Sins of the Father (29 page)

For two hours, Kael lifted weights and ran on a treadmill. Throughout, a small, heavily sweating man watched him in the mirrors while struggling to use the various machines. On his way out of the gym, Kael walked up to the man. “Are you cruising me, or do you work for him?”

Blinking and nervous, the man asked, “Him?”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot. Either you’re after my arse or you’ve been told to watch me. Either way I’m not happy.”

Swallowing hard, sweat trickling down his face, the man was reacting more in nervousness than exertion at this point. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He walked quickly away.

Yes, he worked for Romodanovsky.

* * * *

The sun shone down from a bright white sky over Red Square with its crowds of tourists and locals wandering about. “That,” Kael said, pointing at a beautiful, ornate cathedral, “is St. Basil’s. One of the most famous churches in the world and certainly the most famous in Russia. It was commissioned by Ivan the Terrible who lived”—he looked at Angel—“when?”

Cheeks pink with the cold wind, Angel looked up at him through his Irlens. “Fifteen thirty to fifteen eighty-four.”

“Exactly. And after the church was built, he had the architects killed over there so they could not repeat the beauty of St. Basil’s anywhere else.” He pointed at the execution spot. “Come on. Let’s go into the church.”

“Do you believe in God, Daddy?” Angel asked.

“No,” Kael said simply. “I believe in beautiful architecture, and this is a fine example.”

“Dyadya!”
Uncle.

Freezing at the word, Kael turned around, looking for the owner of the voice just as a blonde little girl barreled into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. His heart soared as he looked down at Ekaterina, the child he had rescued from prostitution more than a year ago. With his hands under her armpits, he lifted her up until she could wrap her arms around his neck, kissing his cheeks over and over. “Hello, Katya!” He spoke to her in Russian, using her pet name.

“Dyadya, I thought I would never see you again.” She looked at Angel and reached over to hug him with one arm, but she would not release Kael. Looking over the child’s shoulder, he saw Romodanovsky about twenty feet away, smiling, three minders standing very close to him and others at a distance, scanning the square. Beside the Russian was a slender young woman dressed in a smart coat and hat.

Following his gaze, Ekaterina said, “That’s my mama and Uncle Arkadiy. He asked me to help him end organized crime in Russia. He’s going to be the president of the Russian Federation. He takes me with him to rallies and speeches all over Russia.”

Why was he even surprised that Romodanovsky would use an abused child to further his agenda? Of course he would. “What’s organized crime?” Kael asked the child, wondering if she even knew what she was being used for.

With a slight frown, she said, “I don’t really know, but it’s something about the men who kidnapped me off the street when I was six years old.” Then her brilliant smile was back again. “Uncle Arkadiy is going to send me to study in England when I am older so I can be a lawyer and help him lead the country.”

Overcome with joy at seeing the child looking so well, like an ordinary little girl, Kael kissed her forehead. “I’m so happy to see you, Ekaterina. I think of you often.”

Taking his face in her hands, she said, “I told Uncle Arkadiy all about you.”

Romodanovsky strode forward and spoke in English. “Isn’t she a beautiful child?” With her blonde hair and bright blue eyes, Ekaterina’s prettiness was part of the reason she had been kidnapped in the first place. “Her rescue was a big story here. I had no idea for a long time who had rescued her. Eventually I found out. She kept talking about Dyadya. I had to find out who she meant. You’re a hero, Mr. Saunders. What a coincidence that you ended up doing security for me.”

“Was it?” Kael asked.

The Russian smiled. “Actually I asked the prime minister to find me the man who saved Ekaterina because he must be brilliant.” He lowered his voice. “And then I saw you and I knew why you were special. I’m sure you’re my son.”

“So you made a pass at me?” Kael said. “Introduce me to the lady.”

Speaking in Russian again, he said, “Of course. This is Ekaterina’s mother, Galina.”

Very pretty and younger than he expected, she must have been a teenager when the child was born. Offering his hand, Kael spoke in Russian. “How do you do.”

“Thank you so much for giving my daughter back to me.” Tears filled her eyes, and she clutched his hand, pulling it to her chest so tightly that Kael feared she might try to kiss it.

“Angel helped to get the little girl out of there, and a woman I work with helped also,” Kael said.

“You are too modest to take all the credit?” Romodanovsky laughed. “What a remarkable man you are.”

Nearby, a youth with an old-fashioned ghetto blaster started playing Linkin Park. As unself-conscious as always, Angel started dancing. “Come on, Katya, I feel a dance coming on,” he said in his stumbling Russian.

Laughing, the little girl slid out of Kael’s arms and got right into it. For a moment, they all watched the pair.

“You smile every time you look at that boy.” Romodanovsky spoke in English again to exclude Galina.

Meeting the man’s gaze, Kael said, “Did she get the help she needed?”

“Yes, I took her under my wing from the start. She has had counseling and medical care.”

“And how is she going to help you fight organized crime?” Kael asked.

“Look at her.” Both men watched the lovely child laughing and dancing with Angel as if she hadn’t a care in the world. As if she had never been abducted, taken to Europe, and prostituted to grown men. “What is the phrase people like to use? Poster child? Little Katya is a poster child for why organized crime must be stopped, whether it involves guns, drugs, or people. A beautiful, fair-haired Russian child was kidnapped, sold as a sex slave, and finally rescued and restored to her mother. With her by my side during my presidential campaign—which will begin next year—that child is my ticket to the Kremlin.” He gestured at the fortified complex across the square.

“She deserves privacy. The whole country doesn’t have to know the details of her abuse.” A creeping anger suffused Kael at the man’s blatant disregard for the psychological damage that might be caused to the little girl.

“She also deserves good housing and an education and the best medical care. I have arranged all those things for her. Her mother and grandmother are extremely grateful. They think that giving the child a future is worth the lack of privacy. Ekaterina has become my mascot.”

“You’re a pig.” Kael looked directly into the blue eyes that were so like his own.

Romodanovsky laughed. “I wish you were my son. I wish I had raised you.”

“You couldn’t have done a better job than my mother. God knows what I would have turned into in your hands.” The song came to an end, and Angel and Ekaterina looked at him, their eyes shining. “Will you spend the day with us?” Kael asked the child.

“And visit churches and look at Lenin’s dead body?” Angel indicated the Russian leader’s tomb across the square.

“We could go shopping and eat at Pizza Hut and have ice cream,” Kael said, wondering what the hell had come over him. He planned to stay in Moscow for a couple more days and make sure Angel got the most out of it educationally. But today they could simply have fun.

Grinning, Angel looked at Ekaterina with his hand up for a high five. The child slapped her small palm against his and looked at her benefactor and her mother. “Uncle Arkadiy, Mama, may I?”

The child’s mother looked at Romodanovsky for direction. “Yes, Katya. Mr. Kael Saunders will keep you safe.”

With Ekaterina holding his hand on one side and Angel on the other, he walked away without another word, heading for the GUM, Moscow’s famous shopping center.

Chapter Sixteen

August

The evening was lovely, so they had decided to walk the twenty-five minutes from home to Claridge’s Hotel on Brook Street in Mayfair, where Kael had booked a table for dinner. When they had started out, Angel was on one side of him and his mum on the other, but at some point Angel had maneuvered himself into the middle, holding Kael’s hand on his right and Sharon’s on his left.

About twenty yards ahead, as they neared the hotel, Mattie Thornton and Joe Hotchkiss walked toward them, holding hands in a way that was familiar and friendly, as if they did it all the time. Not that nervous, tight handhold that people did on a first date. They must have been seeing each other for a while now. Even from that distance, Kael could see Hotchkiss swallow hard and glance at Mattie as if to say,
Do you see that? They’re holding hands.

“Sir!” Mattie called out, pleasure lighting her face. “Hi, Angel!” Angel hurried toward Mattie with his arms open. He was wearing his tux with the wing-tip collar shirt. He looked so adorable hugging Mattie. There didn’t seem to be enough hugs in the world to keep Angel happy.

Kael looked Hotchkiss up and down like a father assessing his daughter’s boyfriend before offering his hand to shake. “How are you, Hotchkiss?”

“Very well, sir. Yourself?”

“Yes, I’m good.” With his arm around his mum, Kael introduced her. “Mum, this Mattie and Joe. A couple of my colleagues.” Kael was always proud of his mum. Petite and slim, she looked lovely in her smart black dress.

“Hello, Mattie.” Sharon shook hands with them both. “Hello, Joe.”

“Hello, Mrs. Saunders,” Mattie said. Her slightly raised eyebrows and hesitation showed her surprise at his mum’s common, Liverpool accent. People knew Kael had gone to Cambridge and an upper-crust boys’ boarding school before that, so they assumed he came from a wealthy background. They had no idea.

“It’s miss actually, but call me Sharon.” His mum treated everyone like an old friend.

To Hotchkiss, Mattie said, “Joe, I don’t think you’ve met Angel. He’s…” She looked at Kael for guidance.

“Angel is my domestic partner,” he said.
Domestic partner
. He still wasn’t sure that was the right word, but it was better than boyfriend.

“Oh…right. Yes, sir.” Hotchkiss’s cheeks grew pink.

“Where are you off to all dressed up, sir?” Mattie asked. Kael wore a very smart dark suit with a silver gray shirt and tie.

“We’re going to Claridge’s for dinner to celebrate Angel getting five A levels.”

“Five?” Mattie punched Angel in the shoulder. “Well done, you! You only need three to get into uni.”

“I only got one A, in history,” Angel said. “The rest were Bs.”

“You got one more A than I did.” Mattie smiled.

“Daddy got all As, didn’t you?” Angel looked up at him, and Kael wondered about the wisdom of him saying
Daddy
in front of the other man. But he was so happy with his boy’s success he hardly cared. Angel slid his arms around Kael’s waist, and Kael hugged his boy tight. “He did extremely well. I’m very proud of him.” Kael kissed him on the top of his head.

“It was nice to meet you, Sharon. Enjoy your dinner,” Mattie said.

“Nice to meet you and your boyfriend, luv,” Sharon said.

The couple was behind them when Kael heard Hotchkiss say, “I’d never have taken Mr. Saunders for a queer.”

Kael froze. He was proud of being gay and was always resentful of anyone thinking he was straight. “I hate it when people say that.” Side by side, Angel and his mum looked up at him and broke into simultaneous laughter. “It is not funny!” he burst out.

“It is funny, son,” Sharon said. “It’s very funny.”

Angel took his hand. “It’s not so much what he said that’s funny, Daddy. It’s your reaction that’s funny.”

“Is it really?” Maybe he’d better lighten up since Hotchkiss’s remark was likely not the most trying thing he would hear that night.

They were seated in the elegant, sedate dining room when Angel commented, “Daddy, there’s a fourth place set.”

Kael looked at the empty chair, then at the double doors. “So there is.” He ordered champagne, and when four glasses were brought and Angel squinted a questioning look at him, he glanced at the doors again, relieved when he saw her. He had spent the last few days afraid she wouldn’t bother to show up, even though his last words to her had been,
“If you don’t get your arse to Claridge’s at exactly seven p.m. on the tenth of August, I will come to France to visit you, and I will not be responsible for what I do.”

Following his gaze, Angel said, “Mom? Oh my God!” Angel looked at him. Kael rose to his feet, and Angel immediately followed suit.

“Angel Gabe. How’s my baby?” Samantha St. Germaine looked stunning in her expensive French clothes. With her dark hair pinned up and her slender figure, she looked like a latter-day Audrey Hepburn. There was no question that Mme St. Germaine was a beautiful woman. No wonder she had managed to get two rich husbands in a row.

Hesitantly Angel hugged her. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, Madame St. Germaine,” Kael said.

“Hello, Mr. Saunders,” she replied stiffly.

With a quick look at Angel, Kael nodded at the fourth chair. Still stunned at his mother’s unexpected appearance, Angel didn’t move. “Angel. Chair.”

“Sorry!” He grabbed the chair, pulling it out for his mother.

“Thank you, Angel.” She sat, and Kael introduced her to his mum.

Having taken the bottle from the ice bucket, Kael poured four glasses of champagne. Ceremoniously he raised his glass. “Sweetheart, congratulations on your academic success.”

Cheeks growing pink as they always did when he was the center of attention, Angel said, “I couldn’t have done it without you, Daddy.” The boy looked at Sharon and then Samantha. “Daddy is the best teacher in the world.” Then his beautiful gray eyes alighted on Kael again. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too,” Kael said, amazed at himself for not shying away from his emotions or feeling any discomfort in front of Angel’s mum.

“Well done, Angel, luv!” Smiling broadly, Sharon looked at Samantha. “You’ve got a lovely boy there. I love him to bits. I think of him as my other son.”

“Perhaps I’ll feel the same about your son when I get to know him a little better,” she said with a tight smile. Kael was only three years younger than she.