by James Morcan
Meanwhile, Nine studied himself in the mirror. Now he really was unrecognizable.
Looking over Nine’s shoulder, a proud Kentbridge asked, “How do you catch a man who is never the same man twice?”
“You can’t,” Nine said. “It’s impossible.”
“Exactly.” Kentbridge walked on to inspect the handiwork of others.
Earlier disasters had been rectified and most of the orphans now had believable disguises. Not Seventeen, though. She was still having problems. Her lipstick was smeared and the red wig she wore wouldn’t sit straight. Having Kentbridge standing behind her, observing her, did nothing for her confidence. She overdid the use of blusher and suddenly resembled a porcelain doll with bright red cheeks.
Kentbridge sensed Seventeen was so highly strung that her jealousies could eventually eat away at her and cloud her judgment, as seemed to be happening now. He didn’t want any of his orphans developing an inferiority complex or becoming so competitive they couldn’t function. Kentbridge reached a decision. Looking around at the other orphans, he said, “Okay people, remove your make-up and prepare for lunch.”
A relieved Seventeen set about removing her makeup with a vigor unmatched by the others.
Kentbridge turned back to Seventeen. “Meet me in my office as soon as you’re done here, Seventeen.” He and Samantha departed the basement, leaving a mystified Seventeen wondering what was in store for her.
As soon as the orphans had the basement to themselves, Ten continued his impersonation of Kentbridge. “Now you orphans better do what I say or you’ll all be doing press-ups until dusk!” he ordered in a voice resembling the special agent’s.
Ten’s performance was enhanced by the makeup he still wore. He looked vaguely similar to Kentbridge. The other orphans egged him on, and he didn’t disappoint.
56
“Come in,” Kentbridge called out from inside his third floor office.
On the other side of the closed door, Seventeen steeled herself. The normally ice cold blonde orphan feared she was about to be criticized for her poor performance in the makeup class. She opened the door and marched in.
From behind his desk, Kentbridge studied Seventeen as she approached. She stood before him like a soldier.
“Please, sit down, Seventeen. And relax.”
Seventeen sat down in a chair in front of the desk, but remained far from relaxed.
Kentbridge noted she even looked like she was at attention while seated. “Is everything alright? You seem a little worked up.”
“I am fine, sir,” she replied robot-like.
“Okay.” He decided to get straight to the point. “Well, I want you to know you don’t always need to compete with the others, or win at everything, to prove yourself to me. You are a very talented young lady and are developing your own specific skills. And remember, you are younger than most of the others, including Nine.”
Seventeen tensed at the mention of Nine. This was noted by Kentbridge.
The special agent reviewed his reasons for ordering Seventeen to meet privately with him. He’d been meaning to talk to her for some time as he felt a little guilty. Guilty because he’d been showing so much favoritism toward Nine since his return and because he’d told the boy so much about his past. In truth, he now regretted letting Nine know so much. He thought it only fair he at least tell Seventeen what her mother named her, just as he’d told Nine. After all, Seventeen was the only other orphan who had been named. “I want to tell you something, but I need you to promise me you can keep a secret.”
Intrigued, Seventeen nodded. “You can trust me, sir.”
“When you were born, your mother named you.” Kentbridge paused. “She named you Jennifer.” He stopped short of telling Seventeen that her mother was also Nine’s mother. Along with the twins Five and Six, Seventeen and Nine were the only orphans to share the same mother. “Now, Jennifer, I am telling you this because I believe in you. You are unique and very special. So don’t try so hard to outdo the others or seek my approval all the time, okay?”
Seventeen nodded and Kentbridge indicated she could leave. She stood up to go.
“Oh, and one more thing, Jennifer,” Kentbridge said standing up. “Never tell the others you have a real name or that you know about your mother. They’ll get jealous.”
“Of course, sir.”
Kentbridge extended his hand. “And that’s a promise?”
They shook hands to seal their agreement.
“That’s a promise, sir.”
Kentbridge looked into Seventeen’s icy blue eyes and saw she seemed pleased she was one up on the other orphans. From the width of her smile and the strength of her handshake, she seemed to have regained any confidence she may have lost. He hoped she wasn’t thinking that his confiding in her meant he viewed her as Omega’s number one orphan.
As Seventeen departed, Kentbridge wondered whether he’d done the right thing or if in fact he was creating a monster.
57
New Year’s Day wasn’t just another day for the Pedemont orphans: it was their birthday. At least it was their nominated birthday. For reasons known only to their Omega masters, the orphans’ exact birth dates had never been revealed to them.
On this particular New Year’s Day, in 1996, the ninth-born orphan was celebrating his sixteenth birthday in the guest suite of the historic and luxurious Allerton Hotel on Chicago’s Magnificent Mile.
Lying on top of the suite’s king-sized bed, Nine happened to notice his reflection in the large wall mirror opposite. His startling green eyes stared back at him out of a face that was already mature and framed by dark hair, which he wore longish once more. The intervening years had been kind to him. He was nudging six foot and his still lean body was now sculpted and manly. Wearing only his undershorts, his muscular definition and athletic physique were on display. As he studied his washboard abs and broad shoulders in the mirror, Nine realized he really was now a man. Well, almost.
A movement beside him on the bed reminded Nine he wasn’t alone. He was in the company of a stunning thirtysomething Brazilian prostitute who called herself Teresa and who was lying stretched out, wide awake and naked, on the other side of the bed. She was completely naked apart from a pair of high-heels she wore. Her long, slender limbs gleamed a golden brown in the light of a bedside lamp.
Nervously, Nine turned back to face her.
“What’s wrong?” Teresa asked.
“Nothing,” Nine answered a little too quickly. The orphan tensed as the Brazilian stunner reached out and studied the ruby her client wore on the end of his ever-present silver necklace.
This was the most intimate Nine had ever been with another person. He hadn’t even been this close to Helen. Nowhere near this close. Nine held his breath as Teresa gently removed his necklace and examined the ruby more closely. He found his eyes drawn to her full breasts which, he decided, were quite superb.
Teresa leaned close to him. “It’s exquisite,” she whispered seductively. “I love rubies. Where did you get this?” The temptress was well-spoken and clearly educated. She was definitely a high-class prostitute and no mere streetwalker.
Nine tore his eyes away from Teresa’s breasts. “It was my mother’s--” He stopped abruptly mid-sentence as he looked into her dark, flashing eyes. They were mesmerizing. He wondered how this woman, this person he’d only met five minutes earlier, had managed to extract information out of him so easily. No-one had succeeded in doing that since Helen. How could a hooker have gotten through my guard? Annoyed at himself, and at Teresa, he snatched the ruby necklace from her and placed it on a bedside table.
Teresa looked at him curiously. “You are different from the other men I see.” She bit her lip as she studied Nine’s apprehensive face. “Not that you’re a man. Well, not yet anyway.”
Unnerved by the Brazilian’s penetrating gaze, Nine averted his eyes.
“Well?” Teresa asked. “Do you want to become a man or not?”
Her blunt
question reminded the sixteen-year-old he wasn’t sure why he was here. Kentbridge had organized it, just as he organized every significant event that happened in the orphans’ lives. Now, Nine wondered why his mentor had set up this liaison between himself and Teresa. He guessed Kentbridge was fond of him – or was prepared to tolerate him at least – but he doubted any affection would prompt the gnarly special agent to buy him a birthday present.
What Nine didn’t realize was Kentbridge knew from experience the fairer sex could hinder, or even prevent, the male orphans from becoming elite operatives. Kentbridge had seen it happen to one or two of his own colleagues. However, rather than deny the male orphans their own experience, he encouraged it. Albeit on his terms.
When each boy turned sixteen, Kentbridge would hire one of Chicago’s classiest escorts to allow the orphan to enjoy a woman for the first time. Similar arrangements were made for the female orphans. On this very evening, in other plush hotels in downtown Chicago, other Pedemont orphans were experiencing sex for the first time.
Kentbridge’s original plan had been to wait until each orphan turned eighteen. Unfortunately, a couple of the male orphans had made inappropriate advances on Eleven, the Beauty Orphan, and Kentbridge had realized if he delayed blooding his charges, he could easily have an incestuous situation on his hands – or semi-incestuous at least.
Nine had no idea what Kentbridge was plotting when he was told a woman awaited him in Room 313, on Floor 3, at the Allerton Hotel. No reason had been given for the unexpected rendezvous. Before he knew it, Teresa had suggested he undress; he’d obliged without even realizing. He could only suspect he was under some sort of spell. Now, as he looked longingly into her eyes, he was feeling more vulnerable than ever.
The Brazilian stunner fluttered her long eyelashes. “Well?”
Nine gathered up all his inner strength. “Yes, I want to become a man.”
Teresa smiled at him then made herself more comfortable, resting her head on a pillow. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and down to her waist.
Having never been this close to a naked woman before, Nine stared at her with a mixture of curiosity and fear.
“Come here, sweetie,” Teresa said. “Nothing will happen if you stay there.”
Nine hesitantly moved over to her side of the bed. Teresa began to kiss his neck, whispering endearments in his ear as she did so. She then removed his undershorts and began to tantalizingly run her hands over his body.
Lying there naked, Nine felt helpless. He was out of his depth and didn’t know what was expected of him. Sex lessons at the orphanage had been limited to the biological side of the love act with no reference to the emotional side.
As Teresa expertly ran her fingers down Nine’s chest to his stomach, he found her touch so hot it was almost unbearable. He realized it should have been enjoyable, but such affection – if that’s what it was – represented dependency, and that was something he’d been conditioned to avoid his entire life.
Nine was suddenly uncomfortable beyond words. He pushed Teresa’s hand away. Although his body wanted her, he didn’t feel emotionally ready to be with her, or with any woman. The intense emotional and psychological issues of this moment of intimacy had caught him by surprise. He turned away from her.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Teresa asked.
Unsure exactly what he should say or how he should be feeling at a time like this, he just lay there silent and in a disturbed state.
Bemused, Teresa ran her long, manicured nails up and down Nine’s thigh. “Well, your father paid for the session, so what do you want to do with me?”
“Tommy isn’t my--” Nine stopped himself mid-sentence once again.
“Isn’t your what?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to do anything. Let’s just sleep.”
Teresa shrugged, turned over and switched off the lamp. She and Nine soon fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.
Nine slept fitfully. He dreamt he was on his first foreign mission for the Omega Agency; it was in a mountainous region of some tropical Third World country; he was shot by a drug lord and lay bleeding profusely in the jungle; all he could think about was dying without ever having made love to a woman; an immense sadness came over him as he realized he would die alone.
The orphan woke with a fright. He sat up and looked at his watch: it just after midnight. The feelings of sadness he’d experienced in his nightmare persisted.
Nine stared down at his sleeping companion. Moonlight shone through a gap in the curtains, lighting Teresa’s face. He couldn’t help thinking she looked like an angel at that moment. If he didn’t already know she was a prostitute, he could almost believe she’d been sent from above to light his gloomy existence.
The orphan lay back down beside her and imagined what it would be like to wake up next to her, or someone just like her, every morning. He was enjoying this fantasy, when Teresa suddenly woke. She looked pleasantly surprised to find him so close to her. With their faces delicately lit by the moonlight, they just lay there looking into each other’s eyes.
The Brazilian seemed more fragile and mellow now that she was no longer in her on-the-job character. Nine wanted to open up and tell her everything. He wanted her to know his life was owned by others, that he had no family and that this moment was the closest he’d ever been to feeling love of any kind. Be cool, Sebastian. While he desperately wanted to share his unique story with someone outside of the orphanage, he knew to do so would be to put her life at risk. Instead, he told her she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Thank you,” Teresa purred. She’d thanked hundreds for clients for the exact same compliment over the years, but this was somehow different. She knew Nine actually meant it, and was charmed by his sincere, innocent nature. Reaching out, she placed her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart pounding. Nine was clearly still nervous, but now seemed receptive to her advances.
Teresa smiled. She kissed him then drew him even closer to her. As the orphan began to explore her body, she whispered more endearments, this time in Portuguese.
Feelings of lust coursed through Nine’s body. Feelings he’d never even dreamed of.
#
Nine lost his virginity that night, just as Kentbridge had expected him to. The orphan had kept his perfect record intact. Every mission Kentbridge had set him, he’d passed, although if truth be told this was the mission he’d come closest to failing.
In the morning, the boy awoke a man. With his first sexual experience successfully behind him, Nine now felt he could fully focus on whatever lay ahead of him. He said goodbye to Teresa and promised her he’d contact her again, though he never would.
58
Nine felt like he was floating on air as he returned to the Pedemont Orphanage and bounded upstairs to the first floor. The memory of his overnight liaison with Teresa, the Brazilian prostitute, was still fresh in his mind. In fact, it was all he could think of.
In the orphans’ living quarters, he found most of the others reading or studying before the commencement of the day’s classes. Seventeen waved him over to her as soon as he entered the room. It was clear she had been waiting for him to return.
Approaching Seventeen, Nine wondered what was up. The icy, blue-eyed blonde girl rarely had anything to do with him. The ninth-born orphan studied her critically. Now in her mid-teens, Seventeen had grown tall and was only a few inches shorter than him. Her lithe, athletic body exuded strength.
“Tommy wants to see you now in the basement.”
“Did he say what it’s about?”
Seventeen just shrugged and returned to the book she’d been reading. She clearly didn’t want to say a word more to Nine than she had to.
#
There was no sign of Kentbridge, or anyone else, when Nine entered the basement. A faint cough alerted him to the presence of someone in a side room that doubled as a video viewing room. The orphan entered the room and found Kentbridge waiting for him.
As Nine studied his face, he was reminded the head of the Pedemont Project had aged slightly in the recent years. Now in his late thirties, Kentbridge had a few more gray hairs on his temples and wrinkles around his eyes. The changes were subtle, but Nine noticed it gave his mentor a harder edge.
The special agent was sitting on a stool in the middle of the room. He stood to greet Nine. A blanket covered a small, motionless form on the floor beside him.
Kentbridge could immediately tell by the expression on Nine’s face, and by the way he carried himself, that he’d completed his mission with the prostitute. “I take it your sixteenth birthday present was to your satisfaction?” he asked.
Nine smiled. The orphan became serious when he saw his master wasn’t smiling. He tensed when Kentbridge pulled out a pistol and screwed a silencer onto the end of its barrel.
“Lock the door,” Kentbridge ordered. His tone indicated he wasn’t playing games.
Nine locked the door and cautiously approached the special agent. Something’s up. Something big. Eyes fixed on the pistol, he stopped in front of his mentor. As he did, he thought he heard a sound come from whatever was beneath the blanket on the floor.
“Now that you’re a man,” Kentbridge said, “it’s time for your next initiation.” He reached down and tossed the blanket aside to reveal a cardboard box. What was inside remained a mystery to Nine. “And this initiation is going to be your biggest challenge yet.”
Nine heard a muffled bark come from inside the box. Kentbridge pulled open its flap and, to the orphan’s astonishment, Cavell slowly crawled out. The dog seemed to have been drugged. Every time he tried to stand, he flopped over. Finally, he gave up and just lay there, looking up, his big brown eyes desperately trying to focus on his young friend.
The orphan’s mind was racing. Looking from his beloved pet to the pistol in Kentbridge’s hand, it was suddenly obvious what his mission was: to shoot Cavell. “No way,” Nine said, shaking his head. “There’s no way in hell you’re getting me to do that.”
