Young Offender, Part 28:
"Everyone clear?" Albert asked the other three cyborgs; all four were dressed in their green uniform and long, red scarfs. They each nodded. "Good luck."
"Are you ready?" Ivan asked Francoise. She laid her hand on his thin shoulder and they disappeared into the foggy, London night with a haze of blue.
"Let's go play the heavies," Jet said, a wicked smile crossing his lips. Albert nodded his head, removed his gloves, and waved Jet in the direction of the old pier. It wasn't long before they found a wide open door to a warehouse. In the darkness, five men slouched around two large crates marked "Vietnam: Medical Supplies- Do Not Open" on the sides.
Rather than make a subtle entrance, Albert lofted his right hand and aimed above their heads. He let out a burst of bullets. The five men dove to the ground in confusion and tried to draw their guns. Jet lofted his ray gun and shook his head.
"Don't even think about it, fellas!" Jet called out. Albert walked further in, eyes cautious; Jet trailed after him. "Alright, who's the boss-man?"
None of them spoke up. Albert aimed his hand at a chair and blew it to splinters. "Someone better answer my partner's question before I start using you guys for target practice."
"Don't shoot that thing any more!" One of the men with a heavy mustache shouted out in a thick British accent.
"See, I knew they'd be reasonable," Jet smirked and grabbed the guy by the elbow.
Albert went over and grabbed another chair. "The rest of you better not move a muscle." He kicked their guns across the concrete floor and placed the chair by the desk with a telephone. Jet hauled the man over and forced him to sit in the chair.
Jet turned to cover the four other men while Albert moved the rotary dial telephone towards the boss. "Call Rhys-Davies and tell him to get down here or he'll loose his whole shipment."
"What? I can't! How do you about him?"
"None of your business. Call," Albert said, holding out the black, shiny receiver to the man. The shaking man took the phone and dialed the rotor, the clicks sounded loud to Albert.
"Yes, sir. There is an emergency... I know I'm not supposed to call, but there are two men down here demanding to see you... I don't know that, sir, but they're threatening to take the shipment... I know, but they... you just have to see them to understand why... yes, sir..." The man looked up at Albert and held out the receiver toward him. "He wants to talk to you."
Albert snatched the receiver and held it to his ear. "Speak."
Rhys-Davies demanded, "Who are you?"
"No friend of yours. Get down here in twenty minutes or my partner and I will throw every gun in the Thames."
"Do you know how much they're worth, you bloody idiot?!"
"Not much if they're waterlogged. Bring no one. Twenty minutes!" Albert slammed down the receiver and shoved the boss over with the rest of the men.
"Think Frannie can do it?" Jet whispered in German before Albert started pacing.
"For sure. Don't worry. Ivan is with her," Albert replied in his native tongue.
Just as Albert predicted, Francoise and Ivan appeared in a glowing, blue flash ten minutes after the call. She jogged over to Albert and handed him three reels of audio tape. "Here it is."
"Good, girl. Was it difficult?" Albert asked, examining the reels.
"Not at all. Listing to the clicks as I turned the safe dial was very easy." She glanced over at Jet, giving him a disapproving look. "Your cousin Frank turned out to be a very informative person."
"Hey, looks like you're a good student," Jet retorted in smooth French. Her face flushed, and she looked absolutely embarrassed; Jet chuckled. Jet lurched forward slightly as if he were shoved by something.
"Watch it kid!" Jet snarled with a glare at Ivan when he realized no one was near enough to shove him. Albert looked over, and indeed, Ivan's righ eye was glowing brightly and his expression was both hostile and dour.
"Enough!" Albert snapped. He couldn't risk letting Jet rile Ivan up or visa-a-versa. "Ivan, the person we want will show up before..."
"I called him. He will be here in three minutes. I can feel him getting closer. Rhys-Davies is still ten minutes away," Ivan answered every question before Albert had a chance to ask them. "It's all according to your plan."
"Good. Go greet your guest, and we'll handle Rhys-Davies," Albert ordered, handing the tape reels to the Russian. Ivan turned and walked back out of the warehouse, tossing nasty looks towards Jet. Jet, to his credit, just ignored Ivan.
Albert looked around the warehouse and found a small door. He went and opened it, glad to see it only held a bunch of janitorial supplies. "Jet, bring those guys over here."
"You heard the man! Get your lazy asses up," Jet snarled, mock kicking towards the leg of one of the men.
They all rose cautiously with raised hands. Jet shoved them towards the janitorial closet. Albert slammed it shut. He turned the knob's lock down and crushed it to ensure they were locked in. He turned towards Jet just as Francoise called out that Rhys-Davies had pulled up.
They joined Francoise by the crates and waited. A man in a light brown suit walked in, puffing on a cigar. He looked them over, his steely eyes fixed on Albert. "I came alone, but there are people who know where I am. Don't waste my time and just tell me what the hell you want! I don't even know who you people are!"
"We won't waste your time. We'll make this quick. We know who, or rather, what you are. You're a Merchant of Death."
"You know?" Rhys-Davies looked shocked as his skin paled in the dim light.
"Yes, we also know you're going to sell these guns to Vietnam. A lot of innocent people will get killed if you do that," Francoise burst out.
"You're puerile. Do you think getting rid of these guns will stop what's going on there? Someone else, another Merchant, will come along after me."
"And we'll keep attacking the Black Ghost and you Merchants at every turn," Albert said. "Now is your night. Ivan, bring in your guest!"
Ivan walked in beside a young man in a rumpled suit; a Kodak Brownie Bullet camera
hung around his neck. "This is a legitimate scoop. Wow, a diplomat!"
"Yes, and the tapes my friend was able to get from his safe are what he uses to blackmail people in the United Nations. Those crates have illegal arms headed towards Vietnam. You should be able to write a large article," Ivan confirmed.
Albert flinched when he saw Rhys-Davies bolt towards the door. Seconds later, the man was laying on the ground, Jet hovering over him with a raised fist. "Idiot."
"The police are on their way," Francoise said.
"Good. Jet, tie that man up to the pillar over there," Albert said and turned to the young man with the camera. "Ivan spent some time seeking someone we could use. He told you the conditions?"
"Are you kidding? I'll loose a little memory, but I'll be famous."
"Fine," Albert said. Jet joined him, brushing off his hands after doing Albert's bidding. "Our work is done."
"Just relax," Ivan told the young man. He held up his hand, his eye glowing. "You'll not remember us at all after we teleport away. All you will know is that someone called in an anonymous tip, and you decided to check it out. You found these..." Ivan pointed towards tape reels in the young man's hand. "... on the desk, but you need to hide them for your story. The police will just destroy them."
The young man nodded, appearing disoriented as he stuffed the reels in this jacket pocket. Ivan turned to Albert.
"Let's go to France," Albert said, laying his left hand on Francoise's shoulder. She looked up at him with a smile right before darkness overtook them.
"It's finished," Fyodr declared, yanking down his surgical mask. He waved his wife into the room after mopping his sweaty brow.
She walked in and immediately went over to the young, mutated girl on the cold table. Fyodr explained, "Your sister's brain, or what was left of the psychic portions, turned out to be a great help. They naturally blended in with the Ember girl's brain. She'll need a few days to orient herself, but then you can train her as you wish. She'll be able to develop the displine to take on Ivan."
The girl's coal colored hair was tied in pigtails; the faintest seam was down the middle of her head, front to back. Freckles showed even more clearly against her pale skin.
"You think she'll also be more pliant." It was a statement, not a question, which indicate his wife was impatient and reading his surface thoughts.
"Yes, Erika. She'll be able to compete with Ivan. Speaking of which..."
/Yes, my darling. They took the Rhys-Davies bait. Unfortunately, there was some reporter that our controlled police couldn't get to in time. Now the man has gone underground. No matter. Rhys-Davies can be replaced./ Erika gingerly stroked the girl's forehead. /My son can't be replaced, but I have grown fond of my new prodigy. She's a replacement for the niece we never did had. The Kitagawa woman is aware of the plans and the exact date and time has been leaked to Gilmore. March 15 at 3:00 in the afternoon./
Fyodr chuckled. /The Ides of March? You have a touch of irony, my dear./
"It's over that hill," Francoise said, practically jogging with her male companions trailing behind her through Calais. They were each dressed in regular street clothes to their taste, and each carried their ray guns concealed. Their uniforms and belongings were already stored at a train station locker.
Her heart thumped so hard in excitement at being at her family's seaside cottage in Calais. She was also afraid of what she'd find, but she needed to know what had become of Jean-Paul.
She could see through the hill with her enhanced eyes; she could also smell the musty odor mixed with old smoke damage. She froze and Jet almost slammed into her back.
"No! Something is wrong!" She then ran as fast as she could over the hill to the front of the cottage. It was nothing more than a burned out husk, utterly destroyed, without a trace of anything left.
She swirled, covered her face with her delicate hands, and sank to her knees. She felt a firm hand on her shoulder and looked up at Albert's concerned face. "We'll go look around the neighborhood and see what we can find. Wait here, because I don't want people to recognize you. It could help the Black Ghost track us. Do you think you can go through what's left for any clues?"
Francoise tried to swallow in spite of her choked feeling; she nodded as he helped her to her feet. She stumbled towards the destroyed cottage as hot tears streamed down her face. So many pleasant memories of her family and the vacations they'd had here flooded her mind. It distracted her from the task at hand.
She stood in ankle to waist high rubble. She carefully moved about, finally finding an object worth looking at under an overturned coffee table. Francoise sank to her knees, feeling the rough edges of a leathery book. It was dank and moldy, but she recognized her mother's small photo album. None of the photos remained unscathed, but there was one dingy, crumpled photo when she was just ten and Jean-Paul was almost seventeen. They stood with their parents in front of this very cottage, all looking tanned and happy.
She took the one, surviving photo out gingerly. She didn't startle when she heard footsteps behind her; it was Albert. Francoise stood and launched herself into his arms with perfect timing.
"Is he dead?" she asked through choked tears. He stroked her hair for a moment and then parted slightly.
Albert held her at a slight distance by the forearms. "Not as far as we found out." Jet and Ivan came jogging up at that moment; Albert parted from her and turned to the youngest two cyborgs. "Jet, take Ivan and find us a place to stay. Quickly. I'm going to help Francoise here."
"But..."
Francoise didn't miss Albert's glower, shutting Jet's arguments off. Jet glared back, but it was Ivan she was noticing now. He was clutching his head, there was a slight tremble running through his body. She even noticed a faint trickle of crimson under his nose.
Jet shook his head and tersely waved at Ivan. "Get a move on, kid!"
Ivan walked after Jet on shaky legs. She could tell the Russian boy was refusing to look at her by his stoic expression. Albert touched her shoulder after they left.
"I don't fucking know! Quit busting my chops, sauerkraut!"
Albert took a deep breath and quelled his impulse to beat the New Yorker within an inch of his life. Instead, he said low, through clenched teeth, and in German, "Then you go find him! Now! And don't you come back without him!"
Jet grabbed his jacket, flipped Albert off, a sneer on his face, and stormed out of the small beach-side rental cottage five blocks away from the Arnoul summer cottage.
Albert looked over to where Francoise was sitting on the couch, looking utterly distraught. He sat down on the other side of the couch, leaning over, elbows on knees. The wall-clock's ticks were starting to be drowned out by the increasing patter of rain.
"Albert..."
"He's such an irresponsible jackass," Albert growled, glancing at Francoise.
"No, he's very responsible, but Ivan is his own person. How was Jet supposed to stop him? Don't you really understand Ivan may even be older than you?"
Albert shook his head. "I don't think about it. But you're right, it wasn't Jet's fault." Albert sighed and tried to suppress his guilt at berating Jet so harshly.
"Francoise, I'm not sure where your brother went to, but we'll search for him tomorrow morning. I swear I'll find him."
She slid over and tried to lay her hands on his, but he jerked it away seconds before she touched them. It would seem like such an atrocity to let her take comfort from the part of him that was designed for death and destruction. Her face flushed as her aqua eyes met his blue eyes.
"Albert, my mind keeps going to horrible things. What if he's not dead? What if the Black Ghost have him? What then? What if they make him like us?" Francoise gasped slightly and her hand flew to her lips to keep the rest inside.
"Don't cave in to despair, Francoise." Albert took a deep breath and relied on that same logic his father used to teach him over countless chess games. "When Ivan gets back, we'll ask him to search Gilmore's mind. He'll find out if your brother is there."
She bolted off the couch and shot a dark look at him with a furrowed brow. "And then what? What if he is on Ghost Island? What can we do? Nothing!"
"We can do something! We escaped there; we could raid it if we had to. We need to know what we're facing. Your brother is a thinking fellow. He could be steps in front of any Black Ghost agents chasing him. We need to wait or we could make false moves that could place us, or him, in danger."
Her breath was unsteady, her head slowly sank downwards as her cheeks glistened. He felt torn in five thousand pieces at a woman's tears. It was the same with Francoise crying as it was with Hilda; only it was a fraternal feeling, rather than romantic. Still he had an impulse to comfort her.
He went and and was careful to lay his left arm around her shoulder. He knew there was nothing to say at the loss of the only bit of family she had left, that's why he let her weep as he held her and rubbed her shoulders.
Eventually, lightning illuminated the room, followed by loud cracks. He repressed another sigh and his worry over his two male companions. He hoped Jet's common sense, rather than his hot head, would guide him, and Ivan, back in one piece.
To be continued.