Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

for.
    The young man’s schoolbooks were out on the desk. In the wardrobe, an evening
    suit and a few casual clothes took up very little space. A leather-bound book beside the
    bed caught Kael’s eye. He keeps a diary like me? What’s his reason?
    Opening the book, Kael flipped through it. It was written in Russian. The
    Romodanovskys had returned to Russia full-time more than ten years ago, so Dmitri
    had largely grown up there. Going to the most recent entry, Kael read:
    This bodyguard my father has been talking about constantly this last week looks more like
    him than I do. My father seems obsessed with the idea that this man is one of his many
    illegitimate offspring. The resemblance is remarkable, I must admit. From observing the man, I
    would say he is also like my father in his character.
    Sitting on the side of the bed, Kael closed the book and tossed it back on the
    bedside table.
    Talk about Angel getting fidgety! Kael felt like he needed to go for a ten-mile run
    just to get the agitation out of his muscles. He hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours, and yet
    he had so much energy racing around his system he felt ready to explode. Pacing the
    room, he found nothing more of interest and was about to grab the diary again to see
    what else Dmitri had to say about him when an odd noise issued from the other side of
    the wall. Becoming utterly still, he listened. Was Romodanovsky muttering to himself,
    or had Kael screwed up as badly as Mackie?
    In several long paces, he was in the bedroom. It was empty. But the bathroom
    door that he had left open was now closed. Silently Kael removed his gun from its
    holster and opened the door. On the black-and-white tiled floor, Romodanovsky lay on
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    top of a struggling woman. The muscles in his buttocks and back worked furiously
    while he held one hand over the woman’s mouth to stifle her cries.
    Putting his gun back in the holster, Kael reached down and dragged the man off.
    Enraged at being interrupted, Romodanovsky drew back his fist and slammed it into
    Kael’s jaw. The impact jarred his head back and infuriated him. He slammed the
    Russian against the wall and pounded him in the belly and face with both fists until he
    slid down the wall, bloodied and defeated.
    The woman, in a black maid’s uniform with a white apron, got to her feet, eyes
    glassy with shock. She looked to be in her forties, a bit plump. Her nose was bleeding,
    and a trickle of blood ran down her thighs. “Did he rape you?”
    Hastily pulling her skirt down, she nodded, unable to speak, her eyes darting
    everywhere, filled with fear. Taking her by the arm, Kael led her into the bedroom and
    pushed his PTT. “I want my team in the house and upstairs now. Bring Dmitri inside.”
    To the maid, he said, “I’m going to get you a doctor. Sit there.” He helped her to
    the side of the bed and picked up the house phone. “Get the home secretary up to Mr.
    Romodanovsky’s room now. We need a doctor.”
    Patting her shoulder because he didn’t know what else to do, Kael said, “I’m so
    sorry. I was supposed to watch him. I’m so sorry.”
    Panting and shaking, the maid looked up at him. “There was no one outside on
    the landing, so I didn’t know he was in there. I checked this room and went to make
    sure there were clean towels in the bathroom. He was in there. He moved so fast I
    couldn’t do anything. He’s so strong.”
    “I’m so sorry,” Kael said again. “Don’t move.”
    Quickly he went back to the bathroom. Romodanovsky was on his feet, but he was
    breathing with difficulty and his arms were wrapped about his midsection.
    Romodanovsky spoke through gritted teeth, the look on his face telling Kael that if
    he had the strength, he’d beat him to a pulp. “She’s just a maid, for fuck’s sake. Just a
    maid.”
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    It was amazing how much better Kael felt after pummeling the man. The
    screaming energy in his muscles had eased considerably. “The revolution happened
    before you were born. Even you have to obey the rule of law. You’d better put your
    clothes on. The home secretary is on his way up.”
    His face like thunder, Romodanovsky said “You will tell him nothing.”
    “I’m going to tell him everything. Unlike Dmitri, I’m not afraid of you.”
    In the bedroom, Kael opened the door at a light knock. When Terrance Townsend
    entered, the maid began to sob, “Mr. Townsend—” but she