Danielle Ramsay - Vanishing Point

‘I’ll stop him.’

‘I hope for his sake that you do. If you don’t, then I will. With the help of Johnny and his brother Billy.’

Brady knew the kind of help Johnny Slaughter and his brother, Billy, more notoriously known as ‘Billy Slash Slaughter’, would give Madley.

Madley slowly turned and looked at Brady.

‘Stop him. Because believe me, Jack, I don’t want to hurt him. But if I have to, then that’s what I’ll do.’

Brady knew the score. He couldn’t argue with Madley. Nick had crossed the line, not only with Madley, but also with his own brother. It was now only a matter of time before either Brady or Madley tracked him down. Brady was just hoping that Weasel Face didn’t get to him first. Brady knew that Weasel Face had a penchant for putting the barrel of his gun to his victim’s right eye and blowing their brains out.

‘What do you know about Macmillan and these Eastern European brothers that he’s working with?’ Brady questioned.

Madley turned back to the window, his face suddenly darkening.

‘I know that this is bigger than you imagine.’

‘I already know who they are,’ Brady replied. ‘Ex-military until a year ago. Dangerous fuckers who were in the Lithuanian army’s Special Operation Forces. Last known to be working as bodyguards. From what I heard they’re working for the Lithuanian Ambassador who’s up here just now.’

Madley shook his head. ‘You’re not listening. This is bigger than you can imagine, Jack. Let it go. Find Nick and get him the fuck out of my town. That’s all you have to do.’

Madley turned and held Brady’s eye. The look was hard and dangerous.

‘And leave me to deal with Macmillan and those Dabkunas bastards. Because believe me, those sick fuckers won’t know what’s hit them when I’m done.’

Brady didn’t argue with Madley. It was pointless.

He turned and walked towards the door.

‘And Jack?’

Brady stopped and turned to look at Madley. He had his back to him as he looked out the window.

‘Tell Nick from me that I never want to see his fucking face around here again.’

Chapter Forty-One

Brady limped back to his car, kicking a vodka bottle out of his way. He turned back instinctively, checking that no one was following him. He realised that his paranoia was getting the better of him. He was starting to see things that weren’t there.

‘ Come on, Jack! ’ he angrily muttered to himself.

He needed to get his head together. And fast. But he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he was being watched from every shadowy corner. Ghosts from his past coming back to haunt him.

He took his phone out. It was now 7:48pm and he had two missed calls.

One from Conrad and the other from Claudia.

He unlocked the Granada and climbed in, making a point of checking the back seat and floor first for any more surprises. Nothing.

Despite Ainsworth and his forensics team’s meticulous search, whoever had had left the severed head in a black bin liner on the back seat had been very careful not to leave any other incriminating evidence behind.

Brady tried to block the image of the black bag’s contents from his mind. He shakily breathed out, trying to steady himself.

‘ Come on … get a grip …’

He held his head in his hands trying to rid himself of the panic he was feeling.

He had to focus. He needed to call Conrad. To get back on track.

He forced himself to look at his mobile. He pressed call and waited.

‘What did you find?’ he quickly questioned, as soon as Conrad picked up.

‘They didn’t turn up Marine Avenue. They continued along the Promenade to the Links, sir,’ answered Conrad. ‘The CCTV camera on the Siam Restaurant on the corner of Marine Avenue shows them continuing along the Links Road towards Whitley Bay cemetery. That was at approximately 1:19am.’

‘Both of them?’

‘Yes sir, the Jaguar followed by the Mercedes van.’

‘Where were they heading?’

‘I don’t know, sir,’ answered Conrad. ‘I know that they don’t get as far as Seaton Sluice or even Old Hartley. So they’ve stopped somewhere along the Links. Either Feathers caravan park or by Whitley Bay cemetery.’

‘Or by St Mary’s Lighthouse,’ muttered Brady.

He thought back to the victim’s head and note left by his brother in his car and the significance of the location – the lighthouse. Brady already had a gut feeling what it was his brother was trying to tell him. But he didn’t want to believe it.

‘Sir?’ questioned Conrad.

‘Think about it, Conrad. Why do you think the van followed Macmillan’s car?’

‘If it is his car, sir?’

‘It’s his bloody car alright! Check the licence plate,’ hissed Brady.

‘Couldn’t get a shot of the licence plate from the angle of the camera, sir.’

‘Moot point. It’s him alright,’ muttered Brady darkly.

‘I have checked and there’s no black Jaguar registered in Ronnie Macmillan’s name, sir.’

‘I wouldn’t expect it to be registered in his name. He’s too clever for that, Conrad. He uses the car for business and the kind of business he deals in he won’t want anything that connects him to it.’

Brady sighed as he started up the engine, resisting the urge to put the car in first and drive. He felt too vulnerable sitting there.

‘What those bastards did to Simone was carried out in that Mercedes van. They’d have the space and the privacy to carry out what they wanted with her. And you tell me where no one would question hearing a woman screaming?’ demanded Brady, not taking his eyes off the street and road around him.

‘I don’t know, sir,’ answered Conrad uneasily, worried by the fraught tension in his boss’s voice.

Brady sighed irritably. ‘What do you do with yourself when you’re not at work, Conrad?’

Conrad didn’t reply.

Brady already knew about his personal life. It was something they didn’t talk about.

‘Well, there’s one place you obviously don’t go and that’s St Mary’s Lighthouse. The two car parks there are used by doggers from all over the North East. So a woman screaming in a van with a couple of men might have raised something, but it wouldn’t have been an eyebrow, that’s for sure.’

Still Conrad remained silent.

‘What about later on in the morning? We know that Simone was discovered by Carl, Madley’s bartender, at approximately 3:15am so that means that they had to return to the Blue Lagoon to leave Simone in the gents’ there.’

‘I already checked the CCTV footage for around that time, sir,’ answered Conrad.

‘And?’

‘No Jaguar but the same Mercedes van returns along the Links, continuing onto the Promenade at approximately 2:56am.’

‘Which is in the direction of Madley’s nightclub, the Blue Lagoon.’

Brady cursed under his breath as he thought about Nick and what he was trying to tell him.

‘Look, Conrad,’ he began, trying to steady his voice, ‘I have a gut feeling that Edita Aginatas wasn’t the first victim. I reckon that the Mercedes van is used to transport girls. Victims that have been murdered for sexual pleasure. Just as Claudia detailed when she talked about the Nietzschean Brotherhood.’

‘You really believe it’s happening here, sir?’ queried Conrad incredulously. ‘In Whitley Bay of all places?’

‘You do the maths, Conrad. Edita Aginatas’ body washes up on the shore of Whitley Bay beach. High tide last night was at 11:18pm BST and then low tide was 4:23am BST.’

‘Sir?’

‘I checked yesterday morning’s tides with the coastguard,’ Brady explained. ‘Either they don’t know their tides or she was deliberately dumped mid-tide position. Hell of a coincidence then don’t you think that her body washes up around 4:00 in the morning? Same morning that Simone’s butchered, drugged body is dumped in Madley’s nightclub. I reckon it’s the same van that was used to dump Edita Aginatas’ body.’