Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

could say no more.
    Concern etched on his face at the sight of her tears and bloodied nose, the home
    secretary ran to her side. “Eunice, what happened?”
    “Our Russian visitor raped her. She needs a doctor,” Kael told him bluntly.
    Romodanovsky walked into the room wearing a bathrobe, his face a mask of
    arrogance. “It was completely consensual. She just started screaming when the
    bodyguard walked in on us.”
    Ignoring him, Kael said to Townsend, “Have you sent for the doctor?”
    “He’s on his way.”
    “Good. Let’s get her to her own room.”
    The home secretary put his arm around the woman’s shoulders, assisting her
    solicitously to the door. Kael turned on Romodanovsky. “You will not leave this room.”
    Outside the door, he found his team assembled. “Ellis, stay inside the room with
    Mr. Romodanovsky. The rest of you are to stay here. That man is not to leave his room.”
    No one spoke, but they all looked shocked when Kael and Townsend led the maid
    outside and downstairs.

    * * * *
    At a little after eight that evening, Kael was called to the drawing room. Conran

    was there with the Met commissioner and the home secretary.
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    “What did the doctor say?” Kael asked the moment he entered the room. The men
    were gathered about the blazing hearth, sitting on comfortable but old-fashioned
    furniture.
    “She’s hurt and traumatized. What else can be expected?” Townsend replied. “The
    man had just barely penetrated her when you dragged him off. Thank God you were
    there. You’ve saved the day twice in the last twenty-four hours.”
    Kael walked over and threw himself down on the brocade sofa beside Conran.
    “Would you like some tea, Mr. Saunders?” Townsend was in the midst of pouring
    for the other men.
    “No,” Kael said. Tea at a time like this, for Christ’s sake!
    “Sorry I mistook you for his son yesterday,” the commissioner said. “Given the
    circumstances, I’m sure you’re glad you’re not. You do have an uncanny resemblance to
    him, though.”
    Conran looked sideways at him as if assessing the validity of the mistake. “This
    has to be kept quiet, Saunders.”
    “You’re not going to arrest him?” Kael looked at Conran and then the
    commissioner.
    “We can’t. It would ruin his career and cause an international incident. That man
    is Russia’s best chance of cleaning up organized crime. He can put that country back on
    its feet.”
    “So he gets away with rape?”
    “Do you think I’m happy about this?” Townsend was pale and tight about the
    mouth. “Eunice has worked for us for years, long before we came to Dorneywood. She’s
    a good woman. I’m absolutely beside myself, but this can’t get out.”
    Kael looked at the commissioner. “You need to arrest him. What are you going to
    say to that woman if you don’t?”
    Conran stood up. “Saunders, come with me.”
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    “No, we’re going to sort this out!” Towering over him, Kael saw Conran flinch.
    In a calm, quiet voice, Conran repeated, “Come with me. We’ll talk outside.
    Please.”
    It was dark and cold, but the gardens were well lit. Breathing deeply, Kael felt
    relieved to be outside in the crisp, sharp air.
    “You know this can’t get out, and you know all the reasons why,” Conran said.
    “You have to walk away from this.”
    “No, I don’t. The bastard’s a rapist. That woman was terrified. All she was doing
    was going about her fucking business.”
    Taking his arm to pull him farther away from the house, Conran hissed, “For
    God’s sake, it’s not as if you’re lily-white. You enjoy your profession!”
    Turning abruptly, Kael grabbed Conran by the neck with one hand. “I work for
    the fucking government! Everything I do, they sanction,” he said into the man’s face.
    “Don’t you compare me to that man. I’ve never raped a woman.”
    “You raped me,” Conran whispered.
    As if someone had hit him over the head with something heavy, Kael nearly
    staggered at the words. His breath caught in his throat. All those years ago when they
    were boys as College Grange School, he had raped Conran. But Conran had had it
    coming. He’d made fun of Kael’s mum, of her common accent and her cheap clothes.
    He was lucky Kael had let him live.
    Slowly he released his grip on the man’s throat. He wanted to scream, to howl at
    the moon like a wolf. “I was a kid,” he said very quietly.