicked in. Looking around, he noted an unattended, elderly, female patient in a wheelchair. She was talking to herself and clearly not with it. Smiling, Nine walked over to her and smiled. “Hello Aunt,” he said in French. “It’s time for your walk.”
The old lady didn’t understand, but nodded anyway. Nine guessed she was senile. He wheeled her along the ward’s corridor. The gendarme didn’t even notice Nine as he hurried from the ward.
Nine’s keen eyes took in the scene inside Kentbridge’s room as he walked past it. He continued pushing the lady down the corridor until he reached the entrance to another ward. A sign above the doorway read: Ward 2 - Psychiatric Ward.
“The doctor won’t be long,” he said to the bewildered lady. He left her outside the mental ward and returned to Kentbridge's room, arriving just as the male nurse wheeled a body out on a bed. The corpse was concealed under a sheet. Nine guessed it was Kentbridge. “Is that Mister Kentbridge?” he asked in French.
“Oui,” the nurse replied.
“May I have one last look at him?”
“You know him?” the nurse asked, slightly suspicious.
“He was a friend of mine.”
The nurse allowed Nine to pull the sheet back. Sure enough, it was Kentbridge. Nine studied his former mentor’s face. He looked composed in death.
Struggling to keep his emotions in check, Nine noted the small needle puncture mark in Kentbridge's neck. He pointed to it to ensure the nurse hadn’t missed it. The nurse nodded, indicating the mark had been noted.
Nine immediately knew Seventeen was the culprit. Assassination by lethal injection was one of her specialties. He also guessed that Naylor had ordered the execution.
The orphan pulled the sheet back over Kentbridge's face and the nurse wheeled the body away. Only then did Nine give in to his emotions. Close to collapse, he slumped against the wall. So much of his personality and, indeed, his life had been shaped by Kentbridge. Now his former mentor was dead, it seemed like part of him had died too. Nine felt tears welling up and had to keep himself in check to stop from crying out loud.
The forensic detective suddenly emerged from Kentbridge’s room. He looked at Nine strangely. The former operative quickly recovered his composure and walked off in the opposite direction. He took the stairs down to the ground floor and exited the building.
Standing outside the hospital, Nine looked up and down the street. He felt numb. For the first time in a long time, he was uncertain what to do next.
Children’s laughter drew his attention to a playground in a small park opposite. He wandered over to it and stared at the children playing. Some of the parents and nannies in attendance pushed their young charges on the swings. Others played with their children on the slides and seesaws.
Among the children, Nine noticed a young boy of about seven or eight. He played freely with a ball and reminded Nine of himself at that age. A wave of sadness swept over him as he momentarily pined for a childhood he never had.
He reflected on Kentbridge who, despite being cold toward him during his childhood, had just made the ultimate sacrifice by effectively giving up his life for him. It was the sort of sacrifice that usually only a parent would make for one of their own.
Shaken by Kentbridge’s death, Nine shed a tear. Now that he was gone, Nine felt surprised how much he missed him. He rubbed his eyes as he tried to regain his composure.
Nine spotted a taxi stand on the far side of the park and began walking toward it. Just before he reached it, he suddenly felt a whack on the back of his neck. The force of the blow pole-axed him. His face hit the ground hard and he momentarily blacked out.
When he regained consciousness a few seconds later, he found he was lying on his back. His assailant’s boot was pressing down on his throat. Bright sunlight prevented him from seeing who the boot belonged to. All he could make out was a shiny pistol in his assailant’s right hand. The person standing over him moved slightly, momentarily blocking the sun, and Nine saw it was Seventeen.
In the playground behind the two sibling operatives, the parents and nannies quickly gathered up their charges and ushered them out of the park when they saw the pistol in Seventeen’s hand. One of the fathers dialed a number on his cell phone as he departed.
Nine looked directly up into his sister’s icy blue eyes. He was aware he was completely at her mercy. She knew every trick in his book, so there was no point in trying to fight back or defend. Trying anything would only hasten his demise, he reasoned.
This was the end and he knew it. Lying on the grass, he allowed himself to go totally limp. He studied the cloud formations in the sky as he took his last few breaths of air.
Seventeen kept her boot pressed against Nine’s throat as she pointed her pistol right between his eyes. Her finger closed around the trigger. Nine closed his eyes. Time slowed. It seemed to take an eternity for Seventeen to pull the trigger.
As Nine awaited his death, Isabelle’s beautiful face came to him. He felt regret at what could have been. Isabelle’s face faded to be replaced by darkness in his mind.
53
When Seventeen pulled the trigger, Nine felt nothing. Just numbness. Everything remained dark. Gradually, a light emerged from the darkness.
He thought he was entering the afterlife until he realized it was not a supernatural light, but sunlight filtering through his closed eyelids. I’m still alive.
Nine opened his eyes and looked up at Seventeen. Her boot remained on his throat, but she had put her pistol away. Working out she had an empty chamber in her gun all along, he realized she simply wanted to make a point. Relieved to still be alive, Nine looked at her enquiringly.
“Don’t think I’m giving you a life because you’re my brother,” Seventeen said in a typically bitter tone as she tapped the ruby ring on her index finger knowingly. “For some insane reason, Naylor wants you to live”.
Still she kept her boot on his throat. As she studied Nine’s face, Seventeen saw a deep sorrow reflected in his eyes.
“All my life you’ve tried to sabotage me,” Nine gasped. “Why? What did I ever do to you?”
Seventeen thought about the question, but had no answer. A series of images flashed across her mind. The memories were all of her trying to destroy or undermine Nine at various stages of their lives. In a rare moment of clarity, she realized she’d spent her entire life consumed by hatred toward her own brother.
Nine looked at her with contempt as he thought of Kentbridge. “I know you killed Tommy and I know Naylor gave you the order.”
Seventeen looked at him with a blank expression. “Tommy’s dead?” She had no recollection of the execution.
Nine continued to stare at her accusingly. Seventeen’s face filled with horror as she considered her brother’s words then quickly shook her head as if to dismiss them. Nine’s gaze was unwavering though.
Worried he was telling the truth, Seventeen thought hard for a second. She began shaking as small fragments of Kentbridge’s death came to her. Seventeen stared back down at Nine with a look of utter shock. Slowly, she removed her boot from his throat.
Nine sensed his sister must have killed Kentbridge while under the spell of MK-Ultra. His feelings toward her slowly shifted from loathing to forgiveness. He understood what had caused Seventeen’s violent actions. Her motivations were no different to those that had motivated him to kill over the years.
He looked up at Seventeen in a new light. “The hatred you feel for me should be directed toward our Omega bosses instead.”
Seventeen nodded as the truth behind Nine’s words registered. She began to cry as she thought of what she’d done to Kentbridge. As they stared knowingly into each other’s eyes, the two siblings seemed to connect for a m
illisecond.
In that brief moment, they both felt they were beyond the Omega Agency’s reach. Beyond the regime that had dominated every aspect of their lives. Whether it was a case of blood being thicker than water, or something else, neither could say, but for the first time in their lives neither Nine nor Seventeen felt anything but compassion toward each other.
Seventeen tensed as she heard police sirens in the distance. Her eyes grew cold and her posture instantly reverted back to its usual rigid state as her old training habits kicked in. She started to walk briskly away from the approaching sirens and from her brother.
Nine pushed himself to his feet slowly. “You need to wake up, Jennifer!” he shouted after her.
Seventeen slowed momentarily at the sound of her real name. It was the first time Nine had used it since they were teenagers.
“You’re a robot, just like I was,” Nine shouted
Seventeen glanced back at him before hurrying from the park.
Hearing the police sirens drawing closer, Nine’s first instinct was to run. Instead, he steeled himself and walked back toward the hospital. The police cars sped past him. None of their occupants took any notice of him. They’d been told to look for an armed woman who was threatening a man.
Nine now knew for sure he was truly free. Seventeen had been looking for the slightest opportunity to blow him away all these years. The fact that she hadn’t terminated him confirmed his blackmail of Naylor had worked. The back of his neck ached where Seventeen had hit him, his throat hurt where she’d stood on it and his face was bruised from where he’d hit the ground, but he didn’t care. He was free.
The former operative nodded slowly to himself as his freedom sunk in. He stopped walking for a second, braced himself then continued purposefully on his way, mindful he really was a free man.
54
Three days later, in Montparnasse, Paris, Isabelle looked at her reflection in a bathroom mirror. She was in the house of her long-time family doctor and former close friend of her father, Doc Pichegru. The now retired doctor had been looking after Isabelle since Omega had released and returned her to Paris.
The Ninth Orphan Page 25