Angel and the Assassin (31 page)

“I see.” He did see. He was beginning to see more and more what he was like.

“Were you sweet with him and lovey-dovey? Did you make him feel special?

Because fellas are no different than women that way. They like to feel special, like they‟re important to you.”

He got up and went to the kitchen for another bottle of water. “He is important to me, Mum, very important. I don‟t think I was stiff and distant. Maybe I was. I took care of him though. I bought him lots of presents.”

“Presents are lovely, but you know what I like from a man? Not that I‟ve got one right now, because I haven‟t.”

“Mum, your record with men is not that great. Though come to think of it, mine‟s no better.”

She laughed. “I don‟t need you to tell me that, love, but what I like is when a man holds me in bed and says, I love you because…and then he tells me all the nice things about me.”

“Mum.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you because you‟re kind and you‟ve always loved me for who I am. You were always a great mum, even though we had no money and we moved around a lot. I love you because you never let any of your stupid, useless boyfriends say a wrong word to me.”

He heard her sniff and blow her nose. “Kael, what‟s his name, your boyfriend?”

“Angel.”

“Aww, that‟s lovely. Why do you love him?”

He walked back to the bedroom and lay down on Angel‟s side of the bed. He took Angel‟s pillow and sniffed it. The gentle sweet-boy smell filled his head. “I love him because he‟s spontaneous and affectionate. He holds my hand on the street, and he doesn‟t care who sees. He‟s says I‟m the hottest dude he‟s ever met.”

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“Son, go and get him back. If you love him, fight for him. God knows, you‟ve never been afraid of a fight.”

He stood up and began to grab clothes from the wardrobe. “I‟ll talk to you later. Thanks, Mum.” He hung up.

* * *

“Go back to where you picked me up.”

Something was niggling at him. Something wasn‟t right. When he realized Angel had left, he had panicked. After speaking to his mum, he was emotional and not thinking straight. Sitting now in a taxi, driving through the usual heavy London traffic, his mind had begun to calm, like it did when he was on a hit.

He knew Angel had left the flat on his own two feet and unafraid. Kael could smell and sense fear, and he knew that no stranger had been in his flat. What he had neglected to do was reconnoiter the area outside on the street for anything that might not make sense.

Home again, he began to walk the streets, observing carefully and trying to think like an eighteen-year-old who was probably hurt, perhaps angry, feeling unloved and maybe unappreciated. Kaelshould have praised him more. Angel had been keeping the flat spotless, all without instruction. Instead of keeping his mouth shut, he should have told him how great he was and maybe even thanked him.

It was almost half past eleven; the city was very busy, the noise and smell of traffic as oppressive as ever. Kael walked on, thinking like Angel. He had money, so he could easily have taken a taxi and gone straight to the airport, but Kael knew he had headed off to buy a present for his mother, something to make his unexpected visit more palatable to her. Where would a woman who had acquired expensive tastes like to shop?
Harrods
. Kael kept walking. With his fast-paced, long-legged stride, he could cover large areas quickly.

Harrods on Brompton Road was crowded with shoppers and tourists, as it always was. He walked quickly through the ladies department, the perfumes and makeup department.

The Food Halls.

I bet he bought her chocolates; that’s something a kid would buy for his mum,
and he said she liked caviar.

He began to ask the shop assistants at the various sweet counters if they had seen a boy fitting Angel‟s description, but no one remembered him. If only he had taken a picture of Angel at some point, but he was always so preoccupied with not creating evidence.

At the Godiva counter, he looked straight at a young woman. She responded at once. He could be very charming when he needed to be, despite being stiff and distant. He was stinging a little from that one, but he knew it was true. “Did you 16serve a young man this morning with blond hair, probably wearing a leather cap?

He‟s American.”

Recognition lit her face. “Yes, I remember him. He said he was going to see his mum. He was really cute.”

Kael smiled; he certainly was. He was getting closer. “When was that?”

“Right when we opened at ten o‟clock.”

He glanced at his watch. It was near noon. Angel was probably still in the country, maybe still in London. “Did he say anything else?”

“No. Would you like a sample?” She offered him a chocolate with a pair of silver tweezers.

“No, thank you. Which way did he go?”

She pointed. “He went that way, but it was already busy. That‟s all I can tell you, sorry.”

Kael walked in the direction she had pointed and out into the street through the nearest exit. Instinctively he walked toward Knightsbridge Road and into Hyde Park, scanning the environment as he went.

At over 350 acres, Hyde Park would take hours to search, but Kael knew he was in the right place. It took him a full hour of walking the park and standing still, scanning wide areas before he spotted the boy wearing the leather rebel cap and the leather backpack. But he knew well before he reached him that it wasn‟t Angel.

Five or six males between sixteen and perhaps twenty years old stood together, their name-brand athletic wear and loud behavior marking them as chavs.

Kael walked up behind the boy with the backpack. He had to secure the target at once if he didn‟t want to chase him, and he was in no mood for that. There was also a good chance the youths had weapons, probably knives.

Pretending to walk past, Kael turned at the last second and grabbed him by the arm. The boy swung round, belligerent and ready for a fight until he saw the size of Kael. Kael snatched the cap off his head and grabbed the backpack. “Where did you get these?”

“That‟s my stuff; who the fuck are you?” The others gathered around like a pack of dogs, fearless when in a group.

“You fucking failed medical experiments,” Kael said to the group in general.

He shoved Angel‟s hat into his pocket and took the youth by the throat, squeezing until the boy‟s eyes bulged and his face grew scarlet. With his free hand he rammed a fist into the nearest pimply youth.

“Where did you get that stuff, you little fuck?” he said to the boy he held. “Tell me now or I‟ll drag you to the nearest toilets and fuck your arse until my dick comes out of your throat.”

If these useless, mouthy thugs had hurt Angel, he would torture them one by one and enjoy every moment of it. Another boy came up behind him, thinking he could take Kael unawares. But Kael knew exactly where each one of them stood. He 166

had already gauged the strength of each, and his brain raced, forming moment-by-moment plans of what to do if he was attacked. He kicked backward sharply, and the boy crumpled forward, clutching his knee.

“Let‟s get out of here. He‟s a fucking nutter.” The voice came from somewhere to his left. The chavs scattered quickly.

“Where did you get the bag and the hat?” Kael eased up the pressure on the boy‟s throat so he could speak.

“I found it. Swear to God, mate.”

Kael released the boy‟s throat and took a firm hold on his arm. “Show me where.”

The boy began walking toward Park Close, with Kael holding him tightly by the arm. At the street, the boy pointed at the pavement. “The bag and the hat were on the street, right there.”

“Just lying there?”

The boy nodded vigorously, terrified now that his friends had run off. “Yeah, like they‟d been dropped.”

“Are you having a laugh?” Kael said, his face inches from the boy‟s.

“No! Swear to God, mate. The bag was there on the flags, and the hat was in the gutter.” He pointed again. Kael pictured the positioning of the items.

Angel had been snatched off the street into a car; there was no question in Kael‟s mind. If Conran was behind this, Kael would carry out every threat he had made against him.

“You see how easily I could have killed you?” The boy nodded frantically. “I‟m going to let go of you, and you will stand right there. If you make me chase you, I‟ll definitely kill you, and I promise you, I will enjoy it. Now stand there and don‟t move.”

Taking his hand off the boy, he opened Angel‟s bag and saw a jar of caviar sitting on top of Godiva chocolates in a heart-shaped box. His throat constricted at the sight of the chocolates, and he remembered being about ten years old and buying his mum a heart-shaped box of chocolates for Valentine‟s Day because he had thought she would love it, being a woman. Angel must have thought the same thing.

In the bottom of the bag under a change of clothes were Angel‟s blanket, folded neatly, and his British passport. “Where‟s the money?”

The boy almost started to lie but knew he would never get away with it. He went into the pocket of his low-slung trousers and pulled out the cash. Kael put the cap and the money into the bag. “Tell me exactly when you found these.”

“About an hour ago.”

“I said exactly.”

The boy was shaking, dying to get away from him. “I don‟t know, mate. Maybe more than that, not more than two hours.”

16Kael assessed his face to see if he was lying, but the boy was too afraid of him.

“You can go.” The boy took off running without looking back. Kael stood for a long time looking at the street, forming a picture of what had happened. When he was satisfied, he hailed a taxi.

At home he put Angel‟s bag in the bedroom and changed quickly into black clothes with the black shoes he always wore on a job. In the hall he took down his weapons box and put on his shoulder holster. He loaded a magazine into his GLOCK 26 and put his small handgun in his pocket. He selected two scalpels and took the passport with the name John Carpe, then pulled on his leather jacket before heading out.

It was Wednesday, and it was almost two o‟clock. Conran left his office every day around one o‟clock and went for lunch to a sandwich shop on the Albert Embankment, always the same place. When Kael sat down opposite him in a little booth in the window, he looked up, his face growing pale.

“Why do you look so nervous, Stephen; it‟s just me, your old schoolmate, Saunders.” Kael‟s mouth stretched into a smile, while his eyes remained narrowed and angry.

Conran looked quickly around him, like he had in the Quebec Pub. “What do you want?”

“Why are you always checking to see who‟s watching when you‟re with me? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” Kael tapped the table, waiting. “Afraid people will think you‟re a queer? Do I look like a queer, Conran?”

“Only when you‟re dressed in leather. Now if it‟s about that bloody video—”

Kael grabbed Conran‟s wrist very tightly, making him look around again. He tried to pull his hand free but stood no chance against Kael‟s superior strength. “It‟s not about the video. It‟s about my boy, Angel.” He leaned across the narrow table into Conran‟s face, dragging him closer by his arm. “Where the fuck is he?”

“I don‟t know.” Conran‟s face began to redden. “Take your hands off me. People are watching.”

“Look at me.”

Conran looked into Kael‟s eyes, his breath short. He was telling the truth; he didn‟t know. Kael released his wrist. “He‟s been snatched off the street, and you are going to help me find him.”

“I don‟t know anything about this. I made it right with my people. The boy is not in danger from our people.”

Conran looked incredibly relieved when Kael stood up, but that passed quickly when he realized Kael wasn‟t leaving without him. “Get up. We‟re going to your office, and you are going to start making phone calls until you find out where he is.”

* * *

worry from the moment he knew Angel had been abducted. The fact that he had not eaten did not help, but he would not eat again until he found Angel.

All afternoon Conran had been on the phone to members of the Secret Intelligence Service and been back and forth across the river to Westminster Palace, talking to various politicians. Kael had followed him everywhere, not allowing him out of his sight. Now Conran paced back and forth across the expensive rug, waiting for a call from the foreign minister.

“Get me some water,” Kael ordered.

Conran glanced at him briefly before obeying. He went to his desk and pressed the intercom. “Bring some bottled water in please.”

A few minutes later Conran‟s stout, middle-aged secretary walked in with several plastic bottles of water, which she placed on the desk. Kael strode over and took one, smiling his thanks at her. “Mr. Conran, the foreign minister will phone you in about five minutes. He asks that you be ready to take his call. He is very busy.”

Conran went at once to his desk and sat down. Kael went back to the window and stood looking out, drinking water from the bottle. When the phone rang, he walked over to stand beside Conran. After a brief conversation, Conran looked up at him.

“The Bosnians have got him, the group Andresen was selling guns and rockets to. A man called Beganovic is in charge. The three in the gay pub, Roughnecks, were part of the same group. I know it was you who killed them, and now I know why.

They were after the boy then, weren‟t they?”