Spike hired a firm of private investigator to learn the background of Wendy Arrow. Turner and his men were already busy with Qila's apartment.
He paid triple to get fast result. And he got it.
"I will fax the information you need, sir!" Detective Finner called Spike by midnight.
"Okay. Thank you." After several seconds, the fax machine started spitting papers. Spike read each one rapidly.
Wendy Arrow was recruited when she turned twelve by an organization. She was an orphan, just like the other girls who also joined at an early age. No parents and no relatives. She went with many aliases. Some were 'Lala' and 'Celine.'
When Wendy was seventeen, she gave birth to Qila Arrow.
"Celine..." Spike gritted his teeth. 'And I wanted Qila, her daughter!'
When Spike met Celine, or Wendy as Qila knew her mother's name, Qila was already three years old.
Wendy died of no known reason at thirty-four years old. Too young to die...
Spike scrolled reading until he found what he had been looking for.
"No One Organization!" Spike exclaimed. "It is not a name of a person!" He dialed again the number of Detective Finner.
"Sir?"
"I got another assignment for you. Find out all you can about the No One Organization!"
"Okay, sir! My men were looking into this already. You'll get the preliminary report by the hour, sir!"
Spike decided to walk while waiting. His feet automatically went to Qila's room. He opened the door slowly.
'What will I do to you, Qila Arrow? You are the offspring of a fake woman... Celine or Lala or Wendy... Will that make you a fake one, too?'
Qila was sleeping peacefully. For once, she slept without bewildering dreams.
Spike recalled the black muck he had sucked from her mouth. He spewed it out into a jar and put a lid on it. He would have it studied in a laboratory tomorrow.
He sat on a chair beside the bed. He stared at her face.
'I still desire you, Qila... I want to possess you, to dominate you... to control you!' His knuckles turned white because he restrained himself.
He fancied her as his bed partner. Only. How could he marry her if he didn't trust her?
Now that he knew what to look for, he saw Celine on her. They had the same eyes, brows, and lips. The high cheekbones and strong chin were from the unknown father.
'Who is your father, Qila Arrow?'
His watch vibrated. A message had arrived. Casting a last look on the slumbering woman, he went out of the room.
Spike saw that the report was out of the fax machine. He picked up the papers eagerly.
The 'No One' organization was founded in the nineteenth century. It was operated by an unknown group of people with the same ambition. It aimed to be the sole leader of the whole region. And then the whole world.
"Really ambitious," Spike commented aloud. The next paper had him immobile for a while. "What is this?"
There was a roster of organizations that were on the hit list. The number one and the number two caught his attention. Pendragon and Seawolf! Also, the other names below were eliminated already.
'I am a target. Due Seawolf is also a target,' Spike thought slowly. 'And Qila was here in my home now... Is it coincidence?'
But he was attracted to Qila first. What if it was planned?
His fingers massaged his temples while he closed his eyes. He remembered Qila had held her head when he was questioning her earlier.
Spike sighed. He was being pulled on two different directions. He could let Qila go or he would bed her and took his fill of her.
'I can't marry her!'
He called the detective once again.
"Hello, Detective Finner here."
"Pendragon here. Have you seen your report? My name is there."
"Yes, sir. And Seawolf, too. Have you known him? He is Due Seawolf, leader of the underground gang."
"Just by name." Spike denied his knowledge of Due. "I want to know who fathered Qila Arrow, the daughter of Wendy Arrow." Or Lala. Or Celine. But he guessed, the name Wendy was real.
"Yes, sir. By tomorrow, you shall receive the whole report of the 'No One' organization and about the father of Qila Arrow," Detective Finner promised competently.
"You do that. Good day!" The detective was somewhere in the Caribbean.
Spike thought about Qila the whole night. When morning came, he went to his bedroom. He exercised and groomed himself automatically.
Someone knocked on his door urgently. It was Soledad.
"Why?"
"Miss Qila is missing!"
"Have you alerted the guards?"
"Yes!"
Spike pulled his celfone and pressed the emergency button.
Minutes later, two guards were escorting Qila. She was subdued. She avoided looking at him directly. She was wearing a black shirt and a black pants.
He frowned slightly. He did not remember those black clothes...
Soledad moved as if to lead her to the bedroom but Spike stopped her by shaking his head.
"Where did you get your clothes?" he barked the question.
Qila looked at him defiantly. "From you." Her answer was toneless.
"Why did you go without telling us?"
"I left a note."
"Soledad, find the note," Spike ordered coldly.
"There is no note, sir!" Soledad was panting from running to the bedroom and to the front hall. She screamed suddenly when blood was spurting at her right leg. She fell down on her side.
"What--?" Spike shielded Soledad as he glanced at Qila.
Another female shouted. "Haaik! Haaik!" Qila was fighting the two guards with the use of a knife. She used martial arts to fend them off. She was holding a gun with a silencer but she did not use it.
When the two guards were lying on the ground, Qila pointed the gun to Spike. She pulled the trigger without hesitation.
"No!"
The bullet did not reach Spike. Somebody plastered his body to apprehend it. Spike felt him jerk as the bullet ripped at his flesh. But that did not stop him. He whirled away to attack Qila.
"There are two Qilas!" Soledad cried her observation. "The wounded one wears a white dress!"
The two Qilas were fighting one another with vicious expressions. The one wore the all-black attire and the other, wearing white with rapidly spreading red stain, flew as they kicked at each other.
The warrior in the white dress clawed the neck of the black attired fighter. When she clutched at the neck of the opponent, she tore the skin with all her strength. The prosthetics mask was destroyed.
A different face was revealed. She was not definitely Qila!
"Who are you?" Qila interrogated her. Her expression was hard.
"Let me go! You failed No One! You must die!" She stabbed Qila with the short knife.
But Qila did not let go of the neck even when she flinched. Her fingers were like claws and ready to choke.
The two guards restrained the arms of the stranger while Spike was pulling Qila's hands.
"Don't kill her, Qila! You must let go!"
Bit by bit, Qila's hands released the neck of the opponent. She was breathing shallowly.
Spike carried Qila's body to the bedroom. "Take Soledad to the clinic!" he shouted to the guards that arrived. "And take the stranger to the basement!"
He looked at Qila's face. She was very pale and unconscious. Blood had seeped all over her bodice. He went to the bathroom and took the first aid kit box. Using the small scissor, he cut the dress into two.
The bullet was stuck on her rib-bone. The wound continued to bleed. The stabs created by the stranger's short knife were nasty. They were carved and intended to create pain.
Spike texted the doctor.
Dr. Peralta entered the bedroom wordlessly. He attended to the unconscious patient instantly. "I must take away the bra, sir," he asked his permission.
"Okay." Spike cut the brassiere in between the cleavage. "The injuries need your needle, Doc," he voiced curtly.
"Yes," the doctor nodded calmly.
The assistant followed. He was carrying a medical box with dextrose bottles and blood bags. He efficiently made a stand beside the bed for both liquid.
The operation took fifteen minutes. The bullet was mean-looking. It was one-inch long and very thin. Qila was lucky. It lodged in her bone.
Spike put the bullet inside a small canister.
After one hour, the stitching of Qila's other wounds was done. Her whole body was dressed with bandages. She was carefully washed with water and alcohol.
"We must transfer her to the clinic, sir," Dr. Peralta informed Spike.
He shook his head. "I'll transfer her to my room," he said decisively.
Spike carried Qila to the adjoining bedroom. The bed they left was bloodied and a mess.
The doctor and his assistant helped Spike set up the stand beside the bed.
"Every hour for the first twelve hours, we shall check the patient, sir," Dr. Peralta told Spike respectfully.
"How is Soledad?"
"Her injury was superficial, sir," the male nurse answered. "We bandaged it and we left her resting. She did not want to be injected with tranquilizer, sir."
"Right. That sounds Soledad!" Spike was relieved. He nodded when they left.
'Qila, you saved me!'