Angel and the Assassin

drank so quickly he began to
    cough. “More,” he said when his coughing stopped. Again he drank, and relief
    settled over him. Food he could live without for a while longer, but not water. He
    began to feel calmer now that he knew they would at least give him the basics to
    stay alive.
    “If you ask my mom for money, her boyfriend will give it to you. He‟s rich.”
    When the man spoke, his accent was very heavy and he sounded impatient.
    “We have contacted Gregoire St. Germaine and his new girlfriend, and they are not
    interested in you. Maybe the British government will pay for your release. If not,
    you will die.”
    “Did you ask my mom? Maybe she doesn‟t know where I am. She‟ll get
    Gregoire to give you money.”
    “Your mother knows. She will not pay.” He pulled the hood down again but did
    not tie it. Angel heard his footsteps recede. The door opened with a gust of freezing
    wind and scraped closed again.
    Mr. Conran had told the truth about his mom, and Sir had lied about it. But
    why would he do that? To protect Angel? Why would Sir want to protect him? He
    didn‟t love Angel. Sir gave Angel the money to get out of his way. It didn‟t make
    sense.
    Grateful for the water and utterly exhausted, Angel let his chin drop onto his
    chest and drifted off into a stiff, uncomfortable sleep.

    * * *
    About a mile from where the farm should be located, Kael pulled off the road

    into the woods. Taking out his compass, he looked at it carefully. “That way,
    through the woods. It should take us about twenty minutes.” He looked at Conran.
    “You stay here and be ready to drive the minute we get back. Dragana, you come
    with me. What weapon have you got?”
    “XD subcompact—nice and light. But Kael, I am forty-two years old, and a
    little plump. That‟s why I am in surveillance now. Maybe Mr. Conran be better to
    back you up?”
    “Conran‟s a useless prick; that‟s why he‟s in an office job,” he told her, ignoring
    Conran‟s glare. “I wouldn‟t trust him with my back, but I‟d trust you. You didn‟t
    flinch when you thought I was going to kill you.” He chuckled. “Though you did
    start talking very fast.”
    “I have strong belief in God. I have think when my time comes, there is
    nothing I can do.” They got out of the Jeep and started into the woods.

    Angel and the Assassin
    173

    * * *
    The farm consisted of a small farmhouse, a barn, several cowsheds, a pigsty,

    and open fields to the southeast. The woods added excellent cover and extended
    right up to the thatch-roofed outbuildings on the northwest side. The only building
    with electricity appeared to be the farmhouse. Thank God, Kael thought, for a
    nearly full moon lighting the surrounding area and for the near cloudless sky.
    “How‟s your eyesight?” he asked Dragana.
    “It‟s good.” She was out of breath but faring well.
    “We have to search the outbuildings. If we can find Angel and get him out
    quietly, that‟s plan A. If that‟s impossible, plan B is kill everyone.”
    “Of course.”
    “You approach the farmhouse, see how many are there, and find out what you
    can. Do not go inside. Angel may be in the house. If he is, come back here; I‟ll get
    him out of there. I‟m going to search the outbuildings. Meet me back here at this
    exact spot.”
    Dragana listened carefully and left with no questions. Kael began a methodical
    search of the outbuildings, all of which were open and unsecured. Silent and
    unobtrusive, he walked quickly through the stone-and-mud buildings using a low-
    beam flashlight only when he absolutely had to. The animals resting under the
    thatched roofs did not stir. Kael was intensely alert for guard dogs and carried his
    GLOCK 26, with the silencer, in his hand.
    Through the filthy, broken window of a cowshed, lying unmoving against the
    damp stone wall, he picked out a slender figure with a black hood over its head, and
    went completely still, fear grabbing his belly. He took a couple of steadying breaths
    and allowed a silent emptiness to settle over him until he was able to move again.
    Every emotion—fear, horror, anxiety, love, protectiveness—all drained from his
    mind and body. Angel was a target for rescue, nothing more. He‟d been on rescue
    missions before; it wasn‟t all about killing.
    Kael pushed the door open and approached the body. A thin stream of
    moonlight managed to filter through the grime on the window, but Kael‟s eyes were
    so attuned to light and