Be Brave (30 page)

was important, so I lifted it.”

She blew out a breath, shaking her head, but Angel caught the admiration in

her eyes. “Then you memorized it in the few seconds you held it?”

“Daddy taught me how.”

“You are so lucky to have a genius like him teaching you.”

“Yeah, well that genius has got himself into trouble, and I"m going to help you

get him out.” Angel"s stomach growled, sounding loud in the small car. “Can we get

some food?”

“Yeah, come on. There"s a café on the main street.” She pointed. “I passed it on

the way.”

Twenty minutes later, with their food in front of them, they both ate like

starving teenagers for several minutes before Angel said, “If Daddy was here, he"d

make us finish the job at hand first. He always tells me to put hunger and other

bodily needs out of my mind until it"s convenient.”

Mattie bit into a thick beef sandwich and spoke with her mouth full. “He"s

twice our size. He can go longer without any grub. Eat up.”

Having taken the edge off his hunger, Angel played with the fries on his plate,

dipping one into the ketchup but not eating it. “What are we going to do, Mattie?

How are we going to find him?”

“I did a reccy of the houses. They all have fire escapes at the back. Our

problem is finding out which one Mr. Saunders is in.”

“How do we know he"s in any of them?”

“We don"t. We"re going to have to stake them out and keep in touch by mobile,

me in the car and you on foot, so you"ll have to be really careful you don"t get seen.

Can you run fast if you get into trouble?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Angel yawned.

Mattie finished the last bite of her sandwich and drained her Coke. “Have you

finished? There"s a cheap hotel over on avenue Ste-Marie. We"ll get some sleep or

neither of us will be able to help him. Do you have a gun?”

“No. Daddy never lets me touch them except under his supervision. I brought

one of his retractable scalpels.”

“Come on. Let"s go.”

The hotel was very cheap and rather grubby, but Angel didn"t care. Neither of

them had brought anything with them except the clothes on their backs, and they

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remained dressed and lay down on top of the two double beds. “Can I come over

there with you?” Angel asked after a minute.

“Yeah, come on,” Mattie invited. Angel crossed the foot of space between the

beds. She stretched out her arm, and he laid his head on her shoulder and let her

hug him like Daddy did.

“Are you scared?” she asked.

“Not for myself. For Daddy. I"m scared he"s dead,” he whispered.

Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

141

Chapter Sixteen

It had rained overnight, and the morning air was damp. Even with his leather

jacket zipped up, Angel shivered standing out on rue Chappelle for so long. Using a

parked car for cover, he remained across the road and several doors along from the

house, watching while appearing not to. He fiddled with his cell phone as if

checking messages. Mattie was at the house on rue Marceau, and since she had the

car, she was going back and forth between that and the third house. They texted

every thirty minutes or so to stay in touch.

The smell of coffee from a small café at the end of the street had been driving

him crazy for the last twenty minutes, and he decided to grab a takeout. He hadn"t

eaten anything yet, and coffee would warm him up. With a last look at the house, he

went quickly along the street and into the café. Using careful French, he ordered a

coffee, paid, and turned to leave.

Shit, shit, shit! What the hell is he doing here
? The man from Herstmonceux

Castle walked in, Harry Denbigh, the dude Daddy had thrown over the wall.

Panic gripping his belly, Angel turned quickly, looking for the washroom.

TOILETTES was handwritten on a sign over a narrow passage at the back. He

darted toward the passage and along it into a sour-smelling washroom with a

couple of urinals attached to the wall and two cubicles with no doors. The lack of

windows made the room a trap if Denbigh recognized him. The man had to be

involved in Daddy"s disappearance. It was too much of a coincidence for him to just

be there. Angel stepped into a cubicle to wait, nearly pissing himself when Denbigh

walked in, opening his fly. With his back to Denbigh, Angel thought he had better

pee or lose it, and he took the opportunity to relieve himself.

Denbigh stood at a wall-mounted urinal, concentrating on his cock. Listening

carefully, Angel heard the stream of urine hissing into the urinal, then ceasing. He

gave Denbigh a second to zip himself up. There was no sound of the man washing

his hands. Daddy would smack the asshole just for being dirty. Angel looked over

his shoulder to see Denbigh leave, washed his hands quickly, and followed,

watching from the darkened passage as Denbigh ordered a drink and then walked

out into the street. The man"s leather jacket looked familiar. Soft black leather in a

straight style falling just to the thighs.

It was Daddy"s!

Angel was almost at the door when a voice behind the counter called, “
Garçon
!”

Angel looked at the man. “Your coffee.”

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“Merci.” He grabbed it and followed Denbigh out into the street. The man

walked directly to number 43 and went in. Brimming with excitement, Angel pulled

out his phone. “Mattie, I just saw Denbigh from Herstmonceux Castle.”

“Christ! Harry „Scared Shitless of Heights" Denbigh?”

“Yeah. And guess what he was wearing? Daddy"s leather jacket. Daddy"s in

that house.”

“Don"t make a move. I"ll be right over.”

In minutes Mattie met him at the end of the street, and Angel slid into the car.

“Can I have some of that?” she said when the smell of coffee filled the car.

Angel handed her the cup. “He"s in that house.”

“Just because a bloke—correction—arsehole was wearing his jacket and

walked into that house doesn"t mean the man himself is in there.” She took a swig

of coffee and gave it back.

“Okay, I guess you"re right.” Disappointment washed over him. It was a naive

assumption and showed him just how much real training he needed before he would

even be close to actually working for SIS. “But it increases the likelihood.”

“Look.” Mattie pointed at a car pulling up outside the house. An expensive

silver Lexus. A thin man, no more than five feet eight inches tall and balding, got

out with two other men. He seemed to be in charge. Mattie held up her cell phone

and snapped a picture. “It"s kind of blurred.” She punched in a number and waited.

“I"m sending it to Mr. Conran to see if he knows who the bloke is.”

The men disappeared into the house. Periodically others followed, walking up

the street, looking nervously left and right before knocking on the door. “These are

whorehouses, aren"t they?” Angel asked to confirm his suspicion from last night.

“No flies on you, dude.” Mattie grinned.

“What does that mean?” Angel was confused.

“My mum used to say that to me all the time because I did well in school. It

means you"re quick on the uptake.” Her phone beeped, and she looked at the screen.

“Confirmed. The thin man is Jarogniew Dudek. He"s Polish and he owns this

operation. The three houses here and one in Provins belong to him, as well as loads

of other houses all over Europe.”

“So if it"s just a whorehouse, why is the place alarmed and why do the women

never come out?” Angel looked at Mattie.

“How do you know they"ve got alarms set up?” Mattie shifted about to scan the

house.

Angel pointed at the windows. “I can see them just inside the window frames.

Look at the first floor window, top left.”

Mattie squinted, then took out a very small pair of binoculars and checked

again. “Bloody hell, mate. You"re like a bat.”

Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

143

Angel gave a little laugh. “I know. It makes up for being blind in bright

sunlight. I can see in the dark too. So why don"t the cops arrest this guy? Why can"t

we send them in there after Daddy?”

“It"s too big for that.” She maneuvered in her seat to look at him. “Look, you"re

not supposed to know any of this. I didn"t even know it myself until Mr. Conran told

me in his office yesterday morning. I went with Sir—your daddy—to pick up a man.

That"s not relevant to this, but the house we picked him up from belonged to a bloke

who trafficks in sex slaves.”

“Dudek?” Angel nodded at the house.

“Yeah. While Sir was in the house getting the target out, he found a little girl.

She was being used as a prostitute. Sir came back to rescue her. He wasn"t

supposed to, and he came in an unofficial capacity because the operation to close

that bastard down is very delicate and is under the jurisdiction of the French police

and Europol. They have to get all their shit in the same bag before they can move,

but Sir didn"t want to wait and he came back himself to get the kid.”

“Isn"t he great?” Angel"s heart swelled with pride that his daddy would risk his

life to save a child.

“Yeah, he is.”

“He pretends to be tough…well, he is tough. But he"s a big pussycat too.”

The door to the house opened, and Dudek walked out with a man behind him.

At that moment, a woman was passing with a young boy of maybe fourteen. Dudek

stopped to look at them, and when they passed, he turned to follow their progress.

As if sensing his intent, the woman, without looking back, put her arm around her

son, pulling him in to her side. “Did you see that?” Angel asked.

“That dirty bastard eyeing that kid? Yes.”

“That"s how we get in,” Angel said, excitement lighting his eyes. “How
I
get in.

I"m usually taken for a bit younger, and if I act goofy, I could pass for fifteen. That

should make him happy.” They watched the other man get into the driver"s seat,

and Dudek got in beside him.

“Err, I"m not sure that"s a good idea. Even if he picked you up, he might not

take you to that house. And he could do some horrible things to you, not to mention

any other fuckers who might be around.”

“At some point we just have to take a chance, Mattie. We have to get into that

house.”

With her eye on the silver Lexus, Mattie pulled out into the street and

followed. Less than five minutes from the house, Dudek got out of the car alone and

walked over to a sidewalk café. He sat down at an outside table, clearly waiting for

someone. Angel grabbed the car door. “Let me out right here.”

“Not so fast, mate.” Mattie pulled into the first space she saw.

“I"m going to make him think I"m a street kid he can easily pick up and use,”

Angel said. “He"ll take me back to that house to do the nasty, and then I"ll be able to

search inside.”

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“Not in that expensive leather jacket. He won"t take the chance. You don"t look

like a street kid,” she pointed out.

She was right. Angel pulled off the jacket and threw it in the backseat. He

looked in the mirror and messed his hair, making it look as if he had slept rough.

“My boots are expensive too, but I"ve got to wear something.” He shouldn"t have

polished them before leaving London.

“He"ll probably be so busy looking into your lovely gray eyes he"ll forget to look

at your feet.” She grinned. “Your T-shirt and jeans look like you slept in them,

which you did. That"s good.”

Angel grabbed the door handle again, but Mattie"s hand on his arm restrained

him. “He"ll kill me for letting you do this.”

“Mr. Conran?”

“No. Sir will kill me. If anything happens to you, I might as well put a bullet in

my head right now.”

“Nothing will happen to me. I"m going to get my daddy out of there. He must

be hurt or he would have been home days ago.”

“Do not do anything stupid. I"ll be watching and following. Try not to get

separated from your mobile. Phone me if you"re in trouble, if you get locked in, or if

you find Mr. Saunders. Do you have your scalpel in your jeans?”

“Yep. In my pocket.”

“Angel, be careful.”

With a grin to make Mattie feel more secure and to prop up his own spirits,

Angel got out and looked both ways before crossing the street.

With his hands stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders hunched against the

cool air, he walked past the café, making brief eye contact with Dudek. His pretty

face and bright blond hair always drew attention. He stopped to lean against a

lamppost and held out his hand to the next person who walked by. The woman

fished some small change from her purse. Angel took it with a nod, keeping his head

down in a way Daddy would hate because it made him look shy and embarrassed.

Dudek"s gaze was already on him.

“Hey, kid, are you hungry?” The man"s heavily accented French was very hard