Training Center, New York State

The records rooms of the Organization's training center were remarkably different from what Mike Whittaker was expecting. Instead of a single modern room, with computers at individual stations where records could be accessed, this looked more like a library at an ancient monastery. One solid oak table stretched through the center of the main room, with an official looking desk set off to one side where someone sitting could oversee the entire area.

From the main room, smaller rooms branched off in all directions. Some of the rooms were nothing more than closets, with a single six foot tall records cabinet inside. Others held several filing cabinets and a small table with individual lights for each of the chairs. Stretched out along one side of the main room, slightly behind the desk, was what looked like a card file system. Curious, Mike wandered over and slid the first drawer out to see what sort of things were being kept track of.

The first several cards were enough to unsettle his stomach, although he was well aware of just what sort of place this was. The first card listed 'physical skills', which covered everything from how well a child had done garroting a full grown man to how long they could stay underwater without coming up for air. The last was far too detailed in the number of drownings. There were shooting score cards with several different categories; such as sniper rifles, pistols, crossbows (?WTF?), automatic weapons, as well as grenade and rocket launchers. Skill levels at hand to hand combat, explosives, and poisons were recorded right along with language and mathematics skills – so was the disposal rate per age group.

'Lord above,' Mike prayed silently. He'd known from what his ghost had told him that this was a training center. 'But he never said anything about how bad the abuse he and the other boys were subjected to had been.' He knew that his ghost was a proud man, one that refused to allow himself to look weak, and he guessed this was why, but Mike would have liked to have had a little warning about just how bad things were here.

"It's quite terrible isn't it?" a woman asked from behind him. The British accent helped him to identify the woman even as he turned around to look. 'Miss Diana' Burnwood, former Organization handler and current secretary of the so-called headmaster of the 'school' was older than he expected, in her mid-fifties to early sixties. The headmaster had struck him as one of those that would have a sexy young thing as a secretary so that he could enjoy the view and from what Mike had found in the records so far, probably other services as well. She was holding a large briefcase that she set down on the table. She then pulled a slim laptop and a thick file out, placing them just so on the table top. "The things that they do here to the boys would be unspeakable anywhere else."

"I think that it's pretty unspeakable here as well," Mike admitted, returning the cards to the drawer. He moved to sit down opposite Miss Diana at the table. "I'm very glad to be one of those helping to shut this place down. These cretins don't deserve to have custody of a dog, much less a child."

"I fully agree with you, Inspector, but let me make myself perfectly clear. I have no objections to the industry. 95 percent of the targets, especially at the level that the agents trained here operate at, are those who more than deserve to die. Unfortunately, the last five percent are simply due to Human nature, and there isn't much we can do about that," Diana said as she sat down. "My objection is now and always has been child abuse."

"Then let's see if we can find out just how these children ended up here," Mike said. "Do you have any idea where the records of the boys who are here right now are?"

"First door on your right, first filing cabinet, top drawer to bottom by year of admittance," Diana said without hesitation as she pointed in the correct direction. Bemused, Mike left to become a pack mule, filling the table with the files on the current crop of children.

It didn't take him long to discover that Miss Diana was hell on wheels on a computer. How she was able to track down the children's families from what little there was in the paper records was astonishing. That she could find positively identify a family within three hours was nearly a damned miracle, one that Mike was not about to try and figure out. This was going a hell of a lot faster than he had ever imagined it could.

Mike noticed that she kept that single file, and it was one that was quite old from the look of it, by her computer as she searched. He had the feeling that this was the file of the man Jenkins had told him about – the reason that this woman was so willing to risk her own life to bring this company down. The school had turned out to be only the tip of the iceberg. Miss Diana's information had led to the Organization's downfall, although as nearly as he could tell at this point, most of their agents were still at large, abet without handlers. That was a scary situation, fortunately for him it wasn't one that he had to deal with personally.

"I don't blame you for his death," Diana said out of the blue.

"What?" Mike asked, confused. He had just brought her another stack of files.

"You killed 47," Diana said simply. Mike suddenly realized exactly who she was talking about. His ghost was the only Organization hitman that anyone could say that he had killed, even if he hadn't actually done the deed. He hoped desperately that no one walked in on them. This was the last conversation that he ever wanted to get out. Being fired for letting his ghost go would be the least of his worries if that happened.

"I don't blame you for his death," she repeated. "I have no doubt that you were only defending yourself. I blame the Organization. They were the ones responsible for his being there. They demanded that he remove you because you were getting too close to him. He should have been safely on the other side of the world, preparing for his next assignment or anything other than being in your home." The grief that showed on the woman's face did not impede her hands in the slightest, and Mike was willing to bet that this woman was one of the reasons that his ghost, and apparently her 47, had been the best hitman in the world. "They wanted him dead."

"Could I see that file?" he asked as gently as he could. She glanced at the file and carefully placing a gentle hand on top of it, slid it across the table to Mike. He opened the cover and there staring at him from the picture was the one man that Mike had let get away from him. Well, he'd had good reasons to let 47 go, not the least of which was the fact that the man would have killed not only him, but his wife and both of his daughters as well if he'd been stupid enough to try and arrest him on that night.

At least he would be able to help this woman who had done so much for his investigation. There was no reason to let her continue grieving and every reason to let her know that 47 was still alive. He glanced around and seeing that they were very much alone, not that he had thought that anyone had snuck into the main room while he was out, quietly spoke. "He's not dead. He had me fake his death so that he could retire from the business alive. Between the threat to my family's lives and what he had told me about this school, I was more than willing to let him go."

"Are you toying with me Inspector?" Diana asked with a voice full of ice. Her hands had paused in their flight over her keyboard and her blue eyes snapped with the sort of hatred that Mike had seen far too often in multiple murder cases. Mike shook his head. He was certainly not about to do that. This woman could have his entire life tied up in knots without moving from her computer, and that was if she was feeling generous. If she wasn't, then Mike had no doubt that he would be the very next subject of the industry's target list.

"I have no idea where he is, but from what you've said to Jenks that he told me in turn and what 47 said to me the night he set up his escape, I think he found a reason to escape with the woman he was working with in Saint Petersburg. She saved my life and my partner's when we tried to catch 47 at the train station. She asked him to stop killing when he had one of his pistols aimed at my head. To my knowledge her request was the only time he's ever let a witness live. He must love her very much to indulge her like that." He passed the file back to her. "I never did figure out who she was and I did try. I've never been able to thank her for what she did that day no matter how much I want to."

Diana sat there for a moment with tears in her eyes and hands over her mouth. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Well, it looks like we have another file to try and find family for then," she said with a smile. She gently took the file and placed it next to the file she was currently researching. Mike had no doubt that she would be able to find 47's birth family. The only question was whether or not that particular set of parents would survive the discovery. If they had given, or worse sold, 47 to the Organization Mike did not give them very good odds at surviving Diana's wrath. On the other hand, if they hadn't been responsible for 47's induction into the Organization, there were those out there who would gladly kill them just for being 47's parents. Their best bet for survival would be for them to find 47 quickly so that he could protect them.