by James Morcan
Appearances aside, the ninth orphan also felt more self-assured and worldly. He attributed this to his experiences of the past few years. To round out the Pedemont Orphans’ education, their masters had regularly sent them interstate. They stayed at unoccupied Omega-owned orphanages, which Naylor had purchased in anticipation of Doctor Pedemont delivering on his promise of manufacturing over a hundred more orphan clones. With that plan now on hold, the orphanages doubled as summer holiday camps where the original twenty three orphans could stay and experience life outside Illinois. And with that came greater independence, or semi-independence at least, for the orphans.
There were trips abroad, too, to familiarize them with the demands of foreign missions. These included two separate trips with Kentbridge to the Central American countries of Mexico, Nicaragua and Guatemala where the orphans underwent intensive jungle training. Training Kentbridge assured them would come in handy one day.
The lights changed and Nine crossed the busy street. He stopped outside an electronics shop on South Michigan Avenue, not far from the Art Institute of Chicago. Something screening on a television set in the shop’s foyer had caught his eye. On closer inspection, he saw was it was a repeat of a televised news conference from the White House the previous day. Several other passersby had also stopped to view it.
President Bill Clinton’s face filled the screen. Clinton, who was already in his second term as President and facing possible impeachment, looked directly into camera and said, “I did not have sexual relations with that woman.” He was referring to the recent scandal that had broken regarding illicit dalliances with his young intern, Monica Lewinsky.
Bored, Nine was about to walk off when he noticed a dark-haired, young woman emerging from a department store nearby. He lingered for a moment as something about the young lady struck him as familiar. Then he recognized her.
It’s Helen.
Nine saw at a glance the last six years had treated Helen Katsarakis kindly. The pretty thirteen-year-old Greek girl had blossomed into a stunning nineteen-year-old. She now had a short haircut, a bob, but still looked ultra-feminine. And she looked about five foot seven or eight, and carried herself regally, like a catwalk model. No, make that a bikini model. Nine’s eyes lingered on Helen’s curves which, he noted, she’d developed in all the right places.
Although he’d hardly thought of her in years, their earlier shared experiences came flooding back to him. “Helen?” he called out.
Helen stopped and stared blankly at the tall, handsome, long-haired young man standing before her.
The orphan watched her as she looked him up and down, obviously trying to work out who he was. For some reason, Nine found himself standing tall and puffing his chest out in an attempt to look as manly as possible.
Helen took several seconds before finally twigging who she was looking at. “Oh my God!”
Nine immediately picked up her formerly strong Greek accent had now vanished. She sounded like an all-American girl.
“Luke? Is that really you?”
“What are you doing back here in Chicago?” he asked, recovering from his initial surprise. It felt surreal to be in her presence again. Feelings he once had for her had dissipated long ago – soon after she had set him up to be extricated from California, in fact. That only made this moment all the stranger.
“I’m a freshman at the University of Illinois,” Helen said, pointing in the direction of the college’s Chicago campus. “I’m studying journalism there.”
Nine felt a little awkward and was unsure what to say to her given the amount of time that had elapsed since their time together in California. Feels like a lifetime ago.
“Is everything okay with you now?” Helen asked, suddenly serious.
Nine knew she was referring to the mental problems she believed he’d suffered all those years earlier. “Yeah, I’m perfectly fine now.”
“Oh, good.” She seemed genuinely pleased. “Are you still at that orphanage in Riverdale?”
“Yes, still there. But not for long.”
As they talked, Nine continued to take in everything about Helen. He studied her peach-like lips and her dark, mesmerizing eyes which gave off the same natural sparkle he remembered. Her smile revealed her still-uneven teeth, which only added to her unique character. Nine admired her for not having had them straightened. And her skin was something else. The orphan decided there could not be a living creature with more perfect skin in the whole world.
Although the women he’d been bedding these past few years had been some of the hottest in all of Chicago, Nine had to admit Helen had something they didn’t: she had real class and had blossomed into the beautiful woman he always knew she would. It dawned on him he was becoming interested in her again.
Don’t be an idiot, Sebastian!
However, Nine knew his attraction to her wasn’t like before when he’d been a lovesick, young fool. Now it was purely physical. Since Kentbridge had allowed him to pick up beautiful, high class call girls whenever he wanted – and at no cost as they were invariably contracted to Omega – chasing women for anything other than sex was no longer of interest to him. Besides, Kentbridge had long since drummed into him Omega’s golden rule for the male orphans: Never get so attached to a woman you can't leave.
Just as Nine started to wonder what it would take to bed Helen, a skinny, blonde-haired, twentysomething guy arrived at her side and kissed her cheek with all the familiarity of a lover.
Helen greeted the new arrival with a sparkling smile. “Hi honey.” She turned to Nine. “Luke, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Caleb.”
Annoyed at the interruption, Nine forced a smile and nodded to the young guy who, he noted, had a distinctly preppy look about him.
Caleb flashed a goofy grin Nine’s way. “Hey, man.”
“Hey,” Nine said.
Caleb suddenly looked at his watch then turned to Helen. “We must go, sweetie. Or we’ll be late for our dinner engagement.”
“Oh, yes.” Helen quickly smiled at Nine. “I’ll see you around, Luke,” she said as her fiancé pulled her away by her hand.
The orphan stood watching the couple as they hurried off.
61
A dozen orphans were enjoying an impromptu six-aside game of football in the Pedemont Orphanage’s backyard. Nine, playing at quarterback, captained one team, and Numero Uno, at offensive tackle, captained the other. Nine’s teammates included Seventeen who played wide receiver. The only other females playing were the twins, Five and Six, who were on opposing sides.
Kentbridge, Doctor Andrews and Nurse Hilda, along with several other orphans, looked on as the two makeshift teams went at it as if they were playing for the Chicago Bears in a Super Bowl. While the doctor and nurse cringed every time one of the players took a hit, the special agent loved every minute of it. Football was his game and he enjoyed watching his young charges trying to emulate the pros – something they often did on a fine Saturday afternoon.
For Kentbridge, this particular occasion was tinged with sadness. Numero Uno’s official birthday was February 7, which was only one week away. Although One and many of his fellow orphans, including Nine, had celebrated their eighteenth birthday on New Year’s Day just gone, Kentbridge knew the Native American’s official birthday was coming up fast. As per Naylor’s orders, all the orphans would graduate from the Pedemont Project on the seventh and the orphanage would be demolished soon after that.
Observing his orphans with a critical eye, the special agent was pleased all had grown into fine physical specimens. They fair glowed with good health and, as expected, possessed superior strength and fitness. While their football skills may have left a little to be desired, their power and speed would have impressed the most judicious of NFL talent scouts.
At six foot five inches and two hundred and fifteen pounds, One had grown to be the biggest of the orphans. The hulking Native American knew how to use his size, too, and generally flattened whoever happened to be in his way
on the playing field – as he was soon to demonstrate. He received the ball from his quarterback and set off for the goal-line. Covering the ground surprisingly quickly for a big boy, he scored a touchdown with three opponents hanging off him and the other three sprawled in his wake. Among those hanging off him was Nine.
Observing the ninth-born orphan, Kentbridge could see he had shaken off the last vestiges of boyhood and was now a man. He reminded the special agent of a coiled spring, always ready to act or react. There was no doubt in Kentbridge’s mind that Nine had fulfilled his earlier promise: he was the best of the first batch of twenty three orphans.
Close behind Nine in the pecking order, as far as Kentbridge was concerned, was Seventeen. Although one of the younger orphans, the blue-eyed blonde had a maturity and a skillset that set her apart from others of her age and made her the equal of her fellows in most areas of endeavor, whether physical or mental. She also had a cold and ruthless streak that made her one of the most dangerous orphans.
The intense rivalry between Seventeen and Nine continued to this day, but both had learned to control their animosity, saving it for martial arts training or other such occasions they might be pitted against each other.
In the restart that followed Numero Uno’s touchdown, Nine and Seventeen showed they could co-operate when they needed to.
The scores were level. Nine picked out Seventeen from the others and sent a speedy spiral pass her way. She plucked it out of the air and neatly stepped around two would-be tacklers on her way to scoring the winning touchdown at the other end of the yard. Two of her teammates hoisted her atop their shoulders and carried her back to halfway, to the cheers of the onlookers.
Watching his charges, Kentbridge couldn’t help thinking his feelings matched those of any father watching from the sideline as his teenage children played sport on a Saturday afternoon. They were certainly the closest he had to children of his own. He knew that was rich considering he’d initially resisted Omega’s moves to take him out of the field and instate him as head of the Pedemont Project, but now he found he didn’t want it to end.
When Seventeen was lowered from her teammates’ shoulders, she and Nine shared a rare moment, swapping high fives as if they’d just won the Super Bowl. They stopped celebrating when they noticed everyone else around them had gone quiet.
A visitor, a young lady, had entered the premises. Finding reception unattended, she had walked around the side of the orphanage to the backyard and stumbled across the orphans’ victory celebrations. No-one was quite sure how long she’d been there.
The visitor was momentarily obscured from Nine. When the orphan emerged from behind the others, he was shocked to see it was Helen.
The young dark-haired woman smiled at Nine as she approached Kentbridge whom she had immediately recognized. As she did, the special agent gave Nine a hard glance, signaling he wasn’t happy about this development.
“Hello, Mister Kentbridge,” Helen said. “Do you remember me?”
“Of course, Miss Katsarakis.” Kentbridge hid his displeasure behind a warm smile. “What brings you here?”
Nine joined them before Helen could answer. “Hi there.”
Helen turned to the orphan. “I wanted to see you again, Luke. To catch up.”
Surprised by her sudden appearance and unsure of her motives, Nine studied Helen’s face to search for clues. Bright-eyed and smiling, she gave away nothing. Sensing Kentbridge bristling next to him, Nine held out his arm to the unexpected visitor. “Shall we go for a stroll around the old neighborhood?”
“Sure.”
The other orphans looked on in amazement as Helen put her arm in Nine’s and the pair walked off. As they disappeared around the side of the orphanage, a concerned Kentbridge hoped Nine would discourage any further visits by the outsider. The orphans were on a tight schedule before graduation and the last thing he needed was any skirt interfering with that.
#
Nine and Helen conversed on a bench on the bank of the Little Calumet River. They weren’t far from the spot the orphan and Kentbridge had sat during their frank talk some six years earlier.
In the thirty minutes that had lapsed since departing the orphanage, Nine and Helen had made mainly small talk. The orphan could tell his former girlfriend had something on her mind. “Where is your fiancé?” he probed.
“Caleb had to go to New York for a week to attend some meetings.” Her tone flagged to Nine how much she loved her husband-to-be. “He has an IT business and wants to set up a second office in the Big Apple.”
“So why’d you want to see Riverdale again? Most people, when they get out of here, never wanna see this dump again.”
“Well, bumping into you the other day gave me an idea. I’d like to do a story on your orphanage for my university newspaper, the Daily Illini.”
Nine didn’t like the sound of that one bit. Tommy’s gonna go psycho over this. The orphan knew he must try to convince Helen there was no story. But how? He realized he could hardly tell her she couldn’t write an article. As a private citizen, she had every right to do a story on the orphanage. “Why would you want to do a story on our humble orphanage?” he asked. “I can’t imagine there’d be anything of interest to college students or anyone--”
“Oh, but you’re wrong.” Helen interjected. “All of our students come from two or one-parent homes. They’d be interested to learn how orphans cope with life. How they adapt to schooling, life outside the orphanage, mixing with others. And besides, most people without parents are adopted by foster families. Traditional orphanages like yours will soon be a thing of the past in this country. So there’s an interest factor there.” Helen reeled off half a dozen more compelling arguments to support her conviction that her fellow students would love to read the article she planned to write.
Nine could think of nothing to dampen her interest in The Pedemont Orphanage. He was aware that although Omega was extremely powerful, all its facilities and people – including the orphanage and its orphans – had to be able to withstand outside scrutiny. They had to appear regular, as Kentbridge called it.
Even though the orphanage was registered under a private charity and therefore not reliant on State or Federal welfare, there were still times when the orphans had to play the game to maintain the façade. They’d become masters at that over the years, coping with visits from busybody Government agency representatives, officious health and safety officials, handymen and the like. But never journalists or anyone wanting to write an article on them.
#
Kentbridge was fuming. That much was evident to Nine the moment he entered his mentor’s third floor office. The orphan had been summonsed as soon as he’d returned to the orphanage.
The special agent pointed an accusing finger at Nine. “We don’t have time for any more of your romantic meanderings, Sebastian.”
“It’s not like that. Helen isn’t my--”
“I told you never get so attached to a woman that you can’t leave.”
“She tracked me down this time.”
Not listening to his protégé, Kentbridge continued his rant. “Just tell her you’re not interested in her and move on.”
“Helen’s engaged. I met her fiancé in town yesterday,” Nine said, pleased to see he’d finally shut Kentbridge up. “She’s not interested in me in that way anymore.”
“Then why the hell did she visit you here?”
“She wants to do a story on this orphanage for the University of Illinois’ newspaper.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope. She’s studying journalism. Wants to write an article and interview staff and orphans here.”
“Well, that’s great because we really need some exposure.” Kentbridge applauded Nine sarcastically. “Did you tell her we want CNN to come over also?”
“What was I supposed to say, Tommy? No, sorry you can’t do an article as this little orphanage is actually a secret training facility for spies?”
Ken
tbridge had to admit Nine had a point. The Pedemont Orphanage was on the Registry of Foster Homes and Orphanages, and he himself was a registered orphan carer. They had to be open for inspection from time to time. It was all part of maintaining the illusion of being a bona fide orphanage.
“Don’t worry, we’ll sort this out,” Kentbridge said thoughtfully. “Hopefully, we can get rid of her before she becomes too inquisitive.”
Nine prepared to leave. “Is that it?”
Kentbridge nodded. As Nine departed, he wondered what his mentor meant by getting rid of her.
62
Having taken Helen on a tour of the orphanage’s lower floors, Nine escorted her into the gymnasium. They had the gym to themselves for the moment.
So far, the tour had been uneventful. Nine just hoped it stayed that way. “This is where we practice martial arts,” he explained.
As if on cue, Eleven, the Beauty Orphan, and Fourteen, the Aryan-looking male orphan, entered the gym for a sparring session.
“Hi Luke,” Eleven said on noticing Nine. As they did whenever an outsider visited the orphanage, the orphans and staff all fell back on pre-arranged and memorized aliases.
“Helen, this is Mary,” Nine said, introducing his guest to Eleven. He then pointed to Fourteen. “And that’s Robert.”
Eleven and Fourteen acknowledged Helen then walked over to the far side of the gym where they began sparring. It was full on and whenever contact was made the blows elicited grunts from each combatant.
To Helen’s untrained eye, the pair seemed evenly matched. “Wow, she’s pretty deadly.”
“Yeah, pretty and deadly.”
