Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

Angel and the Assassin:
    Be Brave

    Fyn Alexander

    www.loose-id.com

    Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave
    Copyright © April 2011 by Fyn Alexander
    All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No
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    eISBN 978-1-60737-999-7
    Editor: Judith David
    Cover Artist: Justin James
    Printed in the United States of America

    Published by
    Loose Id LLC
    PO Box 425960
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    www.loose-id.com

    This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical
    events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either
    the product of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
    resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or
    locales is entirely coincidental.
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    Chapter One

    Herstmonceux Castle, East Sussex, England

    “Daddy, exactly where are we going and what are we going to do there?”
    Kael Saunders steered the small, unobtrusive car along the A23 to
    Herstmonceux Village. The high hedgerows on either side of the narrow, two-lane
    road obscured the view ahead, and he hit the horn each time they came to a sharp
    bend. “There‟s a castle owned by a Canadian university up the road past the village.
    It‟s on five hundred acres, and they let us use it for outdoor classes. Survival skills,
    that sort of thing.”
    Kael had made the decision some time ago to tell Angel that he worked for the
    Secret Intelligence Service, MI6. Angel was a smart boy and could be trusted to
    keep his mouth shut. He would never do anything that might endanger his daddy.
    But the rule was, ask no questions.
    They drove through the small, quaint village and continued on until the red
    brick castle rose up from the landscape. “There it is.”
    “Holy King Arthur‟s court! That is beautiful,” Angel said, and Kael laughed.
    He drove onto the grounds and up the hill into the car park, where a ten-seater
    van was just leaving. Milling about talking to each other were seven men and one
    woman, and beside them were five rolled-up tents and ten identical backpacks.
    Several of the men were tall like Kael, though none matched his six feet five inches.
    They were all well built, muscular, strong-looking men, and every one of them had a
    crew cut or buzz cut. “Oh my God. It‟s like a night out at a leather bar.” Angel
    laughed.
    “In your dreams. How many leather bars have you been to, boy?”
    “Only the ones you‟ve taken me to, Daddy. Will we be staying in the castle?”
    Angel‟s beautiful gray eyes were wide with excitement; his boyish enthusiasm
    always made Kael smile.
    “No. We‟re staying in pup tents in the wood over on the north side. It‟s called
    the Azalea Walk.”
    A look of disappointment flitted across Angel‟s face, quickly replaced by
    resignation. “How picturesque,” he said.
    “Angel.” Kael looked at the boy he had fallen in love with a mere six months
    ago—the boy he was supposed to have killed. “Do not call me Daddy this weekend. I

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    Fyn Alexander

    am Sir at all times. I‟ve never met this group, but I have to weed out the cowards,
    the idiots, and the insane, not to mention the men from the boys—and that includes
    the woman. They must know nothing about my private life or yours.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    They got out of the car. Angel went without instruction to the boot to take out
    their leather jackets and water while Kael stood about ten feet away from