from loosing off another shot. Isabelle screamed again as the pair wrestled furiously on the carpet for possession of the Beretta. Nine smashed Kentbridge's hand against a coffee table. The older man lost his grip on the pistol which slid across the carpet toward Isabelle. She grabbed it and aimed it at both men.
“ Get out of my apartment you American bastards!” she screamed hysterically.
The men stopped fighting and looked up at her. Nine stood up. Isabelle pointed the pistol directly at him. “Isabelle, I can't explain now, but it’s in your best interests to give me that gun,” Nine said calmly in fluent French.
“ Don't give it to him,” Kentbridge warned. He’d also reverted to French.
Isabelle wavered. Shaking, she pointed the weapon at Kentbridge then back at Nine. The rogue operative glanced back at Kentbridge who was still on the floor. He steeled himself and stepped toward Isabelle. Her eyes widened in fear.
“ Go ahead then, shoot me,” Nine dared her.
Shaking violently, Isabelle pointed the pistol at Nine’s head. He walked closer still, all the while looking into her eyes. As he reached out and touched her hand, Isabelle's face softened. Sensing his reverse psychology was having the desired effect, Nine slowly moved his hand onto the Beretta and carefully took it from her. He turned around and aimed the weapon at his former mentor's head.
Kentbridge flinched as Nine's finger tightened around the trigger. “Come to your senses, Sebastian!” he cried, this time in English.
Nine tried to pull the trigger, but for the second time in as many hours he found he couldn't. Too many memories flooded through his mind – most dating back to his childhood. He released his finger from the trigger and bent down beside Kentbridge.
“ Tell Naylor he’ll never find this chameleon again,” Nine whispered before knocking Kentbridge out with a blow to the head using the pistol’s butt. He grabbed the handcuffs he’d discarded earlier and cuffed his mentor’s hand to a steel gas pipe on the wall.
Nine looked out the window. He silently cursed when he saw an official-looking vehicle parked in the street below. It hadn’t been there five minutes earlier. The brief glow of a cigarette-tip alerted him to the fact there was at least one occupant in the vehicle. Further along the street were half a dozen more cars that hadn’t been there earlier either.
The orphan took a shocked Isabelle by the arm and pulled her toward the door. She was too afraid to resist. Before leaving the apartment, he binned Kentbridge’s Beretta and picked up his own Glock pistol which was still lying where he’d dropped it.
Outside the apartment complex, Seventeen and a dozen armed gendarmes hid in the dark waiting for Kentbridge to reappear with his prisoner. They were caught by surprise when Nine and Isabelle emerged from the building alone. Nine held his pistol to the Frenchwoman's head, effectively using her as a hostage. “If anybody shoots, Isabelle Alleget dies!” he shouted.
The gendarmes held their fire. Nine froze when he spotted Seventeen among them. He looked directly at his fellow orphan. It was too dark to see her features, but he imagined he could see the hatred in Seventeen’s icy blue eyes.
The determined female operative wasn’t about to negotiate or engage in hostage games. Crouched low, gun in hand, she began running toward him, zigzagging as she ran, just as Nine had been trained to do in similar circumstances.
Nine pulled a distraught Isabelle back inside the apartment complex. She struggled violently. He held her tight and looked around, considering his options.
Knowing he had to act fast, Nine dragged his unwilling hostage down a stairwell to the basement car park where he surveyed the stationary vehicles. Isabelle still tried to resist the iron grip he had on her arm. Nine tightened his grip further. “Stop struggling. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
Isabelle ceased struggling. Nine
“ Get out of my apartment you American bastards!” she screamed hysterically.
The men stopped fighting and looked up at her. Nine stood up. Isabelle pointed the pistol directly at him. “Isabelle, I can't explain now, but it’s in your best interests to give me that gun,” Nine said calmly in fluent French.
“ Don't give it to him,” Kentbridge warned. He’d also reverted to French.
Isabelle wavered. Shaking, she pointed the weapon at Kentbridge then back at Nine. The rogue operative glanced back at Kentbridge who was still on the floor. He steeled himself and stepped toward Isabelle. Her eyes widened in fear.
“ Go ahead then, shoot me,” Nine dared her.
Shaking violently, Isabelle pointed the pistol at Nine’s head. He walked closer still, all the while looking into her eyes. As he reached out and touched her hand, Isabelle's face softened. Sensing his reverse psychology was having the desired effect, Nine slowly moved his hand onto the Beretta and carefully took it from her. He turned around and aimed the weapon at his former mentor's head.
Kentbridge flinched as Nine's finger tightened around the trigger. “Come to your senses, Sebastian!” he cried, this time in English.
Nine tried to pull the trigger, but for the second time in as many hours he found he couldn't. Too many memories flooded through his mind – most dating back to his childhood. He released his finger from the trigger and bent down beside Kentbridge.
“ Tell Naylor he’ll never find this chameleon again,” Nine whispered before knocking Kentbridge out with a blow to the head using the pistol’s butt. He grabbed the handcuffs he’d discarded earlier and cuffed his mentor’s hand to a steel gas pipe on the wall.
Nine looked out the window. He silently cursed when he saw an official-looking vehicle parked in the street below. It hadn’t been there five minutes earlier. The brief glow of a cigarette-tip alerted him to the fact there was at least one occupant in the vehicle. Further along the street were half a dozen more cars that hadn’t been there earlier either.
The orphan took a shocked Isabelle by the arm and pulled her toward the door. She was too afraid to resist. Before leaving the apartment, he binned Kentbridge’s Beretta and picked up his own Glock pistol which was still lying where he’d dropped it.
Outside the apartment complex, Seventeen and a dozen armed gendarmes hid in the dark waiting for Kentbridge to reappear with his prisoner. They were caught by surprise when Nine and Isabelle emerged from the building alone. Nine held his pistol to the Frenchwoman's head, effectively using her as a hostage. “If anybody shoots, Isabelle Alleget dies!” he shouted.
The gendarmes held their fire. Nine froze when he spotted Seventeen among them. He looked directly at his fellow orphan. It was too dark to see her features, but he imagined he could see the hatred in Seventeen’s icy blue eyes.
The determined female operative wasn’t about to negotiate or engage in hostage games. Crouched low, gun in hand, she began running toward him, zigzagging as she ran, just as Nine had been trained to do in similar circumstances.
Nine pulled a distraught Isabelle back inside the apartment complex. She struggled violently. He held her tight and looked around, considering his options.
Knowing he had to act fast, Nine dragged his unwilling hostage down a stairwell to the basement car park where he surveyed the stationary vehicles. Isabelle still tried to resist the iron grip he had on her arm. Nine tightened his grip further. “Stop struggling. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
Isabelle ceased struggling. Nine
Similar Books
