The Orphan Factory (The Orphan Trilogy, #2)

by James Morcan

  “What light can you shed on this, doc?” Naylor’s comments were directed at Doctor Pedemont whose entire attention until now had been on reading a file on Nine. “You’re his creator, so perhaps you can tell us where he is?”

  “His psychological profile suggests he’ll have given his escape a lot of thought, so wherever he is right now, is exactly where he planned to be.”

  Naylor looked as though he was about to blow a gasket. His lazy eye swiveled violently as he struggle to compose himself. “Tell me doctor, how does that help exactly?” Before Doctor Pedemont could answer, Naylor directed a question to Kentbridge. “You said you’d have the kid reined in by now, Tommy.” His tone was accusatory.

  Bristling, Kentbridge said, “It’s fair to say he’s had some luck. We had a tight cordon downtown and he’s managed to slip through it somehow.”

  “I’m aware of that. What I want to know is what’s next?”

  “How about publicity?” Doctor Pedemont asked. He was keen to recover some of the ground he’d just lost. “We could get Nine’s mug shot in the media, with a press release saying he’s a runaway orphan with a severe mental illness.”

  “No media,” Naylor said. “We don’t want some snoopy, investigative journalist sticking his or her beak into our affairs.” Naylor finally stopped pacing and sat down. “Okay, here’s how it is. You’ve got two weeks to reel the brat in. I want you to call in all favors with all our friends. I’m talking FBI, NSA, CIA, every police department in the country, the lot. Got that?”

  “Got it,” Kentbridge and Marcia responded in unison.

  “I want to go after him personally,” Kentbridge announced. “Can you cut me loose from my duties here for a while?”

  “Why you?” Naylor asked. “We’ve got people you can use for tracing missing persons.”

  “I trained the boy. I know how he thinks and I’m certain I’ll find him.”

  Naylor thought for a moment. “Alright, but if you can’t find the little bastard within a fortnight, we are going to have to cut our losses. You’ve got twenty two other orphans to mind out for.”

  “Understood,” Kentbridge said.

  “And this damned Nexus problem is getting worse by the day. I may need to pull you in to work on that soon.”

  “Where are we at with that now?” Kentbridge asked.

  “It’s very clear we have a Nexus mole in our midst. So this will have to take priority over your missing orphan I’m afraid. Two weeks, Tommy. That’s all you’ve got.” Naylor leaned forward and flicked a switch. The screen turned black as the connection was terminated.

  Kentbridge and Marcia looked at each other.

  “I’ll have the boy inside one week,” Kentbridge promised.

  Marcia wasn’t convinced, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

  29

  Nine was wide awake. The sound of trucks coming and going along the highway that led into nearby Mount Pleasant had woken him, and now he couldn’t get back to sleep.

  The fugitive orphan was too excited to sleep a minute longer anyway. Feelings of exhilaration and elation coursed through his body. He still couldn’t believe he’d successfully escaped from Omega and the orphanage. He’d done the impossible. I am a pawn of the Pedemont Project no longer. He laughed out loud then immediately stopped when he remembered where he was.

  Moonlight streamed through an opening in the wall of the barn he had sought refuge in. The revving of truck engines in the distance was all that broke the silence – that and the occasional mooing of one of the herd of cows fenced in between the nearby farmhouse and the highway.

  Lying stretched out on the hay, the orphan adjusted one of the sacks that served as make-do blankets. He was snug, warm and, for the moment at least, free.

  Nine thought about all the things he could do now that he’d escaped Omega’s tentacles. He imagined a future living as an ordinary person and suddenly realized he hadn’t a clue what normal American life was like.

  How should I behave and will people find me different or weird?

  The boy had no answers. Since birth, and right through his pre-puberty years, he’d been groomed to become an elite operative for Omega, not to live as an everyday citizen. Espionage training was the only existence Nine and his fellow orphans had been ever known and as a result it felt entirely normal to them. They all had a vague idea theirs was an abnormal childhood, but beyond that they’d basically accepted their lot.

  Until now.

  By fleeing the Pedemont Orphanage, Nine had flagged to his fellow orphans and their Omega masters he at least had had enough. He now demanded his freedom – and by God he now had his freedom.

  Freedom!

  Oh, how he loved that word. He loved it so much he knew he would do anything, including killing, to avoid being captured.

  Again, his thoughts returned to how he’d cope in the real world. He didn’t underestimate the challenges ahead.

  I’ll just have to learn life skills on the hoof.

  Inevitably, his mind shifted to Helen once more. He wondered how she was settling in to the coastal city of Santa Monica, in greater Los Angeles. Nine just hoped she wouldn’t find a boyfriend before he got to her. Her beauty was such he knew she’d soon have hoards of Californian boys after her.

  They’ll be like bees to a honey pot once they see her.

  Thinking of Helen seemed to activate neurological connections somewhere in his brain, and he soon found himself focusing on another female: his deceased mother. How he wished he was with her now. He reflexively touched the ruby stone attached to the silver necklace he wore. It was the only possession he had of hers. As always, its touch brought him comfort. He never could work out why.

  Kentbridge had given the precious memento to Nine a few months earlier, explaining it was his mother’s and that she had died not long after giving birth to him. The orphan had no idea why Kentbridge had waited until then before telling him about his mother, or indeed why he’d given him her ruby. But like everything else that happened within the Pedemont Project, he knew there had to be an agenda behind it. Omega ensured nothing happened by chance for him or any of the orphans.

  Nine also recalled his master telling him not to mention the necklace’s origins or how he came by it to any of his fellow orphans, saying it would create jealousies as none of them had inherited any possessions from their mothers.

  The ninth orphan continued to stare at his mother’s ruby and wondered what she was like as a person. He started to open up to her energy. For the first time ever, Nine began to experience his feminine side within – the gentle, passive, sensitive side his Omega fathers had suppressed and had never allowed him to express. His entire life had been dominated by masculine energy. Emotionless, logical, aggressive and structured. Even the female orphans were like young men.

  Finally, Nine was starting to understand he needed a woman – a real woman – to balance his cold, ruthless, masculine self. It couldn’t be his mother, for she was gone, but he hoped her memory, whatever that was, would continue to live inside him and guide him. Not that he had an actual memory of her: she’d been taken from him shortly after birth and he from her.

  Perhaps my subconscious remembers her.

  He began to stroke the ruby and felt he could almost sense his mother’s nurturing disposition. Tears welled up and his heart grew warm as he imagined what she was like. An image of a dark-haired, green-eyed lady suddenly appeared in his mind. He didn’t know if it was just his imagination, or if that really was his mother.

  Slowly, Helen’s face superimposed over his mother’s. Nine took that as a sign his mother was encouraging him to track down the young exotic beauty.

  Sleep finally returned. It was a deep, contented sleep.

  30

  Nine awoke at dawn, feeling reinvigorated and excited about the challenges ahead. He was anxious to be on his way before the farmer whose barn he’d overnighted in suddenly emerged from his nearby farmhouse.

  After checking to con
firm his White Gold was still firmly in place, the orphan grabbed his possessions, shimmied down from barn’s mezzanine and left via the backdoor. As he ran across the paddocks toward the highway, he made sure he kept the barn between himself and the homestead so the farmer didn’t see him.

  Once on the highway, he thumbed a ride with the first passing motorist and was dropped off outside the historic Union Block building in Mount Pleasant less than ten minutes later. A twenty four hour diner opposite caught his eye. Hungry, he headed for it then turned back when he remembered he’d used the last of his money to pay Mahamdou for the ride in his truck. Nine vowed he’d do something about that soon.

  Despite the early hour, Mount Pleasant was coming alive. Many of its seven thousand residents were already up and about. Today was the weekly farmers’ market day, and for many that was the social event of the week. Those who were planning to sell their wares at the market were already making their way to the venue. Some were on foot while others drove vehicles that included cars, trucks and tractors, and even a horse-drawn cart.

  Nine followed the crowd and found himself enjoying this little slice of life in the Midwest. As he neared the market venue, he observed farmers from throughout Henry County and beyond setting up their stalls and displays while latecomers were still arriving. Many brought livestock and farm goods with them. Others just brought their wallets, intent on buying anything that caught their eye.

  Among those setting up stalls was an elderly couple. The woman had left her handbag on a chair nearby. Nine noticed she’d left the top of the bag unzipped. As he strolled past the stall, he scooped the woman’s purse from the bag without even breaking stride.

  When he opened the purse, he was disappointed to find it contained very little cash. But it did contain the woman’s credit card. Nine pocketed it and set about finding his next mark. He found him almost immediately: a farmer who looked well-to-do and who was walking toward him at that moment. The farmer’s full attention was on a pen of Ayrshire cattle.

  As the farmer reached Nine, the orphan deliberately bumped into the unsuspecting man and immediately apologized. A split second earlier, he’d skillfully relieved the farmer of the wallet he carried in the inside top pocket of his jacket. The farmer beamed a good-natured smile Nine’s way and resumed his inspection of the cattle.

  The orphan quickly put some distance between himself and the farmer before stopping to check the contents of the wallet. It, too, contained little cash, but it also held the owner’s credit card.

  Using what little cash he’d acquired, he purchased a large Mexican sombrero from an arts and crafts stall. He placed the sombrero on his head and, feeling more than a little self-conscious, retraced his steps to an ATM machine he’d spotted earlier. There, he set about cashing up the credit cards he’d illegally acquired. He was confident his sombrero would conceal his face from the security camera above the ATM so he wouldn’t be identified when the camera’s video tape was viewed later, as it most assuredly would be.

  Starting with the elderly woman’s card, Nine used the date of birth that showed up on her driver’s license as the PIN number. Bingo. It worked. He quickly maxed out the card, pocketing two thousand five hundred dollars.

  The farmer’s PIN was a little trickier, but Nine eventually worked out it was the four digit street address of his farm which showed up on all of the man’s ID cards. He immediately maxed out that card, too, pocketing an additional five thousand dollars in cash.

  The orphan was relieved that neither of the credit cards he’d stolen had daily withdrawal limits.

  Nine dumped the wallet and purse in a trash can then promptly departed the market venue, anxious to put distance between himself and his marks before they realized they’d been relieved of their money. As he strode off, he handed his sombrero to a young boy who accepted the gift without question and placed it on his head. From beneath the sombrero’s brim, the hat’s new owner peered at the departing figure of Nine and wondered what he’d done to deserve such a wonderful present.

  #

  Back where he’d started, outside the Union Block building in town, Nine found a bench and sat down to consider his next move while he devoured a breakfast to-go he’d purchased from a fast food outlet.

  The fugitive orphan didn’t give the manner by which he’d illegally come by his not insubstantial funds a second thought. To his mind, it was all about survival. He needed funds to survive, so he’d acquired them. It was as simple as that.

  Now he turned his attention to his next task: to get to California without attracting attention.

  Reviewing what he had on his person, he thought of the fake ID’s Omega had provided him with for ongoing training exercises in the field. These even included a passport. While any one of the ID’s could be used to book public transport to reach his destination, he knew that was out of the question. It would instantly set off a red flag in Omega’s vast surveillance network.

  He became distracted by the sound of heavy metal music coming from a parking lot opposite. A thudding bass boomed out over giant speakers inside a car that half a dozen young guys and gals lounged in, on and around. They looked to be in their late teens and by their ragged appearance seemed to have been out partying all night long. The vehicle, a V8 Ford Falcon, had all the usual features young rev-heads like, including wide tires, spoilers, tinted windows and a ridiculously low chassis.

  An idea came to Nine. He studied the teenagers closely and immediately identified their likely leader – a smooth dude who sat on the car’s bonnet, twirling a set of car keys with one hand while fondling his girlfriend of the moment with the other. He reminded Nine a little of The Fonz, the fictional smoothie from Happy Days, the sitcom that dominated American television screens a decade or so earlier.

  The orphan stood up and strolled across the road to talk to the car’s owner. Amidst all the banter, he heard someone address the group’s leader as Trey. So now he had a name.

  Nine walked right up to Trey. Shouting to make himself heard above the music that continued to boom out over the car’s speakers, Nine asked, “Do you wanna make a buck?”

  “Get lost, kid.” The voice belonged to one of Trey’s friends, a would-be bodybuilder whose bulging biceps were majorly out of proportion with the rest of his lean frame.

  Nine guessed the bodybuilder’s training regime was limited to bicep curls. Ignoring the Mister Universe wannabe, he tried to speak to Trey, but his aggressive buddy stepped in front of him and placed his hand on his chest. Nine reflexively grabbed his wrist and twisted it, forcing the surprised bodybuilder onto his knees. Surprise quickly turned to agony as Nine increased the pressure on his wrist. Soon, he was squealing like a little girl. Nine released his grip and the bodybuilder got to his feet, rubbing his sore wrist and glaring at the boy who had humiliated him in front of his friends.

  If the orphan didn’t have the group’s attention a moment earlier, he did now.

  Trey motioned to one of his friends to switch off the car’s stereo player. The booming music was replaced by silence. Trey pushed his girlfriend aside, slid off the car’s bonnet and looked directly into Nine’s eyes. “Who the hell are you, and wadda ya want, bud?”

  “I’m on the run from the authorities and I need someone to drive me to California.” Something told Nine honesty would be the best policy in this case. These rev-heads might admire someone resisting authority. Even so, he wasn’t expecting an easy sell.

  Trey laughed in his face. “Why would I drive ya to the other side of America?”

  “I can think of two thousand reasons.” Nine opened his wallet to reveal the wad of notes he’d fraudulently withdrawn from the ATM earlier. He pulled out two thousand dollars, leaving several thousand extra for himself, and waved the notes directly under Trey’s nose. His actions were greeted by a stunned silence.

  Trey quickly recovered his composure and stared pointedly at Nine’s wallet.

  Pretending to consider the obvious bargaining ploy, the orphan slowly
drew out another grand. “Make that three thousand reasons. And I’ll pay for gas and meals along the way.”

  Trey hesitated for a moment then smiled and ruffled Nine’s hair. “I always did wanna visit Disneyland!” He shook the orphan’s now outstretched right hand, then snatched the wad of money from his left hand.

  Sensing a kindred spirit had entered their ranks, albeit uninvited, Trey and the others crowded around Nine, all talking at once. They had already accepted him as one of their own.

  The orphan did his best to seem at ease, but he felt totally out of his depth; he’d only ever mixed and socialized with a few other kids in Riverdale besides his fellow orphans, and all outside contact was closely monitored by their Omega masters – by Kentbridge in particular. This spontaneous, unauthorized interaction was a new experience for Nine. Strange, but not totally unlikeable.

  31

  Ten minutes later, Nine was being driven at speed on the main route west out of Mount Pleasant. He’d been consigned to the rear seat of the Ford Falcon. Trey had insisted on that, explaining the front passenger seat was exclusively reserved for his girlfriends or for Caligula, his particularly savage looking pet American Pit Bull. And not necessarily in that order.

  On this occasion, Trey had opted to bring Caligula along in preference to one of his girls. Nine had no problem with that. He preferred his own company anyway and liked the relative privacy the rear seat afforded him. However, his solitude hadn’t lasted long: Caligula had taken a shine to the young passenger and relocated to the rear seat. Not content to sit next to Nine, he’d insisted on standing on his lap every so often.

  Like all Pit Bulls, Caligula was a ball of muscle – and heavy. He seemed to weigh a ton and Nine feared his balls would be crushed every time the dog stood on his lap. Two thousand miles putting up with you. Sheesh! As if that wasn’t bad enough, Nine soon discovered Caligula had over-active bowels and farted like clockwork every five minutes.