by James Morcan
“How? By putting on a cape and flying through the sky like Superman?”
“How do you think I beat all those guys last night?” Nine retorted. “Even though I’ve been doing martial arts all my life, it still took the strength of a grown man to do what I did. Me and the other orphans have been genetically engineered for optimal physical, mental, and psychological attributes. We have a different number of chromosomes than the average person.” He quoted almost word for word what Doctor Pedemont had told the orphans. That was back when Kentbridge considered the youngest orphan, Twenty Three, was old enough to know the truth – or part of the truth at least. The information hadn’t really shocked any of them then, but it shocked Helen now.
The Greek girl remained silent, staring at the nearby play center. Then she turned back to Nine. “So does the orphanage you come from have a name?”
“Yeah.” He hesitated.
Will she recognize the name? Too bad, I’m past the point of no return now.
“It’s called the Pedemont Orphanage.”
Helen looked thoughtful. The name obviously rang a bell. “The Pedemont Orphanage? In Chicago?”
“Yes. In Riverdale.”
“Oh my God.” It dawned on her he’d been spying on her. “You followed me here from Chicago?”
Nine couldn’t meet her accusing stare.
“Who the hell are you?” Helen asked fearfully as she stood up once more.
The orphan wanted to tell her more, but he now felt an intense shame. Still he couldn’t look her in the eye.
Helen started to walk off then glanced back. “We’ll talk more about this after school.”
Nine nodded and watched her as she hurried off to school. He felt miserable. To his mind, the meeting had gone about as bad as it could have gone. He wondered if she’d agree to ever see him again.
46
“That’s it,” Naylor said, glancing at the diary on his desktop. “Your two weeks are up. So we now have twenty two orphans. Not twenty three. Other than that it’s business as usual, so let it go, Tommy.”
Looking at Kentbridge’s image on the video screen before him, the Omega Agency director could see the special agent wasn’t through arguing his case.
“But, sir, I had other--”
“It’s not a request, it’s an order!” Naylor barked. Observing how stressed Kentbridge was becoming, Naylor tried to soften things a little. “Maybe we’ll find Number Nine in the next year or two, maybe we won’t, but either way the other orphans must be your priority from this moment on. Especially as our cloning plans may possibly amount to nothing now that we’ve lost Doctor Pedemont.”
Naylor’s reference to the deceased doctor had the effect Naylor intended. Kentbridge’s expression and body language indicated he was ready to concede defeat on the missing orphan issue.
The director continued, “This batch of orphans could be the first and only for all we know. We’ve spent hundreds of millions on them and the Pedemont Project, and you need to make sure every one of these kids pays on our investment. Omega’s future depends on them. And it depends on you getting the very best out of them.”
Naylor ended the call and Kentbridge’s image disappeared from the video screen.
#
Kentbridge slammed his office door shut and strode out along the corridor at the orphanage with Naylor’s words still ringing in his ears. He wasn’t going to give up on finding Nine, even if he’d given Naylor the impression he had conceded defeat.
I’m going to find that little ankle-biter even if it kills me.
Desperate for some kind of breakthrough, he headed straight for the tree house he’d visited earlier in the hope of finding a clue to Nine’s whereabouts. As before, Cavell accompanied him up the old sycamore tree.
Inside the tree house, Kentbridge put himself in the state of mind and persona of a rebellious twelve-year-old boy. He remembered that Nine’s voice had recently broken.
Puberty.
The special agent thought about that for a moment. He tried to remember what he was like more than twenty years ago when he’d gone through puberty.
What did it feel like?
He closed his eyes and attempted to tap into some early recollection.
Pimples. Raging hormones. Self-consciousness. Girls.
That was all that came to him. When he opened his eyes, he noticed a folded piece of notepaper protruding from a crack in the tree house wall. Curious, he reached out for it. Cavell barked as if trying to stop him.
“Is this something important, boy?”
The dog settled as the special agent extracted the notepaper from the crack. He opened it to see a pencil sketch of Helen. Having never seen the beautiful, dark-haired girl depicted in the drawing, he wasn’t to know it was the Katsarakis girl. However, he sensed she was known to Nine and he was ready to bet the resilient orphan had drawn the sketch.
As he studied it, he couldn’t help feeling it was his first solid lead. The girl was definitely not one of the female orphans. “Who are you?” he asked aloud. Cavell barked, thinking the words were meant for him. “Not you.”
Assuming Nine had sketched the girl while observing her from the tree house, Kentbridge looked out its window to see if he could work out where she could have been. He quickly ascertained the only place close enough was the apartment building just beyond the back fence. All other buildings were too far away. He knew it was a long shot, but he studied the windows of each apartment, searching for a glimpse of the girl in the sketch.
#
Kentbridge inspected the orphans’ faces, looking for any sign of recognition, as he showed his charges the sketch he’d found minutes earlier.
Number Twenty stepped forward to study the sketch more closely. As the African-American orphan did, she sensed rather than saw the glares of several of her fellow orphans directed her way – from One and Ten in particular. She had recognized Helen, but suddenly didn’t wish to get offside with the others.
“You recognize this girl?” Kentbridge asked.
Twenty shook her head. “I thought I did, but I’m confusing her with someone else.”
Kentbridge didn’t believe her. He was about to remonstrate with her when Seventeen stepped forward.
“I recognize her,” Seventeen said. “I saw her walking along the driveway leading to the apartment block behind our property.” The blonde girl with the cold blue eyes couldn’t care less what the other orphans thought of her. Any chance to bring down Nine and she’d take it.
“You’re certain?” Kentbridge asked.
Seventeen nodded.
“How old would you say she is?”
“Thirteen or fourteen, sir.”
Kentbridge nodded. His suspicions had been confirmed: the beautiful, dark-haired girl in the sketch lived behind the orphanage. She could know where Nine is. At least he hoped she would.
#
The head of the Pedemont Project hadn’t wasted any time. As soon as Seventeen had confirmed his hunch that the apartment building was probably where the mysterious, dark-haired girl lived, he’d begun door-knocking. He’d started with the building’s ground floor apartments and worked his way up to the first floor, showing residents the sketch and asking if they recognized the girl.
Kentbridge struck it lucky when he showed the sketch to a cleaner, a Yugoslav immigrant, who was polishing the corridor floor. The cleaner not only recognized Helen, but professed to have become acquainted with her and her father during their short stay in Riverdale. Within thirty seconds, Kentbridge had noted Mister Katsarakis’ name, his employer’s name and where he and his daughter had relocated to.
A phone call to the United States Postal Service confirmed Mister Katsarakis had been transferred to their Santa Monica branch in California.
47
The bell rang announcing the end of another school day at Santa Monica High, bringing Nine instantly alert. Unable to control his patience, he’d arrived outside the school gates half an hour early.
The orphan desperately searched for a glimpse of her. He saw the two female friends she usually walked home with, but no sign of Helen.
As the minutes passed, his concern grew. Then he saw her with a new group of friends. His heart sank when he noticed there were several boys in the group, which numbered a dozen or so students.
Nine observed Helen have a quick word with one of the boys before slowly coming over to him. Over her shoulder, he noticed the same boy was watching her closely.
“I’m sorry if I scared you before,” Nine said as Helen finally reached him. He could feel himself shaking.
Helen shook her head dismissively. “It’s fine. I am no longer concerned about it.” She even managed a smile. “We don’t need to discuss any of that, anymore.”
Nine felt relieved to see her lovely smile once more. He assumed he’d been forgiven or at least was being given a second chance. “Okay,” he replied. “That’s fine by me.”
Helen glanced around at her friends.
The orphan noticed they were all watching. In particular, the boy she had spoken to continued to take a special interest. Nine wondered what Helen had told him and why he was taking such an interest. “So, shall I walk you to dance class?”
“Um,” Helen hesitated awkwardly. “John’s father is going to give me a ride to the hall.” She pointed behind her directly at the boy still watching them.
Nine was feeling confused and had trouble thinking straight. “Has John joined the dance class, too?”
“No. No, he doesn’t dance.” She looked at the orphan seriously as if to make a point without actually saying the thing directly.
By her expression and what she’d said thus far, the truth eventually dawned on Nine.
She’s dumping me.
The orphan felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know whether to cry, throw up or scream. Probably the latter, he thought. Nine was in so much pain the Greek beauty may as well have stabbed him through his heart. He looked over her shoulder at John. The student seemed to be smirking.
Nine could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He fought hard to stop them. Not wanting to appear vulnerable before Helen, he started to walk away, but she reached out and touched his shoulder.
“I want you to know this isn’t anything to do with the fight last night,” she said, “or any of the things you told me this morning.”
A feeling of dread welled up inside Nine. He could sense what was coming.
Helen looked at him seriously. “I just don’t think we click. Have you noticed that, Luke?”
There it was. It was a double blow for the orphan. Not only is she dumping me, but she doesn’t even like me. He wondered if she’d been planning to dump him even before last night’s violent incident.
“But we can still be friends,” Helen said, suddenly cheerful.
“Friends?” Nine’s voice cracked as he spat out the word.
A car horn sounded out. They turned to see Helen’s friends climbing into a car driven by a middle-aged man whom Nine assumed must be John’s father. The car then approached the young couple.
Helen waved to its passengers. “I have to go now,” she announced. The Greek beauty walked off then stopped briefly and looked back at Nine. “Sorry I’m not the one for you, Luke. But the right girl will come along.”
The jilted orphan could only stand and watch as Helen jumped into the car’s rear seat next to John, and the vehicle slowly drove away.
Through one of the car’s rear windows, someone shouted, “Later, loser!”
Nine guessed it was John. He thought he heard giggles coming from inside the car, but couldn’t be sure.
Crestfallen and bewildered, he tried in vain to analyze what had just happened. He hadn’t seen her change of heart coming. She had never given him any clear signals. Whatever her reason, or reasons, it had completely derailed him.
For the first time in his life, Nine suddenly felt suicidal, or, at the very least, he’d lost his desire to live.
Everything he’d done, risking all to flee the orphanage and come to California, had been for Helen.
Now I am truly alone.
As he did whenever he was sad or worried – or lonely as he was now – he fondled the ruby necklace he wore. On this occasion however, it brought him no comfort.
Defeated, he crouched down on the sidewalk and held his head in his hands. A solitary tear trickled down one of his cheeks. Then the floodgates opened and he cried for the first time that he could remember.
48
“Your daughter has been followed here from Chicago,” Kentbridge said. He was addressing Helen’s father in the living room of the Katsarakis’ Santa Monica home.
Mister Katsarakis listened grimly to what the special agent had to say while Helen sat close by, patting her kitten. In the corner of the room, a television set was on with its volume on low.
“And you are from this orphanage?” the Greek gentleman asked, his concern growing by the second.
“Yes. As I said, I am head of the Pedemont Orphanage in Riverdale, Chicago,” Kentbridge said as he handed Mister Katsarakis a fake business card. “I’m searching for a runaway who left about two weeks--”
“Luke told me he came from the orphanage,” Helen interjected.
Luke. Kentbridge made a quick mental note of the alias his protégé was using. “He ran away soon after you guys left Riverdale,” the Omegan explained. “I suspect Luke used to spy on you in your apartment from the tree behind our orphanage.” He pulled out the sketch he found. “Here’s something he drew.”
Helen nearly freaked out when she studied the drawing. She felt violated – as if she’d been stalked. Her father grabbed the sketch from her. He could only shake his head at the turn of events.
“Do you know where he’s living?” Kentbridge asked.
“Somewhere in Venice, but he never took me to his home,” Helen said. “He just said he lives there with his uncle and that he’s homeschooled.”
Kentbridge made more mental notes, but was disappointed the girl didn’t know where exactly Nine was staying. The special agent knew the crafty orphan was capable of fleeing Los Angeles unnoticed just as he’d fled Chicago. Pondering the most efficient way to capture him, he leaned forward to impress upon Helen the importance of what he was about to ask. “Think carefully. Is there anything about Luke you noticed that might help me find him?”
“Not really. It’s just that…” She hesitated. “He’s strange. I did wonder if Luke is all there.”
Kentbridge flashed her an understanding smile. “Well, between us we are very worried about Luke’s sanity, too,” the special agent lied. “You see, he has mental health problems and a history of delusions and telling elaborate lies to others. Wild stories like those he no doubt told you.” He paused, hoping Helen would take the bait. She did.
“Before I broke up with him, he told me a crazy story about being a laboratory experiment in human engineering,” Helen said. “He claims he and the other orphans were created by some secret organization that wants to take over the world.”
Kentbridge shook his head sadly. “Yes, that’s our Luke. He’s a danger to himself and others.”
“He certainly proved that the night before last when he and Helen were attacked by some local thugs,” Mister Katsarakis said, rejoining the discussion.
Kentbridge turned back to Helen. “You were attacked?”
She relayed the events of the violent incident to the special agent. The outcome of the incident didn’t surprise him, though he acted surprised.
“He frightened me the way he beat those
boys,” Helen said. “He said something about his genetic superiority. That it gave him the strength of a man.”
“It’s not his genetic superiority, Helen. It’s his mental state. It’s well known that mentally unhinged people – even children – often demonstrate superior strength. Combine that with a predilection for violence and it’s a volatile mix.”
Mister Katsarakis nodded in agreement. “So how can we help you?”
“I would like to ask Helen if she will assist me in luring the orphan back in.” Mister Katsarakis looked ready to object, so Kentbridge quickly turned to Helen. “All you’d need to do, young lady, is to contact him, tell him you still have feelings for him and would like to meet him again. I will be able to take care of the rest.”
Mister Katsarakis asked, “Why aren’t the police involved?”
“Oh, they are. But they’ve been looking for him for weeks, and I think this case is now a low priority for them. Plus I have skills of my own, Mister Katsarakis. I have a background in the military, you see. Besides, I love Luke so much I can’t stand by and let the police fumble about while he’s out there on his own somewhere. He’s so vulnerable.”
This appeased Mister Katsarakis. He turned to his daughter and spoke to her in Greek. “It’s over to you, my dear.”
Helen nodded nervously. “Alright Mister Kentbridge, tell me what I need to do.”
Over a cup of tea prepared by Mister Katsarakis, the special agent explained to Helen what he had in mind.
As the meeting wound up, Kentbridge glanced at the television set in the corner. A news reporter was informing viewers that Bill Clinton’s bid to become the Democrat’s Presidential candidate for the election later in the year was being sabotaged by yet more scandals.
49
To Nine’s eyes, all seemed well inside and outside the Mexican fast food diner Helen had arranged to meet him at. For the past fifteen minutes he’d been surveying it from behind a truck parked on Venice Boulevard diagonally opposite the diner.