The Orphan Factory (The Orphan Trilogy, #2)

by James Morcan

  It was almost dark when Kentbridge pulled into his driveway and parked his Chrysler in the carport adjoining the bungalow. The home’s interior lights were on, giving the place a warm glow.

  Inside, Rachel was preparing their evening meal. She greeted her husband with a kiss when he entered the kitchen. It was then she noticed he was hiding something behind his back. “What have you there?” she asked innocently.

  Kentbridge produced a bunch of roses he’d purchased at the airport. Buying roses for her whenever he returned from a trip was a long-time ritual he’d started early in their married life. She always knew he’d bring roses, but always feigned surprise.

  “How sweet,” she smiled.

  “Is that worth another kiss?”

  She answered him with a kiss. A long kiss this time.

  Kentbridge never took his wife for granted. She was the one good thing in his life – the one constant. Educated at Princeton University, she was the daughter of an Illinois senator who had died before serving a full term. Her father had been an associate of the Omega Agency and a confidant of Andrew Naylor, and it was through that connection that she had met her future husband.

  Rachel had once shared her father’s political ambitions, but put them aside to start a family with Kentbridge. That hadn’t happened. After one stillbirth and complications that led to an aborted pregnancy, their plans for a family were dashed. They thought of adopting, but life intervened and they remained childless.

  Kentbridge often wondered if that accounted for his devotion to his young charges at the orphanage. Certainly his devotion had been above and beyond the call of duty. Rachel had often reminded him of that.

  Thinking of the orphans reminded him of Nine.

  Where are you, you little bastard?

  He had a week to find him.

  And find you I will.

  44

  The science fiction movie Terminator 2: Judgment Day, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, was the main topic of conversation as Nine walked Helen home from the movies. As it was a week night and Helen had school the next day, she was under strict instructions to go straight home after the movie. Her father had insisted on that.

  Mister Katsarakis had also insisted one of Helen’s girlfriends accompany the pair given he knew nothing about Nine or his background. A school friend had accompanied them to the movie, but she’d since gone her own way leaving the couple to walk home alone. They walked hand in hand and were fast becoming an item.

  A week and a half had elapsed since the fugitive orphan attended his first Salsa dance class, and in that time their relationship had blossomed. He’d attended two more dance classes with Helen and had even spent an evening helping her with homework at her house, much to the consternation of her father who would have preferred her companion was a nice Greek boy. Despite his misgivings, Mister Katsarakis had allowed the friendship because his daughter had convinced him that’s all it was – a friendship.

  “That was a cool movie,” Helen said, referring to the James Cameron film they had just seen. “But the plot was totally unbelievable, don’t you think?”

  Nine nodded, but thought to himself that one never knew what was happening in secret in the world they lived in. I am living proof of that.

  He kept his lips sealed about such things, not wanting to appear any more different or unusual to Helen than he sensed he already did. For the first time in his life he almost felt normal. If it wasn’t for his memories of another life in his recent past, he believed he’d have felt completely normal. Helen had that effect on him. In her presence he felt whole. It was almost as if his seemingly predetermined past didn’t exist.

  The orphan even allowed himself to dream really big and consider fanciful things like marrying Helen one day. They’d head down to Mexico. Once over the border, they’d be able to live without him having to look over his shoulder every five minutes to see if Kentbridge or one of his operatives was coming for him.

  As if reading his thoughts, Helen suddenly asked, “Do you ever think about the future and growing up and being able to do adult things?”

  Nine nodded.

  “I do,” Helen continued. “I want to see the world and experience other cultures. What do you want?”

  “A regular life,” he answered without hesitation. After all, he’d thought of nothing else for as long as he could remember. “And to be part of a community.”

  A somewhat bemused Helen shook her head.

  “I just want to be an average person, nothing special,” Nine insisted.

  “Don’t ever say you want to be average, Luke. You’re going to do amazing things.”

  The orphan was aware she’d understand where he was coming from if she knew of his claustrophobically controlled upbringing, but she could never know.

  “Why do you try so hard to seem average?” Helen asked.

  “What do you mean?” Concerned, he wondered if she had worked out something about him or his background.

  “You are very bright, Luke. That’s obvious to anyone who spends more than five minutes with you. Maybe you’re even a genius.” She kissed him. “And you’re very cute, too. But I’m most attracted to your mind. So don’t ever hide it from me, okay?”

  Nine nodded and kissed her back. He felt happier at that moment than he’d ever dared hope. For the first time in his life, a real person was accepting him for who he was – intelligence and all.

  Now hand in hand, the couple entered the street Helen lived in. They kissed again and continued their leisurely stroll. There were less street lights and less traffic now. For the moment, they felt as though they were the only people in the world.

  So preoccupied had Nine been he hadn’t noticed a group of African-American youths following them. Finally, he saw them. A quick glance confirmed there were half a dozen of them. It was obvious they belonged to a gang. Only thirty yards away and striding purposefully toward the young couple, their intentions were clear.

  Nine cursed that he’d been so absorbed by his girlfriend’s beauty and his change of fortune he’d failed to remain alert and scan his surroundings as he’d been trained to do. He thought of running, but dismissed the idea as he realized Helen couldn’t outrun the youths. Instead, he gripped her hand tight. “Do exactly what I say,” he whispered.

  “What?” Helen didn’t understand. Then she saw the youths. “Luke?”

  Nine pulled Helen to a stop and slowly turned to face the approaching youths. He saw at once he’d miscalculated. There were eight youths. Two had been concealed behind the others. And they were big. Nine estimated the shortest was his height.

  The youths surrounded the couple, sneering and throwing racial insults at them.

  Helen gripped Nine’s hand so hard her fingernails bit into his flesh.

  “Helen,” the orphan whispered. “Let go of my hand.” She gripped harder and Nine had to forcibly free his hand. At the same time he assessed the situation. It didn’t look good: eight youths looking for trouble – all older and bigger than him.

  The youths closed in on the couple. As they did, Nine’s mind was working at a million clicks per second. Calculating their chances, he realized he needed a weapon.

  The ringleader, a big guy who wore a muscle shirt to show off his impressive physique, jabbed Nine in the chest with his forefinger. “Gimme your wallet, white boy.”

  Nine reached into the inner pocket of the new leather jacket he wore, produced his wallet and handed it over without comment. As he did that, another youth grabbed the purse Helen carried. She looked at Nine, terrified.

  “Man, these white kids are scared to death!” another youth joked.

  The ringleader opened Nine’s wallet and whistled when he saw the wad of notes it contained. “A good evening’s work, boys. Let’s go.” He cuffed Nine over the ear for good measure and turned to go when the same youth who took Helen’s purse approached the orphan. The shortest of the youths, he pulled his jacket aside to reveal he carried a knife in his belt.

&nb
sp; “I’ll take your jacket, too, dog,” Shorty said.

  Nine reluctantly handed over his jacket. He just hoped no-one would show any interest in the arm band he wore to keep the White Gold in place on his forearm. He was very aware the edges of plastic bag that held the precious substance protruded from beneath the arm band. Shorty was too busy trying on the jacket to notice, but the ringleader noticed.

  “Yo, what ya got there?” the ringleader asked.

  “Protection for a torn ligament,” Nine said.

  Not believing him, the ringleader reached out to remove the arm band.

  Nine pulled away. He couldn’t afford to lose the White Gold. It was all that kept his whereabouts hidden from Omega. Besides, he didn’t want to have to explain to Helen what its purpose was.

  The ringleader stood over Nine and looked pointedly at the arm band. He stood legs astride and hands on hips, and he clearly wasn’t going to go without finding out what was concealed beneath it.

  Helen could see by the look in Nine’s eye he wasn’t going to oblige. “This is not the time to be a hero, Luke!” she screamed.

  Glancing around, Nine noticed the picket fence he’d been backed up against was rickety. Some of its timber batons were loose and several hung at odd angles.

  They’ll have to do.

  Without warning, he kicked the ringleader full force in the balls then spun around and tore off two loose batons. The other youths were momentarily transfixed while their leader lay on the ground, groaning in pain.

  Now armed with two timber batons each around four feet long and tapering to a sharp point at one end, the orphan employed the Japanese kendo stick fighting techniques Kentbridge had taught him. Kendo was a key part of Teleiotes, the martial art he and his fellow orphans had been drilled in since they were toddlers.

  The batons Nine wielded moved so fast in his hands they were a blur. Three more youths were felled before the remaining four had even recovered from the initial surprise of seeing their leader pole-axed.

  Helen looked on in disbelief as her date turned his attention to accounting for those who still presented a threat.

  Shorty drew his knife and advanced on Nine. The orphan threw one of his batons at him. Its point lodged in Shorty’s thigh, causing him to drop the knife and fall to his knees, screaming in pain and bleeding profusely.

  Nine used the remaining baton as Filipino martial arts experts use their infamous Eskrima sticks to dispatch their opponents in what is generally accepted as the most effective form of stick fighting. Alternating between clubbing, stabbing and swinging at his attackers, while never offering them a stationary target, the orphan felled the remaining three youths in what seemed to Helen like the blink of an eye. In fact, it took all of ten seconds.

  When it was over, six youths lay on the ground, injured or unconscious. Two others – including the ringleader – had scurried away into the night. Those who remained and were still conscious, lay moaning in pain. Some had broken bones; all were cut and bruised.

  Breathing hard, Nine threw his remaining baton away and turned to Helen. She was looking at him as if he were an alien.

  “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “Who are you?”

  Still breathless, the orphan could only stare back at her. At first he couldn’t recognize the look on her face.

  Is she scared of me?

  The tender glances she’d exchanged with him earlier had been replaced by a look of bewilderment and fear. Nine stepped toward her. “Helen,” he said, his hand outstretched.

  Suddenly unsure who, or what, this boy was, Helen felt afraid all over again. The realization hit her she was more scared of Nine than she’d been of the African-American youths who had threatened them. She turned and ran for home.

  The orphan just stood there for a moment, shocked at what had happened. He forlornly watched Helen as she ran away from him. How easily everything had unraveled. “Helen!” It was a helpless cry.

  He was about to chase after her when a police car rounded the corner, its lights flashing. A concerned neighbor had alerted the police when the ruction had started only a few short minutes earlier.

  Nine retrieved his wallet and leather jacket, and ran off into the darkness. Behind him, the police car pulled up alongside the six injured youths. The youths didn’t know it, but they had a long night ahead of them explaining to the cops how a young white kid had given them a good old fashioned beating.

  45

  Helen set out for school with the memory of the previous night’s violent incident fresh in her mind. She still found it hard to believe what had happened and wondered if it was just a bad dream.

  Walking past the picket fence where she and Nine had been attacked reminded her it wasn’t a dream. It was real. The fence batons the orphan had used to such devastating effect remained where he’d left them, on the sidewalk. Bloodstains covered both, prompting her to look away.

  It was then she noticed Nine. He was walking toward her on the other side of the street. She turned to go back the way she’d come when Nine ran across the street and intercepted her.

  “Please,” he implored. “Just give me ten minutes. I’ll explain everything.”

  Helen shrank back from him. Where she once found him cute and different, she now found him intimidating. A fighting machine. She tried to keep walking, but he blocked her path. “I’ll be late for school,” she objected.

  “Your studies don’t matter right now.” Determined to put things right between them, Nine took her by the hand and led her to a bench in a small park next to a daycare center. Mothers were arriving outside the center to drop off their children for the morning.

  Helen reluctantly agreed to hear Nine out. She looked into his intense green eyes and wondered what was really behind them.

  “What you witnessed last night,” the orphan said, “I can explain.” The skeptical look on Helen’s face told him he had a lot of convincing to do. Nine continued, “I admit there’s a lot I haven’t told you about myself--”

  “You’ve told me next to nothing!” Helen interjected. “But you seem to know everything about me.”

  “You’re right. And one of the things I never told you was that I’ve been trained in martial arts since I was old enough to walk. I got my black belt when I was ten.”

  Helen thought for a moment then shook her head. “No, there’s more to this. I think you have been lying to me all the time.” She moved a few inches away from him as if to reinforce the point. “And there are some other things I find strange. Like how you always wear jackets or long sleeve shirts, even when it’s hot. Like now. Is it something to do with that thing wrapped around your arm?”

  Nine had hoped that in the maelstrom of the previous evening she hadn’t seen the arm band when he’d been forced to remove his jacket.

  No such luck.

  “What was that thing?” Helen asked.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “Fine. Then show it to me.”

  Nine looked into her eyes and realized he couldn’t lie anymore. She was too perceptive to be fooled and he didn’t yet have the skills to keep pretending to be someone he wasn’t. It just wasn’t going to wash with her anymore. The orphan took a deep breath. He knew he had two options: either leave his sweetheart and never see her again, or tell the truth.

  Both options totally suck.

  He decided then and there he couldn’t ever leave her.

  My life wouldn’t be worth living.

  Problem was he’d been forced to lie for so long that the thought of telling the truth felt totally alien. Every single cell in his body cried out for him to keep lying. “Are you sure you really want to know who I am?”

  “Yes!” Helen was becoming impatient. “I need to know you on a deeper level so we can connect more.” She wasn’t at all sure she meant that, but her enquiring mind wanted to find out who this strange boy really was.

  Overriding the ongoing feelings of resistance he felt, Nine forced himself to roll up his shirt sleeve
and reveal the arm band around his forearm.

  Helen’s eyes immediately focused on the edges of the plastic bag that poked out from beneath the band. “What is that?”

  “It holds a substance that makes me invisible to my superiors’ radar technology.” Nine heard himself saying the words and thought how ridiculous they sounded even to him. “I’m on the run, you see.” He lifted up the arm band and tapped the bag of White Gold that was now almost completely visible. “This is the only thing preventing me from getting caught.”

  “Getting caught?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is this your idea of a joke?”

  “It’s no joke, Helen.”

  “Really?” she scoffed. “So you’re on the run from the like CIA or something?”

  “Not the CIA. No. It’s a much more secretive organization who are hell bent on running the entire world. I am one of a number of orphans they created.” Nine paused for a few seconds, before adding, “It was all unsanctioned by the scientific community, of course.”

  Stunned, Helen said nothing.

  “We are all being raised to become elite spies and assassins,” Nine continued, “but by escaping from the orphanage and being here with you I am going against my programming.”

  “You’re insane, you know that?” Helen stood up and appeared ready to leave. “Unlike you, I am in the real world and need to get good grades at school. I can’t sit around listening to someone conjuring up fantasies!”

  Nine was upset she hadn’t believed a word he’d said. He knew it could possibly endanger her to reveal anything more, but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. His desire to remain her boyfriend got the better of him and he grabbed her by the hand, stopping her from walking away. He gently but firmly pulled her back down onto the bench.

  “Listen, I am telling the truth. Everything I told you about me before today was a lie, so I don’t expect you to believe me now. However, I can prove things to you.”