by James Morcan
Helping himself to Clarence’s computer and printer, Nine put his time to good use and printed out copies of the confidential files he’d downloaded to his flash-drive at Naylor’s residence. He then started reading Seventeen’s file at a more leisurely pace than before.
21
While Nine and Seventeen were at Clarence’s office, three Omega operatives were waiting for them in the basement of the car parking building the pair had left the rental car in earlier. Smart detective work by one of Omega’s IT people had connected the troublesome siblings with the car as they left Glen Ellyn after the violent incident at Seventeen’s residence.
The car and its two occupants had been spotted during real-time surveillance of security camera footage back at Omega HQ. That same footage revealed the route the car followed and the parking building it entered.
As soon as the information had been forwarded to Naylor, he ordered his operatives to stake out the building and await the return of Nine and Seventeen. Their orders were to shoot to kill.
Nine would have been interested to know his earlier assessment of Naylor was correct: the Omega boss did believe Nine had been wired when he’d accosted him in his home, and he was paranoid that whoever had been listening in at the other end had recorded the conversation. Naylor wanted Nine dead, and if that mean putting every last one of his still-active, elite orphan-operatives on the case, he’d do it.
#
Ninety minutes later, Nine was still waiting for Seventeen’s deprogramming to finish. He’d been pacing for much of that time. The clock was ticking and every minute’s delay was agony for him.
Curiosity got the better of him and he quietly walked over and placed his ear to the wall of the adjoining room. He could hear Clarence repeating the names of the planets of the solar system over and over in a calm, monotone voice.
“Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars,” Clarence said, “Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto.”
Nine knew from experience his friend was reciting the MK-Ultra voice-commands to de-activate the mind-control program Seventeen had been subjected to. The irony was they were the same commands as those recited to activate the program. As Clarence had once explained to him, continuous repetition of the commands was required to desensitize the subject and to successfully and permanently deactivate MK-Ultra.
Resigned to waiting, Nine sat down again.
Finally, the door to the adjoining room opened. Clarence entered the office and closed the door behind him. He quietly advised Nine that the deprogramming had been successful. However, he said the procedure had taken a lot out of Seventeen and recommended she get some rest. Nine concurred, but privately thought that rest was a luxury neither of them was likely to experience in the coming days.
“Oh, one other thing,” Clarence said. “She may never fully recover her memory.”
“Why? I did.”
“Yes, but you weren’t subjected to prolonged mind control like she was. She will have to face the fact that she has amnesia and may always have it.”
As Nine digested this news, the door opened and an exhausted Seventeen joined them. It was obvious she’d been crying. Her appearance reminded Nine how he’d felt after he’d undergone the same procedure. He could only imagine how Seventeen must be feeling, having endured such a lengthy session.
Nine paid Clarence the pre-agreed rate, in cash, and thanked him profusely for his assistance. Anxious to be on his way, Nine led a subdued and shaken Seventeen from the building. Outside, on the sidewalk, he looked at her. “You okay?”
She nodded. Even the effort of speaking was beyond her for the moment.
Nine immediately hailed a passing cab. He’d figured it was time to leave their rental car behind. No point in taking unnecessary risks. The cab stopped and the siblings climbed into the rear seat.
“Where to?” the cabbie asked.
“The Loop thanks,” Nine said.
#
Omega boss Andrew Naylor presided over a meeting he’d called at short notice. It was being held in the boardroom at Omega’s underground headquarters. Naylor’s audience comprised seven male operatives – elites all of them.
Like Nine and Seventeen, the operatives had been raised at the orphanage in Riverdale on Chicago’s South Side and were graduates of the Pedemont Project. They knew the two former orphan-operatives as well as any siblings knew each other. After all, they’d spent all their formative years living with them day and night, and since then had often worked on field assignments together.
While none of the Pedemont orphans had fond memories of the ever-competitive and cold Seventeen, several had been friends with Nine and all respected him. Or they had respected him until he’d turned his back on them and fled the agency.
Naylor, whose face still bore the fresh scars of his run-in with Nine, was aware there could be divided loyalties among the orphan-operatives. After all, this would be the first time since Seventeen had been tasked with killing Nine that any of the elites had been asked to go up against one of their own.
For this reason, Naylor had solicited Doctor Andrews to reactivate MK-Ultra mind control in all seven elites. Reactivation had been successfully carried out a short time before the meeting. A quick hypnosis session with each was all it took. Now, as he addressed his elites, Naylor was certain they wouldn’t hesitate to carry out his orders to the letter.
Six of the operatives were ordered to catch the first available commercial flights to one or other of the agency’s offshore orphanages. Their assignment was to intercept and terminate Nine and Seventeen should either show up. Naylor was in no doubt Seventeen was now working with her brother. He stressed that one or both would be heading for at least one of the orphanages at that very moment, and reminded the elites that the pair were masters of disguise.
Naylor didn’t consider it likely that Seventeen would be headed for Tahiti to help protect Isabelle. It had crossed his mind, but he thought Nine would be so worried about Francis he’d have recruited her to help find the boy.
The fifteenth operative, appropriately named Fifteen, was ordered to fly to Tahiti to help Twenty Three find the pregnant Frenchwoman and take her and her unborn child into custody. Naylor didn’t explain what Omega’s interest was in the baby.
Fifteen, a strapping Latino, was one of those who had considered Nine a friend when they were growing up at the orphanage. Normally, he’d have had serious misgivings about what he was being asked to do. Under the effects of Mk-Ultra however, he had no misgivings at all.
22
As Naylor continued to make plans to thwart the two siblings, Nine and Seventeen were safely ensconced in the former’s apartment in The Loop, in downtown Chicago. They were filling in a couple of hours until their respective flights departed from nearby O’Hare International Airport.
The siblings sat on the carpeted floor of the main room, pouring over the contents of the confidential files Nine had printed out earlier. Having showered, changed and then eaten a pizza together, they were finalizing their plans for the coming days and possibly weeks.
Nine was delighted by the transformation he’d witnessed in Seventeen: she was becoming more like her old self. The deprogramming had done the trick. Either that or their grandfather’s murder had galvanized something inside Seventeen and revived her killer instinct. Nine suspected it was a bit of both.
As Clarence had warned, there were still big gaps in Seventeen’s memory, and her ability to recall events was shaky at best, but the mental improvement in her was undeniable.
The documents Nine had printed out included three maps. On two of them, X symbols marked the location of Omega’s underground medical labs in Greenland and the DRC, while on a map of Tahiti an X marked the location of Isabelle’s safe house near Papeete.
Seventeen’s willingness to fly to Tahiti to help protect Isabelle had come as a huge relief for Nine as he was desperately worried for his wife’s safety. Knowing Seventeen would be looking out for her meant he could focus solely on the all-i
mportant task of finding and rescuing Francis.
After going over their plans for the third time, Nine asked, “So, is everything clear?”
“Yes,” Seventeen said without hesitation. “Isabelle and I will sit tight until we hear from you.”
“Good.” Nine was beginning to trust his sister more and more. It felt like he had a real ally on board now that Seventeen had pulled herself together. He looked at her intently. “This mission means everything to me, Jennifer.”
She returned his earnest stare. “Me too, Sebastian. You are the only family I have now. And your son, Francis, is my nephew, right?”
Nine nodded then smiled at his sister.
It was a watershed moment. Each felt they’d connected with their sibling for the first time in their lives.
Nine reached out and took Seventeen’s hand in his. “How much do you know or remember about our mom?”
“Grandpa filled me in on her early years, but he said he lost contact with her when she fell into bad company.”
Nine smiled grimly. “Yes and I have a good idea who, or what, that bad company was. Omega.”
“I vaguely remember Naylor telling me that mom died of an overdose when she went back on the drugs a short time after I was born. Grandpa confirmed that.”
“Well Naylor was lying, and Grandpa obviously believed the official story. Naylor had our mother terminated and concocted the story about a drug overdose.”
A shocked Seventeen asked, “Why?”
“You remember Yannie Hertzog?”
Seventeen looked blank.
“Omega’s man in Cape Town,” Nine continued. “He confided in me that Naylor had mom terminated because she was considered a security threat.”
“A security threat? How?”
“Not sure. Hertzog thought it could have been something to do with her threatening to go to the authorities if she couldn’t have contact with us.”
A suddenly emotional Seventeen leaned forward and rested her head on Nine’s shoulder. Before she knew it, she was crying as a myriad of emotions erupted within her.
Nine stroked her blonde hair tenderly.
“Oh Sebastian, look what Omega did to our mother. And now Grandpa,” she sobbed. “And we can’t even arrange a funeral for him.”
There was nothing he could say that would comfort her. Besides, Sebastian Senior was dead, but Francis was very much alive. Nine was very aware if what Naylor said was true Francis would soon be subjected to cutting-edge medical experiments. All in the name of science. With every passing hour, the risk to his son increased.
Nine suddenly noticed Seventeen looking at him anxiously. “What is it?” he asked.
“How will Isabelle receive me?”
Nine knew from their earlier discussions that Seventeen had no recollection of murdering Isabelle’s parents. Nor did she recall having interned Isabelle in the CIA detention center in Andorra. After the recent traumas she’d been through, he wasn’t sure she could handle learning the truth.
However, Nine realized he’d have to tell her what happened before she left for Tahiti. It might as well be now. He looked at her seriously. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
For the next ten minutes, Seventeen listened in shocked silence as Nine related how she’d killed Mister and Missus Alleget, and tortured Isabelle in a CIA detention center as part of an Omega operation to try to capture Nine. By the time he’d finished, Seventeen was shaking her head in disbelief.
“But I remember none of this,” she whispered ashen-faced.
“Of course you don’t. One of the side-effects of MK-Ultra is memory loss.”
Seventeen couldn’t speak for some time. She just sat there, staring into space, as she tried to make sense of the awful news Nine had just delivered. Finally she whispered, “Isabelle must hate me.”
“She does,” Nine conceded, “but she’ll also recognize she needs your help.” He put as positive a spin on it as possible, but wasn’t sure he even believed it himself. “Plus, you can explain to her you were under the spell of MK-Ultra when you killed her parents.”
Seventeen shook her head sadly. “I was a really bad person, wasn’t I?”
Nine looked at his sister in a new light. He was seeing signs of a conscience in her he’d never seen before. “We were both forced to terminate many innocent people, Jennifer.”
23
Seventeen had mixed emotions as she entered the Business Class compartment of the Air Tahiti Nui flight that would deliver her to Papeete. Still grieving over the loss of her beloved grandfather less than twenty-four hours earlier, she nevertheless felt more alive and invigorated than she had in a long time.
The former operative, who was traveling in the guise of a Dutch tourist, felt as though she was embarking on a mission as a working agent. In a way, she was. Only this time she was working against the Omega Agency, not for it. After how Naylor had treated her, that made her feel good.
Seventeen also felt guilty. Guilty that she should feel so alive and exhilarated so soon after her grandfather’s death. She tried to put that out of her mind as she looked for her seat number. Then she saw it: seat number 9. She took it as a good omen she’d been allocated the same number her brother had been allotted by their Omega masters at birth.
As Seventeen placed her hand luggage in an overhead compartment, a familiar face caught her eye. She started when she realized she was looking at Fifteen, her former Omega colleague. The Latino, who was already sitting in an aisle seat several rows behind Seventeen’s seat, looked briefly at her as he scanned all his business class traveling companions – just as he’d been trained to do.
Fifteen returned his attention to the attractive woman several rows ahead as she closed the door of the overhead compartment. Not because he’d recognized her, but because he found her easy on the eye.
Seventeen turned her back on him and sat down as quickly as she could without attracting any more attention than she already had. Mercifully, she had a window seat, so she was hidden from Fifteen for the moment at least. She found her heart was hammering away. A hundred unanswered questions raced through her mind. Did he recognize me? Is he going to Papeete or getting off at Los Angeles? Is he looking for Isabelle too? Then she remembered she was disguised and unrecognizable. So that took care of the first question, she hoped.
The former operative knew her other questions would be largely answered when they reached Los Angeles where their flight had a scheduled one-hour stopover before continuing to Papeete. If Fifteen remained on board for the entire flight, she could be certain he’d been sent to look for Isabelle.
Seventeen could feel her competitive juices flowing. She hadn’t experienced that since her days as an active operative. All of a sudden, she was relishing the idea of pitting her skills and wits against her fellow orphan-operatives. Why the renewed confidence, she couldn’t be sure, but she assumed it had something to do with Nine and the deprogramming he’d arranged for her.
An hour into the flight, Seventeen had to use a restroom. She opted to use one of the restroom cubicles toward the front of business class. That meant Fifteen would see her face when she returned to her seat. Better that, she figured, than walking right by him to use a cubicle to the rear. Steeling herself, she stood up and walked to the nearest cubicle.
Inside the cubicle, Seventeen checked her disguise. She couldn’t fault it. Her blonde hair was now dyed red. Generous use of an artificial tanning agent ensured her normally pale skin looked tanned and clever use of makeup added ten years to her actual age.
Satisfied, Seventeen emerged from the cubicle and walked as casually as she could back to her seat. She’d hoped Fifteen would be sleeping, but he wasn’t. Without looking directly at him, she could see he was wide awake and surveying her as she walked down the aisle. By the time she reached her seat and sat down, she was shaking. Seventeen prayed yet again that Fifteen hadn’t recognized her.
#
As the Air Tahiti Nui flight crossed America
’s Midwest, Twenty Three was doing the rounds of maternity shops and baby’s clothing stores in Papeete. He was showing Isabelle’s photo to managers and staff, and even to customers, in the hope he could find someone who recognized her. However, he had no more luck than when he’d visited most of the town’s restaurants earlier that day or the hospital and medical centers the previous night.
Twenty Three was almost certain Isabelle wasn’t in Papeete. He’d searched high and low. He vowed he’d expand the search for her beyond the municipality as soon as Fifteen arrived. The extra manpower would enable him to search the entire island of Tahiti while Fifteen could start searching the outer islands. Meanwhile, he was resigned to more legwork as he still had more venues to visit in Papeete.
#
At the same time, less than an hour’s drive away, the woman that Twenty Three was scouring Papeete to find was resting in the shade of a covered veranda at the home of her Thai friends. Still worried out of her mind, she was unable to admire the view the veranda afforded.
The home was one of a dozen modest bungalows that made up the small, self-contained commune that had been home for Isabelle since Chai, the nephew of their old friend Luang, had collected her in the middle of the night in Papeete. That had been several days ago.
In that time, no outsiders had visited the commune. It was at the end of a gravel road and well off the beaten track. The only comings and goings were those of the residents themselves. Chai and his co-workers took turns to take a van-load of freshly picked vegetables into Papeete early each morning to sell at the local markets.
The commune was situated in a narrow valley. High, jungle-covered mountains rose up on either side of the valley, giving it a Shangri-La sort of feel.
Most of the commune’s residents were market gardeners. Rows of neatly tended vegetables stretched almost the entire width of the valley. One end of the valley opened up into banana plantations owned and operated by local Tahitians, and beyond these the Pacific Ocean could be seen – a sparkling slither of blue in the distance.
