Be Brave (27 page)

Using a small shiv, he opened the door easily. He paused, waiting for some

indication of an alarm system. Either there wasn"t one or it hadn"t been turned on

for the night. Crossing the room on silent feet, he listened intently. Voices from

across the wide entrance hall alerted him that someone was in the house and still

awake. Kael went quickly from room to room, his GLOCK 26 with the silencer in his

hand. Stealthily approaching the room with the voices, he halted and saw a man

with his back to the door watching television. He moved on up the stairs and went

directly to the room in which he"d found Ekaterina. With great care, he opened the

door. The bed was made and the room empty.

From bedroom to bedroom he went, finding all the beds empty, the rooms clean

and tidy. At the front of the house, around the open curved staircase, was the

master bedroom. At the door, Kael stopped and listened. Someone inside was

speaking Polish. It had to be Dudek. The voice that responded to him spoke halting

Polish with an accent that was possibly Czech. With his gun ready, Kael opened the

door a fraction. The room was dark, but the spotlights in the driveway created a

little light through the partly open curtains. Dudek, a thin, unattractive man, lay

on the bed, and beside him, a boy who appeared younger than Angel. The boy looked

bored or perhaps tired, and didn"t respond at once to Dudek"s order. Dudek sat up

and grabbed the boy"s arm, slapping him hard across the head.

Kael closed the door. Ekaterina was not in the house.

He exited quickly the way he had entered and was on the road to Paris within

fifteen minutes. Now for Plan B.

* * *

the three-story house, his plan carefully worked out. He knocked on the door, his

shoulders slightly bowed, and when the door opened, he looked from side to side as

if afraid of being seen. “How much?” he asked in working-class French. Assuming

most men who visited brothels were anxious and afraid of being seen, he fell into

the role.

The man beckoned him in and closed the door, then locked it behind him. The

hallway smelled of stale food and rubbish that needed emptying. The floors were

bare, and the paint on the banisters and skirting boards was filthy. The man named

the price, and Kael handed over the cash. “I want the youngest one you"ve got.”

“Top of the stairs on the left.”

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125

He took the stairs two at a time, calm but hopeful that the child was there.

The room was shabby and run-down like the rest of the house. The girl was about

fourteen by the looks of her, but she could just have been undernourished. Barely

making eye contact with him, she began to undress. Kael walked out and back down

the stairs. The man who had let him in looked quizzically at him. “That was quick.”

“She"s too old. I want a younger girl.”

“She"s the youngest we have,” the man answered.

Kael squared his shoulders now to intimidate the smaller man. “Give me my

money back. I was told you could supply someone younger.”

The man disappeared into the front room and returned a moment later.

“Forty-three rue Chappelle.” He gave Kael half the money back and opened the

door. Kael took the money and walked out without a word.

Yes
! Everything was falling into place. It had to be Ekaterina.

Again he parked a couple of streets away and walked up to the house. It was

very similar to the last: a tall, narrow brick house attached on both sides with three

stories and a cellar. On the step, he adopted the attitude again, a combination of

nervousness and shame. When the door opened, he stepped immediately inside. “I

want the kid,” he said.

The man looked him up and down. “Who told you there was a kid here?”

“The fat man from the house on rue Marceau.” Kael gave him the money and

was not surprised when he asked for one hundred euros more.

Having anticipated a high price for the commodity of a very young child, Kael

had brought plenty of money. He began to grumble under his breath as he handed

over the cash, looking resentful yet excited. To cap it off, he licked his lips as if

unconsciously enjoying his prize already. It worked, because the man laughed. “The

attic.”

Without looking back, he began to take the stairs two at a time. He never once

looked over his shoulder, but he knew the man had walked back into the front room

again.

Sitting on the bed, still wearing the blue party dress from the mansion,

Ekaterina did not look up when the door opened. She had a book in her hands, and

she continued reading, softly sounding out the French words with obvious difficulty,

as if she hoped the customer might go away if she appeared to be busy. Kael closed

the door softly and approached the bed. He knelt in front of her and waited until she

looked up from the page.

“Dyadya!”

He pressed his forefinger to his lips. “I told you I"d come back for you,” he said

in Russian. “Here"s what we"re going to do. I"m going to disable the alarm on the

window, and we"re going down the fire escape. I"ll carry you.”

“My doll! I left it in the cellar. That"s where we sleep.” She jumped up and ran

for the door, but Kael grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away. “I"ll buy

you another doll. We must leave now,” he whispered.

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Fyn Alexander

The child shook her head, her blonde hair bouncing. “Mama gave it to me

when I was little. It"s the only thing I have from her. I can"t leave my doll.” The

image of Angel with his blankie and how much it meant to him rushed back.

Cursing himself for a fool, Kael released her. “Can you get it in one minute? That

fast?”

The smile that broke out on her face was like sunshine on a gray day. This

little girl who had been through so much could still smile. “Yes, Dyadya. I"ll be

quick.”

Kael opened the door. “Go.” He closed the door behind her, praying she"d

hurry.

“Where are you going, you little bitch? Get back up the stairs.” The man"s voice

speaking in bad French was very familiar. It took Kael only a split second to

recognize it. “Back upstairs and get to work. Don"t leave your customers,” he said.

There was a loud clap, and Ekaterina screamed. The man had hit her. The door was

shoved open, and Harry Denbigh walked in holding the little girl in his arms.

Kael leveled his GLOCK, but there was no way in hell he could take a shot

without risking the child"s life. Denbigh began shouting in his rough French. The

sound of heavy footsteps on the bare wooden stairs was loud enough to frighten

Ekaterina. She started screaming in Russian, “Dyadya, help me. The men are

coming.”

Kael backed up to the window and raised his arm to smash it. Denbigh

appeared not to be armed, and Kael might be able to grab the child and run. But in

the split second that he formulated the plan, three men entered the room, shoving

Denbigh and the child aside. All three were armed.

“Put down the gun!”

When Kael didn"t move, one of them pointed his weapon at the screaming little

girl"s temple. “Put down the gun.” Kael dropped his gun at once.

“On the floor.” He dropped to his knees.

“Flat. Lie down.” He lay down on his belly and looked up. The last thing he

saw before he passed out with the butt of a gun against his skull was the crumpled,

crying face of the little girl he had come to rescue.

* * *

was caked on his neck. He was cold and very stiff. From the feel of the rough-

textured ground against his skin and the musty smell of damp, he began to realize

he had been taken to the cellar. He tried to move his hands, but they were fastened

behind his back and he couldn"t figure out what with. After several failed attempts

to move his legs, he managed to open his eyes. Disoriented, he found he was lying

on his side on the ground, and he was naked. No wonder he was so cold. Why the

fuck had they taken his clothes? He looked down at his legs. His ankles and knees

were bound together with heavy electrical tape. With difficulty he managed to move

his fingers to explore what held his wrists. It too was electrical tape. He doubted it

Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

127

was from the budget shop because it was very strong. Having used it himself a few

years ago to secure a sub who wanted a prisoner scene, he knew how strong good

electrical tape was, especially when it was wrapped several times.

What a fucking disaster.

Ekaterina was still not safe; in fact they might have moved her because of him.

How would he find her now? And that was assuming he got out of this alive. He had

no idea how long he had been lying there. An hour? A day? There was nothing

present but the pain in his head.

“Not such a fucking big man now, are you? You got me thrown out of SIS.”

Rolling onto his back, Kael looked up at Denbigh.

“You were never in. You were only training,” Kael said and found that his

voice was raspy and weak. “You didn"t make the grade. They would never have

employed you. If I hadn"t had you dismissed, another instructor would have.”

He moaned when the toe of Denbigh"s boot made contact with his hip once and

then again with a second heavy kick.

“You"re never going to get out of here alive. Where"s your pretty boy? He"ll

never know what happened to you.” Denbigh walked toward the door.

Daddy, I’d die if you didn’t come back.

“Fuck off, Denbigh. You"re just a failed recruit who couldn"t abseil down a

building with a boy and a little, skinny woman.” If he had any sense, he would shut

his mouth. He was making things worse for himself.

Coming back, Denbigh said, “At least I don"t fuck teenagers.” He swung back

his foot and directed a blow to Kael"s chest. There was a very distinct
crack
as at

least one of Kael"s ribs broke. The pain took his breath away, leaving him gasping.

Denbigh walked away and closed the door behind him. For a long time, Kael lay

alone, drifting in and out of consciousness.

At some point the light bulb hanging from a wire overhead had been turned

on. A small voice close to his ear said, “Dyadya.”

“Ekaterina. Get me some water.” He struggled to sit up, but the pain in his

head and ribs was atrocious. He took a long breath.
Get yourself under control. Long

breaths. Focus on your intention. You must look for every avenue for escape. You are

obliged to escape.

The child disappeared and returned a few moments later carrying a filthy,

cracked cup with water. She held it to his lips, and Kael drank it all. “Good girl.”

“Where are your clothes?” she asked.

“I don"t know. The men took them. Can you get a knife and cut the tape off my

wrists?”

“We don"t have any knives down here. They"re in the kitchen, and it"s locked

except when the big girls are allowed to go up to make food.”

“Is this where you sleep, in the cellar?”

“Yes. There"s bunk beds in the other room.”

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Fyn Alexander

“How many girls?”

She looked at her hands and began to say the names, counting them off. “Eight

girls, but sometimes more come. And sometimes they leave. Dyadya, you said you

would get me away from here.”

A harsh female voice speaking Russian drew their eyes to the door. “Katya, get

out of here. You"ll get beaten if the men catch you.”

“Get the tape off my wrists. I"ll help you escape,” Kael said. At the sound of her

native language spoken so beautifully, she stopped and looked at him. “Please help

me,” he said.

“I can"t help myself, never mind you. If I put one foot wrong, my family at

home will suffer. They said they would kill them.” She was perhaps eighteen, but

her eyes had dark circles around them and she was very thin. She grabbed

Ekaterina by the wrist. “Do you want to get beaten? Leave him alone.” She pulled

the child from the room and closed the door.

Mercifully, even with the pain, Kael slept.

* * *

men, including Denbigh and Dudek, standing over him. Again he had no idea how

much time had passed. “You are English but you speak French and Russian?”

Dudek said.

Kael answered him in Polish. “I speak many languages.” He barely recognized

his own voice, his throat was so parched.

“You came here asking for the child. Why?”

Kael struggled to sit up. His abdominal muscles were extremely strong, and

despite the pain of cracked ribs and general weakness, he pulled himself upright