Danielle Ramsay - Vanishing Point

‘Everything,’ answered Claudia.

‘Go on,’ said Brady, intrigued by the conviction in her voice.

But he was already starting to do the maths himself.

The platinum signet rings that he’d seen the Eastern European men wearing had the letter ‘N’ as the emblem.

The note left in Brady’s car alongside the victim’s severed head had been signed with the ‘N’ emblem, matching the freeze-framed, digitally enhanced image of the ring’s emblem that Jed had sent him.

He then thought of the ‘N’ branded on Simone Henderson’s left breast.

Had Simone come across something to do with the Nietzschean Brotherhood? Is that what had brought up to the North East?

He wanted to run some of these ideas past Claudia to see what she thought. Also, given that Simone Henderson’s investigation was off-limits for him, he’d have to tread carefully.

‘Well …’ began Claudia. ‘Two things.’

She stood up and walked over to the whiteboard.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked Brady.

‘Be my guest,’ he replied, noting that she didn’t give him much choice.

Brady nodded at Harvey to step down.

Harvey shot a questioning look at Brady. As did Kodovesky.

Brady discreetly gestured for them to let Claudia talk.

Claudia looked at the whiteboard which was also a smart board.

Brady watched as she touched icons at the bottom left-hand corner of the screen, bringing up multiple images of the branding found on Melissa Ryecroft’s body.

‘As you can see here, the two letters “MD” positioned below the scorpion are roughly three inches in diameter. This branding exists in the livestock trade of course, but also in the sex slavery world. It’s about ownership, as I’m sure you have realised.’

She paused as she uploaded new photographs of other female victims onto the whiteboard.

‘These ten female sex victims you can see here have all been branded with the same mark as your murder victim,’ Claudia pointed out. ‘I’ve seen these letters “MD” and the scorpion marking on five victims from the South as well as ten allegedly trafficked girls brought to the North East and made to work in the sex trade. We carried out a raid on the Dock pub down by the quayside in Newcastle. The seedier end, not the refurbished part.’

Brady nodded. He knew exactly where it was – had been dragged down that way a couple of times by the lads. It wasn’t a savoury place. It was down the dark end by the Tyne Bridge where hookers stood about in doorways tabbing or injecting, depending on their habit. And once they’d had their fix, they would be ducking and peering as the cars slowly drove down. Money for their next fix their only concern.

Claudia continued. ‘The place was raided because we’d had reports that the lap dancing girls there were offering an extensive range of sexual services in a couple of the back rooms. That, and they were being held against their will. One of the punters had become concerned when one of the girls disappeared. His favourite girl. She told him her name was Edita Aginatas and that she was from a Lithuanian village. He couldn’t remember the name of the village, only that it began with “R”. He started asking too many questions about where she’d gone and ended up badly beaten on his way home from the pub one night. Reckoned it was one of the men in charge of the girls: had an Eastern European accent like them. Punter reported the attack, which is why we went in. But by the time we got there we found that the girls had been moved.’

She turned and looked at the room, her face expressionless.

‘We presume that when the punter kicked up a fuss about the missing girl, they got nervous and relocated the group. It happens.’

Brady noticed a hint of regret in her voice.

Regret that they hadn’t got there sooner.

‘That wasn’t that long ago. Last Saturday night to be precise,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘But the information we got from the punter is that all ten girls were branded with this identical mark. So I’d suggest that the victim you have here, Melissa Ryecroft, was either bought or lured by the men that ran the operation at the Dock pub and are presumably running it at some other premises.’

‘Where is she now? The girl who the punter reported missing. Did you find her?’ asked Brady, leaning forward.

‘No … we did run a check on the name. We found out that Edita Aginatas is in fact a seventeen year old from a Lithuanian village by the name of Raseiniai.’

Claudia suddenly put her photograph on the whiteboard.

‘Now listed as missing. The punter did say that she hadn’t been branded like the others with the letters “MD” below the scorpion. Why that was, we have no idea. Maybe they were planning on selling her on and so didn’t brand her, we’re not sure.’

Claudia tentatively bit her lip as she looked at the photograph of the girl.

The missing teenager had long dark hair tied up at the back. Her dark brown eyes smiled at the camera. Her tanned skin glistened in what must have been the summer sun. She had a carefree beauty about her.

But something about her reminded Brady of someone.

He realised it was Melissa Ryecroft.

‘Lithuanian, you said?’ Brady questioned, his mind racing.

He thought of the two Eastern European looking brothers and the Lithuanian licence plate on the black Mercedes his brother was driving.

Johnny Slaughter’s words had also got under his skin, making him uneasy.

‘Lithuaks’, Johnny Slaughter had said. ‘Lithuaks’ who dealt in sex trafficking.

‘Yes, definitely Lithuanian,’ answered Claudia. She caught his eye, curious as to what was going through his mind.

‘I believe these initials belong to the two Eastern European brothers who are running this operation,’ continued Claudia.

‘Eastern European?’ questioned Brady.

Claudia nodded. ‘Yes. Edita Aginatas had told this punter that one of them was her boyfriend. He was Lithuanian also. They’d met allegedly in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania, and he had persuaded her to come over to the UK. She flew into London a few months ago, flight paid for by him. When she landed, he was waiting … with his brother. They took her passport and took her to an undisclosed house in London where she was raped and beaten by both men, until she acquiesced.’

Claudia noticed the confusion on Daniels’ face.

‘They rape and beat these girls to break their spirits. Sometimes it takes a couple of days to break them, for others it can take up to a week. Then they get put to work, maybe servicing up to twenty punters a day, working a fifteen-hour day.’

‘Why don’t they escape then or go to the police?’ asked Daniels.

‘They’re threatened that if they run, or tell any of the punters what’s really going on, then they’ll be punished. Or worse, a family member back home will get hurt. They’re also watched twenty-four-seven by these men. They’re valuable commodities that can earn these men tens of thousands of pounds.’

Daniels looked taken aback.

Brady had to remind himself that the kid was working in Whitley Bay, not London or Paris or Frankfurt. This was a small seaside resort that relied on stag and hen parties to keep the pubs and clubs afloat. Or more to the point, to keep North Tyneside Council in revenue.

‘Brothers? You said the two Eastern European men were brothers?’ questioned Brady.

Claudia nodded.

‘That’s all the information we got. No names, nothing. Just that the men were Lithuanian and were brothers. Evil by all accounts,’ she added.

‘Why did they move her up here from London? And the other girls, I presume they were moved as well?’ asked Brady.

‘Maybe they’ve relocated here because it was starting to get too difficult for them in the South. They could be getting squeezed out. Or it could simply be that they’re expanding. I don’t know. All I know is that they brought this girl up with them along with the others. But this is the first time we’ve come across this type of branding up here in the North East. So they’re new to the area.’