Angel and the Assassin

Alexander

    “Son, go and get him back. If you love him, fight for him. God knows, you‟ve
    never been afraid of a fight.”
    He stood up and began to grab clothes from the wardrobe. “I‟ll talk to you
    later. Thanks, Mum.” He hung up.

    * * *
    Halfway to the airport, Kael stopped the taxi and made the driver turn round.

    “Go back to where you picked me up.”
    Something was niggling at him. Something wasn‟t right. When he realized
    Angel had left, he had panicked. After speaking to his mum, he was emotional and
    not thinking straight. Sitting now in a taxi, driving through the usual heavy
    London traffic, his mind had begun to calm, like it did when he was on a hit.
    He knew Angel had left the flat on his own two feet and unafraid. Kael could
    smell and sense fear, and he knew that no stranger had been in his flat. What he
    had neglected to do was reconnoiter the area outside on the street for anything that
    might not make sense.
    Home again, he began to walk the streets, observing carefully and trying to
    think like an eighteen-year-old who was probably hurt, perhaps angry, feeling
    unloved and maybe unappreciated. Kaelshould have praised him more. Angel had
    been keeping the flat spotless, all without instruction. Instead of keeping his mouth
    shut, he should have told him how great he was and maybe even thanked him.
    It was almost half past eleven; the city was very busy, the noise and smell of
    traffic as oppressive as ever. Kael walked on, thinking like Angel. He had money, so
    he could easily have taken a taxi and gone straight to the airport, but Kael knew he
    had headed off to buy a present for his mother, something to make his unexpected
    visit more palatable to her. Where would a woman who had acquired expensive
    tastes like to shop? Harrods . Kael kept walking. With his fast-paced, long-legged
    stride, he could cover large areas quickly.
    Harrods on Brompton Road was crowded with shoppers and tourists, as it
    always was. He walked quickly through the ladies department, the perfumes and
    makeup department.
    The Food Halls.
    I bet he bought her chocolates; that’s something a kid would buy for his mum,
    and he said she liked caviar.
    He began to ask the shop assistants at the various sweet counters if they had
    seen a boy fitting Angel‟s description, but no one remembered him. If only he had
    taken a picture of Angel at some point, but he was always so preoccupied with not
    creating evidence.
    At the Godiva counter, he looked straight at a young woman. She responded at
    once. He could be very charming when he needed to be, despite being stiff and
    distant. He was stinging a little from that one, but he knew it was true. “Did you

    Angel and the Assassin
    165

    serve a young man this morning with blond hair, probably wearing a leather cap?
    He‟s American.”
    Recognition lit her face. “Yes, I remember him. He said he was going to see his
    mum. He was really cute.”
    Kael smiled; he certainly was. He was getting closer. “When was that?”
    “Right when we opened at ten o‟clock.”
    He glanced at his watch. It was near noon. Angel was probably still in the
    country, maybe still in London. “Did he say anything else?”
    “No. Would you like a sample?” She offered him a chocolate with a pair of
    silver tweezers.
    “No, thank you. Which way did he go?”
    She pointed. “He went that way, but it was already busy. That‟s all I can tell
    you, sorry.”
    Kael walked in the direction she had pointed and out into the street through
    the nearest exit. Instinctively he walked toward Knightsbridge Road and into Hyde
    Park, scanning the environment as he went.
    At over 350 acres, Hyde Park would take hours to search, but Kael knew he
    was in the right place. It took him a full hour of walking the park and standing still,
    scanning wide areas before he spotted the boy wearing the leather rebel cap and the
    leather backpack. But he knew well before he reached him that it wasn‟t Angel.
    Five or six males between sixteen and perhaps twenty years old stood
    together, their name-brand athletic wear and loud behavior marking them as chavs.
    Kael walked up behind the boy with the backpack. He had to secure the target at
    once if he didn‟t want to chase him, and he was in no mood for that. There was also
    a good chance the youths had weapons, probably knives.
    Pretending to walk past, Kael turned at the last second and grabbed him by
    the arm. The boy swung round, belligerent and ready for a