by Arno Joubert
“All in good time, Doctor. All in good time.”
Alexa fell back as a massive explosion shook the building. She pulled the doctor by his hair, peering out of the tiny window, trying to see what had caused the blast.
A minute later she saw Bruce jogging toward her cell holding Yumi in his arms.
“Damn, it looks like it’s your lucky day, Doctor. It seems as if I’m not going to be allowed to kill you after all.”
Then Bruce pulled the door open with such force it almost knocked her over. “Alexa, are you OK?”
She felt disappointed, but she was relieved that Bruce had stopped her from going to where she hadn’t before—torturing and killing a man in cold blood.
“Hi, Dad, yes. Me and Dr. Wattana over here were just spending some quality time together.”
Bruce looked at the guy then back at Alexa. He didn’t say anything. He slipped out of his Kevlar vest then unbuttoned his shirt and handed it to Alexa.
“Thanks.” She put it on and rolled up the sleeves. It looked like she was wearing a dress.
“Let’s get this piece of shit out of here,” he said and pulled Wattana up by his arm. The man howled in pain.
“Ah, ah, ah. Not so quick,” someone said behind them.
They spun around. Hannes Petzer stood with a thin smile on his face, pointing a gun at them. “Drop your weapons.” He pointed the gun at Alexa. “Drop them or I kill the bitch.”
Bruce dropped his gun and told Rizak to do the same.
A door opened behind them and Jake walked out. “Dad, what are you—”
Petzer spun around and his gun barked. Jake’s body convulsed as the slug slammed into his chest. He dropped to his knees. He placed a hand on the hole in his chest then looked at the blood on his hand. “Dad?”
“Shit!” Petzer shouted, the gun dropping from his hand and clattering onto the floor. He leapt forward, holding his son upright by the shoulders.
The boy coughed, and a frothy mixture of blood and mucus spattered onto Petzer’s white lab coat. The man looked at it incredulously then back toward his son. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—”
Jake coughed again. “Fuck you, Dad,” he said and fell forward.
Alexa had made sure that Neil was OK, then she assembled everyone into the research section’s mess hall. Wattana and Petzer stood in the middle, and all the girls had obediently gone to sit at their allotted numbers. Alexa, Neil, and Bruce flanked the entrances. They had forced the prison guards and security personnel into the cells, and Bruce’s men were now guarding them.
Alexa walked to the center of the hall. “You speak Thai?” she asked Petzer. The man nodded, nervously pushing his glasses up onto his nose.
“Now you translate everything I say word for word, or I shoot you in the head,” Alexa said, cocking her Glock.
He nodded. “How is my boy?”
“Dead.”
He looked up at the ceiling, trying to suppress a sob.
“Now translate. Tell the girls they’re all free to go.”
He told them. A murmur buzzed through the crowd.
“Tell them they’re free to stay here as long as they want, but we will help them find homes with families who will care for them and love them as their own.”
He told them.
An older girl stood up uncertainly, walked up to Alexa, then grabbed her around the neck, sobbing and babbling and kissing her cheeks. Alexa held her tightly, calming her and speaking soft words of encouragement into her ear, although she knew the girl didn’t understand.
She turned to Petzer. “Tell them that this man, Wattana, has no power over them anymore.”
Wattana’s shoulders slumped. He turned to face Alexa, but she couldn’t discern the emotions on his face. It was a mess, his eyes swollen shut. Blood trickled from his broken nose and splattered onto his chest.
“Tell them I took care of him, he is a worthless piece of shit.”
Petzer translated and the girls giggled nervously.
Alexa smiled. “OK, all the girls who are sixteen years and older, please stay seated. All the other girls, please exit the mess hall. Sergeant Allen is going to escort you out of the premises and to safety. There’s a warm meal and clean clothes waiting.”
She turned to Neil. “Please make sure that the girls in the testing facility are OK. They probably won’t respond to your commands, but I’ll be there in half an hour.”
He nodded, took Yumi’s hand, and left.
It took five minutes to get the mess hall cleared of the younger girls. They were babbling excitedly, hugging each other and laughing, like children should. About a third of the girls were still seated, probably a hundred and fifty or so.
Alexa gently pulled the girl’s arms from her neck. She turned to Wattana then pointed the gun at his temple. “Should I finish him off?” she asked the girl.
Petzer hesitated.
Alexa put the barrel between his eyes. “Ask her.”
“You’re going to murder him in front of all these witnesses?”
“Ask her,” Alexa hissed.
He asked the girl, and Alexa placed the barrel against Wattana’s temple, looking at the girl expectantly.
The girl watched her for a moment, then she shook her head and put her hand around the barrel, pushing it down. She stood in front of Wattana then slapped him through the face. Wattana stumbled back, but Alexa grabbed his arm and steadied him.
Another girl stood up, ambled toward Wattana, her eyes cold and hard. She punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, and she slapped him again. One by one the girls stood up, walking toward Wattana menacingly. Alexa let go of the man’s arm and pulled Dr. Petzer to the side of the room.
A girl jumped on his back and bit his ear, and Wattana managed to throw her off him. Two girls had already grabbed his legs, and another girl jumped on him. The mob took over, and pretty soon all that she could see of Wattana were thrashing legs and flailing arms. He shrieked and swore and begged for mercy. After thirty seconds, she couldn’t see him anymore, she could only hear the dull thuds and Wattana’s grunts as the girls kicked and punched his body.
It took less than five minutes. Each girl got a chance to kick his lifeless body. Some came back a second time. When they were done, they went back and sat at their numbers on the floor.
Not much was left of the body. He was naked, his clothes ripped off, lying scattered on the ground. Nothing was left of his face, and his body lay in a contorted pulp. It was amazing what three hundred pairs of scratching and clawing hands and three hundred pairs of kicking feet could do to a body.
Alexa holstered her weapon then headed for the exit. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”
Alexa knocked on the door and waited, then she cast Neil a determined glance. He heard footsteps and the door opened. Mitsu de Vos looked surprised to see them. Her eye was swollen, and she had fresh cut marks on her arms. “How may I help?”
“Do you mind following us to the police station?” Alexa asked.
“What? Why?” she stammered, her hand flying to her chest.
Neil ignored the question and started reciting her her rights, when Eben de Vos’s bulky frame appeared behind his wife. “What’s going on here?” he asked, planting two protective hands on his wife’s shoulders.
Alexa held up a hand. “Calm down, Mr. de Vos. We’re arresting your wife for murdering your daughter. We have proof that she was involved in at least three other murders as well.”
Eben de Vos swallowed. “What proof?” he turned his wife around to face him. “Is this true?”
Alexa had expected this. She had prepared the video footage that they retrieved from the surveillance cameras beforehand. She pressed play and showed the video to them. It was a scene from within Wattana’s office.
“So why did you kill Alida?” Neil asked.
“She was getting too close. When Eight One Three escaped, we knew there could be problems.”
“But why make it look as if she was offer
ed on an altar?”
“Oh, that wasn’t me. That was my sister, Mitsu. She has some serious issues, that girl.”
“She killed her own daughter?”
“More like her own sister. Alida, or Six Four One, as we usually refer to her, was destined to be a breeder as well. But Mitsu became lonely in this godforsaken town, as she likes to call it. So we decided to give Six Four One to her. She raised her as her own so that she could have some company.”
Eben’s mouth gaped open. “Is . . . is that true? You killed Alida?” he stammered. He was jerking her by her shoulders like a rag doll.
Mitsu gave a thin smile then pulled free. She turned to face Alexa. “That idiot. Where is my brother now?”
“Dead.”
Mitsu gave Alexa a dazed stare, trying to shuffle backward, bumping into Eben. “You’re lying.”
Alexa shook her head then showed Mitsu a photo on her phone of Wattana’s bloody pulp of a body. “His breeders got hold of him.”
Mitsu shrieked and put her hands to her mouth. “Oh my God, no.”
Eben placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Did you kill my daughter?” His hand was shaking.
“She wasn’t your bloody daughter!” Mitsu screamed. “She was a fucken clone of me. My brother made her for me, not for you. But no, you wanted her all to yourself, didn’t you? She was mine!” she shouted, stamping her foot.
“What? But you were pregnant.”
Mitsu guffawed. “You’re such an idiot.”
Eben stood there, awestruck, his entire body shaking.
Neil took out cuffs. “Please put your hands in front of you, Mrs. de Vos.”
“You killed my Alida,” Eben roared and grabbed Mitsu by her neck.
“No, Eben, don’t!” Alexa shouted and tried to pull his hands from Mitsu’s neck. He lifted the small woman in the air. “You killed my Alida,” he growled, Mitsu’s feet dangling in the air.
Alexa heard a snap, and Mitsu’s head slumped to her chest. Eben dropped her to the ground, wiping his hand on his chest, a horrified look on his face.
Alexa crouched next to Mitsu, feeling for a pulse. “Call an ambulance!” Alexa shouted, leaning over the body.
She looked up. Eben was gone.
A second later a gun barked inside the house. “Shit, no,” Alexa said, scrambling to her feet.
She found him lying on the couch of the impersonal living room, the one that needed a female touch. He was sprawled out on his back, a bullet hole in his temple. The gun, a 9mm Beretta, lay on the ground, out of reach of his clutching fingers. His eyes turned to Alexa. She saw his mouth move. He was saying something.
She moved her ear close to the man’s lips. “I’m so sorry. It was all my fault,” he said, then he closed his eyes and died.
Dr. Hannes Petzer and Inspector Dawid Moolman sat behind the desk of the charge office, their cuffed hands resting on the table. Laiveaux pushed a sheet of paper toward them. “Here is the rap sheet. You are going to be tried for murder, assault, defeating the ends of justice, bribery and accepting bribes, illegal experimentation . . .” Laiveaux leaned back in the chair and folded his hands behind his head. “Should I go on?”
Moolman shook his head defiantly. “I’m not taking the rap for this alone. Mitsu and Wattana were also involved.”
Laiveaux’s chair creaked as he stood up. He walked to the window. The wind was blowing, forcing people inside to find shelter. He guessed there was a storm on the way. He turned around. “They’re both dead.”
Moolman thought for a moment. “What about the ministers? Do I get time off for cooperating? I have all their names.”
Laiveaux sauntered to Moolman then placed his hands on the inspector’s shoulders. “All parties involved have been arrested.”
Bruce chuckled. “You should have seen the look on Dlamini’s face when I cuffed him in front of his family. He was going nuts.”
Laiveaux nodded. “We managed to retrieve all documentary evidence and surveillance footage and experimentation results before the place was blown up. Luckily, everything was saved on a microserver.” Laiveaux cast Bruce an accusing glance.
Bruce shrugged.
Moolman glanced at Petzer. The man was just sitting there, staring blankly ahead.
“No, I’m not going through with this. I’m going to deny any involvement. The humiliation . . .” Moolman said.
Petzer turned to him. “For God’s sake, Dawid, my son is dead, my wife left me. Trust me, you’re not wriggling out of this one. You’re going down with me!” he shouted, slamming his fists on the table.
“But I didn’t do anything,” he pleaded with Laiveaux.
Laiveaux swiveled the man around in his chair. “You’re an accomplice to murder and you didn’t perform your duties. You allowed this to happen,” Laiveaux answered, leaning close to Moolman.
He turned around and folded his hands behind his back then marched to the window at the opposite side of the room. “You never searched the property like you said you had when agents Guerra and Allen disappeared.” He turned around and marched back. “And we found the Robinson R44 helicopter in a hangar on the plant. We took your word for it when you said you had searched the place.”
He grabbed the man by his chest and pulled him up. “You hid all the evidence and covered up for Wattana, you worthless piece of shit.”
He looked up as Alexa entered the room. She was holding Yumi by the hand. Neil followed behind them. He dumped Moolman back in his chair.
“How are the prisoners taking the bad news?” Alexa asked cheerfully.
Petzer turned around in his chair. “You are a sick bitch, torturing and killing Wattana the way you did,” Petzer hissed.
Laiveaux stepped forward then slapped him with the back of his hand through the face. “Shut up, or I hand you over to her as well.”
Alexa grinned. “Sounds like fun. I have some free time now,” she said to Laiveaux, looking hopeful.
Laiveaux thought about it long and hard. Petzer’s face had gone ashen. “What, you wouldn’t?” He looked up at Laiveaux. “Would you?”
No, it wasn’t worth it. Moolman would be a witness. Laiveaux shook his head. “Consider this your lucky day.”
Alexa snapped her fingers. “Damn.” She turned to Bruce. “Dad, General, we need to talk.”
Laiveaux and Bruce followed her out of the office. Alexa hesitantly took a seat on a chair outside, folding her dress beneath her legs. Neil stood beside her holding Yumi’s hand. She looked up at Laiveaux and Bruce, shifting her gaze between the older men uncertainly. “Neil and I have decided to adopt Yumi.”
Bruce glanced at Laiveaux then back to Alexa. “Alexa, I’m not sure about that. You both have dangerous jobs. You’re not even married.”
Alexa took her father’s hand. “Dad, you did the same for me. She has nowhere else to go.”
Neil touched Bruce’s arm. “You must understand that we’re ready to do this. But we need your and the general’s blessing.”
Laiveaux waved his hand. “Bah, let them do it, Bruce.” He pulled Alexa up then held her shoulders. “You’re the closest I’ve ever come to having a daughter.” He turned to Bruce. “And, besides, we don’t have any grandchildren. I need the practice.”
Bruce studied him for a couple of seconds then his face softened. “All right then, but Laiveaux, you better make sure she isn’t sent on any more of these dangerous missions, you old fox.”
Laiveaux nodded. “Of course not.”
Alexa squealed and grabbed her father around his neck, planting kisses all over his face. She turned to Laiveaux and hugged him, then she looked him in his eyes. “Would you mind being her godfather?”
He felt a lump in his throat. He was going to be a godfather? He nodded, unable to talk. She hugged him again.
Neil walked over with a smile and shook his hand. “You better look after these girls, Sergeant. They’re my pride and joy,” Laiveaux said, not being able to think of what else to say.
Neil no
dded. “Mine as well. Let’s go celebrate.”
They followed him outside into the gusty wind then walked down the road to the harbor, arm-in-arm, supporting each other.
Neil shaded his eyes as he watched Yumi play on the beach, building sand castles. Two surfers strolled by, gripping their boards to their sides.
They cast appreciative glances at Alexa, who was lathering her toned skin with sunblock. She stood up and passed the bottle to Neil. “Please do my back,” she said, undoing the top of her bikini. One of the guys stopped, and the other guy bumped into him.
He smiled then poured some of the cream onto his hand and rubbed it into her shoulders and back, admiring her body from a much better angle.
Her phone rang. She bent and rummaged through her beach bag and fished it out. Her bikini top hiked up, exposing a nipple. Neil couldn’t help but laugh as one of the surfers actually dropped his board on the other guy’s foot.
She turned to him with a frown. “What?”
That’s what he loved about her. She wouldn’t think twice about breaking the nose of a man who she thought deserved it. But she also had this naive innocence. He smiled. “Nothing. You’re beautiful.”
She shrugged then slid her thumb over the screen and had a quick conversation.
Neil looked at the young men who stood there, mouths agape. “Oy, scram!” he shouted, tying Alexa’s top.
They gathered their boards and hurriedly jogged away.
Alexa disconnected the call and turned to Neil with a smile. “That was Latorre. Laiveaux managed to push the adoption through. He said we’ll be receiving her passport sometime this week.”
Neil slapped his thigh. “That’s great. Then we can get out of here.” He turned to look at Yumi. “She’s very intelligent. She’s already starting to speak English.”
“It’s in her genes,” Alexa said.
Neil nodded. “You’re not worried about the type of people her parents were? That she could turn out the way they were?”
Alexa sat down on her beach towel then lay on her side. “Nope, I think the environment in which you were raised plays a more important role in determining who you’ll become one day.”