Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

“Isn’t she a beautiful child?”
    With her blonde hair and bright blue eyes, Ekaterina’s prettiness was part of the reason
    she had been kidnapped in the first place. “Her rescue was a big story here. I had no
    idea for a long time who had rescued her. Eventually I found out. She kept talking
    about Dyadya. I had to find out who she meant. You’re a hero, Mr. Saunders. What a
    coincidence that you ended up doing security for me.”
    “Was it?” Kael asked.
    The Russian smiled. “Actually I asked the prime minister to find me the man who
    saved Ekaterina because he must be brilliant.” He lowered his voice. “And then I saw
    you and I knew why you were special. I’m sure you’re my son.”
    “So you made a pass at me?” Kael said. “Introduce me to the lady.”
    Speaking in Russian again, he said, “Of course. This is Ekaterina’s mother,
    Galina.”
    Very pretty and younger than he expected, she must have been a teenager when
    the child was born. Offering his hand, Kael spoke in Russian. “How do you do.”
    “Thank you so much for giving my daughter back to me.” Tears filled her eyes,
    and she clutched his hand, pulling it to her chest so tightly that Kael feared she might
    try to kiss it.
    “Angel helped to get the little girl out of there, and a woman I work with helped
    also,” Kael said.
    “You are too modest to take all the credit?” Romodanovsky laughed. “What a
    remarkable man you are.”
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    Nearby, a youth with an old-fashioned ghetto blaster started playing Linkin Park.
    As unself-conscious as always, Angel started dancing. “Come on, Katya, I feel a dance
    coming on,” he said in his stumbling Russian.
    Laughing, the little girl slid out of Kael’s arms and got right into it. For a moment,
    they all watched the pair.
    “You smile every time you look at that boy.” Romodanovsky spoke in English
    again to exclude Galina.
    Meeting the man’s gaze, Kael said, “Did she get the help she needed?”
    “Yes, I took her under my wing from the start. She has had counseling and
    medical care.”
    “And how is she going to help you fight organized crime?” Kael asked.
    “Look at her.” Both men watched the lovely child laughing and dancing with
    Angel as if she hadn’t a care in the world. As if she had never been abducted, taken to
    Europe, and prostituted to grown men. “What is the phrase people like to use? Poster
    child? Little Katya is a poster child for why organized crime must be stopped, whether
    it involves guns, drugs, or people. A beautiful, fair-haired Russian child was
    kidnapped, sold as a sex slave, and finally rescued and restored to her mother. With her
    by my side during my presidential campaign—which will begin next year—that child is
    my ticket to the Kremlin.” He gestured at the fortified complex across the square.
    “She deserves privacy. The whole country doesn’t have to know the details of her
    abuse.” A creeping anger suffused Kael at the man’s blatant disregard for the
    psychological damage that might be caused to the little girl.
    “She also deserves good housing and an education and the best medical care. I
    have arranged all those things for her. Her mother and grandmother are extremely
    grateful. They think that giving the child a future is worth the lack of privacy. Ekaterina
    has become my mascot.”
    “You’re a pig.” Kael looked directly into the blue eyes that were so like his own.
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    Romodanovsky laughed. “I wish you were my son. I wish I had raised you.”
    “You couldn’t have done a better job than my mother. God knows what I would
    have turned into in your hands.” The song came to an end, and Angel and Ekaterina
    looked at him, their eyes shining. “Will you spend the day with us?” Kael asked the
    child.
    “And visit churches and look at Lenin’s dead body?” Angel indicated the Russian
    leader’s tomb across the square.
    “We could go shopping and eat at Pizza Hut and have ice cream,” Kael said,
    wondering what the hell had come over him. He planned to stay in Moscow for a
    couple more days and make sure Angel got the most out of it educationally. But today
    they could simply have fun.
    Grinning, Angel looked at Ekaterina with his hand up for a high five. The child
    slapped her small palm against his and looked at her benefactor and her mother. “Uncle
    Arkadiy, Mama, may I?”
    The child’s mother looked at