Angel and the Assassin

problem of the charwoman. Kael got
    her cash and handed it to her at the door. She looked up at him. “Mr. Carpe, why
    don‟t you tell me you prefer men?”
    “I prefer men,” he said.
    “Nothing to be ashamed of. You think I gossip?” She looked into his eyes as if
    she knew all his secrets. “And you think I don‟t know what are all the strange
    things in the home gym? You think I was raised in Ziploc bag?”
    “I suppose I did.” Kael smiled.
    “It‟s your business, nobody else.”
    It was possible she did not recognize Angel from the news. The picture was not
    good, and it was on for only a minute. “Look, why not let me drive you home. I want
    to talk to you about this.”
    “No need.” She opened the door. “I won‟t tell no one your business.”
    “I want to. Hang on while I put my boots on and get my keys.”
    Kael hurried to the bedroom. Angel still slept like a baby. From the wardrobe
    he took the keys to the car he rarely used, and from a box on the top shelf, he took
    two pairs of the transparent latex gloves that fit like a second skin.

    Angel and the Assassin
    71

    Chapter Nine

    As soon as he returned, Kael put the TV on again and checked every news
    channel, starting with Sky News, but only a couple of American channels were
    running the story, and it was already losing steam, becoming a local story. Conran
    had got on it right away. He switched it off when Angel walked in wearing only his
    underwear.
    “Sir, did you come and talk to me when I was sleeping, or was I dreaming?”
    “I told you not to get out of bed. Don‟t you remember going to take a piss when
    the charwoman was in the bathroom cleaning?”
    Angel giggled. “Did I? Oh God! Did she see me?”
    “Yes, she saw you.”
    “Is there any food, Sir?”
    Kael took Angel‟s face in his hands, looking into his eyes. He had a few
    questions to ask the boy. “Yes, I went out and got you some croissants and fruit.
    Come into the kitchen; I‟ll make some more coffee.”
    “I thought English people only drank tea.”
    He followed Kael into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast counter on the high
    leather-topped stool. When he grabbed for the box from the bakery, Kael took it
    from his hands. While Angel watched, he washed a punnet of strawberries under
    running water and set them out in a glass dish. He took a banana and sliced it and
    placed that on a square plate. All the while Angel sat with his hands folded, looking
    at the food, not daring to touch it. Kael served the croissants on a separate plate
    and then made another pot of coffee.
    “All right, go ahead and eat.”
    “Thank you, Sir.” Angel took a croissant and broke it in two, scattering crumbs
    on the counter. He ate the fruit between mouthfuls of pastry. When he picked a
    second croissant, he looked up. “Did you want some, Sir?”
    Kael took two white mugs from the cupboard. “I‟m like a dog; I usually eat only
    once a day.”
    Angel laughed and broke the other croissant in two before stuffing half into his
    mouth.
    “Did you e-mail anyone from Starbucks yesterday?” Kael asked.
    Angel looked up, crumbs on his cheek, his silver eyes wide with innocence. “No,
    Sir.”

    72
    Fyn Alexander

    “You didn‟t use that boy‟s laptop to contact anyone?”
    “No, Sir. We looked at gay bars in London; that‟s all. There‟s loads of them.”
    So he thought he could get one over on his master, did he? Kael placed both
    hands on the counter and leaned into the boy‟s face, speaking slowly and clearly. He
    did not use a threatening tone; he didn‟t need to. Angel was already inching back.
    “If you lie to me, I‟ll take my belt off and beat you with it. You will not like it. It will
    be an arse whipping.”
    Angel‟s cheeks grew pink, and he squirmed on the stool.
    “Did you e-mail anyone yesterday from Starbucks? Tell the truth.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Why did you lie?”
    The boy pulled the remaining piece of pastry apart nervously, scattering more
    buttery flakes on the counter. “I didn‟t want you to be mad at me, and now you‟re
    mad anyway.”
    “Lying gets me pissed off every time. Do not lie to me. I insist you tell me the
    truth at all times. Understood?”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Who did you e-mail?” He poured coffee into the cups and added cream.
    “It was Maria-Jesus, our maid.”
    “Why would you e-mail a maid?” Kael pushed a cup toward him.
    “We were always good friends. She was kind to me. I can‟t reach my mom, and
    I