Be Brave (25 page)

stepped into the corridor.

“You just need a little persuasion, Mr. Saunders. I am not the type to give up

easily.” She followed him out. “I can"t think of any reason why we wouldn"t make a

perfect match.”

It was time to be honest. “I can. You"re far too old for me.”

Angel got out of the lift at that moment, and when he saw Kael, he ran at him,

throwing himself into his arms. “How"s my sexy daddy?” He planted a kiss on Kael"s

lips.

Pushing Angel in front of him, Kael hurried to the flat and closed the door

quickly.

“Daddy, I won my chess match.”

* * *

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Fyn Alexander

It was a little after ten, and they were both tired. Angel had gone to get his

shower, and when the doorbell buzzed, Kael half wondered if it was Conran. But it

was far more likely to be that bloody woman again.

At the door he looked at the CCTV fixed to the wall. A man, a woman, and a

uniformed police constable were standing down in the lobby with the evening

doorman. He pushed the intercom. “Who is it?”

“Can I have a word with you, sir,” the constable said.

“About what?”

“Perhaps it"s best not to talk in the lobby, sir. May we come up?”

A horrible tight feeling suddenly gripped his gut. Had something happened to

his mum? Had she been in an accident? “Let them in,” he said to the doorman.

Kael met them at the lift. “What"s the matter?” he asked as soon as the door

opened.

The
click
of a latch along the corridor caught their attention. It was Mrs.

Chalmers. She closed the door again quickly. “Do you have a boy living with you?”

the man asked.

“What"s this about?” It was not about his mum, and he was beginning to

suspect it had something to do with his neighbor.

“Just answer the question,” the woman said.

To the constable, Kael said, “I want to see your warrant card. Now!”

The constable, a tall man in his forties, produced his card. Barely glancing at

it, Kael took in all the information. “Thank you, Constable Hartford.” To the man

and woman, he said, “Identification!”

The woman looked far more annoyed than the man at his tone, but both

removed photo identification from their pockets, held them up for no more than a

split second, and pocketed them again.
That’s a trick to confuse and intimidate

people. Most people would not ask them to show their ID twice. They don’t want to

look stupid
. Again Kael had barely glanced at the cards. “What can I do for you,

Mrs. Cantley?” He looked at the man. “Mr. Jones?” The cards identified them as

being from the NSPCC: the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to

Children.

“We need to see the boy who lives with you. You say he"s your son? Is his name

Angel?” the woman said.

“I have never told anyone that Angel is my son. He"s not my son.”

The whole picture came together. Mrs. Chalmers had seen Angel kiss him, and

the bitch had called the NSPCC and reported him as a pervert just because he had

refused her advances. Kael walked to his door, and the three followed closely. “Do

you have a warrant to enter?” he asked the constable.

“I can easily get one, sir. It"s in your best interest to let us in quietly.”

Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

115

Kael looked the constable in the eyes. “You will remain right there. Do not step

over my threshold.” He stepped inside, leaving the door open. “Angel!” he called as

he went into the hall cupboard and got his SIS identification card from his jacket.

Rubbing his hair with a towel, Angel came into the hall wearing only a tiny

pair of black underwear.

“Get your passport, boy.”

“He"s older than fourteen,” the woman said quietly to the men.

Angel looked nervously at the three people crowded in the doorway but not

daring to enter. Kael handed his card to the constable, who looked at it, surprise

and concern registering in his eyes. “Sorry about this, Mr. Saunders. We"ll clear this

up quickly.” He handed it back while the children"s workers looked curious at his

sudden caution.

Angel reappeared without the towel but still wearing only his underwear.

“What"s going on, Kael?” he asked.

Kael took the passport from him, making brief eye contact.
Kael
? He proffered

the British passport to the workers. The woman took it, opened it to the picture,

and looked at Angel, then his birth date. “He"s eighteen and a half,” she said to the

others.

Kael took the passport from her. “And I"m thirty-three. We"re both adults.

Anything else?”

“Do you live here, Angel?” the woman asked.

“Yes, ma"am,” Angel said.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes. If I wasn"t, I"d leave. Do I look like I"m being held against my will? I go to

college every day.”

“Sorry to bother you,” she said. “But we have to look into every situation that"s

called to our attention.”

“Then rest assured that you have done your duty, Mrs. Sandra Cantley.” After

saying her full name very deliberately, Kael repeated the identification number that

followed it on the card. It was his own intimidation tactic, showing them he

remembered all their information and implying he would launch a complaint if he

heard from them again.

Kael looked at the policeman. “Constable Hartford, I wish to register a

complaint of sexual harassment against my neighbor at number 4-12, Mrs.

Penelope Chalmers, who I know complained to you about me. I told her that Angel

is eighteen. She will not leave me alone. Please caution her before you leave the

building. She wasted your time and mine because she found out that I"m gay. That"s

a hate crime.”

“Not a problem, sir.” He walked directly along the hall and knocked smartly on

the woman"s door.

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Fyn Alexander

Arms crossed over his chest, Kael stood watching from his door. “Yes,

Constable?” Looking out into the corridor, she made momentary eye contact with

Kael.

“Your neighbor, Mr. Saunders, has made a complaint of sexual harassment

against you, ma"am.”

“What?” Her voice filled the corridor. “Have you seen that boy? He"s not more

than fourteen.” She attempted to sound outraged, but it rang very hollow.

“He"s eighteen, ma"am. Nothing illegal is going on here, and I suspect you

knew that. The young man may look a little younger than eighteen, but he does not

look fourteen. You had better leave Mr. Saunders alone.”

“He should leave me alone. He broke into my flat this afternoon.”

“You didn"t report a break-in, ma"am. Was anything stolen? Would you like me

to come in and look around?”

Still furious, Kael walked inside and closed the door. “I"ll kill that bitch.”

“Not a good idea, Daddy. What happened? Who called the cops?”

“She did. Why did you call me Kael?”

“I didn"t think it was a good idea to say Daddy in front of child protective

services. Anyway, our relationship is none of their business. I"m of age.”

“How did you know who they were?”

“Daddy.” Angel threw his arms around Kael"s waist. “It doesn"t matter which

country you live in. Those guys all look the same, and I"ve seen so many of them. I

took one look at them and I knew who they were. How come she said you broke into

her apartment? Come to think of it, you were coming out of there when I got home. I

was so excited telling you I won that chess game that I forgot to ask.”

“Don"t worry about it. The woman"s a nut.”

“What made her suddenly call CPS like that?” Angel asked.

“She kept asking me to have dinner with her, so I told her she was too old for

me. I think that might have done it.”

“You think!” Angel said. “I"m surprised she didn"t take a kitchen knife to you.

You"re lucky to be alive.”

He pondered the words for a moment. Angel was right. If only Kael could learn

to be circumspect. “Come on, sweetheart. Off to bed. I"ll tuck you in. I"m not ready to

go yet.”

When Angel was in bed, Kael returned to the living room with his diary,

poured a whisky, and began to write.

My mum was the only woman I ever loved until I met Misha. After Misha took

me on my first hit we were partnered as equals on a couple of jobs, but mostly we just

hung out together when we could. We would go to the firing range and compete with

each other. We’d go swimming, but my being so tall and strong, I always beat her in

Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

117

the pool so she would do sneaky things like pushing me in, or going under and

grabbing my swimsuit and pulling it down. We had such a laugh. Everyone thought

we were dating.

It was the middle of August. I was twenty-six and she was thirty-two. A small

group of us were taken to Wales for a weekend of rock climbing at a mountain called

Moel Famau to reinforce the skills we already had. It was a popular place with

hikers, but we were on the rough side where we could test our skills. We chose

partners and I was with Misha as always. We did everything right and put everyone

else to shame, just as we always did. On the last evening the instructor let everyone

walk down the mountain to go to the pub in the village. Misha and I were late

returning to camp because we had got involved in a darts match and as always we

had to compete with each other. We were so loud about it and having such a laugh

that people started betting on us and it was closing time before we left.

It was very dark on the mountain, we were both a bit drunk, and we had to get

back to our camp. She had won the last match and I wanted to get her back by

playing a trick on her, so I waited until we were almost halfway to the camp. The

situation was already risky so when I pretended to skid on the loose flint, she said,

“Careful on the shale, Kael,” and laughed. I skidded a few feet and then went down

on my back. “Are you all right, mate?” she called, coming down after me.

I didn’t answer. I just lay there holding my breath so she would think I was

dead. I was great at holding my breath and I thought I’d give it another full minute

before opening my eyes and growling or something stupid. But I never made it

another minute because she dropped on top me and started CPR. I grabbed her

shoulders and shoved her off. I got up laughing hysterically. For a minute she was

absolutely silent, then she began to hit me. I just kept laughing but when she gave me

a straight-fingered jab to my solar plexus that winded me to the point where I

dropped to my knees, I realized she was serious. I looked at her and she smacked me

across the head. “Fucking dick!” she screamed at me and walked away.

All the way back to London the next day she wouldn’t speak to me. I was really

confused because we always played stupid jokes on each other and we never took it

like this. I left her alone for a week and then went to her flat to see her. She let me in

but she was still in a rotten mood. I didn’t have the sense or sensitivity to say I’m

sorry and ask why she was so upset with me. She was in the kitchen making a cup of

tea, and I sat in the living room wishing it would all just blow over so we could be

best mates again. There was a framed photo on the coffee table. It had always been

there, but I had never asked about who the bloke was in the picture with her. I never

tended to ask people personal questions. I was always more interested in myself than

them.

“Who’s he?” I asked her when she brought the tea in.

“My brother, Micah.”

I asked if he was in the forces.

She asked how I knew because he was wearing civvies in the picture. “The way

he stands,” I said.

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Fyn Alexander

“Where is he, Afghanistan?”

She said, “He died in the first Gulf War.”

If I wasn’t clueless I would have said something comforting. But I was clueless

so I said, “Did he get blown up?”

“He blew himself up,” she said.

I asked why he did that and she went ballistic.

“He was a stupid fuck like you, that’s why. Always acting like an idiot. Always

trying to be cleverer than everyone else. He thought he could play Russian roulette

and win.”

I asked her where and she said he and his mates got their hands on an old

revolver and bullets in a village outside of Jahra. They had smoked up until they

couldn’t think straight and then started playing with the gun. “Micah blew his