Angel and the Assassin

when I’d hit him with my belt he’d got a hard-on. So I offered to do
    it again and he accepted. After we finished eating, I flogged his bare arse with my
    belt until he came, and then he let me fuck him.
    We were twelve years old and he became my best friend.

    “Saunders, come in.”
    Kael stuffed the book into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and stood up.
    Stephen Conran watched him, holding open the door. Kael walked past Conran into
    his office and, without waiting to be invited, sat down in the comfortable leather
    armchair in front of the desk. Conran, thin and not terribly tall, with a long, lean
    face like the inbred upper classes that had spawned him, closed the door.
    “What do you want, Conran? I usually get my orders in plain brown envelopes
    or coded mobile phone messages. Is there something special you want to tell me?”
    “I call all our people in from time to time to have a little chat.”
    Conran‟s upper-class accent set Kael‟s teeth on edge. He had never picked up
    the accent despite the amount of time spent with people like Conran. But neither
    did he still have the working-class Scouse accent from his childhood in Liverpool,
    which had marked him when he first arrived at College Grange. He had settled into
    something that, while clearly English and very well enunciated, could not be readily
    identified, just as his job prescribed.
    Kael sat back comfortably, resting his left ankle on his right knee. He did not
    speak but merely looked at Conran, waiting. An eloquent silence spoke volumes,
    and together with his height and build, he made other men nervous.
    “Have you been to see your mother recently?” Conran‟s smile was one of those
    condescending ones that moved his mouth but never quite reached his eyes.
    “Have you been following me, Conran?” Kael asked.
    Conran sat down behind his modern oak desk, pushing the swivel chair back to
    give himself room. “Not me personally, no. It‟s good to stay in touch with family.
    You have a lonely job. It does not mix well with an intimate social or family life.”
    Kael said calmly, matter-of-factly, “You know perfectly well I went to visit my
    mother last week, so fuck off.”

    Angel and the Assassin
    3

    “We have to keep an eye on our operatives.” Ignoring the expletive, Conran
    crossed his legs, which Kael found effeminate and unappealing in a man. “Is she
    enjoying that smart new flat you bought her at the Albert Dock in Liverpool?”
    “She seems to be, yes.” His mum loved the flat, and he had felt so proud when
    he handed her the keys two years before.
    “You‟re a good son. You never tell her anything about your work, I take it?”
    Kael leaned forward in his seat, still speaking calmly. “Did you major in stupid
    questions? I love my mum, but she‟s no Einstein. Her idea of a great time is a night
    out at the bingo, so why the fuck would I upset her by telling her that I kill people
    for a living, but don‟t worry mum, it‟s all legal. The government pays me a fortune
    to do it, so I won‟t go to jail.”
    “Calm down, Saunders.” Conran always looked nervous when Kael got
    irritated. “Are you still enjoying your work?”
    “I always enjoy my work. Now what do you want?” Kael stood up and walked
    to the window. The office was on the River Thames side of the building and offered a
    stunning view when the midday sun gleamed on the fast-flowing water.
    “Next week you will go to America, Cape Cod. Ever been there?”
    “Not to Cape Cod.”
    “You took your mother to Florida last Christmas, didn‟t you? Did you visit
    Disney World?”
    “We did, and Sea World. She‟s easily amused. Get on with it.”
    “There‟s an arms dealer; he‟s doing business with the Bosnians. He needs to be
    removed. We‟re working with the Americans on this one. The shipment is worth
    millions of euros.”
    Kael watched him, wondering what the hell Conran was up to. He never told
    him the details surrounding a target. He was never told anything he did not
    absolutely need to know.
    Conran went to the sideboard and poured a glass of whisky. He held up the
    glass, offering it to Kael, who nodded but would not cross the room to get it. Conran
    could bring it to him.
    The man poured a second glass and walked to the window beside him. Kael
    knew Conran was nervous of him; he always had been. Conran dealt with paid
    assassins every day—it was his job—so why did he always look nervous when he
    was with Kael? Conran