Free The Ninth Orphan by Lance Morcan, James Morcan Page A

IQ’s in the 170 -190 range, but Nine was truly exceptional with an IQ of 203 by his early teens.
    Kentbridge took a shine to him and taught him everything he knew. Against his better judgment, he found himself conversing with Nine almost as if the boy were his son. This closeness between teacher and student caused jealousy among the other kids.
    The blonde female orphan, Seventeen, was especially envious. This manifested itself in the form of competitiveness. She was always looking for an opportunity to outperform Nine. Even as a young girl, her personality was cold and calculating, and she would do anything to win. Although Nine wanted no part in this intense rivalry, he had little option but to engage in it. Seventeen was always right behind him, looking for a way to prove to Kentbridge she was every bit as good as his favorite protégé.
    Her opportunity came during the hunting expedition in Montana when Nine was unable to finish off the wounded deer. Seventeen completed the mission instead.
    That was the one and only occasion during their childhood that Nine was bettered by another orphan. Seventeen took it as a personal victory. From that point on, she viewed herself as the best orphan in the program, or at least the equal of Nine. She now realized that although Nine was superior to her in terms of strict espionage skills, he had one weakness that could be exploited: his heart. Nine had sympathy for things Seventeen didn’t care about. He had sensitivities operatives weren’t supposed to have.
    * * *
    Still seated at Isabelle’s dining table, Nine thought of Kentbridge and wondered who the senior operative had sent to search for him. He imagined one of his fellow orphans would have been tasked with that job – and he had a fair idea who that would be.
    Further images from his past came to the fore including the now-blurred faces of all the people – some innocents, some not – whom Kentbridge and Naylor had ordered him to terminate over the years. As the guilt he’d tried to suppress for many years rose to the surface, he felt nothing but self-loathing.
    Nine was abruptly brought out of his reverie when he heard the door to Isabelle’s bedroom open. He sat there, immobile, as Isabelle emerged. Yawning, she walked right past him and into the kitchen without bothering to turn the light on. There, she opened the fridge door and pulled out a carton of orange juice. Light from the open fridge momentarily illuminated the kitchen and adjoining dining room.
    As Isabelle closed the fridge door, plunging the apartment into darkness again, something briefly caught her eye in the dining room. She turned on a light and screamed when she saw the bearded stranger at her dining table.
    The man didn’t react. He remained as still as a statue, which frightened her even more. She screamed again when she saw the pistol which now lay before him on the tabletop. Her first instinct was to run, but she couldn’t move. She could only stand there, as if rooted to the spot.
    The Slavic-looking stranger just stared at her. More accurately, he seemed to be looking right through her. Isabelle wondered if he even knew she was there.

 
    13
    N ine was first to recover. He quickly placed the ruby necklace back around his neck and motioned to Isabelle to sit in the chair opposite. She remained frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights.
    “ Sit,” Nine commanded. Maintaining his masquerade, he spoke English in a thick Russian accent that would have fooled a Moscow native.
    Still, Isabelle didn’t move. Nine picked up the pistol and used it to motion once more to the chair opposite. Isabelle immediately moved toward the chair.
    “ Turn off the light,” Nine added, realizing light could draw unwanted attention to the apartment.
    Isabelle stopped in mid-stride. Unable to take her eyes off the pistol in the bearded stranger’s hand, she backed up to the light switch and turned it off. In the semi-darkness, she hesitantly approached the