Danielle Ramsay - Vanishing Point

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Vanishing Point: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Vanishing Point sees DI Jack Brady investigating the horrific deaths of young women in Whitley Bay – and uncovering a sadistic and powerful human trafficking ring that has its roots in the highest echelons of power...
“Moaning, she lifted her aching head up off the cold tiled floor. In the background the razor sharp noise of dripping water echoed again and again. All she knew was that she was hurting. Really hurting. That was when she realised that her tongue was missing...”
Early on a Sunday morning in the North East seaside resort of Whitley Bay, a headless female torso washes up on the beach. Two days later, the body’s missing head appears a mile down the coast – and with that, DI Jack Brady is plunged into one of the most harrowing cases of his career.
Just when things couldn’t get any tougher, news arrives that Brady’s former lover DS Simone Henderson is fighting for her life after a horrific attack – yet unable to identify her assailants as her tongue has been cut out...Brady’s investigation uncovers a depraved sex trade run by some of the most powerful men in the North East; men determined that no-one, not even DI Jack Brady, gets in the way of their foul business. But when he realises that the roots of evil may be too close to home, can he uncover the truth without his own world falling apart?
If you like Peter James, you’ll love Danielle Ramsay.

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He then opened the throttle.

‘Be careful, this Brotherhood is more powerful than you know,’ he warned.

Brady didn’t need the warning. He had witnessed what they were capable of doing.

‘Tell Madley I didn’t mean to fuck him over. It was simply a means to an end.’

Brady nodded.

Nick stretched out his hand and touched Brady’s shoulder.

He in turn grabbed Nick’s arm and held it tight, not knowing when he’d see his brother again.

‘Nick?’ Brady said staring into his brother’s determined eyes.

‘No …’ answered Nick.

He then let go of Brady’s shoulder, pulled his visor down and revved the engine.

Brady stood back and watched as Nick sped off. No turning back.

He waited under the bridge. Waited to hear the roar of the Ducati as it took the Tyne Bridge out of Newcastle.

Brady closed his eyes as he heard the sports bike disappear. Where Nick was going, Brady had no idea. Better that way, he thought.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Brady had tried his best to avoid people when he made his way to his office. The station was buzzing. It was Monday, late afternoon, and the news of Nicoletta being found in time had gotten round. She was currently in Rake Lane Hospital receiving medical attention. Much to everyone’s relief she hadn’t suffered any serious complications from her injuries. She had various broken bones, hypothermia, but nothing more. Shock seemed to be the main concern. But with time, and the right people helping her, Brady was certain she’d recover.

Claudia and her team were already working with Nicoletta. Trying to piece together the events that had led to her being sex trafficked by the Dabkunas brothers.

Macmillan’s boys, Visa and Delta, had both suffered fatal injuries. The only injuries Ronnie Macmillan had suffered were to his face after Brady had apprehended him.

At least, that’s what Brady had told Gates.

It was enough.

Nobody was going to question how much force it took to restrain him.

Rubenfeld had already been in touch. Brady had filled him in on the events. He had to keep him sweet. After all, he was one of his best snitches. And anyway, they had both agreed this was a huge coup for Northumbria Police.

The problem was Ronnie Macmillan had already told him he would never talk. And Brady believed him. He would go down with a damming sentence and still never utter one word in his defence or against his politician brother. No deal would be brokered for information. He would, out of family loyalty, serve without question whatever the courts threw at him. And given what they had, he’d be put away indefinitely.

Gates or O’Donnell weren’t overly concerned by Ronnie Macmillan’s silence. They were more than happy with the outcome. Brady and his team had intercepted a sex trafficking and slavery operation right under everyone’s noses. And then there was the Lithuanian Ambassador who only had the highest accolades for the Chief Superintendent’s force.

Ainsworth and his team were already forensically examining the Jag and the abandoned Mercedes van. Brady was certain that there would be forensic evidence linking the van to Macmillan and the Dabkunas brothers. And then there was the Ambassador’s daughter’s testimony. Not that Brady had been there to take her statement. DCI Gates had dealt with that, along with Chief Superintendent O’Donnell in some disclosed location. After all, this was the Lithuanian Ambassador who had diplomatic immunity. Right now, Brady was certain that his daughter, accompanied by the Ambassador and his armed security, would be flying home in a private jet.

They also had Melissa Ryecroft’s statement detailing how she had been kidnapped by the Dabkunas brothers for the Nietzschean Brotherhood’s nefarious purposes.

Brady swallowed hard. He didn’t want to think about Edita’s decapitated body washed up on the beach. Had the Lithuanian girl been sold to the highest bidder in the Nietzschean Brotherhood? Brady didn’t know and had to accept the chances of ever finding out were slim. He knew that Claudia’s team would be working all hours to find the Dabkunas brothers and the other members of the Nietzschean Brotherhood. But whether they would was another matter entirely.

Brady was certain others were involved. There was a covert brotherhood out there, but he knew that he wouldn’t find out. Not yet, anyway. With some time and investigation he might just add some names.

Nick’s name of course was never mentioned. He hadn’t officially been on the Ambassador’s payroll. In fact, he officially didn’t exist. Job over with, and he had disappeared. The Ambassador would have had money paid in hard, untraceable cash.

Brady didn’t want to think about the Dabkunas brothers. They were still at large. And he knew they would have a price on Nick’s head.

He picked up the brown envelope that Nick had given him.

An unlabelled DVD was inside.

He opened his laptop and put the DVD in.

He watched as it started to play.

A masked man could be seen holding a pistol to a girl’s head. Brady recognised her as Edita, the decapitated Lithuanian girl.

Brady watched, feeling sick as the masked man, ignoring Edita’s pleas, pulled the trigger, firing the captive bolt into her brain. He turned away, unable to watch as her brutalised, heavily bleeding body began to spasm and convulse.

He had seen enough. He had seen what Nick had wanted him to see.

The masked man had no identifiable traits apart from on his right hand. The hand that put the pistol to the victim’s head. He was wearing a gold signet ring with the emblem ‘N’. And his pinky finger had been mutilated, cut off at the joint. Exactly like the man Melissa Ryecroft had described.

Brady picked up his phone and called the number logged from the text Nick had sent him.

The phone had been disconnected. What more did he expect?

He picked up the brown envelope and shook it, hoping to find a note. But there was nothing.

No number. No contact email address. Nothing.

Brady sighed and placed his head in his hands wondering when he’d next see his brother. If ever.

He put the DVD back in the envelope, opened his drawer and filed it. He would get Jed, Northumbria’s computer forensic officer, to analyse it later. Not that he expected to get much back. But he would have to officially hand it over, claiming it had been handed to him anonymously.

First, there was something he needed to do.

He pulled out the bottle of Scotch that he kept for moments like this one. Not that he ever thought this day would come. He slowly unscrewed the lid and poured himself a liberal measure into his Che Guevara mug.

He then placed the open bottle on his desk.

‘To you, Nick,’ sighed Brady.

He then knocked it back. In one swift move. His throat rasped as the whisky, a Talisker bought by Madley, burnt its way down.

He could feel his eyes stinging. They weren’t smarting from the twelve-year-old single malt. Nor was it because of the note on his desk.

It was the note from Charlie Turner that he had read first, before opening up the package from Nick.

Turner had taken a call from Kate Matthews, Jimmy Matthews’ estranged wife, on Brady’s behalf. The call had come into the station thirty minutes ago at 8:33am.

The note simply stated that Matthews had been found at 6:45am by a prison guard in his cell with a ballpoint pen sticking out of his neck. He was now in a critical condition. Whether he would pull through was debatable.

Brady thought back to his conversation yesterday with Matthews. He had begged Brady to help him get out. Had blackmailed him and then tried to trade the information he had on Ronnie Macmillan. He was desperate. And rightly so, thought Brady. Whether the attack would have happened anyway, given he was a copper banged up with the very prisoners he’d helped put away, or whether word had got out that he’d talked was now a moot point. Either way, he was a dead man. Inside prison or outside. And Matthews had made himself a very dangerous enemy: Madley.

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