The Orphan Factory (The Orphan Trilogy, #2)

by James Morcan

  The orphan knew that if his Omega masters weren’t looking for him yet, they soon would be. Nine had no idea whether his plan to use the White Gold to block the transmission signal emitted from the microchip in his forearm was working. He was simply relying on the validity of reported military experiments.

  The boy prayed his current location was now untraceable. Guess I’ll find out soon enough. Meanwhile, he knew he just needed to trust and hope for the best.

  Nine’s end game was to get to California – to the coastal town of Santa Monica to be precise. For that was where he’d learned Helen and her father had relocated.

  The clue to Helen’s whereabouts had come from the name Katsarakis, which Nine had observed on the side of her suitcase the last time he saw her. Assuming that was her surname, he’d called former neighbors of the Katsarakis’s from various public telephone booths around Riverdale. He’d phoned in the guise of a bank clerk, a local council worker, an apprentice locksmith and a junior telecommunications employee. Fortunately, his voice had recently broken and now sounded quite mature for his age. The neighbors had accepted he was who he said he was, and had told him what he wanted to know.

  In the course of these calls, he’d learned Helen’s father, one Yanni Katsarakis, was a US Postal Service employee. A call to USPS headquarters in Washington D.C. revealed Yanni had been transferred to a post office in Santa Monica.

  The orphan refocused on the present. I need to get out of Illinois before I can even think about Helen or California. He was heading north along the residential streets of the South Side. His immediate destination was downtown Chicago. He thought he’d be harder to find in the city. Out here, in the suburbs, he felt totally exposed.

  17

  Kentbridge sat before his computer in his third floor office at the orphanage, drafting his weekly report for Naylor. It was a task he never relished for it always reminded him how far removed he was from the world of the field operative – the same world that Naylor had recalled him from to mentor the agency’s precious orphans.

  On this occasion, the report was causing him more angst than usual. Five minutes earlier, whilst walking unobserved past the orphans’ sleeping quarters, he’d witnessed One and the other orphans berating Seventeen. About what, he hadn’t a clue. Normally he’d have investigated, but not today. He had recently promised himself he’d give the orphans more freedom to express themselves as young adults. For that’s what they were – physically and mentally at least, though maybe not emotionally.

  While his paternal instinct had been to intervene when he saw his charges arguing, he’d thought better of it, preferring to let them sort it out like adults. Even so, it was playing on his mind. Finally, he banished it from his thoughts and refocused on his troublesome weekly report.

  Elsewhere on the third floor, Doctor Pedemont sat before his computer writing his own weekly report for Naylor. His fingers raced all over the keyboard. Unlike Kentbridge, the doctor was in his element reporting on his week’s activities and, in his eyes at least, his stellar achievements.

  Looking up from his keyboard, he noticed the jar of White Gold he kept on the bookshelf next to his desk was not quite as he’d left it. Although it was less than a quarter of an inch out of place, Doctor Pedemont spotted the anomaly immediately. Nobody else would have noticed it, but he suffered ataxophobia, a fear of disorder or untidiness. To him, a jar even slightly out of place stood out as though it had a neon sign attached to it.

  Fortunately, in his highly specialized line of work, ataxophobia was something of a strength as orderliness and tidiness were prerequisites.

  The doctor then looked up at the security camera in the ceiling and noticed it was pointed in a different angle than usual, as if someone had bumped it.

  #

  Outside, the blizzard continued unabated. This provided a challenge for Nine who was now no longer on foot. He was traveling on a 250cc motorbike he’d stolen from a shopping mall parking lot earlier, and the snow and ice made riding treacherous even for experienced riders.

  To some extent, Nine was having to learn how to ride on the run. Although he had practiced driving vehicles and riding motorcycles before, it had almost entirely been simulated in the virtual reality environment. And certainly he’d never been given any instructions on how to ride in such extreme conditions. However, like all the Pedemont children, he had brilliant motor-mechanical skills and was able to learn and adapt much quicker than the average citizen.

  As the orphan negotiated South Michigan Avenue, keeping his speed to a crawl, he was near blinded by the snow that clung to the visor of his stolen helmet, and the front wheel of his bike skidded alarmingly on the icy road. I must have a death wish. No other motorcyclists were on the road. What does that tell me? Several unoccupied vehicles, including a bus, had clearly been abandoned after breaking down or stalling in the cold. They were in danger of being buried beneath the snow.

  Not for the first time, Nine replayed in his mind what he was planning to do. His original plan, to catch a bus or train, or perhaps steal a car and flee the state, was now on hold as he suspected the blizzard would even grind all public transport to a halt, if it hadn’t already. Now, he planned to do the next best thing – to hunker down in the city until the blizzard cleared and he could make good his escape.

  Traveling parallel to Lake Michigan, Nine glanced to his right and saw the barely visible outline of Soldier Field stadium. It was blanketed in white, like everything else was. Ahead, he could just make out the skyscrapers towering over the Loop – the city’s central business district.

  Entering the southern end of Downtown Chicago, the motorbike’s front wheel skidded yet again, convincing Nine he needed to ditch the bike before he killed himself. He drove down the first alley he came to and pulled up behind an Irish bar. Checking to confirm he wasn’t being observed, he continued on foot toward the city center.

  Nine glanced at his watch. It had now been ninety minutes since he’d left the orphanage. He reminded himself if he could get out of Chicago, and preferably out of Illinois, there was the potential to be free of Omega’s tentacles forever. And just as importantly, to locate and court Helen.

  As he’d been trained to do on any assignment, Nine psyched himself up for what lay ahead. Today’s the day you become a human being instead of a number. He embraced these empowering thoughts. First things first. Find a place to hole up until this blizzard clears. He quickened his pace.

  18

  Kentbridge was finally making headway drafting his weekly report when his office door flew open and Doctor Pedemont burst in. He was clutching the jar of White Gold and breathing hard, having just run along a long corridor and almost collided with Nurse Hilda.

  “What the hell?”

  “Sorry, Tommy.” The doctor gasped. “But I think some White Gold was stolen.”

  Doctor Pedemont explained his suspicions and mentioned the out-of-kilter video surveillance camera in his office.

  “Was your office door locked?”

  The guilty look on the doctor’s face gave Kentbridge his answer. The special agent leapt out of his chair and ran out of his office, followed by his flustered colleague.

  #

  Kentbridge and Doctor Pedemont looked on impatiently as an Omega IT employee, Dwayne, fast-forwarded the video tape they’d retrieved moments earlier from the surveillance camera in the doctor’s office. They were in a sealed computer room on the same floor as Kentbridge’s office. Nearby, two IT specialists sat working at their stations.

  Minutes dragged by as the pair viewed footage of the doctor’s vacant office in fast motion on Dwayne’s computer screen. The screen suddenly turned black as if the lights had been turned off.

  “Stop it there,” Kentbridge ordered.

  Dwayne stopped the tape, wound it back and replayed it, this time in slow motion. As before, the screen turned black.

  “Can you slow it down more?” Kentbridge asked.

  “You bet,” Dwayne said. He rep
layed it in ultra-slow motion. This time, something resembling a towel or blanket could be seen inching up the screen until it covered the camera lenses completely. “Someone obviously covered the camera.”

  “Obviously.” Kentbridge had a flashback to the orphans’ altercation he’d witnessed as he’d passed their quarters earlier. Without a word, he strode from the room. Behind him, Doctor Pedemont and Dwayne looked at each other, bemused.

  Kentbridge’s mind was racing as he descended the stairs three at a time to the orphans’ quarters on the first floor. His gut told him something was amiss. Exactly what, he hadn’t a clue. He pulled up before reaching the orphans’ quarters and peered in through the open doorway. Everything seemed normal. The children hung out playing snooker, cards or watching television, as they’d been doing most of the day. Kentbridge noticed Seventeen looked like she was sulking. But then she always looks sulky. He quietly entered the room.

  Thirteen, the Polynesian boy, was the first to notice the special agent. He looked his master in the eye before quickly returning his attention to the card game was playing.

  Kentbridge scanned the faces of the rest of his charges. They all look dead guilty. He got straight to the point. “I know something’s up, people!” He glared at each and every one of them. “Now who’s going to tell me?”

  None of the orphans spoke up. Recalling the earlier altercation he’d witnessed, Kentbridge turned to Seventeen. “What were you and the others arguing about earlier?”

  Seventeen was surprised to learn that Kentbridge had seen the incident. She opened her mouth to respond. “I--”

  “It was nothing,” One interjected. “Seventeen was just trying to out-do us as usual.”

  Several other orphans nodded in agreement, but Kentbridge didn’t buy it. He did a quick headcount and realized one orphan was missing.

  Nine’s missing!

  He remembered the boy had left for a training run. Hell, that was nearly two hours ago. He scowled at the children. “Where’s Nine?” His tone and the expression on his face left them in no doubt he was angry and in no mood to be lied to.

  The orphans looked at him as if to say game over. Still no-one spoke.

  Kentbridge knew Nine’s absence could only mean one of two things: either he’d had a mishap or he’d absconded. Praying it wasn’t the latter, he hastily pulled a small handheld computer from his jacket pocket. He always carried it on him. Flicking on a switch, it immediately booted up. Its home page, a digital map of Chicago, appeared on its miniature monitor. It always had twenty three flashing red dots on it, confirming receipt of the signals transmitted from the microchips inside each orphan.

  Kentbridge counted the red dots.

  Only twenty two!

  He hastily expanded the satellite image to display a map of the entire state and then all of mainland America.

  Still only twenty two red dots!

  The special agent realized he’d been duped. He felt like screaming out and cursing, but kept his emotions in check in front of the orphans. Even if Nine had been run over, or murdered, his microchip would still reveal his location.

  Kentbridge knew the ninth-born orphan had somehow blocked the transmission signal, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out how. Short of chopping off his arm – or cutting his arm open and removing the chip – there was no known way he could conceal his whereabouts. Resourceful though Nine was, Kentbridge didn’t for one second believe the boy would resort to such drastic action to hide from his Omega masters.

  As he’d instilled in his charges, Omega’s tracking system was foolproof and impossible to evade. And he’d always believed that – until now.

  Kentbridge hid his disbelief as he returned his cold stare to his captive audience. “Do any of you know where he went?” Again only silence. This time he stared directly at Seventeen. “I’m not going to ask again.”

  “He acted alone, sir” Seventeen said. “Never told any of us about his escape plans.”

  “Wait a minute,” Kentbridge replied suspiciously. “How do you know Nine’s trying to escape? Couldn’t he have had an accident, or be sheltering from the blizzard?”

  Seventeen shook her head, then pointed toward Nine’s bed. “He took his backpack with him. And his wallet.”

  So there it was. Kentbridge knew beyond any doubt that for the first time in the history of the Pedemont Project, one of the doctor’s creations was trying to escape. He also knew Naylor would blame him and hold him personally responsible. In all his years with the agency, this would be the first blot on his copybook.

  It didn’t bear thinking about the consequences if Nine, or any of the Pedemont orphans for that matter, went public with what really happened at the orphanage.

  Unable to hide his fury any longer, Kentbridge turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving the remaining twenty two orphans in no doubt there’d be hell to pay for not blowing the whistle as soon as they’d suspected Nine had done a runner.

  As he strode back along the corridor, Kentbridge prepared to break the bad news to Naylor. He wasn’t looking forward to that. However, he had the satisfaction of knowing Naylor would make all the agency’s resources available to him to catch the rogue orphan.

  19

  Omega Agency director Andrew Naylor could feel a headache coming on. He and Senior Agent Marcia Wilson had been seated in his office at Omega’s headquarters for hours trying to solve a problem caused by the agency’s arch rival, the Nexus Foundation.

  Naylor had been tipped off that the equally secretive Nexus Foundation had planted one of their own in the Omega Agency. He and Marcia were going through the records of all staff and contractors hired in Omega’s various sub-stations in the last six months to try to identify the mole. That he’d summonsed his senior agent to drop what she’d been doing and fly out to meet with him at HQ was an indication how seriously he was taking the tip-off. Fortunately, the blizzard had not yet grounded flights in and out of Chicago when Marcia had received the call earlier in the day. As it turned out, hers had been the last outbound flight.

  Omega’s headquarters served as a home away from home for Marcia whose time was otherwise divided between the Pedemont Orphanage and the CIA command center in Langley, Virginia, where she was also an employee. Unlike the CIA’s hub, Omega’s HQ did not show up on any maps or satellite images. That was because it was a subterranean facility hidden deep beneath an abandoned hydro dam in south-west Illinois. Built in 1978, the existence of the underground facility was unknown to the American public. More importantly, it was unknown to the US Government, or any other government for that matter.

  However, that could all change if there really was a Nexus mole in their midst.

  For Naylor, the timing couldn’t have been worse. Omega was on the verge of securing lucrative mining contracts with a handful of new Eastern European and central Asian republics – all former Russian territories that had recently gained independence following the downfall of Communism in the region. If the sensitive intelligence Omega’s operatives had gathered was shared with Nexus, that organization could easily get the jump and beat Omega to the multi-billion dollar deals.

  Marcia studied the file of a female computer technician Omega had hired a month earlier. She handed the file to Naylor. “This one could be worth investigating, sir.”

  The telephone on Naylor’s desk rang as the director took the file from his senior agent. “You get that.”

  As Marcia answered the phone, Naylor didn’t know it, but his headache was about to get a whole lot worse. Marcia mumbled something into the mouthpiece then handed the phone to Naylor. “It’s Kentbridge for you, sir.”

  “Tell him I’m too busy to discuss any of his ankle bitters.”

  “He says it’s urgent.”

  A disgruntled Naylor snatched the phone from his subordinate. “What is it, Tommy?”

  Observing her boss, Marcia immediately knew Naylor had a problem just as big as identifying the Nexus mole. As the director listened to Kentb
ridge, his pockmarked face turned red with rage and his lazy eye revolved in its socket like a spinning plate.

  “What do you mean he’s attempting to escape?” Naylor roared into the mouthpiece. At the same time, he switched on the speaker phone so that Marcia could be a party to the conversation. He wanted her to hear this as, next to Kentbridge and Doctor Pedemont, she had the most to do with the orphans.

  Kentbridge’s voice came over the secure line loud and clear. “He’s been missing two hours now and has somehow blocked the transmission signal from his microchip.”

  “That’s impossible!”

  “You’re right sir,” Kentbridge acquiesced. “But he’s done it anyway.”

  “Which kid is it?”

  “Nine.”

  “Annette’s son?” Naylor asked, referring to Nine’s deceased mother.

  “Yes,” Kentbridge replied. “If you can spare a dozen operatives, I’m confident we can soon rein him in.”

  “It’s bad timing, Tommy,” Naylor replied. “We have another situation we are dealing with here. Most of our operatives are currently on assignment, so I can only spare five men. That’s it.”

  There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “Well, if that’s all you can spare, sir, that will have to do.”

  Marcia could hear the underlying frustration in Kentbridge’s voice.

  “Meanwhile, you get on the case,” Naylor barked into the phone before abruptly ending the call. Turning to Marcia he said, “The blizzard hasn’t yet shut down all of the roads to Chicago. So you’d better go and help Tommy. After all, you know those little brats almost as well as he does.”

  Taking her leave, Marcia collected her papers and stood up. “I told you the ninth one was trouble.”

  “You were right,” Naylor replied as he escorted Marcia from his office. “Hurry, if you leave now you can be back in Chicago before nightfall.” He gently nudged her forward. “And take two operatives with you. The other three I’m loaning to Tommy are in Chicago now.”