Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

it?”
    “Aubrey Carey-Fox. Yes.”
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    The boy caught Kael’s eye and hurried through the gates. Kael wanted to chase
    him down and kick his arse for upsetting Angel. But Angel wanted to take care of this
    himself, and he must allow him to. “Remember what I said.”
    Angel laughed. “Yeah, you’ll bitch slap him if he gets in my face again.”
    “That’s right.” He kissed Angel again. “Go on. Get going. Do well for Daddy.”
    “Yes, Sir.” Angel strode off through the gates. Kael waited because whenever he
    dropped Angel at school, the boy always turned when he reached the steps and waved.
    “Daddy, be careful!”
    Kael waved back. “I’ve got Mattie watching out for me.”

    * * * *
    At the intersection of Parliament Street and Downing Street, a twenty-feet-high

    barrier with a gate in it prevented tourists, terrorists, and anyone else from walking past
    the prime minister’s residence. Conran handed Kael his special security pass. “You’re
    late. Your team is already here.” He pointed through the barrier. “I’ve sent them
    through.”
    “I took Angel to school.” Kael was five minutes late, something that would never
    have happened before he had Angel in his life. “Anyway the mark is not supposed to be
    here until ten, and why do I need another security pass? I’ve got my top clearance
    pass.”
    “This one is only for twenty-four hours, and it was issued by Specialist Operations
    who mind the PM. It is specifically for Downing Street. Security is tighter than ever
    these days.”
    “Calm down. It will go like clockwork.”
    “I just want everything to go perfectly. I’m up for a promotion, and I’d like to get
    it.”
    “Why? Do you need the money?” Kael laughed. Conran came from a rich family.
    Money was never a problem for him.
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    “No, I want to get away from you. Let someone else deal with you.”
    Kael laughed and leaned in close. “But I thought you looooved me,” he
    whispered.
    “Oh shut up,” Conran hissed. “I don’t really mean that. I’d still be your handler.
    No one else would take you on.” He hurried off in the direction of Westminster Bridge,
    back to Legoland.
    After showing his security pass to the heavily armed police constables, Kael
    walked through the gate. He had been sent the plans of the interior of Number 10 in a
    time-limited file the evening before, giving him one hour to memorize the floor plans of
    the house and the details of Romodanovsky’s suite before the file became corrupted and
    unreadable. With his exceptional memory, an hour was unnecessary, and he had
    formed his security plan as he looked at it. Afterward he had checked out Number 10’s
    official Web site and looked at the virtual tour of the house, seeing how different it was
    to the actual layout. The public could only know so much.
    The team waited across the street from Number 10, Mattie, small and dainty
    among the men. They stood to attention when Kael strode up to them. “Thornton,
    Crosswell, Mackie, Ellis.” He nodded at each in turn. “Have you got your beam-me-
    ups?” He lifted his lapel to show the penny-size two-way push-to-talk. The other part of
    the apparatus was inserted discreetly in the ear. The men laughed, and Thornton smiled
    up at him.
    “Sir, are we allowed toilet breaks? And what about food?” one of the men asked.
    Kael stared down at the man who, like most people, was shorter than him. “I’ll
    forget you asked that question. If the mark dies or gets so much as a nick from a
    weapon, I’ll kill you.”
    “Right then, sir. We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
    For a moment, Kael gauged the man’s face for sarcasm before deciding none was
    intended. “Excellent!” For the next five minutes, he went over exactly which areas of the
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    house each man would secure. “Keep in touch with each other at all times. Don’t be
    afraid to use your weapons. Thornton, come with me.”
    “You get the pretty one, and all I’ve got is him to look at,” Mackie said. He was the
    oldest man in the group, and he nodded at Mattie and winked. Older than Kael by
    about ten years, he was the type who still thought it was funny to make sexist jokes.
    Looking into the man’s eyes, Kael said, “She’s lovely, but my boyfriend is much
    cuter.” His tone was utterly deadpan, and from the surprised, then amused looks on the
    men’s