Danielle Ramsay - Vanishing Point

Brady couldn’t get rid of the thought that had been plaguing him since the briefing when Claudia had shown the team a photograph of Edita Aginatas. There was no denying it. The resemblance to the murdered teenager Melissa Ryecroft was startling. Exceptionally pretty with large brown eyes and long, straight, dark brown hair. It was no coincidence. The girls fitted a type.

The two girls had suffered the same sadistic torture; both had had their fingers cut off. One was lying in Rake Lane morgue and the other victim?

Brady couldn’t shake the doubt torturing him.

It wasn’t possible … was it?

Chapter Thirty-Five

Brady’s phone continued to buzz.

Half-asleep, he stretched his hand out and fumbled around on the floor, knocking the empty whisky bottle over.

‘Fuck!’ he cursed.

Eventually he found it. He picked it up and looked at who was calling him at 6:10 on a Sunday morning.

He didn’t recognise the number.

‘Yeah? he warily answered.

Nothing.

‘Who is this?’ he demanded, suddenly sitting up.

He winced from the exertion.

The other person hung up.

Brady sighed heavily. He nervously dragged his hand back through his hair.

He looked at the number. It was a mobile number, one he definitely didn’t recognise.

He stood up and squinted through the office window trying not to move the blinds. If anyone was out there, he didn’t want them to know he was looking for them.

No one. It was early on a Sunday morning and the street was typically deserted.

He shook his head at his own paranoia. It was just a wrong number. Nothing more. He decided it wasn’t worth having the call traced. He had better things to do than chase shadows.

He breathed in deeply. He felt like crap. His ribs and face ached from the beating he’d received yesterday and his head pounded from too much malt.

He decided he had better straighten himself out before the team returned. He needed a shower and a black coffee to clear his head. He thought about going home but didn’t want to waste time. That, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Under the circumstances, the station was the safest place to lie low. Which was why he had spent the early hours of the morning in a restless slumber on his office couch, haunted by dreams of Nick and his old man.

He had no choice but to use the station’s antiquated shower room and risk the cafeteria’s coffee and a bacon stottie in the vain hope it would clear his hangover.

Brady decided to call Claudia before Conrad arrived with an update from the team.

In recognition of the fact that it was Sunday morning, and she’d been up late last night working on any leads that might help, he’d waited until after 10:00am to make the call.

However, she answered her mobile immediately, as if she had anticipated it.

‘Listen, I hate hasselling you …’ Brady said, his voice filled with urgency ‘… I just need to know whether you got that warrant to search Ronnie Macmillan’s club in Wallsend to check out whether the women employed there as sex workers are legal? By the way I do use the term “employed” loosely,’ he added.

‘The team and I are just waiting for the warrant to be authorised as we speak.’

‘Good … that’s something,’ replied Brady, impressed by her initiative. ‘When you say your team, who are you taking?’ he asked as an afterthought.

‘Do you mean am I taking James Davidson? What do you think? These men are dangerous, Jack. He’s trained in armed response. You do the maths.’

Brady didn’t answer her. But if he was honest, he was relieved that she had Davidson with her.

‘Keep me updated,’ Brady said.

‘Sure,’ replied Claudia. She paused for a second before continuing. ‘Jack? I’m doing everything I can to find that girl.’

‘Nicoletta,’ muttered Brady.

‘Yes, Nicoletta. I’ve looked into all of Ronnie Macmillan’s business affairs. The disused land he’s been buying up around North Tyneside. All the abandoned buildings, including two warehouses down by North Shields quayside he’s bought, allegedly with the intention of renovating them into luxury apartments.’

Brady waited, hoping she had more.

He’d already done the same thing. He’d got Conrad on to it as soon as his deputy had turned up. But they hadn’t been able to find anything dirty. The money Macmillan had used was kosher and the building and land bought seemed innocuous enough.

Brady had also sent Daniels and Kenny down to check out Macmillan’s latest acquisitions and was still waiting for word back. Not that he expected anything: Macmillan was too clever for that. Or at least, thought Brady, his brother, the politician, was too clever.

‘I’ve also put in warrants to search those premises,’ Claudia added. ‘Just to be sure.’

‘Appreciate that, Claudia,’ Brady said.

And he meant it.

‘Before you go … have you told Adamson any of this about Ronnie Macmillan and the two suits I recognised from the Blue Lagoon?’

‘No … not yet. Not until we have something concrete,’ answered Claudia. ‘This operation is going to be tricky enough as it is, so the fewer people who know the better. Anyway, didn’t you say that’s his local haunt?’

‘Yeah, that’s what one of the lap dancers told me. He’s Mr Regular there, which I’d say suggests a conflict of interest,’ answered Brady.

‘You could be right,’ replied Claudia. ‘I’ll keep you informed.’

He was relieved that Claudia was keeping this from Adamson. How long before he found out was anyone’s guess. But at least they had a head start.

Always at the back of his mind was Nick. Where was he and how could Brady get to him first?

‘Claudia?’ Brady said, stopping her from hanging up.

‘Go on,’ she said.

‘My informant said that the Lithuanian Ambassador is tied up with the Dabkunas brothers. Do you know anything about this ambassador?’ Brady questioned.

He had no choice but to ask. They had taken a girl in front of his eyes, there was one lying murdered in a hospital refrigerator and another, a copper, fighting for her life.

Brady heard Claudia take an intake of breath.

‘What?’ he questioned. ‘What do you know?’ he repeated when she didn’t answer.

‘I … I’ve had some contact with him. Not personally, but with his PA and secretary. I’m supposed to be at a speech he’s giving at the Civic Centre this afternoon in fact, but obviously I’m prioritising this case.’ Claudia’s voice faltered as she tried to get her thoughts together.

‘Go on.’

‘There’s a big formal dinner tonight at 8:30pm being held at the Grand Hotel in Tynemouth. I have to be there, as does James … I mean DCI Davidson. You see, the ambassador’s over here supporting our sex trafficking unit because it’s the first of its kind in the North East. And, given that a lot of Eastern European girls are trafficked and held as sex slaves in the UK, he’s doing as much as he can to highlight the plight of the women who’ve gone missing from his country.’

There was a long silence.

‘Jack?’ Claudia said, an edge of panic in her voice when he didn’t say anything. ‘Whatever you do, keep what you’ve just told me to yourself, will you? You go around making allegations like that, then you’ll be kicked off the force without a pension. With nothing.’

‘I only asked if you knew anything about him,’ Brady replied. ‘I’m not going to take it to O’Donnell. I’m not that stupid.’

‘Good,’ answered Claudia. ‘Because from what I’ve gathered, Chief Superintendent O’Donnell has worked very hard to get the Ambassador’s support. You know, good publicity and everything. Especially for my unit. And O’Donnell isn’t the only one involved here, I know that Mayor Macmillan is hosting this dinner tonight. And that he has had quite a few dealings with the Ambassador over the past six months trying to set up some business between Lithuania and the North East.’