Be Brave (26 page)

fucking brains out. You’re just like him. He was always showing off.”

“Why are you pissed off at me?” I asked.

“Because you pretended to be dead and I thought you were dead for a minute,

and I thought I’d lost another brother. It brought it all back.”

“It wasn’t your fault he died, mate,” I said, but she was starting to cry and I

was starting to panic because I had never seen her cry before.

She said, “It was my fucking fault. I should have stopped him.”

“How could you? You weren’t there,” I said.

But she said, “I was there. He was my twin. We were eighteen years old when

we signed up together and went to war together. I was playing the same stupid

fucking game, Russian roulette in the desert on a boiling hot night when we were all

off our fucking heads on dope.” She began to sob. It was the girliest thing she’d ever

done.

I didn’t know what to do until she leaned on me so I put my arm around her

and we sat there until she stopped crying.

“Don’t do stupid things. Don’t put your life in danger and don’t ever pretend to

be dead. Got it?”

“Got it,” I said. She didn’t take her head off my shoulder for ages and if I’d

known then that that would be our last conversation, I would have held her tighter.

* * *

Conran was sitting alone at a table with two coffees in front of him. When Kael sat

down, Conran passed him one and sipped his own coffee for a moment. With a

small, surreptitious look around, he pulled a single sheet of paper from his pocket

with three addresses scribbled on it in pencil. Kael reached for it, but Conran held

on to it.

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“You cannot keep this. For one thing, it"s in my handwriting. There are three

addresses, and you have thirty seconds to memorize them.” He allowed Kael to take

the sheet.

Kael read the addresses silently, one after the next, utilizing his already

excellent memory and the mnemonic devices he had been taught during training.

When he handed the sheet back, he knew that ten years from now, he would

remember every one of them perfectly.

That done, he pulled the lid off his coffee and drank. “Thank you. I"m going to

leave tomorrow, first thing.”

Conran leaned toward him, saying very quietly. “What do you plan to do with

the child?”

“I"ll bring her back to London and then find out if she has any family she can

return to.”

“If not?”

“I don"t know. There must be someone in Russia missing her. She must have a

mother. Or maybe she was from an orphanage. She can tell me what she

remembers.”

“She won"t have a passport, and you plan to bring her into England. How are

you going to do that? And Dudek will be after her. You know that?”

“If I stopped to think of all the complications, I"d never do anything. When is

Europol going to start arresting these fuckers?”

“I have no information on them. This isn"t under my jurisdiction. Don"t do

anything stupid.”

“Don"t worry about me, mate. There"s nothing I can"t do.” Kael grinned, feeling

much better now he had the information he needed to form a plan.

“You wouldn"t want to do anything to jeopardize Angel"s happiness,” Conran

said.

“What do you care about Angel?”

Quietly Conran said, “I"m glad you have him, and that you"re seeing Freddie

again.”

“It was you who told me to back off on my friendship with Misha. Then you

sent her to fucking China.”

“That was different. She was an operative, and she had been pegged for the

China assignment for some time. Is that why you want to keep Angel out of the

service?”

“I don"t want anything bad to happen to him.”

“Did he ever work out that it was you who killed his stepfather?” Kael shook

his head. Conran had no idea that Angel had witnessed the hit. “Good. And since

Freddie has no idea what you do, though he may have suspicions it is something

covert, I cannot object to that friendship either. In fact I believe it"s good for you.”

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Kael leaned back, trying to get comfortable on a chair that was far too small

for him. “What"s that supposed to mean?”

“You became very strange after Misha left England.”

“That"s because you wouldn"t tell me where she was.”

“I couldn"t. You know that. I thought you"d understand.”

“I didn"t know if she was dead or alive, and she never came back. Four years,

almost five, then—” He stopped abruptly, afraid his voice would betray his emotion.

“You were always brilliant at your work. You seem unscathed by it. I"ve seen

operatives work for four or five years and then need to be moved into a quieter job

because they couldn"t take the strain anymore. But you"ve never shown fatigue no

matter how many targets you"ve hit. After Misha left, you spent all your time at the

firing range and the gym, or in those S and M clubs you frequent. But you were

more brilliant than ever at your work. After she died, you became even more of a

concern.” Conran lowered his voice until it was barely discernible. “And this

business of having sex with your targets before killing them had everyone spooked.”

“I only fucked them if they wanted it. They were going to die anyway. It did no

harm to play with them first.”

“So you say. I was worried about you, and so were my superiors. We all

thought it was just a matter of time before you went rogue.”

Kael shrugged. “I"ve always been rogue. I"ve always followed my own path.”

“I understand that, but there"s a fine line between a trained assassin and a

psychopath, and I was afraid you were approaching that line after Misha went.

After she died, I was certain you had crossed it. What was it about you and her? I

know you never dated her.”

Kael looked out of the window at the busy street. “We were the same. We both

loved our jobs. We both loved to compete. She made me laugh. It was a special

connection. I don"t understand it either.”

“I told her from the start to keep an eye on you.” Conran watched him intently,

as if trying to understand him. But he never would.

“You told her to be my friend?” Kael asked.

“No, just to keep an eye on you because you were a loose cannon. I never

expected the bond you developed. She joined MI6 not long before you, but she was

older and had come straight from eight years in the army. She was in Special Forces

at a time when there were no women in Special Forces. There are now, of course.

She was excellent and fearless.”

“I know.”

“But you grew too close, and I was concerned that two people with such

fearless, fighting spirits could trigger each other to take chances they shouldn"t.

Angel is good for you. He has discernment, which is as vital as courage. He"s making

you more human.”

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121

Kael stood, and his tone was sarcastic when he said, “Thanks for the coffee and

the pep talk.” For fun and to cause the maximum of embarrassment, he leaned

down and kissed Conran on the cheek. “See you later, love,” he said loudly.

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Chapter Thirteen

“Daddy, no!”

Feeling a combination of annoyance and guilt at the reaction, Kael said, “Sit

down and eat your breakfast.”

“You"ve hardly been home for the last month, and now you"re going away

again. Why didn"t you tell me last night?” Angel sat down at the kitchen table, his

tie loose and his top button undone. He stuck a spoon into his shredded wheat. “And

why do we always have to have this boring crap? Why can"t you buy Froot Loops or

something?”

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound? You sound like Zoe and Amelia,

except they wouldn"t say crap. Shredded wheat is healthy,” Kael said. “Drink your

orange juice.”

“Fine.” Angel flicked his long hair back with a defiant toss of his head. “When

you"re gone, I"m going to buy Froot Loops and have pizza every night.”

Kael sat down at the table with his cup of coffee. “Fine.” He copied Angel"s

rebellious intonation. “When I get back, I"ll spank your peachy arse.” He grinned,

trying to make Angel smile. He didn"t want the boy to be upset, but he had made a

promise. “I have never seen Froot Loops. You might have to get them mail order

from America.”

“How long will you be gone, Daddy?” Angel asked quietly.

“Probably no more than three days. And when I get back”—he paused for

effect—“I"ll take you away for the weekend. We can do something fun together.

Where do you want to go?”

“Paris.” Angel sounded half-petulant and half-hopeful.

Kael laughed. “Paris it is.”

“Really?” Angel pressed his palms together in an attitude of prayer. “Thank

you, Daddy.”

Kael smiled. “Now don"t be such a brat and finish your shredded wheat.” He

watched Angel eat his breakfast and followed him into the bathroom while he

brushed his teeth. Then, standing in front of the mirror, he fastened Angel"s top

button and straightened his tie. “No eating pizza every night,” he said.

Angel slid his arms around Kael"s waist. “I won"t, Daddy. I"ll eat healthy the

whole time.”

“Keep the place clean. Do your homework.”

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“Keep the music down,” Angel said. “Daddy, I"m sorry I was rude. I"m just so

disappointed that you"re going away again.”

With his arm around Angel"s shoulders, Kael walked him to the door and

helped him on with his blazer. Angel picked up his laptop bag, and Kael walked him

to the lift. “Work hard, be good, and Daddy will be home soon. Make me proud.”

Angel slid one arm up around Kael"s neck and kissed him. Kael pressed his boy"s

slender body close and felt his warmth. “I love you so much, Angel.”

“I love you too. Be safe, Daddy. I"d die if you didn"t come back.”

“Why wouldn"t I come back?”

“Because what you do is dangerous,” Angel whispered.

Kael pushed the button for the lift. “It"s only dangerous if you take chances,

and I"ve learned not to do that.” He kissed Angel tenderly on the lips. “I promise I"ll

be home in three or four days, and if for any reason it goes beyond five days, I"ll

contact you.”

Angel stepped into the lift, and their gazes remained locked until the door

closed.

* * *

By early afternoon, Kael had reached Paris. He had driven to Calais and left

his car there in a long-term car park and then rented a small, innocuous, gray car,

using his French identification to drive into Paris. He bought a street map as if he

were a tourist and sat in a café drinking a bottle of Perrier while he found the three

addresses Conran had given him. All three were in a relatively close geographic

area in the Nineteenth Arrondissement on the Right Bank of the Seine, a poor,

mainly Muslim area.

For the remainder of the afternoon, he reconnoitered the houses, watching the

comings and goings. Men went in and came out—but no women. A couple of times

he saw the faces of young women appear at the windows, and once a young male,

but no sign of Ekaterina. The only way to find out if she was in any of the houses

was either to go in through the front door as a customer or to break in, but every

window and door was alarmed. What they did have was a long, iron fire escape

down the back of each house. His best bet would be to enter through the front and

leave through the back.

It was after ten o"clock by the time he decided to make the hour and a half

drive out to Provins. He knew the layout of the house, and if Ekaterina was there,

he could easily get her out. That was Plan A.

Kael reached the mansion before midnight. Even as he drove by the security

gates, he saw that the house was, for the most part, in darkness. There was no

party going on tonight, and there were only two cars in the driveway. With the

house quiet, Kael decided not to drive along the access lane in case the engine noise

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drew attention. Instead he parked down the road in the lay-by he had used the first

time. On foot he went back to the house, running as easily through the dark fields

as he ran beside the Thames a couple of times a week. The gate was still unlocked.

He smiled.
Some security system. This should be easy.

The French doors on the patio that he had walked through at the party were

locked. The big lounge lay in darkness, but the double doors across the room were

open and dim light from the hall beyond made it possible for Kael to see inside.