Angel and the Assassin (23 page)

“That was a hell of a good spanking. It knocked you right out.” He lifted Angel tenderly into his place and drew the duvet up over his shoulders. What the hell had got into him, calling a boy sweetheart? He kissed the soft, pale cheek, put out the light, and got out of bed. He went quickly to the bathroom to wipe Angel‟s cum off his legs and returned to slide his book out from under the mattress. He put on his dressing gown and left Angel to sleep.

In the utility room he put the blanket in the tumble drier, no longer seeing just a rag but something that had made Angel‟s life easier for all those years. In the living room he poured a whiskey and sat down in an armchair. When the book was complete, comprising his early experiences and some of his many missions over the last ten years, he would put it in a safety deposit box and leave the key for his mum.

She may be shocked at some of it, but she would understand.

I saw Shawn years later when I was 22 and in training with SIS. It was
pouring down, a grey, cold day in London. When I first spotted him standing by
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Nelson’s Column in Piccadilly Circus, I stopped in my tracks. It couldn’t be him. He
lived in Liverpool, and as far as I knew he wasn’t the adventurous type. I had always
assumed he was still in Liverpool collecting the dole or living off some woman like he
did off my mum.

I stood with rain pouring down the neck of my jacket, staring at him. The love
that had driven me insane that summer when was I was 14 surged through me
again at the sight of him. I wondered if I still loved him, if I could ever feel that
excited and happy again.

I hated everyone after that summer with Shawn. Even Freddie who had become
such a good friend got a smack in the face he didn’t deserve and wouldn’t speak to
me again until Christmas.

A woman walked past Shawn and he held his hand out. The woman rooted
through her bag and handed him something. He was begging! I could have died of
shame for him. I walked over and stood in front of him. He held out his hand and
looked up into my eyes. The recognition took a second and then he grinned, the grin
that used to melt my heart. “All right, mate?” he said. He looked surprised.

“Yes, I’m all right,” I told him.

He said, “You’ve lost your Scouse accent.” He punched me gently in the shoulder
the way he had that summer, like we were just mates and not having sex every
chance we got. He asked if I could help him out. He was looking for work.

I said, “Come on.” I walked away and he followed me the way I used to follow
him. I walked him to the nearest pub, straight into the toilets and into an empty
cubicle. “Up against the wall,” I told him.

He said, “Christ, Kael, could you buy me a pint first?”

I said, “No.” So he dropped his trousers and leaned both hands against the tiled
wall. I fucked him with all the anger and frustration and resentment I’d felt towards
him at the end of that summer when I had loved him and he had walked away. He
kept saying I was hurting him and I was glad. I wanted to hurt him.

I finished just as another man walked into the toilets. I walked out with Shawn
following. In the bar I bought him a pint and a meal and he ate it like he was
starving. He asked me what I was doing these days. He kept calling me lad like he
had that summer. I watched him like he was a stranger, someone I didn’t recognize. I
used to love it when he called me lad with that twinkly-eyed grin. Now he just looked
scruffy and pathetic

“Don’t call me lad,” I told him.

He’d always been a messy eater but I didn’t notice when I was a kid. When I
loved him he could do nothing wrong. He wiped his face on the back of his hand.

I asked him what he was doing in London.

He smiled and said something about greener pastures. He said I looked like I
was doing well for myself, that I was even taller.

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I drank my beer and looked at my watch. I had a training session that
afternoon on how to kill in public places and leave without anyone noticing. I
decided Shawn wasn’t worth practicing on. I told him I had to go.

“We could do this again. Where do you live?” he said. It was obvious he was
homeless, but he wasn’t welcome in mine.

I told him no thanks. I was busy these days.

He asked me if I was still queer.

“Yeah, I’m still still queer,”I told him.

“When did you turn into such a bastard?” he asked.

I told him, “I always had the potential, and you helped.”

I never saw him again.

Angel‟s blanket lay soft and clean in the bottom of the tumble drier. Kael held it up. It had needed a good wash, and it looked better.

In the bedroom he placed the blanket carefully beside Angel‟s face. Still fast asleep, the boy moved slightly, laying his cheek on the soft cloth. Kael lay down beside him and threw his arm across his waist, then kissed his head. “Sweetheart,”

he whispered.

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Despite the cool September afternoon, the Princess of Wales Memorial Fountain in Hyde Park was full of children in bathing suits running through the water, screaming and laughing.

As much as Conran thought he knew everything about Kael‟s life, Kael knew even more about his. He knew that on Sunday afternoons Conran spent family time with his wife and three little blond children.

Sitting on a distant bench with Angel beside him, he barely recognized the stuffed shirt from College Grange and Vauxhall Cross running along beside the huge oval fountain, hand in hand with a thin little girl in a pink frilly dress and white fluffy cardigan.

The man who had crawled sweating and panting on his dungeon floor was the same man who now bought ice creams for the three children and sat them in a circle on the grass to eat them. His wife sat on the wall of the fountain watching.

Wearing sunglasses to protect his eyes from the bright white sky, Angel leaned on Kael‟s shoulder, watching the passersby. “Daddy, how come you let me come out today?” He had been so eager to get out of the flat he almost ran when they got to the park. Kael had to hang on to him, forcing him to walk beside him unobtrusively.

He wasn‟t out of danger yet.

“I‟m going to sort out the little problem that was making me have to hide you.”

“I still don‟t understand why I‟ve been hiding.”

“You don‟t have to. You just have to do what I tell you.”

“Yes, Sir. Can I have an ice cream, Daddy?” Angel gestured at the bicycle ice-cream vendor who had just sold ice creams to Conran.

Kael pulled a handful of £1 coins from his pocket. It was time he approached Conran and made his demands. “Here, get your ice cream and then walk over to the man sitting on the grass with the kids. Don‟t speak to him; just take off your shades and make sure he sees you, then come back to me.”

A question immediately appeared on Angel‟s face, but he refrained from asking it and stood up. “Yes, Sir. Do you want one?”

Kael shook his head.

He’s learning to obey me without question; that’s good.

Angel‟s walk was not manly; it was like a long-legged young colt about to break into a run at any second, graceful but still powerful. Kael could not help smiling as 12he watched his boy half run, half walk toward the ice-cream vendor. The pale sun shone on his light blond hair, which bounced as he walked even with the gel he put on it to enhance the long spikes that were cut into it.

Exactly as ordered, Angel bought an ice cream and, licking it as he went, walked directly to Conran, who was preoccupied with wiping a drip off the chin of one of the little boys. Angel stood about five feet away, watching until Conran looked up at him; then he turned and walked back to Kael. Recognition washed over Conran‟s face slowly. His eyes followed Angel until they fell on Kael. He got up and spoke hurriedly to his wife and then began walking toward them.

Angel plumped himself down on the bench, leaning into Kael‟s side. “Daddy, that‟s the guy who was in your dungeon. I didn‟t recognize him till I was up close.

He looks different in clothes and without a blindfold.”

“Everyone does.” Kael laughed.

Conran wore jeans and an Aran sweater with a shirt underneath. Kael had never seen him dressed so casually. He came to a halt in front of them, looking left and right as if expecting more surprises. “What the hell is going on, Saunders?”

“Hello, Stephen. This is Angel Button,” Kael said.

“I know who it is. Why is he here? You said he was dead.”

Kael pointed at the fountain. “Sweetheart, go and sit over there and wait for Daddy,” he said to the boy.

“Okay, Daddy.” Angel obeyed at once.

Kael patted the bench. “Sit down, Conran, and let me tell you what you‟re going to do for me.”

“Are you mad?”

“Sit!”

Conran obeyed, leaving a foot of space between them. “If anyone from the Service knows that boy is alive and knows anything about Andresen‟s death, they‟ll snatch him.”

“I know, which is why I‟ve been keeping him hidden. But that can‟t go on forever. You‟re going to protect him. You‟re going to get him a British passport and citizenship. You are going to make sure everyone forgets where I got him.”

Conran looked directly ahead of him, refusing to meet Kael‟s eyes. “It‟s not going to happen, Saunders. The best thing you can do for that boy if you want to keep him safe is to send him back to America. Even there he might not be safe.”

“What about the Bosnians who made the arms deal with Andresen? What if they go after him? He saw some of them in New York; they met Andresen at his flat in Manhattan.”

“That‟s not my problem,” Conran said. “But you are, and you‟re compromising yourself for some little teenage boy.” He looked at Kael, bewildered. “What‟s the matter with you, Saunders, you who never give a damn about anyone but yourself?

Now you have a teenager calling you Daddy. I never took you for a pervert.”

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Clenching his fist, Kael raised his hand and slammed it down into Conran‟s thigh. Conran almost collapsed with pain, leaning forward, gasping. “You wouldn‟t think of being sarcastic with me, would you, Stephen?” Kael said, his tone conversational.

“I was not being sarcastic.” Conran was breathless with pain, but appeared more concerned that his wife and children should not see anything, and he watched them carefully. “You overestimate my power. I cannot arrange citizenship for that boy, and I can‟t protect him.”

“If you can‟t do it, you know someone who can. You can arrange this for me, and you‟re going to. You want to spend more time in my dungeon, don‟t you?”

Conran threw a quick look around them to ensure no one was within earshot.

“I don‟t want it so much that I will compromise my position or risk my income.

There are some things that are beyond my control, and that is one of them.”

Kael stretched out his long legs as though he was at home on his couch. He looked so comfortable that no one would know he was continually scanning the park, watching anyone who strolled too near to Angel.

“You have no choice. I want citizenship for the boy because he is staying here in England. I want him to have a future, just like you want for little Rupert over there.” He indicated the children whose mother sat on the grass beside them now.

“Which one is Rupert?”

“The oldest.” Conran spoke reluctantly, not wanting to give Kael any personal information.

“What are the others called?”

He paused before saying, “Hugh and Annabelle.”

“Lovely,” Kael said.

“Look, Saunders, you‟re asking too much. You should have killed that boy. You must be getting soft.”

Kael clenched his fist again. “Don‟t tempt me, Stephen.” He said
Stephen
on purpose to remind him of their time in the dungeon. What angered Kael and frightened him was precisely that. Was he getting soft? “Nobody is going to hurt Angel, and I want him here in England to ensure that nobody hurts him.”

“A man in your position cannot afford to have intimate relationships, especially not with a teenager. They‟re all volatile. Do you know he‟s only just turned eighteen?”

“Yes, I know that.”

“Why didn‟t you kill him?”

“Because I didn‟t want to. Now get me a fucking British passport for him and do whatever you need to do to protect him from the boys who would come after him.” Kael stuffed his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket to finger the video camera.

12“It‟s out of the question.” Conran began to get up. “And there is definitely nothing I can do about Andresen‟s Bosnian cohorts.”

Kael looked at him. “Tell me where they are; I‟ll take care of them.”

“I can‟t. There‟s an operation in place already. Someone is going to go after that boy as soon as they know where he is, and it could be us or them. He‟s not safe.”

“Sit down,” Kael ordered, pulling out the camera. “I want to show you something.”

When he saw the camera, Conran swallowed hard and his tongue flicked out to wet his dry lips. “Oh God.”

Kael waited until Conran sat beside him again and switched on the film. He had set it at the point where Conran, bent over the leather-topped table, was begging Kael to fuck him. The voice was unmistakably Conran‟s despite the fact that his back was to the camera at that moment. As if mesmerized, Conran watched himself being reamed, then watched as Kael removed his restraints. Conran turned to fully face the camera, naked, shaking, his cock still dripping fluids. Kael fast-forwarded to where he removed Conran‟s blindfold and he thanked Kael for taking care of him.