Angel and the Assassin

been very old for his age at twenty. “I would never kill you,
    but it‟s that serious, yes. You didn‟t tell that boy at Starbucks anything, did you,
    when you were telling him about your daddy?”
    “No, Sir. I just told him I have a leather daddy who is training me to be his
    slave. He was really jealous.”
    “You mustn‟t tell anyone anything, and you have to promise me you will not go
    outside again without permission.”
    “Yes, Sir, but why? I can‟t stay in forever.”
    “It won‟t be forever.” Kael drew the backs of his fingers across the smooth
    cheek, still rosy from exertion and crying. He could not tell Angel that he worked as
    an operative for the Secret Intelligence Service, or that Angel‟s life could be in
    danger even as they sat there. “Slaves obey their masters and should not expect
    explanations.”
    “Yes, Sir. I‟ve read a lot of stuff on the Internet, Sir.”
    “There‟s a lot of crap on the Internet. The only rules that matter are mine.”

    52
    Fyn Alexander

    “Yes, Sir. But I‟m confused because I really do want to please you and be an
    obedient boy for you, but then I feel rebellious and mad at you, like I did when you
    came to Starbucks. What‟s wrong with me?”
    “Nothing. You‟re just human, that‟s all. You‟re a submissive, but maybe not a
    slave.”
    “What‟s the difference, Sir?”
    “You have a desire to retain your personal autonomy, which is fine with me,
    but I have limits as to what I‟ll accept. Right now we have to keep moving.”
    Kael scanned the wide-open area around them, paying careful attention to the
    groups of trees, making sure no one was using them for cover. His sixth sense
    registered nothing.
    “Come on, boy; let‟s go.” They got to their feet and began walking across the
    grass. The sun broke through a bank of clouds and shone on Angel‟s hair, making it
    look for a moment like gold. Angel was safe, and Kael felt like he could breathe
    again.
    A few hundred yards ahead, a children‟s playground with swings and a merry-
    go-round, some climbing equipment, and a big slide reminded Kael of the incident
    with his mum and Gary Burke.
    “Sir, I want to go on the swings. May I?”
    It couldn‟t hurt for a few minutes. “All right, go ahead.” Angel skipped ahead,
    and Kael followed, thinking again how young the boy seemed for his age.
    A couple of men with two little girls arrived at the swings at the same time
    Angel did. They were definitely not MI6 or Bosnian terrorists. One of them was
    overweight, with a lumbering walk, and they were both tending the children very
    solicitously.
    Angel sat down on the swing and began to pump back and forth. Kael watched
    him with a mixture of concern and pleasure. What the hell was he going to do? He
    had got himself into the most awful mess, and now he was having feelings he could
    not reconcile about a boy he hardly knew.
    The two men plumped the pink-clad little girls into the toddler swings and
    began to push them, saying, “Wheee” and “Look how high you are.”
    Kael scanned the park again. It was quiet and safe. He looked at Angel, who
    was smiling at him. Kael waved at him and then felt like a total idiot. He had seen
    people wave at each other when they were on fairground rides, but could never
    figure out why. Now here he was doing it.
    “Saunders?”
    The overweight man stood back from the child‟s swing, looking at Kael,
    shaking his head in disbelief. Round, gold-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of
    his pudgy nose, and his cheeks were rosy with the exertion of pushing the swing.
    Even though the afternoon was overcast and cool, sweat beaded his forehead,
    proving how out of shape he was.

    Angel and the Assassin
    53

    “Kael Saunders, as I live and breathe.” With his hand extended, he rushed
    across the grass toward Kael.
    Kael would not have recognized him if he had not used that old-fashioned
    phrase. Freddie had always loved to say things like that. He looked into a face he
    had not seen in fourteen years.
    “Freddie Merchant?”
    “Of course it‟s me. Who else would it be?” Freddie grabbed Kael‟s hand,
    shaking it vigorously, and at the same time looked back at the other man, who was
    now pushing both swings, one with each hand. “Adam, come here.” His face beamed
    with excitement. “Who have I always talked about? My best friend from College
    Grange.”
    Adam, tall and thin, the opposite of Freddie, walked over, smiling, and
    extended his hand.