Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

Thornton to arrive. It
    was part of an agent‟s job to take care of himself if he got into trouble. Conran‟s job
    as Saunders‟s handler was to wait for contact or, if a prolonged period had elapsed,
    send out feelers to locate him.

    134
    Fyn Alexander

    He had lost an operative a couple of years ago, Misha, but it was part of the job
    and he hadn‟t felt the sort of gut-twisting sickness he felt now. He had spent most of
    his adult life hating Saunders and yet could never suppress his attraction to him.
    The last few months, seeing him involved with Angel had made him realize
    Saunders was capable of love and willing to do anything at all to protect someone he
    loved. In Bosnia when Conran had thought he was going to die, his body never
    found, he had been at the horizon of despair. Then, as if he had come down from
    heaven in a chariot of fire, Saunders had appeared and saved him. The very thought
    of the man being dead made him feel sick and empty. Why Saunders would risk his
    life for a child he didn‟t know was unfathomable to Conran, given what he believed
    about Saunders. Perhaps he had misjudged him.
    A timid tap on the door brought Matilda Thornton into his office carrying two
    coffees. “Sir, I brought you a large with milk in deference to the hour.” She grinned.
    Conran waved the young woman to the armchair in front of his desk and
    accepted the coffee. “Thank you. Sorry to drag you out so early.”
    Thornton glanced at her watch. “Five past six. You said it was something to do
    with Mr. Saunders, sir?”
    “Yes. He appears to be missing. What happened when you went to France with
    him?”
    “I gave you my report, sir.”
    Conran popped the lid off his coffee. “What did you leave out? I know you left
    out the part where he beat ten bells out of the target. He admitted he did it.”
    “Sir, that man was molesting a little girl when Mr. Saunders dragged him out
    of there. That‟s why he beat him up. I felt like doing it myself when he told me.”
    “Did you see the child?”
    “No, sir. I drove, and he went in and brought the target out. He‟s an amazing
    man.” She smiled as she spoke as if just remembering Kael Saunders made her
    happy. “He said he would be twenty minutes, and he was, right down to the second.”
    “He‟s a homosexual, did you know?” Conran had no idea why he said that. A
    touch of jealousy perhaps. Fear that Thornton would be his new Misha. But that
    was unlikely now he had Angel.
    “Yes, sir. Doesn‟t mean I can‟t fancy him.” When he didn‟t smile, she
    straightened her face. “Sorry, sir. That was unprofessional. But I learned so much
    from him, just on that one job. I really admire him.”
    “Yes, everyone does. He went back to France to get the child out of there.”
    “I knew he‟d do that. He was so angry.”
    “You met Angel at Herstmonceux?”
    “Yes, sir. He‟s adorable, but I can honestly say Mr. Saunders didn‟t treat him
    any different than anyone else on that weekend. We were all starved, worked into
    the ground, and insulted equally.” She laughed. “Denbigh was the only one honored

    Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

    135

    to be thrown off the tower though.” She chuckled. “Bastard deserved it. No one liked
    him. And he was a coward.”
    Conran wasn‟t surprised. “The only reason Saunders wouldn‟t return to Angel
    is if he was dead, being held hostage, or lying injured somewhere. Something has
    happened to him, and I want you to find him. This is unofficial. He wasn‟t on official
    business. I‟ll send in the big boys only if you can‟t come up with anything. Can I
    trust you with this?”
    “Yes, sir.” She looked very eager. “You say he went back to France. When?”
    “Ten days ago. Talk to Angel. Get any details you can from him. I don‟t know
    what Saunders told him, if anything. Here‟s Angel‟s mobile number.” He pushed a
    piece of paper across the desk. “He might know something useful that he doesn‟t
    realize he knows.” She took the paper. Then, reluctantly, Conran handed her
    another one. “That‟s a list of addresses in Paris. They‟re all houses where sex slaves
    trafficked mostly from the Eastern Bloc are kept by a man named Dudek. A Pole.
    An operation is in progress to break up the ring that‟s trafficking them. The
    operation isn‟t ours, and it‟s vital that you don‟t interfere with it in any way.”
    “Yes, sir.” Thornton looked at the list.
    “Can you memorize the