understand the protocols of the
dungeon.”
“No, but you do. I don"t think he"s as mature as you, so don"t start acting like
an idiot just because he does.”
“No, Sir. I think he"s had a pretty easy life. People like that grow up slower.”
Kael kissed Angel"s forehead. “Yes, they do.” He might as well tell him now.
“I"m not going to be teaching my morning language classes anymore.”
“Daddy, why not?” Angel looked surprised. “You love those classes. Are the
students still acting like morons?”
Kael grabbed his glass and took a long swallow of his whisky, enjoying the
burning sensation as it warmed his throat and stomach. He had complained a
number of times about the lack of respect and attention among his students.
“They"re all idiots. I had to smack one of them today.”
Angel looked warily at him. “You had to smack someone. Daddy, I hope at
least it was a dude.”
“Yes. An overweight, slow-witted crybaby who ran off to human resources to
complain that Mr. Saunders was a big nasty man.”
“So you got fed up and quit?” Angel asked.
“No.” Kael paused. It killed him to admit the truth, but he"d never lie,
especially not to Angel. “Conran called me to his office and told me I was no longer
allowed to teach languages, only my afternoon self-defense classes.” Kael had not
elaborated to Angel about the true nature of what he taught trainee operatives.
Angel was well aware that Kael had worked for ten years as a highly trained
assassin, the best in his field. But Kael never told him anything he didn"t absolutely
have to know.
“Just because this one dude complained?”
Kael took another slug of whisky and handed the glass to Angel. “Get me
another one.”
Angel took the glass and hurried over to the sideboard. The boy always took on
any job with gravity and care, even if it was just filling Kael"s whisky glass or
turning on the shower to get the water to the perfect temperature before Kael
stepped in.
“No, there were lots of complaints,” Kael admitted. “You see, people have no
work ethic these days. When I was at College Grange, they taught us to pay
attention to the masters, listen, be respectful, that kind of thing. So when I went to
Cambridge and when I went to train at MI6, I took that kind of disciplined
approach with me. That"s why I was always top of my class. Do you pay attention in
class, boy?”
“Yes, Sir.” Angel stood in front of Kael, handing him his glass. “I"m doing really
well. All my teachers say so.”
26
Fyn Alexander
“Right, good.” Kael knew the answer already. He checked in with Angel"s
teachers every week, though the boy didn"t know it. They all said he worked
diligently in class, was respectful to them, and was very popular with the other
boys.
“Even so I couldn"t do as great as I do if you didn"t tutor me as well, Daddy.”
The words warmed Kael through. He so badly wanted to do right by his boy,
and so far he seemed to be on track. Angel was doing well in school; he cooked and
cleaned at home; he worked out hard at the Paris Gym with Kael, and his muscles
were developing and gaining strength despite how very slender he was. He had
even talked Kael into taking him to the target range to learn how to shoot, and the
natural aptitude for accuracy he had displayed in Bosnia had continued there. In
the last few months, Angel had become a crack shot with an assault rifle and a
handgun.
“What did they complain about, Daddy, your students?” Angel sat beside Kael,
again looking intently at him with his luminous gray eyes. His silky hair flopped
forward, and he flicked his chin up to throw it back. Angel"s hair had not been cut in
months, and it was growing long, making him look far too pretty for Kael"s comfort.
He"d make him have a buzz cut soon. Kael ran his forefinger down Angel"s smooth,
creamy, pale cheek.
“I threw the blackboard erasers and chalk at them.” He paused. “And I
suppose I