Be Brave (29 page)

Conran sat at his desk in Vauxhall Cross waiting for Thornton to arrive. It

was part of an agent"s job to take care of himself if he got into trouble. Conran"s job

as Saunders"s handler was to wait for contact or, if a prolonged period had elapsed,

send out feelers to locate him.

134

Fyn Alexander

He had lost an operative a couple of years ago, Misha, but it was part of the job

and he hadn"t felt the sort of gut-twisting sickness he felt now. He had spent most of

his adult life hating Saunders and yet could never suppress his attraction to him.

The last few months, seeing him involved with Angel had made him realize

Saunders was capable of love and willing to do anything at all to protect someone he

loved. In Bosnia when Conran had thought he was going to die, his body never

found, he had been at the horizon of despair. Then, as if he had come down from

heaven in a chariot of fire, Saunders had appeared and saved him. The very thought

of the man being dead made him feel sick and empty. Why Saunders would risk his

life for a child he didn"t know was unfathomable to Conran, given what he believed

about Saunders. Perhaps he had misjudged him.

A timid tap on the door brought Matilda Thornton into his office carrying two

coffees. “Sir, I brought you a large with milk in deference to the hour.” She grinned.

Conran waved the young woman to the armchair in front of his desk and

accepted the coffee. “Thank you. Sorry to drag you out so early.”

Thornton glanced at her watch. “Five past six. You said it was something to do

with Mr. Saunders, sir?”

“Yes. He appears to be missing. What happened when you went to France with

him?”

“I gave you my report, sir.”

Conran popped the lid off his coffee. “What did you leave out? I know you left

out the part where he beat ten bells out of the target. He admitted he did it.”

“Sir, that man was molesting a little girl when Mr. Saunders dragged him out

of there. That"s why he beat him up. I felt like doing it myself when he told me.”

“Did you see the child?”

“No, sir. I drove, and he went in and brought the target out. He"s an amazing

man.” She smiled as she spoke as if just remembering Kael Saunders made her

happy. “He said he would be twenty minutes, and he was, right down to the second.”

“He"s a homosexual, did you know?” Conran had no idea why he said that. A

touch of jealousy perhaps. Fear that Thornton would be his new Misha. But that

was unlikely now he had Angel.

“Yes, sir. Doesn"t mean I can"t fancy him.” When he didn"t smile, she

straightened her face. “Sorry, sir. That was unprofessional. But I learned so much

from him, just on that one job. I really admire him.”

“Yes, everyone does. He went back to France to get the child out of there.”

“I knew he"d do that. He was so angry.”

“You met Angel at Herstmonceux?”

“Yes, sir. He"s adorable, but I can honestly say Mr. Saunders didn"t treat him

any different than anyone else on that weekend. We were all starved, worked into

the ground, and insulted equally.” She laughed. “Denbigh was the only one honored

Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

135

to be thrown off the tower though.” She chuckled. “Bastard deserved it. No one liked

him. And he was a coward.”

Conran wasn"t surprised. “The only reason Saunders wouldn"t return to Angel

is if he was dead, being held hostage, or lying injured somewhere. Something has

happened to him, and I want you to find him. This is unofficial. He wasn"t on official

business. I"ll send in the big boys only if you can"t come up with anything. Can I

trust you with this?”

“Yes, sir.” She looked very eager. “You say he went back to France. When?”

“Ten days ago. Talk to Angel. Get any details you can from him. I don"t know

what Saunders told him, if anything. Here"s Angel"s mobile number.” He pushed a

piece of paper across the desk. “He might know something useful that he doesn"t

realize he knows.” She took the paper. Then, reluctantly, Conran handed her

another one. “That"s a list of addresses in Paris. They"re all houses where sex slaves

trafficked mostly from the Eastern Bloc are kept by a man named Dudek. A Pole.

An operation is in progress to break up the ring that"s trafficking them. The

operation isn"t ours, and it"s vital that you don"t interfere with it in any way.”

“Yes, sir.” Thornton looked at the list.

“Can you memorize the list?”

“Err, I"m not sure I"m that good, sir.”

“Then you must copy it in your own handwriting. Do it now, dispose of it as

soon as you can, and don"t tell anyone I gave it to you.” She took out a notepad and

began to pencil the addresses down. Conran took back his list and put it through

the paper shredder. “Don"t get yourself killed, but do everything you can to find

him. And stay in contact with me. I"ll personally take care of any expenses, so

submit them to me directly.”

Thornton stood up. “Yes, sir. I"ll find him.”

136

Fyn Alexander

Chapter Fifteen

The sky was bright blue over the River Thames, but the wind was sharp and

cold. It was Saturday, and even in the first week in April, London was buzzing with

tourists hanging around Traitor"s Gate where Princess Elizabeth had been brought

to the Tower of London in 1554.

Angel sat on a bench beside the river at Tower Bridge wearing his Irlen lenses

to protect his eyes. When Matilda Thornton had called him an hour ago, he was up

and wandering around the apartment wondering what to do next. He had put fresh

sheets on the bed, cleaned the bathroom, and washed the dishes after his breakfast.

When she asked him if he wanted her to come to the apartment, he had said he

would meet her somewhere else just to be out and moving around. Nervous energy

was making him sick to his stomach.

“Angel?” The voice came from beside him, and he turned to see an attractive

young woman.

“Oh my God. I didn"t recognize you.” He stood up like Daddy would to greet a

lady. “I expected you to be all roughed up like we were at the castle.” He laughed.

She wore a pair of smart black pants and a knee-length black wool coat over a

white blouse. Her blonde hair was fastened in a ponytail, and she had a little bit of

makeup on, just enough to brighten her fair skin. “You"re really pretty.”

“When I"m not covered in mud?” She laughed. “Thanks.”

“Can we walk? I can"t keep still. What"s your first name? I forget.”

“Matilda. Mattie. Come on, mate,” she said. “Start talking. Tell me everything

you know about where Mr. Saunders went ten days ago.”

Hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket against the chill, Angel

walked beside her. “That"s just it. I don"t know anything except he took his French

passport with the name Louis-Philip Laurent.”

“How do you know about his French passport?” Mattie asked.

“I was snooping around when I first moved in with Daddy and I found a bunch

of stuff I wasn"t supposed to see. The box he keeps hidden was still in the same

place. Since I already knew what was in it, I guess he thought there wasn"t much

point in moving it. The French passport is gone, and he took his GLOCK 26 but no

scalpels. I guess he"s gone to France, but who knows. Do you know where he is?”

Mattie also had her hands stuffed into her pockets. She kept playing with

something, and a couple of times she pulled out a small notebook to glance at it. “He

did go to France, and I have a general idea of where he might be.”

Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

137

“What are we waiting for?” Angel shrugged. “Let"s go.”

“Hang on a minute, mate.” Mattie stopped and looked at him. “You can"t come

with me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you could get killed.”

“I don"t care. I"m coming.”

Mattie looked into his eyes for a minute as if assessing his veracity. “I don"t

think Mr. Saunders would want that.”

“I know him better than you do. I"m going to help find him.”

“That"s true, you know him better, but I know my job better. You"re not

coming, Angel. I only met with you to find out what you might know.”

Quietly he said, “I don"t know anything.” He looked down at his boots, noticing

that they needed a polishing. Daddy would have made him do them before he left

the house. “I have to get Daddy back.” To get out of the busy pedestrian path, Angel

moved over to the railing and leaned on it, looking down at the dark green water.

Mattie leaned her elbows on the railing beside him, and Angel moved slightly

closer to her. “That"s an S and M kink, isn"t it?” she asked. “Is that what you"re into

with him?”

“What are you talking about?” Angel looked at her.

“Calling your partner daddy.”

Suddenly irritated, Angel snapped at her, “It"s not a kink. It"s a mark of

respect. Daddy takes care of me. He teaches me things. He protects me. That"s what

a daddy is supposed to do.”

“Sorry, dude,” Mattie said quickly.

“What"s your father like?” Angel asked more quietly.

“My father? He"s not that great. He"s not a pervert or anything, just a self-

obsessed fucker. He"s forty-six, and he dresses like he"s in a boy band. It"s really

embarrassing.” She laughed, but it was sharp and brittle. She stood up straight,

and Angel followed suit.

“Take me. I"m a crack shot. Daddy taught me. I"m fast on my feet, and no one

wants to find Daddy as much as I do.”

Mattie looked out across the river. “I want to find Mr. Saunders as much to

impress the man himself as to show my worth to Mr. Conran.”

“Are you in love with my daddy?”

A little laugh softened the frown she had adopted when she spoke of

impressing Daddy. “Don"t worry. I know it will remain unrequited.” She looked into

Angel"s eyes again, and he saw that hers were blue like Daddy"s. “I"d better go. I"ll

keep in touch.”

138

Fyn Alexander

She turned to walk away, and Angel took a moment to look at the notebook he

had filched from her pocket while she leaned on the railing. “Hey, Mattie, you

dropped this.”

She turned round, biting her lip when she saw it. “Shit! Thanks.”

* * *

Paris, France

The only things Angel stopped to do before leaving London were to have his

boots polished at a shoeshine stand on the street, buy a map of Paris in English,

and stuff some healthy snacks into his pockets. He alighted now from a bus near the

Louvre and stood looking about him.

The city of love.

This wasn"t quite how he had envisioned coming to Paris. He was supposed to

be visiting Paris with Daddy, doing the sights, having fun, and here he was

searching for him.

The early-evening sun was playing hide-and-seek behind clouds as it declined.

He put his Irlens lenses carefully into the case in his pocket and began to follow the

map to the addresses he had memorized from Mattie"s list. He"d always had a great

memory, which was why he had no trouble in college catching up with kids who had

spent their whole lives going to school. But together with the memory techniques

Daddy had taught him, he knew exactly where he was going. The problem was he

had no idea who lived at the houses or why anyone would hurt Daddy. There had to

be some MI6 involvement or Daddy would never have gone there.

Angel stood across the street from the first house on the list, watching for a

while. He wondered if he was being too obvious or if it even mattered. Nothing

happened except that a few men wandered in and a few different ones came out. It

wasn"t until he was at the third address that he realized there was a pattern. Only

men entered and they stayed no more than an hour, often less. It suddenly dawned

on him that the houses were brothels. But why would Daddy be there? Maybe he

wasn"t and Mattie was supposed to meet someone who would tell her where Daddy

was.

It was close to eleven, and Angel was cold and tired. When a car window rolled

down and an arm beckoned him, he thought he was being solicited and hurried on.

The car crawled along the curb beside him, and then the passenger door opened.

“Get in, you idiot! I should smack you for doing this.”

He ducked his head through the door and saw Mattie"s furious face. Relieved

and ready for a verbal flogging, he jumped in and closed the door. “Go ahead. Give

me shit, but if you honestly thought I could stay home now I have some idea where

Daddy is, you don"t know me.”

Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

139

“How did you get here?” She was genuinely perplexed. “How did you know

where to come?”

He tried to look apologetic. “I stole the list from your pocket.”

“You stole it? How did you even know I had it?”

“You kept playing with something in your pocket, which made me suspect it