Danielle Ramsay - Vanishing Point

‘Music … loud … in back …’

Brady nodded, in some small way relieved.

‘They bring back me … Edita keep … but …’ She suddenly hid her hands as she recalled what had happened to her friend.

Brady resisted the urge to reach out and try and comfort her, realising that words were futile.

He sat back and waited. As he did he couldn’t help noticing that the bartender appeared too interested in what they were discussing.

Brady leaned forward, realising he was running out of time.

‘These brothers, the Dabkunas brothers, were they wearing gold signet rings with the letter “N” on them?’

She looked at him, surprised that he knew.

In that one look he realised he had crossed the line. Asked one too many questions.

Her eyes were filled with horror.

‘How? How know?’ she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Brady realised that she was scared. Not of them, but of him. She feared that she had been tricked into talking and that he was one of them.

She suddenly stood up, knocking her drink over as she did.

‘Nicoletta?’ Brady said softly, as if talking to a frightened child.

For that’s all she was, some eighteen or nineteen-year-old child, afraid and emaciated through lack of food. Still scared of the bogeyman. But in her case the bogeyman was real. He had come one night and taken her. Delivering her into a nightmarish hell.

‘No … no!’ she cried out, backing away.

Brady grabbed hold of her arm, trying to make her sit down and listen.

‘Nicoletta, I can help you … please.’

‘No …’ she cried out, wild-eyed. ‘You … you?’

‘No, Nicoletta,’ assured Brady, realising that the situation was getting out of control. ‘Listen to me, what happened to your friend won’t happen to you. I promise you. I can help get you out of here,’ he pleaded.

He attempted to reach out. Calm her down.

But she backed even further away from him.

‘What the fuck’s going on here, eh pet?’ snarled a male voice. ‘Swapping fucking life stories, are we?’

Caught unaware, Brady looked up.

In that split second, Nicoletta legged it. As far away from him as possible.

Then suddenly the club’s hired muscle, Davy, was in the frame. The bartender was standing behind him.

‘Come on, lads … we’re just having a friendly drink. Nothing to get hot and bothered about,’ replied Brady.

But he didn’t have a chance to say another word.

In one swift action Davy dragged him out of the booth to his feet. Brady might have been 6´2? but Davy was easily 6´7?.

‘Get out!’ ordered Davy close to Brady’s face.

Too close.

Brady could smell the sour stench of tobacco and coffee, coupled with the beer and curry he’d gorged on the night before Friday night traditionally being beer and curry night for the hardcore locals.

‘If I see your fucking ugly mug back in here again, those cuts and bruises on your face will be nothing compared to the pasting I’ll give you!’

‘Davy man!’ interrupted Trina. ‘Will ye hadaway and shite! Bloody bloke’s going now. Alright. No harm done like!’

‘Ronnie wants to know what you three have been fucking chatting about,’ Davy the bouncer fired back.

Trina shot the bartender a dangerous look. He’d fucked her over. And there was one thing that Trina McGuire took exception to, and that was betrayal.

The bartender ignored her, making it quite clear he didn’t give a shit. His loyalty was with his boss, Ronnie Macmillan and not some has-been lap dancer-cum-prostitute.

‘Talking about his copper mate Adamson,’ snapped Trina. ‘Alright? Wanker’s trying to close us down. He’s doing undercover work. That’s why he’s in here every other day. Or were you too dumb to realise that?’

Brady tried hard not to react.

The thought of Adamson turning up at the strip club straight into Davy’s ‘Love/Hate’ fists quite appealed to him. It definitely wouldn’t be the kind of hand action that Adamson would be expecting.

‘Now let him go, will ye?’ Trina demanded.

Davy did as he was told while the bartender walked back to behind the bar.

‘You, out!’ Trina then ordered as she stared at Brady.

‘I’m going … I’m going, alright?’ Brady said, putting his hands up to show there was no resistance.

‘Too right you are! Turning up here causing trouble for me and my mate!’ shouted Trina.

Brady was sure it was more for the benefit of Davy and the bartender than for him.

He walked to the door and left before Davy had second thoughts.

‘And don’t come back!’ Trina shouted after him.

He turned to look at Trina as she stood in the open doorway and spoke quickly and quietly. ‘Listen, if Nick gets in touch with you, let me know. You’ve got my number. Give it to Nicoletta and let her know that I can help her get away from this. There’s a woman called Claudia who works with sex trafficked girls. She could get her into a safe-house. Yeah?’

‘Fuck off, will you?’ Trina shouted.

‘You’re better than this.’

‘Save it, Jack,’ she replied bitterly. ‘We both know you don’t mean it.’

Brady shook his head as he looked at her.

‘And you tell that little shit Adamson that he’s going to get his soon enough!’

‘Do you want me to do something about him?’ asked Brady.

‘What?’ sneered Trina. ‘You’re going to investigate one of your own for beating up girls from a strip club and forcing us to perform sexual acts on him for free? He thinks he can haul us in because of what we do for a living. Don’t think your lot would be interested, do you, Jack? We’re seen as no better than shit on your shoes! Whose word would they believe? A detective inspector or a lap dancer-cum-prossie?’

Brady didn’t answer her. She was right. Unless he had strong evidence that Adamson was abusing his power as a copper then he couldn’t do anything about it. Simply put, he was a copper who liked to exert his power – especially when it came to women.

‘Anyway, once Davy’s finished with him, the wanker won’t be able to wipe his own arse again!’ Trina stated.

‘I mean it, Trina, you’re too good for this …’

‘Yeah? Tell my landlord that!’ Trina snapped.

If Brady wasn’t mistaken there were tears in her eyes.

Before he could say another word she angrily spun around and walked back into the club.

Helpless, Brady watched her disappear.

Brady made his way out to the Saab. Conrad had already turned the car around ready to head towards the embankment. As he walked towards the car his mind was reeling with thoughts of how he could get Nicoletta away from Ronnie Macmillan and the hell she was living in.

He got in the car as Conrad thrust it into gear. It was pulling away before he’d even had a chance to shut the passenger door.

Brady turned and looked back at the club. There was a reason why Conrad was so eager to get moving.

Two well-dressed, dark-haired men were now standing by the front door. They looked sharp. Expensive suits, well groomed. But trouble none the less.

As Conrad drove off towards the embankment Brady realised that there was something worryingly familiar about them.

‘Conrad, turn the car round!’

‘Sir?’

‘Turn the car around!’

The tyres squealed as Conrad slammed on the brakes and threw the car into a three-point turn.

‘Shit!’ cursed Brady.

The men had gone.

‘Who were they?’ asked Conrad.

‘They were the men with Simone last night in Madley’s nightclub. I saw them …’ Brady explained without thinking.

Conrad looked at him, surprised.

‘Sir?’

‘I was there. I walked into the Blue Lagoon for a drink after the Fat Ox. That’s all, and there she was, stood drinking with them at the bar.’