Young Offender, Part 50:
Francoise smoothed down the green pleated skirt of her uniform and steadied her breathing. She could hear the train conductors cuss and scream all the way in the passenger car. She braced herself as the train came to screeching halt. She listened carefully over the passengers' confused murmurs.
She could hear Jet flying above the train so he could watch out for trouble. She knew Albert had parked a truck across the rails and was waiting to make their demands to the engineer. Her attention went through the train cars. She got up and jogged to the front of the car and into the next one that was an empty dinning car. She got the radio fastened to her belt and clicked the call button.
"I can smell the formula. It's just like the sample Dressler showed me. The oder is coming from the second car from the end, but there are at least three men in that car defending it. That's how many heartbeats I can hear."
"Got them," Jet's voice came over the radio. She made her way to the main engine car as she listened to Jet tear a hole in the roof of the train storage car. There was more cursing and gun fire, but she could hear Jet's steady heartbeat was the only one left standing, whereas, the guard heartbeats indicated they were knocked out. She finally arrived where Albert had the two conductors tied in their chairs.
"Watch them, 003, while 002 and I get the vats," Albert ordered. They'd agreed anytime they would run these missions to just use their code numbers to protect any innocent people from fallout.
She drew her ray gun out and thumbed the stun setting when Albert left to help Jet load the truck. She concentrated on the passengers' conversations, making sure none were sleeper Black Ghost agents. Finally, she saw Albert hop into the driver's side of the truck, and Jet took off into the sky.
She quickly left the engine car and jumped to the dusty ground. She got into the truck beside Albert, and he speed off towards the direction Jet flew.
"That was easier than I though," Francoise said.
"For now. Next time, the Black Ghost will be ready for us. We'll have to start being very careful. But, we can do this. We have to do this. It'll bleed more resources from the Black Ghost and help us get into a better position to strike back at them."
She was silent for the next hour until they pulled up to where Jet waited on the side of the simple, dirt road. He held out his thumb and then walked over. Francoise opened the passenger's door and slid over to give him room.
"That was bitchin'. I hope the Black Ghost flips its wig over this."
"If you mean get irritated, I'm sure they will," Albert said, pulling the truck back on the road and turning towards a sign with Greek lettering on it.
"I hope you're taking us in the right direction," Jet said.
"The sign said Athens," Albert replied. Jet shot him a wry look over Francoise's head.
Albert shot him back a smug look back and said, "I didn't mention my minor at college? We Germans love philosophy, and well, Greek goes hand-in-hand with it."
"Figures, Poindexter," Jet said, but Francoise could tell his moping was all play acting. She smiled and relaxed, letting Albert and Jet banter back and forth.
"Damn it! It was them!" Gaia shouted, shaking his fist in the air.
"There was nothing we could have done. They'll send us another shipment from Ghost Island, along with more security. But what would be the purpose for stealing Dressler's formula?"
"You're right. They have something going on. Well, we need to watch that the extra security doesn't stumble onto our secret project. The Black Ghost will just take over," Gaia agreed with a disgruntled sigh.
"I know, but I'm hoping the Double Zero Cyborgs attack our shipment again. I want 002's acceleration device incorporated in our designs."
"Patience. We'll wait them out. In the mean while, we have to start working on the next four projects for the Black Ghost."
"The new batch of Double Zero Cyborgs?" Uranus asked. "I hope they'll listen to us and let Gamo give the subjects lobotomies."
"Doubtful. But this time, when we've got the designs for 005 through 008 finished, they plan on recruiting and persuading, rather than kidnapping. I think it's foolish. The next batch, whoever the next poor suckers are, could run off again."
"Agreed. That's why we'll remove all memory from our private test subject," Uranus said, nodding. He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "As far as the 005 design, a larger subject has to be selected. The frame will have to be more ambitious than the one we used for 004."
"Certainly. 004 was a good start, but his design has to be improved on to support the specifications Scar requires."
Uranus chuckled. "All of these second generation Double Zero designs will certainly be an improvement. Let's just hope they won't rebel, too."
Francoise leaned over and gave Ivan a firm kiss on his forehead. He was already icy cold to the touch. She stood, looking down at the large, silver, coffin-like box Ivan rested in. He only wore boxers and a teeshirt, because wires and tubes were hooked in so many different spots. Francoise couldn't keep track of them all.
His droopy, mismatched eyes slid shut. Gilmore closed the lid and locked the lid down. He went over to a control panel connected to the silvery, large box and tugged a toggle switch down. A swoosh of liquid filling the box was the only thing heard besides a steady, slowing beep.
The liquid finally shut off, and the beeping slowed to almost a halt. Gilmore walked over to the three waiting cyborgs and nodded. "He's asleep, now. He'll be quite well preserved in there."
Francoise turned and left the cellar where the doctors had set up Ivan's resting place. Albert, Jet, and Gilmore followed her to the kitchen where the other three doctors sat around the table. Lunch was waiting; Francoise realized she wasn't hungry, just saddened. Still, she ate part of a sandwich at Gilmore's urging.
"Now, money is a problem for me," Kaminari said, breaking the somber mood. "I'd like to start building his new frame by next week. Lighter, more like 002's than 004's."
"How much do you need?" Albert asked.
"It's going to cost at least 75,000," Kaminari said.
"I hope that's lira, not dollars," Jet said, grumbled having become quite proficient in monetary exchange.
"Dollars," Kaminari said. "But Dressler pointed out most of the materials can be acquired from a Merchant of Death's manufacturing operation in Spain."
"Good. Maybe we can soak him for some bread while midnight auto shoppin'. Or I guess, in our case, midnight cyborg parts shoppin'," Jet said.
"Money would be nice to have, in addition to supplies," Albert admitted.
"See! You understand my slang just fine. Stop shining me on, Daddy-O," Jet griped.
"Well, I was bound to pick up meaning out of your incessant chatter," Albert smarted off.
"Are you two finished?" Dressler griped. Francoise giggled as they turned to Dressler, both looked baffled, as if they had forgotten about anyone else in the room. "He's pretty wealthy and located in the middle of Barcelona. It'll be tricky, but doable."
"That was certainly profitable," Gilmore surveyed the stolen alloy, parts, and cash strung about the attic laboratory.
"He didn't even know what hit him," Jet said. "He saw Albert and pissed his pants."
"I thanked him generously when I found out he contributed to my situation," Albert said, lofting his right hand. "I think he mistook what I said."
"He got the correct message, I believe, when you blew his office to smithereens," Francoise said, trying to put on a disapproving expression, but failing when her smile would peek through.
"Hey, I was entertained," Jet said, brightly.
"You know, I think this will last us a while. Why don't you three go to the mainland and take a vacation while we work," Gilmore said.
"That's a great idea! I want to kick back and enjoy myself, for once." Jet grabbed up a fist full money and waved it in the air. "And from now on, I'm going to do what I want and not give a shit any more. I'm never going to be poor again, even if I have to track down every single Merchant of Death in every country 'round this planet. They owe us a living, and they're going to pay. Now, where are we going?"
"How about Switzerland? Ski season is soon," Albert said.
"I don't know how to ski," Jet said. "We were talking about it in Australia before we had to leave."
"Want to learn?" Albert asked.
"Sure," Jet said and then turned to Francoise. "How about it? In the mood to tag along with us and play in the snow?"
"Oh... well..."
She was about to decline, but Albert said, "I'm sure we can catch the end of the Zurich Ballet season."
She took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay."
"Great! Let's pack and beat feet."
"Damn it!" Scar cursed, and smashed his fist on the armrest of his throne.
The Spanish manufacturer, Delgado, clenched his fist and pointed his finger at Scar. "Why haven't you stopped them by now? They've cost me millions! You should have had them back under control by now!"
"Accept my apologies, Delgado," Scar said, fingering a hidden switch on his throne. Moments later, Erika Gamo appeared at the door. Delgado turned and paled when he saw the plump Russian woman. The man dropped dead before he could utter another word.
"Mrs Gamo, let your husband know there will be a delay in funding. The four new Double Zero Cyborg projects must be delayed as far as the build, but continue the research. Also, tell your friend, Mrs Kitagawa, there is a new opportunity for her to gain some influence in the Merchants of Death. I doubt she'll be as disagreeable as Mr Delgado."
Ericka nodded her head, grabbed Delgado's body with her telekinesis, and left with it. When she was gone, Scar bellowed in outrage. His plans for the next four cyborgs were going to be delayed years, even decades, thanks to the first four. Millions of dollars was a huge setback, along with the destruction and theft of the alloy plant in Spain.
His emotions steadied and he made a contented sigh. He'd have his revenge on the first generation Double Zero Cyborgs. When the second generation Double Zero Cyborgs were done, he'd unleash fury on them. For now, he couldn't continue pursuing them. There were too many other concerns coming at him from General Issimo and the Merchants of Death. He'd address those concerns and build the Black Ghost into a stronger organization.
"Wow, this is a great place. I wish we could stay longer," Jet said, warming his hands by holding a mug of coco. He looked across the cafe table at Francoise, who looked as cold as he did.
"Thanks for inviting me along," she said.
"We're family. Besides, I knew you'd be bummed out about Ivan."
Albert, who was sitting beside Jet, unfurled a newspaper. Jet noticed Albert's chain smoking; that indicated he was distracted and seeking something specific in the news. Jet didn't bother asking what Albert was looking for. It was the same thing when they first escaped, any strange world disasters or wars to let them know where the Black Ghost was. Albert was silent, so he figured things didn't look odd.
He looked out over Basel and sighed. The sun was sinking quickly, making the town more picturesque. The thought of going back to the villa in Palermo really soured his mood. He didn't want to be around the doctors anymore than he had to right now. He wanted freedom to live and do things he'd never done before. Suddenly, an idea hit him.
He grabbed part of Albert's paper, in spite a couple of German swear words. He riffled through and handed most of the paper back to Albert. "What is your problem?"
"I'm going to find a job and settle down here," Jet said. "We all should. This city has tons of stuff to do. I'm sure we can make it here."
"Are you kidding me?" Albert asked, but Jet ignored him as he scanned down the German words.
"Bingo! That's it! That's the job for me," Jet said, waving the paper in the air. He hopped up and said, "Don't wait up."
"Do you think it's a wise idea for Jet to get a job and settle here?" Francoise asked, watching Jet jog off down the street.
Albert let out a belly laugh. "You used Jet and wise in the same sentence."
"Oh... don't be mean."
He smiled at her and shook his head. "You know I'm just kidding. He has his own choices to make."
"You don't think someone will actually give him a job, do you?"
"If he comes back with a job, I'll not only eat my hat, but I'll move here, too."
Albert and Francoise ate fruit and warm bread in the hotel's restaurant. Albert was irritable because Jet hadn't shown up last night. He was worried, but Albert knew Jet would be highly insulted if he were to track him down. Besides, Albert decided he no longer wanted that kind of mentoring relationship with Jet. He wanted a closer, deeper friendship, and that would require more of a show of trust on Albert's part. This would be a first step towards shifting his role in Jet's life, and Albert admitted he had some trepidation over the change.
His musing ceased when he caught sight of crimson hair at the doorway. He waved Jet over to their table. Francoise greeted him brightly and he took the chair next to her. He was grinning and looking punch drunk.
"Alright, guys, now I have to find a place to live. I got a job."
The air left Albert's chest; Francoise looked as stunned as he felt. He felt his face turn blazing hot when Francoise lofted his green, Alpine hat towards him. The little black brush and feather decorations waggled at him as she swung it on her finger. Her smile grew crafty and then she asked, "Would you like a little salt with it?"
"What did I miss?" Jet asked baffled.
"Me making an ass of myself," Albert said snatching his hat back; Francoise went back to eating her breakfast, looking very self-satisfied.
"Aw nuts. I always miss the good stuff," Jet said, pouring himself some coffee.
"We'll look for a place this afternoon," Albert said, getting ill-tempered.
To be continued.