‘Problem?’ questioned Madley, still with his back to Brady.
‘You tell me,’ answered Brady as he walked over to the window trying his best not to limp.
The last thing he wanted was Weasel Face spotting a weakness.
Madley didn’t answer.
‘Boys. Leave us alone,’ ordered Madley.
Madley waited until the door was firmly closed.
‘Matthews …’ Brady began.
Madley looked at him and waited.
‘Ronnie Macmillan’s boys went to see him inside. Wanted a word. They knew he worked for you.’ He watched Madley’s reaction.
Madley’s glinting brown eyes narrowed suspiciously.
They stood in silence for a few moments watching through the window the blood-red explosion that lit up the horizon.
‘Bastard,’ Madley finally said.
There was a tone of finality in that one word. Enough for a cold shiver to go down Brady’s spine.
‘Exactly what did he say?’ Madley questioned.
Brady shrugged.
‘Exactly what?’ repeated Madley.
‘Reckons that my old man was stitched up by two of your boys.’
‘And that’s what Matthews told Macmillan’s boys?’
Brady nodded.
‘Visa and Delta are their names. Seems they took the shit my old man’s been saying seriously.’
‘Fucking bastard. Deserves everything he got.’ There was a malevolent menace in Madley’s voice.
Brady couldn’t disagree with him.
‘And what? Matthews is listening to that piece of snivelling shit?’
‘Matthews wants out,’ answered Brady.
‘Heart fucking bleeds. Bent copper and all, he won’t last long inside.’
Again, a chill went down Brady’s spine.
‘Not only that, Matthews identified a photograph they had of Simone Henderson. The copper found in your toilets early yesterday this morning,’ he added.
Madley’s eyes dangerously narrowed as he absorbed this new information.
‘Martin?’
‘What?’
Brady noted that Madley still wouldn’t look at him. His glinting brown eyes were studying the drunken, high-spirited revellers below with predatory interest. He had the look of a man who was out for the kill. And Brady knew that Nick, amongst others, was a target.
‘Why didn’t you say what’s been going on with Ronnie Macmillan?’ ventured Brady.
Madley’s jaw tightened.
‘Because I can sort this out myself,’ he answered.
‘Doesn’t seem that way to me,’ replied Brady.
‘I wouldn’t worry about me, Jack. I’d say you already have your hands full trying to stop that brother of yours. He’s got himself involved with some bad company. Just like before, but this time he can’t come running to me to sort it.’
‘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.’
‘So how do they get the body out there so it gets washed up? If they do it by Whitley Bay or Cullercoats or even Tynemouth Beach surely someone would see them? And the van was heading in the opposite direction, sir,’ Conrad pointed out.
‘Wrong location, Conrad,’ snapped Brady. ‘I used to play around the lighthouse when I was a kid. There’s a sandy beach down there hidden from view on the left-hand side. The other side is covered in rock pools and jagged rocks so a boat wouldn’t be able to come in on that side to take the body out. And nor would they throw a body over the railings on that side as it would hit the rocks below. I reckon a small tugboat must have met them down there on that beach. It wouldn’t make much noise so it wouldn’t bring unwanted attention. Edita’s body would have been taken out and dumped in between tides. If they wanted her to disappear they would have weighted her down, Conrad. And they didn’t. After talking to Nicoletta I reckon that Edita was murdered and her body was intentionally dumped so it would wash up as a warning to the other girls like her not to attempt to make a run for it.’
Conrad’s silence said it all.
‘Get back to me as soon as you’ve got something,’ he muttered thickly, realising that Conrad didn’t quite trust him on this.
He sighed heavily as he cut the call. He couldn’t blame Conrad. None of it made sense; least of all to him. He had been certain from everything that Carl had said that Ronnie Macmillan and his boys Visa and Delta had attacked Simone. But now he wasn’t so sure. The CCTV evidence showing the black Mercedes van heading back to the Blue Lagoon suggested that this was the work of the Dabkunas brothers. And he couldn’t ignore the fact that Nick was in their employment. Trina McGuire had said as much. Nor could he ignore the fact that his brother had left Simone’s body in the toilets before making the 999 call.
All Brady could think was that Ronnie Macmillan and his boys procured Simone for the Dabkunas brothers as some business deal. That possibility was made all the more likely by the fact that Simone, according to Claudia, was already investigating the Eastern European brothers who Brady now believed were operating an international sex trafficking operation using St Mary’s Lighthouse as a drop-off point.
He agitatedly ran his hand over the dark stubble covering his face.
He had a small, over-stretched team doing everything in their power to find some information on the Dabkunas brothers, to lead them to Melissa Ryecroft’s whereabouts. Appeals had been made to the public for any information regarding the abducted teenager. Brady had decided it was better to go armed with as much information as possible to throw at the public. Then, hopefully, they’d get some kosher calls connected to the murder rather than the crazies who wanted instant fame and notoriety, regardless of how they came by it. As of yet, nothing concrete had come back about either the car used for her abduction or the two men seen placing her in the back of it. Her friends had all been interviewed but there had been no contact from her since her disappearance. Nor did they have any information on the victim’s boyfriend, Marijuis Dabkunas. Either from her friends, or from any other police authorities.
Brady reluctantly accepted that the Dabkunas brothers’ military background gave them the skills and knowledge to cover their tracks and elude detection. He shuddered to think how large their operation actually was and how many girls had ended up like Edita Aginatas.
*
He looked at the other missed call: Claudia. Davidson had obviously told her that Brady had rung.
He pressed call and waited, hoping that he wouldn’t hear DCI Davidson’s voice.
‘Claudia?’ questioned Brady when the call was answered.
‘I haven’t got time to talk, Jack,’ agitatedly stated Claudia.
Brady supported the phone against his hunched shoulder as he used his free hand to rub his eyes. He was tired and hungry and in need of a drink. But he knew his night was just beginning.
‘Claudia,’ Brady began, ignoring her exasperation, ‘when you searched Macmillan’s club did you thoroughly search all the rooms on the first and second floor?’
‘Jack, Ronnie Macmillan has nothing. He’s clean. Just like his brother, Mayor Macmillan. You’ve got to let this obsession of yours go before it costs you your job.’
‘Answer the question.’
Claudia sighed wearily.
‘No. Alright?’
‘No,’ repeated Brady. ‘I thought you had a warrant? I asked you specifically to search the cellar and all the rooms above the club.’
‘To check out whether the girls he had employed there were legal. Yes. But we didn’t have a warrant to go poking around in the disused rooms upstairs. There’s only so much I can do, Jack. Unlike you, I play by the law. Remember that? You need a good reason to search his private premises. His work place is a different matter. We went in on the principle that we’d had reports that he was employing illegal immigrants. Nothing more.’
‘Personal premises?’ questioned Brady.
‘That’s what I said. Supposedly he occupies
the upstairs rooms. Said he likes to live above the club to keep an eye on his business.’
‘Shit, Claudia!’
‘What?’
‘You’ve given him ample warning to get rid of whatever women or evidence of sex trafficking and imprisonment he has there. Including Nicoletta,’ Brady agitatedly pointed out.
‘Come on, Jack. You can’t lay this at my door!’
‘Can’t I?’
‘You know you can’t,’ replied Claudia firmly. ‘I did everything I possibly could within the constraints of the law.’
‘Yeah? Tell that to Nicoletta’s family and Melissa Ryecroft’s parents. And God knows who else these bastards are holding.’
Claudia was silent.
‘Look, I’m sorry. Alright? It’s just …’ Brady faltered.
‘Don’t you think I feel the same way? I deal with this kind of crime day in, day out. But unfortunately there are procedures to be followed whether we like it or not.’
‘I know,’ muttered Brady.
‘Look, I’ve got to go. Keep me updated?’
‘Sure,’ answered Brady before the line was disconnected.
He started the engine up and pulled the Granada out from Brook Street and turned right into the Promenade.
He narrowed his eyes as he slowed down for the zebra crossing ahead. He looked to his right and watched as what looked to be a hen party staggered across the road, the scantily-clad women walking arm in arm, four-inch heels clattering as they went.
Brady double-checked the rear view mirror again, making sure he wasn’t being followed. Despite his feeling that someone was tailing his every move, the road was clear. He pulled away, heading along the coast in the direction of the Grand Hotel in Tynemouth. Adrenalin was coursing through his veins at the thought of what was coming next.
He had two girls missing.
One Lithuanian sex slave who he only knew as Nicoletta, taken by Ronnie Macmillan, and the other, a sixteen-year-old sixth-form student who had been abducted by the Dabkunas brothers.
Chapter Forty-Two
Brady pulled up opposite the Grand Hotel. It was now 8:13pm. All he could do was wait. He switched the Granada’s engine off and looked at the steps leading up to the hotel. Red lights burnt on either side of the imposing hotel. A doorman in gold braid and a top hat stood erect, looking official.
Vanishing Point Page 28
