Vanishing Point (13 page)

Brady stared at the image desperately trying to convince himself he was mistaken. But the longer he stared, the more certain he became that it really was him.

He looked at his phone. With shaking hands he started to key in a mobile number. He knew it from memory. He had never stored it in the phone just in case it fell into the wrong hands.

‘Come on!’ shouted Brady when he keyed in the wrong number.

His hands were shaking uncontrollably. He tried to breathe slowly, deliberately, in an attempt to steady his nerves. He keyed the numbers in again and pressed call.

He listened as the phone rang and rang.

‘Pick up… . pick up!’ urged Brady.

Eventually it cut to an automated voicemail. He disconnected the call and started keying in a London landline number.

He waited. The dial tone was dead. The phone had obviously been disconnected.

‘No … no …’ he muttered, his hands trembling as he cut the dead tone.

He didn’t know what to do next. It took him a minute to realise that he had no choice but to follow Madley’s advice.

He took out the piece of paper that Madley had given him. On it a mobile phone number was scribbled.

Brady keyed it into his phone and waited.

‘What?’ came the sharp answer.

‘Johnny?’ answered Brady. ‘It’s Brady … Jack Brady.’

‘What the hell do you want?’ Slaughter demanded. ‘And who gave you my fucking number?’ His hoarse voice had a heavy, thick East London accent. It was a voice that carried with it an air of sinister threat.

Slaughter didn’t want anyone getting close to him and used his brother, Billy, as a front man. There was a good reason why Billy was known amongst his friends and enemies as ‘Slash’. Anyone who came into contact with Billy never again crossed Johnny Slaughter.

‘Madley gave it to me,’ answered Brady.

He was certain there wouldn’t be any ramifications for Madley. He knew Slaughter and Madley looked out for one another. Madley took care of business if Slaughter ever needed it in the North East and the same applied with Slaughter in London.

‘And why the fuck would he do that?’

Brady steeled himself. ‘I need to know where Nick is.’

‘And how would
I
know where he is?’

‘Madley reckoned you’d know. That’s why he gave me your number. He’s in trouble, Johnny. Serious trouble and I need to find him before the police get him … or worse.’

‘Are you having a laugh or what?’

‘You know what I mean, Johnny. I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t serious.’

‘You should keep a better eye on him. You being a copper an’ all!’

‘I can’t get hold of him. He’s not answering his mobile and his landline’s been disconnected.’

‘Doesn’t surprise me. He’s no doubt on the run!’

‘From who? You?’

‘If he knows what’s good for him, he will be! Nick stopped working for me a month back. Got involved with those Eastern European bastards who are coming over here and taking all our bloody money!’

It didn’t sound like Nick. At least, not the Nick he knew.

‘Are you sure?’ questioned Brady.

‘Too right I am. I saw him myself at Heathrow with two Eastern European Lithuaks!’

‘What was he doing?’ demanded Brady, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.

‘What do you think he was doing?’

‘I don’t know …’ pushed Brady.

‘Trading in goods is what. Him and his new Lithuak mates. Presumably waiting for what they’ve paid for to come off the plane and then they start trading with the other Lithuak shits who hang around there. Just come back from Spain and I run straight into your Judas of a brother. Bloody didn’t know where to look!’

‘Are they dealing in drugs?’ Brady asked.

He was silently hoping that was what the answer was going to be.

‘What didn’t you hear? I said he was in with some Lithuaks! Do you reckon they’re moral like us? Hell no! They’re evil shits. Dirty money is what they deal in. They bring in girls. Eastern European girls from back home, and they sell the poor buggers for the highest price as soon as they’re through customs.’

‘Shit!’ muttered Brady.

‘Yeah, that’s one word for it. I wouldn’t touch that trade if my life depended on it. I’ve got standards. And sadly, I thought Nick had too!’

With that, Johnny Slaughter hung up, leaving Brady worried. The last person he wanted hunting Nick down was Billy ‘Slash’ Slaughter.

He decided to call Nick again. He had no choice but to leave a voicemail.

He waited while the phone connected. It rang and rang before cutting to voicemail.

‘Nick? What the fuck are you doing? Call me, as soon as you get this. I’ll help you, OK? Whatever it takes, Nick, I’ll get you out of this …’

Brady stopped. He didn’t know what else to say so he hung up.

How he was going to help him, he didn’t know. But he was certain about one thing – he’d cross the line to save his brother. Regardless of his career. And that included not letting Madley’s new boy use him as target practice, nor giving Billy Slash-Slaughter the chance to redesign his face.

Chapter Eighteen

Brady thought long and hard about ringing Madley.

But he had no other option.

‘Martin?’

‘What did you find out?’ Madley asked, getting straight to the point.

‘Slaughter said that Nick stopped working for him a month back. That he’s got involved with some Eastern European guys.’

‘Did he give you any names?’

Brady noticed he didn’t sound surprised.

Either Madley had already talked to Slaughter about Nick or … he was holding back on him.

Brady hoped it wasn’t the latter.

‘No … called them Lithuaks though.’

‘Means nothing,’ Madley replied.

Brady couldn’t ignore the fact that there was an edge to Madley’s voice.

‘Martin?’

‘What?’

‘You’d tell me if something was wrong, yeah?’

‘You’re a fucking copper, Jack! Or have you forgotten that? A copper whose brother has just tried to stitch me up.’

Brady kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t deny it.

‘Do you know how long that wanker Adamson questioned me for this morning? Two fucking hours! Two hours out of my life! If it hadn’t been for Rogers turning up, I reckon the wanker would have tried to nail the fucking copper’s attack on me!’

Madley was more than furious.

Brady knew he had to act fast and find Nick before he did.

‘Do you know how much that stunt cost me?’ Before Brady could answer, Madley told him. ‘Too fucking much!’

Brady knew Rogers was one of the best lawyers in the North East, which was why Madley employed him.

‘You find him, you hear? And you make him talk. Make him talk before I get my hands on him. Understand?’

‘Tell me something, who wants you out, Madley?’ asked Brady.

‘Why don’t you stick with what you do for a living and leave me to get on with what I do?’ Madley said quietly, with an air of threat.

‘It’s a little bit late for that, don’t you think, given one of ours is caught up in the middle of it?’ replied Brady.

He waited for a response.

Nothing.

‘Listen to me, Martin, Adamson won’t let this go. Paulie reckons you’ve got competition, that someone’s leaning on you. If that’s the case do you want Adamson sticking you with a copper’s brutal mutilation? Because I promise you, that’s exactly what’s going to happen unless you talk to me.’

Brady listened as the line went dead.

Madley’s silence said it all. The problem was, he wasn’t going to make it easy for Brady. He’d have to do some work to find out exactly who wanted Madley out, and why.

He dragged his hand back through his hair, catching his reflection in the rear view mirror. He looked like he’d had the crap beaten out of him. Which he had.

Then something caught his eye. Something on the back seat.

It was a black bin liner.

Brady quickly spun round.

He suddenly realised that there was something wrong. There was a heavy, foul smell in the air. He had initially thought it was coming from outside the car. He now realised it was coming from the black bin liner behind him.

Chapter Nineteen

He yanked open the door and retched. The contents in the black bin liner gave him no choice.

His stomach kept heaving, even though there was nothing there to force out. Once he was certain that he wasn’t going to retch again, he shut the car door.

He had to get his head together. He needed to make a call. At the end of the day he was still a copper. He had no choice but to call in the SOCOs. It was a crime scene. There was a victim. And if Nick was involved … Well, he’d deal with that later.

He should have parked the car where he could see it. Not that he would have ever expected someone to break into his car and leave behind a black bin liner filled with human remains.

Picking up his phone he saw he had two missed calls. One from Conrad and one from Claudia.

He scrolled through his phone until he found the number he needed. He pressed call and waited. He needed to talk to the head SOCO.

‘Ainsworth? It’s Jack.’

‘This has to be serious for you to be calling me,’ Ainsworth replied.

Brady steeled himself.

‘It is …’

‘Spit it out then, lad. I haven’t got all day!’

‘Evidence was left in my car.’

‘What evidence?’ questioned Ainsworth.

‘A black bin liner containing what I believe to be the murder victim’s head and … a note …’

‘Bloody hell!’ spluttered Ainsworth.

‘Ainsworth? Can we keep this between me and you for now? Just until I can figure out what’s going on?’

‘I’ll tell you what’s going on, lad, someone’s fucking with you. And that someone is serious.’

‘Tell me something new,’ muttered Brady as he looked up at the dark, overcast sky.

‘Right, where the bloody hell is your car?’ demanded Ainsworth.

‘At St Mary’s Lighthouse,’ answered Brady.

‘What the fuck are you doing there?’

‘You don’t want to know,’ answered Brady.

‘Aye, knowing you, Jack, you’ll be right about that. Alright, we’ll be there soon.’

‘Thanks.’ Brady hung up then scrolled down his phonebook and found Wolfe’s number. He pressed call.

‘What’s your problem?’ answered Wolfe.

‘The head’s turned up,’ answered Brady.

‘That was bloody quick work, laddie,’ answered Wolfe. ‘Where was it?’ he questioned, realising from Brady’s silence that he was being serious.

‘In my car,’ replied Brady.

‘Oh shit,’ wheezed Wolfe.

Brady sighed heavily. ‘Are you still at the morgue?’

‘Where else would I be?’

‘The pub?’ replied Brady.

‘Aye, but not in the middle of the afternoon, Jack.’

‘Ainsworth will have it sent over as soon as he’s finished,’ Brady replied before disconnecting the call.

He got out the car, slamming the door shut. He resisted the urge to start kicking it. Pounding it with all the pent-up fury he felt towards his brother. He wanted to destroy it. Destroy everything and anything that connected Brady to Nick.

The car had been bought as a project, one that he and Nick had worked on. Nick had a gift. He had always been able to fix things ever since he was a young child. He had a knack of making something out of nothing, which was exactly what he had done with the car. It had been a shell when they had bought it ten years ago, but Nick had spent months working on it on the odd weekends, patiently rebuilding it to beyond its former glory.

That was before Nick’s work started to get in the way and he moved to London permanently. He had said it was for more lucrative jobs, but Brady knew better. He was basically keeping out of Brady’s way. The last thing Nick wanted was for his choice of profession to sabotage Brady’s career as a copper. Or for his brother to be the one to nick him, should it come to that. Brady knew exactly what Nick did for a living; but he never asked questions. Nick hired himself out as a bodyguard; at least that’s what he had told Brady. At 6´3?, muscle-bound but lithe, with intelligent, calculating green eyes and cropped dark blonde hair, and a thick, three-inch scar down his left cheek, he was never short of work. Or money.

The loyalty between them was unquestionable. Brady had always made sure that he took his father’s sadistic and drunken beatings instead of Nick. He had protected Nick at all costs, even to the detriment of his mother’s life. If it hadn’t been for Nick, Brady would never have left his mother to die at his father’s hands. But instead he had done as his mother had begged, taken his younger brother and hidden him from his father’s murderous rage.

And Nick had been worth protecting.

So why would Nick, his own brother, turn on him? Let alone get involved in something so sick, so wrong?

Brady stared at the car, his watering eyes burning with pain as he fought the tumult of emotions that were threatening to break him. He wanted to get a can of petrol and throw it over the car and torch it in a bid to exorcise himself of the agonising betrayal he felt. But he couldn’t. It was part of a crime scene. One that involved him in too many ways.

He took the DVD which he had removed from the laptop and thrust it into the inner pocket of his jacket. The last person he wanted getting their hands on this evidence was Adamson.

Despite what he felt, he still couldn’t believe that his brother was capable of such a heinous crime. Not against Madley and definitely not against him. Above all, he wouldn’t be part of something that would abuse and terrorise a woman like that. It was unthinkable.

He turned away from the car unable to look at it. Unable to accept that here he was still protecting Nick. He was putting his career on the line and for what?

But he knew the answer. Nick was all he had now. And until he had spoken to him, Brady refused to believe, despite the evidence in his pocket, that his own brother could be involved in such a sickening crime against a female copper. Let alone one who meant so much to him personally.

Chapter Twenty