‘Do not place your trust in this Welshman, my Lord! They are known for their cunning ways.’
The Baron looked at the scarred face of his soldier with something approaching disgust. Brynach wondered if the commander kept him close to make himself feel less ugly, or to have at hand another who wished the Welsh girl dead. He would not lose ground to such a villain. He spoke again. ‘Your best hope for gaining what you wish is to trust me, and you will see it is a sensible course of action. Before I go I will tellyou where the community lives. I will give you the route.’ He saw the Baron sit up a little, his interest in the idea growing. Beside him he felt the watching soldiers tense slightly. ‘Let me return to my people tomorrow at first light. I will see to it that Lady Gwen has descended the mountain, by her own free will or not, and is delivered to you by noon the following day.’
‘And if she does not appear?’
Brynach struggled to keep his voice level. ‘Then you have the route. You will know where to come.’
The Baron smiled. It was a crooked, unattractive gesture that did nothing to suggest either warmth or humour. He clicked his fingers and called for more wine. He then reached for a lamb bone from the platter at his feet. He threw it to Brynach, who fumbled but caught it. ‘Eat,’ de Chapelle told him, leaning back on the sheepskins and glugging his wine. ‘You will need your strength to ascend the mountain in the morning.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
London 2019
Tudor was secretly pleased that Emily was impressed by the flat. Although he had taken her to use the gym at the Aurora in the run up to the tournament, this was the first time she had been inside one of the apartments.
‘And Charlie Whatsisname has this all to himself?’
‘Usually, yes.’
‘Wow, look at that view, and the size of that TV!’
He threw her the remote. ‘Find us a good movie.’
‘And pizza?’
‘Of course pizza.’ Out of habit he checked the flat, hoping she wouldn’t notice him doing it. He wasn’t worried about security being breached, in truth. He would not have brought her here had that been the case. The bizarre killings in the building had been family affairs. No intruders. No outsiders. She would be safe here, but the security expert in him demanded a sweep. Finding nothing out of place he returned to the open plan living area and filled the kettle for tea. Emily was comfortable on the extravagant leather sofa, busy multi-tasking: flicking through streaming channelswith one hand, ordering up pizza on her phone with the other. It was good to see her again. His own phone buzzed. He checked the caller ID. Deborah. He took the call.
‘You busy?’ she asked. He hesitated just too long before answering so that she jumped in, jumping to conclusions at the same time. ‘OK,’ she said quickly, ‘I get it, Friday night, city at your feet, etc, etc.’
‘I’ve got Emily for the weekend.’
‘Oh right,’ she said, unable to hide the fact that this was a better scenario than the one she had conjured up.
‘Something I can do for you?’ Tudor asked, signalling to his daughter that an 18 rated zombie horror film was out of the question.
‘More the other way around, actually.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. I’ve been doing a little digging on the Begovich family. Turned up some interesting stuff. Happy to share it with you, but not something I want to be doing down at the station.’
Tudor was suddenly interested. After what had happened at Jagoda, he needed more answers. Deborah was, without doubt, his best chance of getting background on them. Emily was pointing to a family film about a lost puppy, trying to make a point. He gave a thumbs up and she scowled at him and went back toscrolling. ‘What sort of interesting stuff?’ he asked Deborah.
‘It’s… not something I want to share over the phone either,’ she said. When he hesitated for a second time she went on. ‘Look, not good timing. That’s fine, forget it, another day…’
‘No, it’s OK. I can come now.’
‘You sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Emily won’t mind?’
He looked at the bright, lovely girl that so much resembled himself it was like looking in a mirror. She would mind. And that mattered. But her safety mattered more, and the Begovich mob were a threat to that.
‘I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,’ he said before clicking off the phone.
Emily had found an action movie. ‘There,’ she said, ‘perfect. You can relive your youth, leaping about shooting at people, and I can watch hunky men being heroic. Pizza’s on its way. I ordered pepperoni with extra pepperoni for you. That OK?’ She turned and looked at him then. Seeing his face her own expression flattened. He was saddened to see the joy go out of her eyes. ‘What?’ she asked.
