by James Morcan
A caring Isabelle watched Nine as he jogged away. She noted for possibly the hundredth time how different he was to the man who had abducted her while on the run in Paris. Apart from a few gray hairs around the temple, she thought he looked as youthful and vibrant as ever. There was a certain calmness surrounding him – proof of the peace he’d found. Proof also that he’d finally banished the inner demons that had plagued him since his unusual and some would say abusive upbringing at the Pedemont Orphanage.
Once out of sight of Isabelle, Nine strode out. Though not in the same peak condition as when an elite operative with the Omega Agency, he was still a fine physical specimen – a shade over six foot and toned like an athlete. He moved like an athlete, too. Soon he was breathing hard and sweating even more profusely.
As he ran, Nine reflected on how content he was with his life. After many years as a virtual prisoner of the Omega Agency, constantly traveling the globe and killing at the whim of his Omega masters, he finally had the life he’d always wanted – a family and a normal existence. It was, he reminded himself, a far cry from the dark days working as an operative. An assassin more like it. He used to have nightmares about those days, but no more.
After he’d broken away from Omega, he and Isabelle had fled France and settled on an isolated and unoccupied island he’d inherited in the Marquesas Islands, effectively getting off the grid. Their stay there had been short-lived. The onset of Nine’s heart condition and other circumstances had conspired to prompt their relocation to the main settlement of Taiohae, on the island of Nuku Hiva, elsewhere in the Marquesas group.
A difficult pregnancy with Francis meant Isabelle had required ready access to medical assistance – assistance that wasn’t available on their former island paradise. And she and Nine also wanted Francis and any future offspring to receive proper schooling.
So the move to Taiohae had been almost inevitable. It had worked out for the best. The couple, who married soon after they relocated, had been readily accepted by the locals and had made many good friends. Francis had also adapted well to life at school. The boy spoke French and English equally well, and could even communicate with the islanders in their native tongue.
In material terms, life was treating the family pretty well, too. Some shrewd offshore investments had seen Nine increase his not-inconsiderable wealth several times over, so money wasn’t a problem.
Nine was following a well worn path that took him high into the steep hills overlooking Taiohae Bay. He could just make out his wife and son down near the waterfront. Francis was playing an impromptu game of soccer with his newfound friends while Isabelle and the other mothers sat in the shade, looking on.
The sweat was pouring off him as he ran up a steep incline. Sudden shortness of breath prompted him to slow to a walk. He thought nothing of it, putting it down to the heat. You’re getting old, Sebastian.
Still looking down at Taiohae Bay, he noticed an inflatable craft approaching the distant waterfront at speed. It was manned by two men and appeared to have come from a floatplane Nine had seen land a short time earlier out in the bay. He watched as the inflatable nosed up onto the beach and two men jumped out. They began walking purposefully toward where Francis and the other children played.
Something about the pair bothered Nine. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it didn’t seem right. Even from a distance, he could see the two weren’t your average tourists. Besides the dark sunglasses they wore, there wasn’t a camera, sun hat or beach towel in sight. They looked more like business executives in their white shirts and long, dark trousers. One even wore a tie.
Nine found himself growing apprehensive as he continued to watch the pair closely.
2
The former operative didn’t know it, but he wasn’t the only one observing the two men. His spiritual master, Luang, had noticed them around the same time Nine had. The elderly monk was watching from the entrance of the temple Nine and Francis had visited a short time earlier. Like Nine, he thought the two strangers seemed out of place.
Luang’s suspicions grew when the men purposefully marched up to one of the boys. He recognized the boy as Nine’s son. “Francis!” he shouted.
The boy, who was now playing quite close to the temple, looked at the monk and innocently waved.
Luang motioned to him with his hand. “Francis, come!” He motioned to him again.
Francis suddenly noticed the two strangers approaching. They were only a few yards away. Sensing they meant him harm, he sprinted toward the kindly monk and the sanctuary of the temple. The men began running after him.
Only now did Isabelle and the other mothers notice anything untoward from where they sat some distance away. Suddenly concerned, they hurried to investigate. The island women began shouting at the strangers. Isabelle screamed when she realized it was Francis the men were chasing.
Fear drove Francis’ legs. The terrified boy ran as if his life depended on it. He reached Luang just before the strangers could catch him. The monk took Francis in his strong, wiry arms and threw him inside the temple. “Hide!” he ordered.
Francis ran to the rear of the temple and hid behind the statue of Buddha while Luang drew a long ceremonial sword from its scabbard that hung just inside the temple’s entrance. An exponent of the Muay Thai martial art, Luang was no slouch with a sword either – as the two strangers were about to find out.
The first man to enter the temple was the younger of the two. Confident the monk would offer no resistance, he hadn’t bothered to draw the pistol he carried on him as he stepped inside. He didn’t even see the steel blade that slashed his arm open to the bone. Screaming in pain, the wounded man threw himself to one side just in time to avoid a second slash that would have taken his head off.
Luang turned to face the second man too late to avoid the gunshot that ended his life. The monk was dead before he hit the temple’s concrete floor.
The sound of the gunshot galvanized Isabelle and the other women into action. Shouting to attract the attention of menfolk in the vicinity, they started running toward the temple. In her pregnant state, Isabelle was left far behind.
The women were still some distance from the temple when the older of the two men emerged with a struggling Francis under his arm. He was followed by the younger man whose wounded arm hung limply at his side. His once white shirt was blood-soaked. The older man pointed his pistol at the advancing women who by now were swearing obscenities at the pair. The sight of a pistol had no effect on the women, so he fired a warning shot above their heads, stopping them in their tracks.
Only Isabelle wasn’t deterred. “Francis!” she screamed as she ran toward the men whom she now knew were intent on abducting her son.
With a squirming Francis still under his arm, the older man ran off toward the beached inflatable craft, closely followed by his wounded partner.
“Mama!” Francis screamed.
Isabelle tripped and fell heavily. By the time she struggled to her feet, the men were already pushing their inflatable into the water. She was powerless to resist as they fired its engine into life and sped off toward the waiting floatplane.
“Mama!” Francis’ plaintiff cries reached his mother, but she was powerless to help.
High in the hills above the bay, Nine had started running as soon as the men began chasing after Francis. By the time they’d bundled the boy and their inflatable into the floatplane, Nine was already down at sea level and sprinting toward the waterfront. His lungs were burning and his legs felt like lead, but he ignored that. All he could think of was Francis.
The previous few minutes had seemed like a nightmare to Nine. There was no obvious explanation for what he’d just witnessed. Falling back on his training, his mind worked at a thousand clicks per second as he tried to figure out what was happening and who was behind it. It could only be Omega! He figured the Omega Agency must have discovered his whereabouts. But how? And why Francis? Why not me? There were so many questions and no answers.
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br /> Nine drove himself to run faster.
As he neared the waterfront, he felt a searing pain in his chest. Nine knew immediately what was happening. He was having the heart attack his specialist had warned he’d have if he overdid things.
Despite his condition, he had the presence of mind to note the description of the plane that was now taxiing out into deep water in preparation for take-off: it was a de Havilland Canada DHC-3 Otter floatplane of the type favored by the Air Command of the Canadian Forces because of its excellent search and rescue capabilities.
The floatplane was the last thing Nine saw before everything went black.
3
The next few hours were like a blur to Nine. With a distraught Isabelle at his side, he was rushed to Taiohae’s medical center where the duty doctor attended to him. After a battery of tests, which included an ECG, the doctor confirmed his patient had indeed suffered a heart attack, albeit a mild one. Nine was ordered to rest up at home until the doctor considered him fit enough to fly to Papeete to consult with his heart specialist.
Drugged to the eyeballs with medication the doctor had prescribed, Nine was in no position to argue. He felt woozy and couldn’t focus long on any one thing. Every time his thoughts turned to Francis, other thoughts and memories intruded, pushing his son’s abduction to the back of his mind.
Isabelle took over. The Frenchwoman knew, for the moment, she had to be the strong one. For so long she’d relied on her Sebastian to make the hard decisions. Now it was her turn.
First, she had to give a statement to one of the gendarmes charged with investigating Francis’ abduction and Luang’s murder. The gendarme seemed as bewildered by it all as Isabelle felt, which didn’t inspire her with confidence. Next, she gave an interview to a persistent reporter from the local newspaper in the hope that the resultant publicity could lead to a sighting of her missing son.
Finally, armed with a small carton of drugs for the patient, Isabelle drove Nine to their home on the settlement’s outskirts. There, she put him to bed. He was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
Then she ran outside and into a nearby palm grove. Near collapse, she raised her head to the sky and screamed. It was a long, heartfelt scream – a scream of anger, frustration and fear. Fear that she may never see her son again.
#
Isabelle spent the next few hours hosting a stream of concerned friends and well-wishers who commiserated with her and offered their love and support. Many of them were mothers, like her, who could relate to the loss of a child. They kept coming and going until well after dark.
Finally, toward midnight, an exhausted Isabelle made it to bed. She slept fitfully, waking to check on Nine every so often and worrying about Francis.
#
Nine woke to find Isabelle asleep in a bedside chair. How long she’d been there, he could only guess. Her tear-stained face told him she’d been crying in her sleep. The early morning sun streamed through a gap in the curtains, casting a golden glow over the bed. Everything seemed peaceful.
For a moment, the still groggy Nine remembered none of the previous day’s terrible events. Then it all came flooding back to him: the abduction, the murder, the heart attack. He sat bolt upright. “Francis!”
Isabelle awoke, startled. “What is it?”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Nine was already dressing.
Isabelle tried to force him back to bed. “The doctor said- -”
“Forget what the doctor said,” Nine snapped. “I have to find our son.”
Isabelle was momentarily taken aback by Nine’s cold manner. She hadn’t seen this side of him since he abducted her in Paris while on the run from Omega five years earlier.
Now fully dressed, Nine gently but firmly sat his wife down on the edge of the bed then sat beside her. “I need you to listen very carefully, Isabelle.” He stared hard into her eyes.
For a second Isabelle almost didn’t recognize Nine. He had his game face on now. The loving husband and father had been displaced by the ruthless, dispassionate operative she once knew.
Nine continued, “Who took Francis, and why, I can only guess. I have a few ideas, but nothing concrete.” He spoke almost in a monotone voice, as if reciting a script. In a way he was. Nine was falling back on his years of training to become an elite operative with the Omega Agency. In his mind’s eye he could see his old mentor, Special Agent Tommy Kentbridge, lecturing him and the other orphan-operatives on what to do in just such a situation; he could almost hear him speaking. For every problem, there’s a solution. Nine just hoped that was true.
Isabelle went to interrupt, but thought better of it.
“I have to act now. The longer I wait the less chance we have of finding him.”
“Oh Sebastian, what are we going to do?” Isabelle collapsed sobbing into his arms.
Nine caressed her, but his mind remained detached and on the problem at hand. A plan was beginning to form. He held Isabelle out at arm’s length. “Whoever it was who took Francis will have spirited him out of the islands.”
Isabelle looked mortified. She hadn’t considered that her beloved son could have been taken away from the Marquesas Islands.
Nine continued, “I suspect they’ve taken him to the States.”
“America? But why? And who are they?” She hesitated for a moment. “It’s Omega, isn’t it?”
Nine sighed. She’s reached the same conclusion I have. He stood up. “I don’t have any proof, but yes it could only be Omega.”
Isabelle became hysterical. She’d witnessed first hand the agency’s ruthlessness. The thought of Francis being in Omega’s hands terrified her. Nine tried to calm her, but she screamed over top of him. “We must tell the authorities it’s Omega!”
“No!” Nine could feel his patience running out. The last thing he needed now was a hysterical wife trying to run the show. He knew the job ahead of him would be difficult enough without that. “Omega doesn’t even officially exist, Isabelle.”
“But- -”
Cutting her off he said, “Remember, Omega is above the police, the FBI, the CIA, even the President. And it has eyes and ears everywhere. If I lodged an official complaint with any of the law enforcement authorities, I’d be apprehended and handed over to the agency before I could blink.”
“But they’ll kill Francis!”
“No they won’t!” Nine had to shout to make himself heard. Not wanting to precipitate another heart attack, he forced himself to calm down. “If they wanted to kill him, they’d have done that already,” he said quietly. He reminded Isabelle of the lengths the two men had gone to, to abduct their son. “Those weren’t the actions of people out to kill him.”
That got through to Isabelle. She calmed herself down enough to take a breath. “I’m sorry. You’re right of course.”
“No, it’s me who should be sorry. If I hadn’t once been part of Omega, we wouldn’t be in this terrible situation.” He kissed her forehead.
“What will you do?”
“I have to get to the States. I can’t explain every detail to you, my darling. What I need is for you to trust me. Can you do that?”
Isabelle nodded. In such matters, she trusted him implicitly.
“Good. Get dressed and packed. You’re coming with me to Papeete.” Nine considered it likely the floatplane had flown to Tahiti. That was within its flight range whereas mainland USA, and even Hawaii, was well beyond it. But that wasn’t why he was going to Papeete. He had something to do in the Tahitian capital before continuing to America.
Isabelle sprang into action. She dressed quickly then began packing. As she packed, memories of what Omega had done to her, and her deceased parents, replayed over and over in her mind. Her living nightmare was worsening by the minute.
4
While Isabelle finished packing, Nine walked down steps leading to the bungalow’s basement. There, behind a false wall panel, he retrieved a variety of items he’d stored for just such an emergency.
They included disguise-aids such as a fake moustache, cosmetics, hair dyes, contact lenses and facial prosthetics. He scooped these up and placed them inside a long black makeup kit designed to be strapped to his chest. Other items included several falsified passports he’d acquired during and since his days as an active Omega operative.
Nine returned to the bedroom upstairs and found Isabelle sobbing uncontrollably as she studied a framed photograph of Francis. Nine took her in his arms and held her tight. Gradually, Isabelle’s sobbing subsided. “You okay?” he asked somewhat lamely.
“What do you think?”
Nine had no answer. He could see his wife was beside herself with worry, but he was now in operational mode and his mindset was such he had no time for histrionics. “Did you speak to the police yesterday?”
Pulling herself together, Isabelle nodded. “Yes, I spoke to the local gendarme and to a reporter from the paper.” She described in detail what she’d told the gendarme.
Nine then phoned the gendarmes’ office. After two attempts, he got hold of the same gendarme who had interviewed Isabelle the previous day. Within minutes he learned the local authorities hadn’t a clue who had abducted Francis. Nor had there been any sightings of the floatplane since local fishermen had reported seeing it depart Taiohae Bay soon after Francis’ abduction.
Nine quickly relayed his description of the plane to the gendarme and asked him to alert the Tahitian authorities of its likely arrival there. The gendarme assured him that had already been done. He and his colleagues had also concluded that Tahiti was the plane’s likely destination. If they were right, Francis and his abductors had long since reached Tahiti and, in all probability, were already in or on their way to way to America – or wherever it was he was bound.
#
Nine and Isabelle caught a mid-day flight to Papeete. She used the two-hour flight to catch up on lost sleep while he used the time to try to make sense of the recent events and also plan his next steps.
