Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

that body outside and get the
    so-called security police over here to remove it. I’ll talk to you later.”
    Mackie began to heave the body outside onto the step, leaving a trail of blood
    from the wound in the man’s head.
    Townsend offered his hand to Kael. “That was remarkable. Thank God you were
    here.”
    Kael looked at him and shrugged, but he took his hand. “It’s my job. You should
    go back inside the dining room while we clean up this mess.” He threw a negligent
    glance at the dark blood trail. “No one in there should be any the wiser.”
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    The man obeyed at once, ushering Romodanovsky away. At the dining room
    door, the Russian turned back, looking Kael in the eye. Ignoring him, Kael spoke into
    the PTT. “I want every one of you in the entrance hall except Thornton. You keep your
    eye on both men in the dining room. There’s been a breach, and I’m not best pleased.”

    * * * *
    “You saved my life, Kael Saunders.”

    Sitting in an armchair in the corner of Romodanovsky’s bedroom, Kael watched
    the Russian removing his watch and jewelry before loosening his tie. The shock of the
    police commissioner’s mistaking him for Romodanovsky’s son still had Kael completely
    on edge.
    “You could be my son.” Romodanovsky stretched out in a comfortable chair. “You
    are the image of me, according to the police commissioner.”
    “We’re both tall. It means nothing,” Kael said.
    The door to the adjoining bedroom opened, but Kael did not flinch. Dmitri was in
    there, and Thornton was outside his door, so all was well.
    “What do you want?” Romodanovsky asked without looking at his son. There
    was no affection in his tone or choice of words.
    Dmitri also spoke perfect English with only a very slight accent. “A closer look at
    the man who passes for your son better than I do.” He looked Kael up and down.
    “He went to Cambridge like you. I’ll bet he got a first.” Romodanovsky looked at
    Kael. “Did you?”
    “Of course I did,” Kael said.
    “Dmitri will also get a first. He is very bright despite his other failings. He is
    possibly the brightest of my five sons, even if he does act like an idiot much of the
    time.”
    Well-masked anger made the younger man’s jaw clench very slightly. Had Kael
    not been so good at reading body language, he would never have noticed. Dmitri
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    Romodanovsky probably spent a good deal of time suppressing his anger at his father’s
    insults. “Five? Those are just the legitimate ones.” Approaching Kael, he asked, “Who
    are your parents?”
    Kael had no intention of discussing his private life. When he did not respond,
    Romodanovsky looked at his son. “Get out.”
    The young man, who was no more than twenty-one years old despite his thinning
    hair, turned to leave. It was obvious he was used to obeying his father without
    question. “You could pass as his bastard son more easily than I pass as his legitimate
    son,” he said over his shoulder as a parting shot.
    On his feet quicker than Dmitri could take a step out of his way, Kael gripped the
    young man by his upper arm and dragged him across the room. The adjoining door had
    been left open, and Kael shoved him through and closed the door on him. Attempting
    to look calmer than he felt, he returned to his seat.
    Romodanovsky laughed and rose to pour them both a whisky. “I would be proud
    of a son like you. When I am president of Russia, which I will be in the next few years, I
    would make you my deputy. The way you stepped in and killed that piece of shit who
    tried to assassinate me, you remind me of myself. Decisive. A man of action.”
    Against his own protocol, Kael took the whisky and tossed it back. Often he had
    wondered who his father was, but he had never obsessed on it. His mum was so great,
    why would he worry about a dad? But he was getting angry. He wasn’t sure why the
    whole thing was affecting him so deeply.
    “I’m nothing like you,” Kael said. “But I am highly trained. That man was looking
    at you while reaching inside his coat. I was ninety-nine percent certain that he had a
    weapon, and it’s my job to protect you.”
    “You have instinct and intuition. All the specialized training in the world cannot
    give you that. And of course, ruthlessness. You are utterly ruthless. Just like me.”
    That was true. He has always been ruthless.
    Fyn Alexander | Sins of the