Page 124 of The Hallmarked Man (Cormoran Strike #8)

‘ No ,’ said the de Leon brothers together.

‘He’s not bloody going public,’ said Richard.

‘I’m not talking to the press, no fucking way,’ said Danny.

‘Our mum doesn’t know what he’s been up to,’ said Richard. ‘And she’s not gonna know, either. She only lost our dad last year.’

‘If I talk, Branfoot’ll make sure I’m bloody finished off,’ said Danny.

‘But what Branfoot’s doing is illegal,’ said Robin. ‘He’s filming people without their consent, and if—’

‘They all took money on film, there’s no proof,’ said Danny. ‘If I talk—’

‘But your brother’s right, Danny. When that body’s identified—’

‘Then I’ll go somewhere else,’ said Danny wildly.

‘You’re going to live in hiding for ever?’

‘If I have to!’

‘Christ almighty, what a fucking mess!’ exploded Richard, also standing up. ‘I stuck up for you with Dad, Dan, but Christ’s sake, I’m starting to think he was—’

Danny lunged at his brother; Richard parried his punch, but Danny kept attacking, driving Richard, who appeared not to want to retaliate, back up against the kitchen cupboards.

Strike now dropped the packet of peas, heaved himself back onto his feet, interposed his bulk between the brothers and pushed Danny backwards with one large hand on the younger man’s chest.

‘Pick up that chair and fucking sit down ,’ he said, ‘and bear in mind that I still owe you one for the fucking spade.’ He pointed at Robin.

‘She’s nicer than I am. My interest in your well-being ended when I found out you were alive.

Trouble is, Branfoot’s going after us now, because he thinks we’re going to prove you were the body in the vault, and he appears to have sicced the goons who were after you on to our agency.

She’s already been threatened with a fucking dagger. ’

‘I can’t believe this,’ said Richard, passing a hand over his mouth. ‘I can’t fucking believe it.’

Danny, who’d remained on his feet against Strike’s orders, now shouted at his brother,

‘ You know why I left! ’

Some of the fight seemed to go out of Richard, who hitched up his trousers, looking uncomfortable.

‘Yeah, I know why… and I’m not saying you were wrong to leave, Dan. But why’d you have to do that for a—?’

‘You’re the one who said I’m useless at everything else!’

‘I never said you were useless at everything else, you bloody liar, I said you’d never make a fucking builder!’ shouted Richard. ‘They’re the only choices in London, are they? Dry stone walling or getting your cock out?’

Strike now picked up the fallen kitchen chair and righted it.

‘ Sit ,’ he told Danny for the second time. Looking defeated, Danny complied.

Richard took a chair, too, and so did Strike, whose right knee was trembling worse than ever.

Addressing Robin from under his thick eyebrows, Richard muttered,

‘Our dad was… hard on Dan. But why d’you have to get involved with all that , though?’ he said miserably, turning to Danny.

‘I dunno,’ said Danny. ‘I needed money – it just happened!’

‘Coke’s what happened, you little prick,’ said Richard.

‘Not a little prick,’ muttered Danny. ‘Or I couldn’t’ve paid for the coke.’

‘Ha bloody ha,’ said Richard. He looked sideways at Strike. ‘So what now?’

‘We tell Branfoot he’s alive,’ said Strike implacably.

‘We can’t!’ said Robin.

‘You want to spend the next couple of years looking over your shoulder for a bloke with a dagger, do you?’ said Strike angrily.

‘It was blunt last time, it might not be, next. Branfoot knows proper criminals, he’s made bloody sure he knows them.

’ He now addressed Danny. ‘You either tell the press about Branfoot and make him too scared to make a move on you, or we’ll tell him.

There’s no third option here. It’s going to come out. ’

The de Leon brothers looked as though they, too, had been hit with spades. Robin picked up the frozen peas from the floor and handed them back to Strike, who said ‘cheers’ and pressed them back against his throbbing jaw. At last, Richard said,

‘He’ll talk to the press, once we’ve prepared Mum.’

‘Oh God,’ said Danny, slumping face down onto the kitchen table.

‘Well, we’ve got to tell her,’ said Richard angrily. ‘It’ll be the biggest story in Sark since the bloody German occupation.’

‘I should’ve killed myself,’ said Danny, his voice muffled.

‘Who’ll that help, you stupid sod, except Branfoot?’

‘He’ll go public,’ said Richard to Strike. ‘Just give us a few days.’

Strike glanced at Robin, who looked pleadingly back at him. With extreme reluctance, he said,

‘It needs to be soon. I want Branfoot off our backs.’

‘All right. We’ll explain to Mum – although how the fuck we’re going to explain this – aw, don’t start!’ he said to the back of his brother’s head, because Danny, who was still face down, had started to sob.

‘Have you still got my card?’ Strike asked Richard.

‘Yeah, at the house.’

‘I want your phone numbers, as well. Branfoot needs exposing quickly. Leave it much longer and it might be one of us who gets bloody murdered.’

Richard gave both mobile numbers and Strike typed them into his phone, while Danny continued to sob. This done, Richard stood up.

‘I’ll see you out.’

Leaving Danny face down on the table, they walked back to the street around the side of the house, Strike in serious pain and leaning heavily on his stick. When they reached the road, Richard said,

‘You don’t wanna judge… see, our dad was a shit to Danny,’ he said uncomfortably.

‘He was… you know. Whatsit. Homophobic. They never got on. That’s why Dan left.

That’s why he went off the rails, the silly sod.

He run off and done what Dad thought men like him do, see?

Rebellion,’ said Richard. ‘That’s what it was. ’

‘I understand,’ said Robin.

Strike, whose injury was smarting all the more for contact with the chilly air, said nothing. The side of his face felt as though it had been inflated with a football pump.

‘Silly sod,’ repeated Richard. ‘I didn’t realise… he was always one for tall tales, you know? I thought he was making half of it up. Thought he imagined that the guy was chasing him. This is all… it’s a shock, you know?’

‘Of course,’ said Robin. ‘We really don’t want Danny to come to harm.’

Richard glanced at Strike, who made a non-committal noise, but only to keep Robin happy.

‘All right, well, like I say – give us a few days,’ said Richard. He heaved a deep sigh. ‘Mum thinks Danny’s been working at a Savile Row tailors. He’s been telling her about all the celebrities he’s been measuring up for fucking tuxes.’