by T E Stouyer
“I guess I can understand about his dad,” said Kincade. “But why you?” he asked, turning to Arianne. “Why not his other brothers and sisters?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“I’m not sure, either,” said Fournier. “But aside from his father, Arianne’s the only person who ever had any sway over Myrvan. But, with Adam gone, and with the boy isolated from his sister, he had effectively lost both of his anchors. That’s what caused him to gradually turn into the person you saw. But, of course, the two years of mistreatment exacerbated his condition, and made those violent impulses even stronger. When Myrvan realized what was happening to him, I believe the lingering influence of his father and his sister prompted him to find a way to protect those close to him. Since he couldn’t get rid of those urges, he buried them deep inside his own psyche, along with himself. He never really wanted anything to do with other people, anyway. That’s when the Soran persona first appeared. And in all the years since, Myrvan hasn’t emerged more than a dozen times. It takes a lot to force him out. Like an extremely perilous situation, or a highly traumatic event. You see, it’s not a case of two personalities vying to rise to the surface. On the contrary, one of them wants to come out, but the other one does not.”
That was it. The professor had reached the end of his tale. But his audience remained focused on him, immobile, and silent.
It was a lot to absorb at once, a lot to process.
Coincidentally, that was when Soran returned to the living room, accompanied by Ashrem, who was visibly still in pain.
“You need to rest,” Arianne told the injured man.
“I’ll be fine,” Ashrem replied.
Kincade could hear a deep concern in the young woman’s voice. He thought about the special bond the professor had mentioned, between her and Ashrem. And about the fact that they shared a lot of the same DNA. Yeah, that’s not weird at all, he said to himself.
Meanwhile, the others were more focused on Soran.
Learning about the young man’s past had caused them to see him through different eyes. They weren’t naïve enough to fool themselves into thinking it somehow made him less of a threat. If anything, it was the opposite. The professor’s account had given them an even greater understanding of the danger he posed. But, it had also given them an added perspective. It was as Arianne had said: people tend to fear what they don’t understand. And they understood him a little better, now. They were also reasonably convinced it would take a unique set of circumstances for his other personality to surface again. After all, despite getting shot at, on two separate occasions—at the hotel and at the professor’s home—Soran had remained himself.
As the young man walked into the room, Kincade glanced over the faces of his comrades. He was relieved to see that their hard expressions had softened, and that their cold stares had grown warmer.
But curiously, it was actually Soran and his siblings whose eyes glistened with a fierce intensity. They all turned to Fournier.
“You know what we want to ask you, Professor,” Ashrem said.
Marie felt the mood inside the room turn heavy once again. The mercenaries didn’t say a word, but they too were now eyeing the old man with avid interest. The detective realized she was the only one who had no idea what Ashrem meant. But she didn’t dare break this grave silence.
Arianne locked eyes with the professor and said, “Jenkins. Who is he?”
After a long and deliberate pause, Fournier replied, “His real name is Jack.”
Chapter 20 – Jack Griffin
Patrick Jenkins stood in front of a hangar at an airfield near Paris, surveying the quiet night sky.
He checked the time on his cell phone.
Seven more minutes had passed.
As he put the phone back inside his jacket’s pocket, he heard a sound in the distance. He gazed up and probed the horizon.
A small airplane—a twin-engine private jet—appeared from behind the clouds.
“Finally,” Jenkins muttered to himself.
Moments later, the pilot touched down on the deserted runway and then taxied the plane into the hangar bay, under Jenkins’ watchful eye.
After the aircraft had come to a complete stop, a man in a black suit exited the cabin and jogged towards to Jenkins.
“Any incidents during the flight?” Jenkins asked as he walked into the hangar.
“None of note, sir,” the man replied. “But our guest complained the entire time.”
“Where is he?”
The man seemed uneasy. “He’s still in his seat. He refuses to come out.”
Jenkins frowned. “Why not?”
“He said he won’t move until he speaks to whoever’s in charge,” the man in the suit replied. But sensing Jenkins’ growing impatience, he quickly added, “You told us to avoid getting rough with him.”
“Bring him out,” Jenkins growled. “Now.”
“Right away, sir. Erm … and if he continues to be difficult?”
Jenkins glared at his subordinate. “Insist.”
“Yes, sir,” the man said. Eager to put some distance between himself and Jenkins, he hurried back towards the plane as he pressed on his earpiece. “Escort him out.
…
I don’t care. Drag him if you have to,” the man ordered as he shot a worried glance behind him.
Within seconds, an older man wearing a mahogany sweater and khaki trousers was forced out of the plane. He had a big scar on the right side of his face—starting on his forehead and running half-way down his cheek.
Another man in black emerged from the cabin and shoved the old man down the ramp, all the while ignoring his shouts of protest.
The old man eventually spotted three dark SUVs, parked at the end of the hangar. “What is this?” he bellowed. “Where are you taking me now?”
“Calm down, Whitmore,” said Jenkins as he approached from the hangar entrance. “You’ve caused enough trouble as it is. Your tantrums are making me fall behind schedule.”
Whitmore was gobsmacked. “Jenkins …” he muttered. He stared wide-eyed at Leicester’s associate for a long time, and then suddenly became indignant. “I caused trouble? Your men abducted me from my home, and flew me across the Atlantic. What’s the meaning of this?”
“Come with me,” Jenkins simply replied as he headed towards the SUVs.
Whitmore glanced around, and then reluctantly followed him.
When they reached the first vehicle, Jenkins nodded to the driver, who had been waiting outside, and the man promptly opened the back passenger-side door.
“Where are you planning to take me?” Whitmore asked.
“Have a look inside,” Jenkins told him.
The old man eyed him suspiciously before he moved closer to the vehicle and peered inside.
He froze instantly.
A flurry of emotions erupted inside Whitmore. How he had longed for this day to come. How many times had he lain awake at night, fantasizing about this very moment? And now, just like that, there she was, tied up and unconscious, in the back seat of a car.
Mitsuki.
“Ooh, Mr. Jenkins,” Whitmore purred, unable to pull his gaze away from the young woman. “Please tell me this means what I think it means.”
“It does,” said Jenkins. “I’m offering you the opportunity to study her once again. And this time, you’ll have free rein to run all your twisted experiments.”
Whitmore’s entire body was shaking with excitement. He took out a prescription vial from his trousers’ pocket, opened it, and swallowed two pills. “Nobody looking over my shoulders?” he asked as he ran his fingers up and down his scar.
“That’s right. But there’s one question in particular to which we’ll need the answer.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Are you in, or not?” Jenkins asked.
Whitmore made a clicking sound with his tongue and cracked a disturbing smile. “Mr. Jenkins, I’ll agree to anything you want. Anything at all
.”
“Good,” said Jenkins. “You leave immediately. My men will fill you in on the way. I have to get going.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said Whitmore, who was barely listening. But as he leaned closer to the prisoner, his expression changed. “What’s this?” he asked, noticing a bruise on Mitsuki’s face. He hadn’t seen it before because it was mostly covered by her long black hair. He began to inspect her further. There were scrapes on her hands, a cut on her lip, and she probably had other injuries underneath her skin-tight black outfit. “Did you do this?” he asked, glaring at Jenkins.
Jenkins said nothing.
“Was it really necessary?” Whitmore asked. “How badly is she hurt?”
Jenkins was amazed to see that Whitmore seemed genuinely upset. “Why do you care?” he said. “You, of all people. From what I’ve heard, you did far worse to them during your time at the Arc. And they were only children, then.”
“Mr. Jenkins,” Whitmore said in an aggrieved tone. “I would thank you not to compare my research to your gratuitous violence. Everything I did, I did in the name of science.”
“I doubt that was of any consolation to them,” Jenkins scoffed. He then checked the time on his phone again and said, “I’ll be in touch.”
With that, Jenkins climbed into one of the other SUVs and drove off, leaving Whitmore with his men. And with Mitsuki.
“He’s one of the four, isn’t he?” said Arianne. “He’s the right age. And it’s the only explanation I can come up with that makes sense.”
“He is,” Professor Fournier replied.
Rock gave them a confused look. “One of the four what?”
“Professor Engel’s original experiment,” said Fournier. “If you recall, I told you that four subjects survived. Adam and three others. Jack Griffin is one of them.”
“Wait a minute, he’s like them?” Rock asked, pointing at the siblings.
Lucielle frowned at the giant. “That’s not what he said.”
Fournier shook his head. “No, he’s not a clone. But like them, he too was genetically enhanced.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about him sooner?” Arianne asked the professor.
“I’m sorry,” said the old man. “I only realized it after what happened with Ashrem.”
“About that,” said Rock. “How come Jenkins wiped the floor with him like that? I mean, if they’re both enhanced, and all.”
Sonar raised an eyebrow at his comrade and said, “Weren't you there, too?”
“That’s not the point,” the giant fired back.
“It’s really not that surprising,” said Fournier. “Jack’s a soldier. His training, his instincts, everything about him has been honed for that purpose. Not only that, but as one of the original four, he would be noticeably stronger than Ashrem. It would take the likes of Darius or Damien to compete with him physically.” Fournier turned to the injured young man with an affectionate smile. “There’s also the fact that Ashrem abhors violence in all its forms. Even as a child, he could never bring himself to really hurt other people. Not even to defend himself. The only time he ever reacted in anger was to help his younger sister.”
Rock gave Ashrem a disapproving frown. “Now that’s just plain stupid, dude. That guy could have killed you.”
“He’s right, you know,” Soran agreed. “Those injuries were pretty serious, Ash. You had us all worried, for a minute there.”
The giant turned to Soran with an expression of disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” he said. “No, really. Are you kidding me, right now?”
“What?” Soran asked.
“Part of the reason he’s in such a bad shape … is you,” Rock said, pointing a finger at the young man.
Soran lowered his eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Ash.”
Ashrem smiled at his younger brother. “It’s all right. It wasn’t your fault.” He then turned to the professor and said, “There was something else I wanted to ask you about Jenkins.”
“What’s that?” said Fournier.
“When we fought,” Ashrem said. “He had this look in his eyes. It wasn’t just about his mission. I felt a deep anger. A hatred, even. Why would he harbor such strong feelings towards me?”
Fournier ran his hand over his head. “Hmm … I think his grievance is not so much with you, but rather with your father.”
“Our father?” Arianne echoed. “Why? What did he do?”
“Nothing,” said the old man. “Well, not directly, anyway. You see, Jack was always very … antagonistic towards Adam. He had a profound distrust and dislike for him.”
“Did something happen between them?” Ashrem asked.
“No, it’s more complicated than that,” Fournier replied. “It started when they were very young. I think Jack could always sense that Adam was hiding something. Even back when the rest of us thought the only difference between him and the other three children was his strange hair color. So when Adam’s secret came to light, Jack felt vindicated. In his eyes, it validated all his mistrust and hostility. And to make matters worse, Jack’s status had changed, along with that of the other two subjects. It must have felt like everyone had stopped focusing on all the gifts they possessed, and instead, judged them based on the one they lacked: Adam’s vastly superior intelligence. In the end, the three of them were treated as bargaining chips in the negotiations over who would get custody of Adam. And as a result of those negotiations, Jack was handed over to the US military. That was the last time I saw him.” Fournier marked a pause as he searched his memory. “Later on, I got wind of an incident involving Jack. But I was never able to find out any of the details. The truth is, I have no idea what happened to him after he was taken away. To think that after all these years, he would return to the Arc as Patrick Jenkins, head of security …”
“That still doesn't explain why he went all psycho on Ashrem,” Rock pointed out.
“In the time preceding his departure for the US, Jack's resentment towards Adam had grown even more intense,” said Fournier. “It's possible something fuelled this sentiment over the years. And now that Adam’s gone, Jack’s hatred for him may have shifted to his children. Not just Ashrem, but all of them,” the professor emphasized as he cast an eye over the four siblings.
“I always felt uncomfortable around Jenkins,” Arianne remarked. “Now I know why.”
“Hehe! Tough luck,” said Rock. “I guess you guys aren’t going to make it on his Christmas list.”
“Everything OK, Doc?” Kincade asked, noticing his comrade had been staring into space for the past few seconds.
“Huh? What?” Doc said, a little startled.
“You seem to be somewhere else,” said Kincade.
“Oh, it’s just that … all this talk about Jenkins reminded me of something,” Doc said. He paused and glanced around the room. “I guess now is as good a time as any to mention it.”
Everyone turned to him, intrigued.
“I didn’t stop to think about it at the time because of all the bullets flying around,” said Doc. “But something curious happened while Da Costa and I were trapped in that hotel kitchen. When Carson barged in, he was genuinely surprised to find us there. Quite frankly, I’m kind of impressed at the way he managed to fight us off, afterwards. But the look on his face when he first showed up was unmistakable. It was shock.”
“What’s your point?” Rock asked.
“Don’t you get it?” Soran said. “That is the point. The fact that Carson didn’t know they were pinned down in the kitchen, leaves us with only one possible conclusion: he wasn’t in contact with the snipers on the outside.”
“Exactly,” said Doc.
Rock suddenly looked even more confused. “But Ashrem and I had a run-in with those guys, after Jenkins blew up our tire and crashed our van. They were definitely following his orders.”
“Isn’t Carson supposed to be teaming up with Jenkins?” Sonar asked.
“He is,” Arianne said, wearing a pensive frown. �
��It’s quite strange.”
“An oversight, maybe?” the redhead suggested.
“I guess it’s possible that, in all the commotion, there was a mix-up in communications,” Soran said. “But that doesn’t seem very likely.”
“Indeed,” Ashrem concurred. “It sounds more like Jenkins is keeping secrets from Carson. But why?”
The living room fell silent once again as everyone stopped to ponder this strange new development.
“Well,” Kincade eventually said. “Clearly, this Jenkins character is more complicated than we realized. But we’ll worry about him when the time comes.” He cast an eye over the entire group and added, “I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one day. We can pick this up tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” Fournier agreed. “It has been an eventful day. I’m sure everyone’s tired. Please, make yourselves at home. There should be enough space. Though, someone will probably have to take the sleeping couch,” he said, nodding to the large sofa.
“I’ll crash on the couch,” said Kincade. He then turned to his comrade. “Sonar, you take first watch. I’ll relieve you in a bit.”
“Understood,” said the redhead.
The professor gave a surprised look. “First watch? That won’t be necessary. I assure you, no one knows about this place. You don’t have to worry about Leicester’s men showing up in the middle of the night.”
“That’s not what we’re worried about,” Rock said, eyeing Soran.
“Oh, come on,” the young man complained. “I’m really sorry, OK? Can we get past this, already?”
“Ask me again in a year or two,” said the giant.
Soran muttered something unintelligible as he and Ashrem headed back to their rooms.
Fournier watched them walk away, and then approached the detective. “Please, come with me,” he said. “I’ll show you to your room.”