Angel and the Assassin (13 page)

“Were you flirting out there with those boys?”

“It‟s not really flirting, Sir, it‟s just play flirting. You have to give me more instructions about etiquette.” He said it so seriously that Kael decided gravity was required in response, though he wanted to laugh.

“Right, I will then.” He gave Angel another beer and watched him dance for the next hour, very satisfied with the entertainment. One of the other boys grabbed Angel‟s leather cap and put it on. The flashing white lights lit up Angel‟s bright blond hair. Kael scanned the room, but nothing had changed, and he was planning to leave soon anyway.

“He‟s cute; where did you get him?” Kael turned to see a man dressed in a leather jacket and ordinary trousers. He was very good-looking in a conventional way and had an accent that was hard to make out with all the noise.

“I met him at a bar.”

“They‟re adorable when they‟re young, but they get annoying very fast.”

“Yes, true enough,” Kael agreed.

“There‟s some action in the toilets,” the man said, looking at the dance floor.

“Are you interested?”

Kael looked him up and down. He was interested, but he didn‟t want to leave Angel unwatched. “Another time.”

“I‟d love to feel your dick up my bum,” the man said.

“I‟d love to stick it in there, but”—he looked at the man again—“just a quickie.”

With a glance at Angel, who was preoccupied with dancing and chatting, he grabbed the man by the elbow, pushing him toward the narrow passage that led to the toilets. Just as they turned into the passage, the door to the toilets closed. “Busy in there tonight,” the man said, looking Kael in the eyes. “You‟re very handsome.”

6“Yeah, I know.” The knuckles of Kael‟s hand bumped something hard hidden under the man‟s jacket where he held him by the arm. He took two more steps toward the toilets and in the three or four seconds that elapsed knew the man had a gun tucked into his belt. In one movement, Kael shoved him up against the wall and disarmed him, sticking the muzzle of the GLOCK 26 into the man‟s neck. “Who are you?”

“I‟m just a messenger. They are waiting for you in there.” The man looked at the door along the hall with a sign that read MEN AND BOYS. He was terrified, as everyone was with a gun in their face.

“How many?”

“Two.”

Kael knew he was telling the truth. He also knew the layout of the bathroom from the last time he was there. Two stalls, a sink to the right, and about a foot of space behind the door. So there would be one man behind the door and one in a stall. The stalls had no doors.

“Thanks for being so considerate as to use a silencer.” Kael smiled and fired two bullets into the man‟s neck, then let him drop to the floor.

In a split second he had to make his next decision. Go into the toilets and kill the two other men, or grab Angel and get out of there.

Angel! Was someone in the bar taking him at this moment? Adrenaline shot through his muscles, and he knew these men were after Angel. He could not leave them alive, and now that they knew he was associated with Angel, that he was protecting him, neither of them were safe.

For no more than a second, Kael stood in the dark corridor, letting the stillness settle over him.

Now!

He kicked the door so hard it flew in, slamming into the man behind it. In the same instant Kael raised the GLOCK 26, leveled it, sighted the man in the stall, who stood in perfect view, and fired. The man fell backward onto the toilet. Kael turned and shot another bullet into the man behind the door, who was still stunned from being slammed into the wall. The whole thing was over in less than half a minute.

Shoving the gun down the back of his trousers under his jacket, he ran back into the bar. A moment of relief flooded his senses when he saw his boy still dancing. Kael wrapped one arm around Angel‟s waist and propelled him toward the front door. The boy‟s feet barely touched the ground.

“Daddy, I wasn‟t flirting,” he said. “I swear to God I wasn‟t.”

Outside, the street fell quiet about them, and it was beginning to rain again. If it had been the weekend, they could have blended into the crowd, but the street was empty. Kael kept walking quickly, forcing Angel along beside him on the slick pavement, turning and scanning the streets as he went. They came out onto South Lambeth Road, where there were more people and plenty of traffic. Kael put his hand up at the first taxi he saw. It stopped, and he bundled Angel into the back, giving the driver an address two streets away from his flat.

Silent, eyes big in his pale face, Angel sat staring straight ahead, throwing Kael furtive glances but thankfully not speaking. Twenty minutes later they got out of the taxi and walked quickly the rest of the way home.

Kael took what felt like his first breath in an hour when he closed the front door behind them. He bolted it and walked straight into the living room, where he poured a shot of whiskey and downed it. The calm he always felt after a kill, the excitement and the high after a chase or an escape, was not there. He only felt relieved.

“Sir?” Angel stood looking at him. It was all because of Angel that he felt that way.

You are taking the pleasure out of my work.

He opened his arms. “Come here, boy.”

Angel walked into them. “Sir, I wasn‟t flirting, I swear.”

“Sweetheart, I know that. There were men following us who wanted to hurt me.” He almost said
you
, but at the last second realized he could not frighten the boy. There was no question it was Angel they were after. The accent that had been so hard to distinguish with all the noise in the bar was Bosnian.

Kael left Angel fast asleep, sprawled on the bed, completely worn out from the excitement and activity of the night before. He threw on a black T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans and went barefoot to the kitchen, where he brewed coffee and stood leaning against the counter drinking from a plain white mug of very thin porcelain.

The front door buzzer sounded. Kael tensed; who the hell was it? On the way to the door, he realized it must be the charwoman. The place was in perfect order as always, even with Angel lounging on the couch and putting his feet on the coffee table. He‟d received a swift reprimand for that. Still, he wanted her to dust and make everything pristine as she always did.

The CCTV camera that gave the tenants a view of their guests was positioned on the wall beside the door. It
was
the char, thank God! He hit the button. “Come up, Dragana.”

“Yes, Mr. Carpe.”

He stood at the open door deciding what to do. The woman smiled as she got out of the lift and crossed the landing.

“I have to go out in a few minutes,” he lied. “So go round really quickly dusting and hoovering, but don‟t go in the bedroom. I‟ll do the bedroom later.”

She took her coat off as she entered and hung it in the hall cupboard. Out of habit, Kael scanned the corridor. It was all clear.

“But you always want the bed changed.” She had a heavy Slavic accent but was still easy to understand.

“I can change the bed myself. I do it on the days you don‟t come.”

“You like your bed linen changed every day; so clean for a man.” She always seemed to find that amusing. “Aaahh, Mr. Carpe, you finally have a girlfriend staying over! I always say a good-looking man like you must have the ladies falling over themselves to get at you. You are a big man.”

“Yes, you certainly do always say that. And I always tell you I‟m too busy for that nonsense.” The woman drove him nuts with her constant questions about his private life and her veiled remarks about his sexual prowess. If it were not necessary to stay in while she worked to ensure she touched nothing she shouldn‟t, he would leave and let her get on with it.

She wagged a finger at him, then went to the mop cupboard to fetch her cleaning supplies. Kael went quickly to the bedroom. Angel lay flat on his back, his arms and legs thrown wide like a baby. For a moment Kael stood looking at him, thinking how adorable Angel was. Kael wanted to strip and climb back in bed with him and just hold him, running his hands over the soft, pale skin.

Sitting on the side of the bed, he took Angel by the shoulders, gently shaking him awake.

“Sir, no!” he cried, shaking his head. “I‟m too tired; don‟t make me get up.”

“Shhh.” Kael looked over his shoulder at the door. “Open your eyes.” Angel squinted at him. “Do not come out of the room. The charwoman‟s here. She mustn‟t see you.”

“Why?” Angel mumbled, closing his eyes and rolling onto his side. He was already asleep again. Kael drew the duvet up over the boy‟s shoulder and patted his backside.

Retrieving his coffee from the kitchen, he topped it up and went into the living room, where Dragana was dusting the TV. He threw himself into the armchair positioned for the best view and toyed with the remote until the charwoman began dusting the coffee table and end tables.

“Why do you not have no pictures on the wall?” She had asked him questions like that before.

“I‟m hardly ever home.” It was what he always said, and it was true. He flicked on the TV, keeping the sound low.

“You got Sky Plus?” she asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“I got Sky Plus too.”

Kael went through the news channels, pretending to watch while he kept an eye on Dragana. He flipped on CNN, and his jaw dropped.

Nancy Grace started to speak, and beside her head was a picture of Angel.

“
This is the face of Angel Button. He turned eighteen years old four days ago, and he
is missing. His stepfather Sven Andresen was found shot dead in his Cape Cod home
on Tuesday morning, and no one has seen Angel since. If you have seen this missing
boy, please call your local law enforcement. He is very likely in danger
.”

The picture was not a very good one. It seemed to be from several years ago, and his hair was longer. In fact he looked like a little girl; plus she had got his age wrong.

Kael shut off the TV, his heart pounding. What the fuck had happened to cleanup?

He looked at the char, who stood with her duster in her hand, shaking her head. “Very sad. Why do people kill? Where I come from in Bosnia, I saw so much death. I never want to see no more.”

What the hell was going on? He had thought he would have a couple of weeks at least before someone realized Angel was missing. What was he going to do now?

If he handed the boy over to Conran, no one would ever see him again. Kael would 6never see him again. They would get rid of him because he knew too much. Conran would not protect him.

Kael sipped his coffee and wondered how many people from Roughnecks last night would remember Angel. Even with the cap Kael had made him wear to hide his easily identifiable blond head, someone might remember him.

His mobile beeped, and Kael snatched it off the waist clip. He had a number of phones for different uses and disposed of them often in favor of new ones. GPS was the bane of his job. The old cold war assassins never had to worry about being tracked by their phones. But Conran was the only one who had that number.

“What?”

“What happened to the boy, Saunders?”

“Wait.” He looked at Dragana, who was applying Pledge to the dining room table and chairs, before walking quickly to the dungeon. He shut the door, locking himself in, then went to the far side of the room. He lowered his voice to a near whisper. The dungeon was soundproofed, and he checked it often for spyware, but he was always careful. “There was no boy. You said there‟d be cleanup on this job.

What the fuck happened?”

“I don‟t know, but heads will roll over this.”

“My instructions said the boy and the mother had left. I just saw the whole story plastered all over CNN with that crazy blonde woman talking about an endangered boy.”

“I know. It‟s very embarrassing to find out via a news outlet that one‟s people have not done their jobs.”

“I did my fucking job. Andresen‟s dead.”

“Calm down, Saunders. No one is suggesting you did not execute your mission perfectly. The boy appears to be missing, but he managed to contact the family maid via e-mail yesterday. The local police have already announced that they think it is a ransom kidnapping gone wrong and that someone has the boy held hostage.”

Kael clenched his fists and took a long steadying breath. He wanted to give Angel another ass whipping, as the boy put it. What the hell had made him e-mail a maid? “Maybe someone does have him. I never saw him.”

“Just tell me you didn‟t leave behind any identifying evidence.”

“I always wear gloves, but you said there would be cleanup at this one. That‟s their job, and it is your fucking job to protect me, you stupid arsehole!” He tried to moderate his voice, but he was panicked, terrified of what might happen to Angel and terrified of what he would do if he lost him. Wrapping his arms around his belly, he slid down the wall to sit on the floor. All of a sudden his stomach felt sick, and he thought he was going to bring up his coffee. In one moment of sickening fear and frightening possessiveness, he envisioned losing Angel.

A long pause followed. When Conran spoke again, his speech was measured.

“Someone from the Foreign Office will get in touch with the Americans and tell them to back off, but we need to find that boy and ensure he saw nothing and knows nothing. Are you absolutely certain he was not in that house? All we need is for him to have seen you and then fled in fear. If he can identify you—”

“He wasn‟t there,” Kael interrupted.

“How can you be certain?”