The Ninth Orphan (20 page)

Apart from terminating Isabelle, no other feasible options had come to mind. He’d momentarily considered releasing her, but on his terms, meaning he would render her certifiably insane or a permanent amnesiac in the same manner intelligence agencies sometimes tampered with the minds of their obsolete operatives. That way, Isabelle would never be able to spill the beans regarding his intended destination.

Nine wasn’t exactly sure how to erase a person’s memory, but with some research and maybe a trip to a drug lab, he felt reasonably sure he could do it. The problem with this option was Isabelle’s father. He doubted Monsieur Alleget would commit Isabelle to a mental hospital and, while the chances of her ever recovering fragments of her memory were remote, the odds would be infinitely higher if she was surrounded by her family.

The other off-the-wall option he’d toyed with was to simply go after Kentbridge and Seventeen, but he doubted he could terminate them both. Maybe one, but together they would be more than a handful, and once Isabelle was thrown into the mix, that amounted to mission impossible. Even if he did somehow pull off a miracle and terminate them, he’d have to kill Naylor also, and there were another twenty one other highly trained orphans Omega could call on to hunt Nine down.

Attacking Omega operatives was an absolute last resort, and then only if all other options failed. Terminating Isabelle would be a hundredfold easier.

Nine looked back at her. “No, you’re wrong. You don’t understand a thing. I’m not going to harm you. I will release you when the time is right.”

Isabelle looked at him with hope in her eyes. Although part of her didn’t believe him, she prayed he was telling the truth for once.

Nine hated having to lie to her like this, but he knew she’d experience less anguish if she died in her sleep without knowing a thing. Deciding he would terminate her in the early hours of the morning, Nine pulled out his ever-present Glock pistol and closed his eyes. Despite the hardness of the floor, he soon fell asleep holding the pistol on his chest.

Still just as fearful as ever, Isabelle picked up the newspaper and began studying the report on her abduction in greater detail. Her rumbling stomach reminded her she was hungry. She retrieved some of the food Nine had brought back for her.

As she ate a croissant, she looked at her abductor and wondered how someone in so precarious a situation could fall asleep so readily. She looked longingly at the door Nine was lying in front of. Escape was constantly on her mind. Glancing at her captor again, she dismissed the idea of trying to sneak past him. Even in sleep, he looked dangerous.

Feeling defeated, for the moment at least, Isabelle retrieved spare blankets from the same linen cupboard Nine had visited earlier then turned the light off and lay down on the couch. Try as she may, she couldn’t sleep.

She still suspected Nine intended to kill her now she knew his secret. She went over a dozen different scenarios as she tried to figure a way out of her current predicament. Each scenario ended the same way, with Nine killing her to ensure his secret remained with him. Finally, sleep came to her. As before, it was a fitful sleep. She tossed and turned.

The fugitive agent was restless also. He, too, tossed and turned.

29

N
ine stirred in his sleep. He was experiencing a dream in which he was reliving childhood events.
His dream deteriorated into a nightmare as his subconscious skipped forward to when, as a teenager on his first Omega assignment abroad, he
’
d been captured by rebel soldiers. Seventeen had double-crossed him and left him for dead, and the soldiers were torturing him.
The memory was so vivid he could feel the agony.
Nine began twitching violently in his sleep as he relived the trauma of that brutal episode.

Isabelle woke to the sound of Nine groaning. Turning on a lamp, she saw he'd rolled across the floor of their hotel room and was now only an arm's length away. He was clearly having a nightmare.

Before she knew it, Nine reached up and grabbed her by the throat. His iron grip cut off her air supply. He pulled her off the couch. She landed on top of Nine, waking him. Wild-eyed, he looked around. Isabelle gasped as she stared into his tormented eyes. Suddenly remembering where he was, Nine released his grip.

Coughing, Isabelle rubbed her tender throat. “You are not well,” she murmured in English. “You need help.”

Nine pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked at her with a haunted stare. “I'm beyond help.”

Isabelle
could tell by his eyes that he was close to tears. She wasn’t sure why he was suddenly talking to her in such a direct manner, but decided to engage to see if it opened up an escape possibility. “
Everyone can be helped.
”

“
Not me. I mean, I don
’
t even exist. I
’
m a ghost.
”
Nine looked at her forlornly.
“
It
’
s like you said the other day
–
I
’
m already dead.
”

Isabelle tried to make sense of what exactly her abductor was sharing, or trying to share. She knew he was not normally one to admit to any weakness. As she studied Nine’s wretched face, she could feel his immense suffering. This was the first time he’d shown any vulnerability since she’d seen him in her apartment in his Russian guise. She wondered what sort of life he’d lived.
What could possibly have caused such a man to be so damaged inside?
She doubted she’d ever know.

Nine just sat there looking deeply into her eyes. It was as if he was imploring her to say or do something. Isabelle wasn’t sure what, though. She thought back to when he’d first entered her life and wondered why he’d kept her alive so long when she was obviously a liability to him.

“
After you followed me in your African disguise and I saw your airline ticket, why did you come back as a Russian? Why didn’t you just kill me?” Unable to express herself as clearly as she wished, she reverted to her native tongue. “Aren’t you secret agents taught to kill anyone who jeopardizes your mission?”

Nine reflected for a moment as he studied her exotic features. “All my training told me I should terminate you, but every time I looked into your eyes I felt like you saw the real me,” he murmured in French. “Even in disguise.” He grimaced as he considered the irony of his situation. The look wasn’t lost on Isabelle.

“
What?”

“
You’re the only one who has ever seen the real me. And even you despise me.”

Nine hung his head in shame. He became even more downcast seconds later, as the sorrows from his childhood resurfaced all at once. Out of desperation, he touched the ruby that hung from his necklace. Not even that brought him comfort. The pain was so great, Nine felt like he just wanted to die.

Studying his tormented face, Isabelle shook her head adamantly. “I don’t despise you.” She immediately regretted uttering that. It was just that he’d voiced the word
despise
in such a defeated, childlike manner. She’d momentarily forgotten he was her abductor. “I fear you,” she tried to clarify. “But I don’t despise you.”

A surprised Nine looked up at her as if she was a solitary ray of light in a lifetime of darkness. It felt so strange to have someone see his true self. Especially a woman.

The last few hectic days he’d spent with Isabelle represented the longest relationship – if it could be called that – he’d ever had with a woman. All his previous experiences with the opposite sex had been one-night stands. That was the nature of his work. In fact, that was the nature of his life. He couldn’t afford to get too close to a woman.

The disadvantages of never knowing his mother and being brought up by the most ruthless of father-figures, had combined to turn him into a chauvinist.
He’d never respected women. From an early age, he’d been taught and encouraged to
use
them.

Nine felt tears welling up as the weight of his past – not to mention his treatment of Isabelle – threatened to overwhelm him again. Ashamed, he avoided Isabelle’s gaze as a tear ran down his face. The more he fought against it, the more the tears began to flow.

All his repressed emotions came to the surface: the rage, the guilt, the void, the unshakable misery and worthlessness that came with being a manufactured orphan. Finally giving in to his feelings, he began sobbing aloud.

Against her will, Isabelle found herself feeling sympathy for him.

“
Help me,” Nine whispered through his tears. “Please.
Help me
.”

Isabelle was taken aback. This was not the cold-hearted operative she’d come to know. She studied his handsome face. It was a mixture of intense expressions. Fragility. Despair. Shame. Desire. Fear. She could hardly believe how vulnerable he was.

Nine now sobbed uncontrollably. He was in such a distraught state,
his head fell onto his captive’s shoulder
. Compassion got the better of Isabelle
. The entrenched feelings of indifference that often bordered on hatred were slowly dissolving as she sensed this man was still a boy in many ways. Almost without realizing it, she stroked his hair – as a mother would comfort a child.

He appeared to have never been touched like this. Her nurturing hands seemed to have a soothing effect on him. His crying subsided. Nine suddenly embraced Isabelle and held her tightly.

As much as she wanted to push him away, she didn’t.
What am I doing?
If she was honest, it felt undeniably good to have a man’s arms around her. This was the first time a man had embraced her since her ex-boyfriend Jacques had left her a year earlier.

After a few moments, she finally extricated herself from his arms. Nine sat up and looked deeply into her eyes. Before she could even pause to analyze what was happening between them, Nine kissed her softly. Shocked, she pulled away from him.

“
Sorry,” Nine blurted out apologetically. A part of him regretted kissing her for he knew things were already complicated enough. Maybe he’d kissed her because he wanted to distract himself from the pain he was feeling.
Then again, he'd felt an intense physical attraction for her from the outset.

Nine took a deep breath, expecting to be slapped.

To his surprise, Isabelle stared at him affectionately. Not entirely sure what he was doing, he kissed her again. Isabelle responded briefly then pulled away from him once more, her dark eyes flashing. “Wait,” she whispered. “Tell me your real name.”

Not trusting himself to say any more, Nine took her hand in his. With his other hand, he reached out and explored the curves of her sensuous figure, stopping at her breasts. Isabelle’s mind was screaming for her to resist, but her body was now under his spell. In spite of herself, she allowed Nine to begin undressing her.

Isabelle felt her misgivings completely evaporate as his hands roamed tantalizingly over her stomach and between her thighs. “Please!” Her breathing became labored. “If you tell me your name you’ll no longer be a ghost.”

By the soft light of the lamp, Nine finished disrobing her then lowered her down onto her back. Isabelle moaned. Her movements became more urgent as Nine took his own clothes off to expose his lean, muscular frame. Unable to stand it any more, Isabelle pulled him into her. “Your name!” she gasped in French as he penetrated her.

“
Sebastian.”

It was the first time he’d used his own name aloud. He thought back to his childhood when Kentbridge had revealed his birth name to him. His mentor had told him his mother had given him the name shortly before he was taken from her as a baby.

There, on the carpeted floor of their hotel room, the two frightened souls made love. Any hesitancy quickly gave way to uninhibited passion as they surrendered to the underlying chemistry that existed between them.

30

A
fter a night of lovemaking, Nine and Isabelle breakfasted together in a café just a couple of blocks from Notre Dame.

In one night,
everything
had changed.

Neither spoke. They both just stared at each other. He was disguised as a blind man with a cane and dark glasses while she sported a new haircut with her hair dyed platinum blonde. Nine had also painted Isabelle’s skin a lighter shade to further her disguise.

Though he’d treated her with tenderness throughout the night, Isabelle worried their lovemaking may have just been a brief, physical interlude for him. Nine quickly quelled her concerns when he tenderly stroked her hand.

After the intimacy he’d experienced with Isabelle, Nine knew once and for all he could never bring himself to terminate her.
Knowing he
’
d even considered it mortified him.
He realized he’d turned a corner in his life. Although he’d had sex with dozens of other women, he’d never truly made love to a woman like he
had to
Isabelle. Neither had he ever had a woman he hadn’t paid for or lied to about his identity, or usually both.