Page 17 of Indefensible
“Take a seat,” Branwen said. She didn’t offer him tea.
Deryn obediently pulled out another stool and sat. His mother perched on another.
Branwen fixed her eyes on his. He’d seen the same behaviour from suspects about to tell a wholly made-up story. As if the direct stare was a guarantee of truth. “Now listen. For your own sake, even if you don’t care about anyone else. That bloke, Mason whatever-his-name-is, he’s gone. Left the country, won’t be back. Stop looking for him. We don’t want his kind here. He’s a filthy paedophile who was using the Scouts to make friends with children, and that’s what I’m going to tell the police.”
“That’s why you kidnapped him?” Deryn asked.
“No one kidnapped anyone,” his mother said, and Deryn thought she believed it. At least she didn’t try to look him in the eyes, which in this case seemed like a good thing.
“Mam, there are witnesses. And there is blood in Branwen’s car. Mason Abruzzi was kidnapped, and I want to know where he is.”
“Branwen has told you. He’s gone back to America. Why won’t you leave it alone?” Branwen was nodding vigorously.
“He hasn’t left the country. I know because I checked, on my DI’s instructions. He isn’t a child abuser. He’s in some old mine workings, and someone in this family knows where. I hope for everyone’s sake that he’s still alive.”
“You’re wrong,” his mother said. “But I can see there’s no convincing you.” She picked up her handbag and left the kitchen, heels clicking on the tiled floor.
Which was when Shane and two of his mates came in.
CHAPTER 14
DAY THREE
“Take this outside please, boys,” Branwen said, her voice calm, “but make sure my mother has gone.”
There was no doubt in Deryn’s mind that this was stage two of the plan to stop him looking into Mason’s disappearance. Which suggested very strongly that even Branwen had little faith in stage one. It was a nice story, and perhaps his colleagues would be happy to take it at face value, but Deryn knew it was a lie and Branwen knew he knew it. If Deryn had needed any more evidence that Mason’s disappearance was down to his family, this was it. He would visit every abandoned mine in south Wales if he had to, because Phillip wasn’t the kind of man to commit murder face-to-face. He didn’t care if his victims overdosed and died, as long as his own hands were clean. That didn’t bode well for the long-term future of his leadership, but for now he had minions to do his dirty work. Deryn’s immediate problem was getting out of their way.
The three men moved towards him as he perched on the ridiculous stool. He had a police-issue baton in his pocket, but if he reached for it, they’d be on him. He lunged over the marble breakfast bar and grabbed Branwen’s mug, flinging it and itscontents at the floor-to-ceiling window. As the tea flew in an arc of brown liquid, Deryn jumped from the stool and yanked his baton out, snapping it open. There might be three of them, but they were all focussed on the mug as it hit the glass, and he was armed with a weapon that couldhurt.
The nearest man was an open target. Deryn flicked the baton at the man’s arm, feeling the shock in his own wrist as the end made contact with flesh at high speed. The man yelled, Deryn flicked again, this time at the man’s leg. He staggered and slid to the floor, clutching his leg. Now only Shane stood between Deryn and the door, and he held a knife. “Bring it on, kid,” he said, shifting his weight from side to side, a sneer on his face. Deryn snapped the baton to Shane’s wrist. That he didn’t drop the knife told Deryn that Shane was tougher than Phillip, so the next blow of the hard steel hit Shane on the side of the head and Shane collapsed with a cry of pain. Deryn ran.
Outside, his car sat on flat tyres. The Tesla was drifting silently down the drive to the gates. Still holding the baton, he sprinted, hearing shouts of pursuit behind.
His mother stopped. The passenger window rolled down.
“If you want a lift, please put that nightstick away,” she said.
Deryn complied and the door opened.
“Shane and co slashed my tyres,” he said, wondering how his mother would justify having left him to the attentions of three thugs with no means of escape. He needn’t have worried. She sidestepped it as easily as she had sidestepped everything else over the years.
“Oh, was that what they were doing?” She piloted the silent car through the gates. “You know, Deryn, I love all my children equally, even though it is sometimes difficult. Your father had, shall we say, some fixed views …”
“You mean he was a disgusting old bigot?” Deryn said.
“Perhaps we can agree onold fashioned.On some issues.”
Deryn had no intention of agreeing, but he kept quiet.
“The thing is, Branwen told me something about you that I found rather disturbing. I’m not sure what to do.”
They were making their way through the maze of steep valley streets in the direction of Cwmcoed, and the big dark stone house where she lived, and which had been Deryn’s childhood home. There were cars parked on both sides of the road regardless of yellow lines so that vehicles were forced to give way endlessly, stopping and starting to pass in the few spaces. It was the main road, and a bus route, but it made no difference; residents insisted on seeing their car from the front window. If that meant traffic jams, so be it.
“Perhaps you don’t have to do anything, Mam,” Deryn said. “Live and let live. You seem to be able to live with drug dealing, smuggling and protection rackets. Corruption, money laundering. Anything I do must be pretty small in comparison.”
They came out of one settlement and onto a brief strip of dual carriageway with views of the surrounding hills. His mother indicated left, and pulled into a lay-by, next to an overflowing rubbish bin. She stopped the engine, but continued to stare ahead, as a line of cars and vans streamed past.
“Dressing up in women’s clothes isn’t natural,” she said after a moment.
