Young Offender, Part 27:
"Ah, Gilmore, did you finish the calibrations on the translator instrument?" Fyodr Gamo called out, bursting into Gilmore's lab. The Jewish doctor looked up with a scowl and nodded.
"All but one."
"Good. By the end of this month we'll have a new cash flow, so continue with the upgrades." Fyodr swirled around.
He paused his walk to the door when he heard the question. "Cash flow? I thought all upgrades were halted until the Double Zero Cyborgs were back. I guess that means they're under control?"
Fyodr turned and suppressed his sly smile. He scrutinized Gilmore's eyes. Behind them, was his son; he was sure of it now. However, 001 couldn't stretch his power beyond controlling Gilmore.
Erika said it was because Gilmore had no physic abilities himself, therefore, 001 would be limited to using Gilmore's abilities. He felt a flare of excitement at the idea of getting his son back; he had to play this right, or Erika would be horribly disappointed. Even though she had a new protégé, the Ember girl wasn't of Gamo flesh and blood.
Fyodr shrugged and gave an annoyed sigh. He glanced around as if preparing to give away a secret. "Some new widow in Japan. Her husband was a Merchant, so she's continuing his work. She's now acting as the middleman for Shimamura Electronics; her brother is the president of the company. They're both Merchants."
"A woman?"
"She has a son to consider." Fyodr cut off the rest of what he wanted to say about doing what was best for one's own son. It would tip 001 off. "Anyway, her brother is going to deliver."
"Really? What could be valuable enough to interest the Black Ghost?" Gilmore asked as he turned back to the small, black box on the electronics bench. He took a tiny screwdriver to one of the edges.
"Don't know, but Scar is talking to him next month in Paris to finish up negotiations." Fyodr couldn't tell the effect, but he shrugged and turned to leave. "I need your report by tomorrow morning."
"Not a problem, Fyodr ," Gilmore mumbled.
"Gilmore has certainly been snooping," Erika said, opening her eyes. "I've been tracking him from a distance. It seems he's been talking to Dressler and Uranus."
"Those two malcontents!" Fyodr raged, pacing their apartment in the Black Ghost complex located on Ghost Island. He swirled and pointed toward Erika. "I know it's 001 controlling Gilmore. "
"It must have happened as I faced 004. I can't remember everything. He must have broken past my defenses and manipulate my mind. In that case," she said, clenching her brown shawl tighter around her shoulders, "he could even make my sister look weak by comparison."
Fyodr took a deep breath and nodded, barely able to meet his adoring wife's eyes. "Then, my love, we must consider every option to retrieve our son."
Erika squared her shoulder. He laid a hand against her cheek when he saw her troubled, sorrowed expression. "Please, Erika. Katharina an empty shell now. She's been gone for a very long time."
"Yes, it's just hard."
"But I can graft her into the Ember girl's brain. She'll live again through the child!"
"Papa! Mama! Help me..." The Ember girl then screamed in incredible pain from her new bedroom. It had been Ivan's bedroom at one point.
Otto Dressler told Fyodr it was because her bones and muscles were still in agony at their accelerated growth. Erika took Ann to Dressler every day to figure out a cure, but it only made the man more and more reticent towards supporting the Black Ghost. He was seeing what his formulas had done to the child. Or so Erika had told Fyodr about the man's new reluctance to stay at Ghost Island.
Fyodr turned towards Ivan's old room as the girl continued to shriek. Suddenly, their knick-knacks started to wobble around the living room. Erika's eyes glowed purple, and the knick-knacks settled. She turned to Fyodr and nodded. "Do what you must. This girl needs more control before we try to recapture Ivan. I want my son back. Katharina would understand, because she also loved Ivan very much."
"I'll leave for Siberia in the morning. While I'm there, feed Gilmore the information about Rhys-Davies. If the Double Zero Cyborgs take the bait, then we can proceed to set up the trap for next month after I finish the brain graft on Ember's daughter."
"Long time, no see," Jet called out, as Ivan stumbled into the kitchenette and went straight for the cabinet.
"I'll make you something. Go sit down," Francoise said, setting aside her crocheting. Minutes later, Ivan joined Albert and Jet in the living-room area. He sat on the end of a sofa. Jet didn't miss how drained he looked; his face was unnaturally pale.
"So what have you found out?" Albert asked, folding up a German newspaper. Jet was glad to see it gone.
The more Albert read about what was going on in split Berlin, the darker his expression became. Then again, the American south was become tense, too, with the Civil Rights Movement. Albert had told him late last night, right before he drifted off on a sofa-turned-bed, that the world had gone mad. Jet then asked how much Albert thought was the Black Ghost's fault. Albert responded that it was like a rabbit hole, no telling how deep it went. Jet just gritted his teeth in anger at the Black Ghost and miraculously fell asleep.
"Well?" Jet snapped impatiently when Ivan didn't answer right away. The boy started. His face turned dour.
"It seems that Kitagawa's widow and brother-in-law have taken up his business once again."
"That's horrible," Francoise said, handing Ivan a plate with a sandwich. She set a tall glass of milk on the coffee table. "I don't believe any woman could have anything to do with harming children."
"It would seem her brother still has some items the Black Ghost wants. Next month, in Paris, Mrs Kitagawa is going to meet Scar and negotiate on behalf of her brother. You see, they want to help Black Ghost figure out how to reproduce the acceleration device."
Albert leaned forward and looked baffled. "You would think their scientists would have kept good documentation on it, if it were so valuable."
"That was Gilmore. Right before we escaped, he created a lab fire to distract them as you three were moving towards the shore. That's why we showed up later than I had anticipated. I wanted every advantage we could gain. That's why Countess Yana wanted Jet to surrender, so she'd have a powerful bargaining chip with the Black Ghost. My guess is they're tired of waiting on catching us, so they want to recreate it, thus eliminating one of our advantages."
"Why doesn't the old coot who slapped it together just make another one?" Jet flopped back on the sofa and stretched his arms across the back it.
"It's a very complicated device. There were eight scientist who contributed to it. They don't know each other because they would work on one piece and then it was passed on to the next, and the Black Ghost wanted to keep it that way so they could control ownership to the device. Fortunately, Gilmore was one of them. We have that one advantage. Gilmore was able to figure out who another one was. He's died from a heart attack six months ago. That will buy us some more time. I asked Gilmore to sabotage all efforts if they get far along."
"So we have to go after them? And we don't even have a clue who they are? Impossible," Jet snapped again, getting irritated with Ivan's indirectness.
"No, I believe Gilmore can manage them for now. What we need to do is concentrate on our next target."
"Who is it?" Jet asked
"Wait a minute. We have enough money to live on for a while. Shouldn't we travel to France directly?" Francoise asked, picking up her crocheting again.
"Actually, it'll get us closer to France. We need to go to London. A man named Thomas Rhys-Davis is in the United Nations; he's a popular diplomat. He's very pivotal to the Black Ghost's plans."
"The UN? But they're trying to promote peace between the nations. Why would a diplomat help them? Does he sabotage peace efforts?" Francoise asked. Jet could tell she was annoyed by the frantic way she was crocheting and her furrowed brow. He figured she wanted to find her brother; and the Kitagawa thing next month was a great excuse to get them closer to finding Jean-Paul.
"No doubt," Albert said.
"Well, how much dough can we expect from this heist?" Jet asked, rubbing his hands together.
"Nothing. We just expose him as an arms dealer. He sells them in an effort to escalate tensions in Vietnam. After he's taken care of, we can then go to France and stop Mrs Kitagawa. We can look for Jean-Paul while we wait and plan for her," Ivan said.
"I guess it'd be fun to see one of them go to the slammer," Jet said, getting more agreeable to the idea. After all, striking the Black Ghost always appealed to Jet.
"It's a good idea to take care of him right now before he can ship more guns to Vietnam. The war is increasing over there, and with these guns, it'll get even more deadly and can spread. The ultimate goal of the Black Ghost organization is to cause world wide wars and chaos."
"I see," Francoise murmured. She nodded. "I'll help, of course. War is such an ugly thing."
"We're all in," Albert said, glancing at Ivan. "We'll hit him next week. After we do this, we'll move on to France." Albert then turned his eyes to Jet; he felt uncomfortable under Albert's scrutiny. "We may not be back to New York for a while, depending on our situation."
"I understand," Jet said. He then stood up, got bundled in his coat, and left the apartment quietly.
"What are you doing?" Jet snapped, seeing Albert trail behind him in the darkened alleyway.
"Last time you came back in bad shape."
Jet was about to snarl a tart remark, but he saw Albert's ice-blue eyes crinkle as he slowly smiled. Jet snorted, shoved his hands in his pocket, and mumbled, "What's it to you?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to see if you needed any company."
"No!"
"I didn't figure you would. Just get back soon so we can make plans on the best way to frame this guy for dealing arms," Albert said, before turning back towards the apartment door.
"Wait! Al, I do have a question."
The older man paused and turned to face Jet again, a quizzical eyebrow raised.
Jet took a deep, frosty gulp of air and asked, "So do you want to go back to West Berlin?"
"Not now. I'm not ready to see that wall," Albert said dryly.
"How do you know you're not ready?" Jet asked.
"When it's time to confront your past? You've already started by say farewell to your old friends. Is this about your parents?"
"Maybe." Jet shrugged, looking down at his shoes. "What were your folks like?"
"Mine? My father was a solider, and my mother was a musician. My father was very strict man, but he was doing his best in some really dark times. He served in North Africa as a tank driver. That's where he was killed."
"Really? You never told me that," Jet said, after shaking off his daze. "You never mentioned he was... you know... one of... those."
"You never asked. In his time, in Germany, everyone was forced to be Nazi or be squeezed out of making a living. So don't feel it'll offend me if you say it. It wasn't as if he had a choice as a solider."
"What about your ma?"
"Mother was a very lovely woman, but very somber and quite. She died during the Dressden fire bombings right before I turned fifteen. I lived with my Aunt Gertrude for a while."
"Did you...? Do you still feel mad at the people who killed your parents?" Jet asked. He was wondering why he felt worn out, rather than angry, as he thought about his parents during this day.
"Not any more. For a long time, I carried around a lot of hatred towards... well... Americans and Englishmen... well... I was pretty down about humanity in general." Albert looked slightly abashed, but also earnest. "I realized after I got married to Hilda that it would poison my relationships with everyone. It was making me so exhausted to hold such a grudge. I also could see how the older people, like my Aunt Gertrud, were eaten up with bitterness. I didn't want to be like them."
"Aren't you still angry with what happened to your wife?" Jet found it hard to say Hilda's name. He felt it would be disrespectful in some way because he had never met the woman, and it had taken so long for Albert to become a little more informal.
"It's still feels too soon, but sometimes it feels like it was decades ago. Those mornings I can't get out of bed are the ones it only feels like it was only yesterday I lost her. Few of those are happening. Slower than I'd like."
"That car accident wasn't your fault. You should forgive yourself," Jet said.
"So should you. Forgive yourself about the things you did as a member of a gang. Including that murder. There is nothing you can do about that now as shameful as it was." Rather than get defensive, Jet nodded and shoved his fists in his coat pockets.
Albert gave a brief nod and quick pat on Jet's shoulder. He gave Jet a smirk and said, "Try not to get into trouble."
He turned and left Jet standing alone in the crisp, evening air. Jet shook off his heavy thoughts and turned to walk down the New York streets, taking in the atmosphere as if it would be the last time.
"So you're off?" Frank asked. Jet hated the way Frank was eying their green uniforms.
"Yeah... well... we got stuff to do. Are we square?"
"Yeah, as I see it, I owe you four more months of rent. I don't want to gyp family, so when you're back in town, you can crash here."
"I know, Franco, and we'll probably be back sooner than you think."
"Sure, I'll keep a space free for you, and I didn't tell Antonia or Guy you were here. Sure you don't want to talk to them?"
"Like I said, I'm into some dangerous shit." Jet slowly shook his head, knowing he wasn't quite ready for that conversation yet. "It wouldn't only put them in danger so you'll need to keep it under your hat."
"Okay, take care." Frank took the key back from Jet. "Can I give you lift to the train station?"
"No, we have a ride," Jet said with a devious smirk.
Jet shook Frank's beefy hand and left out of the door, each cyborg carrying a small battered suitcase. He lead them through the maze of New York buildings to an empty alleyway. After Francoise gave the nod, indicating no one was around to see them, a thick blue mist enveloped them.
Darkness and then a slight crushing sensation happened to his body. When he opened his eyes, he saw a huge clock tower and a massive river running thought a very old city. What disoriented him the most was that it was early morning a few seconds ago, now it was afternoon.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," he griped, shaking off the dizziness.
"More efficient than flying," Ivan replied. Francoise gave a slight chuckle, and Jet felt his face go hot.
"Hey! Did you just make a dig at me?"
"Seems he did... Gianni Alessandro," Albert said, smacking Jet on the shoulder, a smirk playing at the German's mouth. "Come on, let's get set up."
Albert, Francoise, and Ivan walked down a London street with Jet trailing after them. "I told you to never call me that! Especially the whole stinking thing!"
To be continued.