Vanishing Point (41 page)

He had reached his destination. Under the metallic, dark green curve of the Tyne Bridge right next to the red swing bridge.

No one. At least no one that he recognised.

He shakily got out his phone and checked. Nothing.

‘Fuck!’ he cursed as he dragged his hand back through his hair and scanned the car park in front of the swing bridge for any sign.

Then Brady heard the distinctive roar of a Ducati 848 sports bike as it raced down the quayside towards him.

He watched as the black Ducati and rider with matching black leathers and helmet pulled up in front of him.

For a moment Brady didn’t know what to do.

The rider sat upright and lifted his black tinted visor and looked at Brady.

‘What took you so long?’ he asked.

‘Tying up loose ends,’ answered Brady.

‘You’re lucky I came back. They’ll be looking for me now,’ stated Nick.

‘I know,’ answered Brady. ‘Your arm?’

Nick automatically looked down at his left arm.

‘Sorted,’ he answered simply.

‘Who?’ asked Brady, knowing full well that Nick couldn’t have gone to hospital without questions being asked.

‘You don’t want to know.’

All Brady could see was Nick’s blue eyes. Narrowed and dangerously dark.

He was on the run. Had to get out of the North East before they put a bullet through his head.

‘The Ambassador’s daughter?’ asked Nick.

‘She’s fine. They hadn’t touched her,’ answered Brady knowing full well that wasn’t the reason Nick had risked his neck to meet him.

‘What about—’

Brady cut in. ‘Found her minutes before the tide would have taken her out.’

‘Is she alive?’

Brady nodded.

‘She’s a mess. Broken bones, hypothermia, but thankfully she’ll live. She was there for over five and a half hours. If it hadn’t been a warm May night she would have …’ Brady faltered and shook his head.

They both knew that on any other night the cold, North East climes would have killed her. Or had her head hit one of rocks below on impact she would have been dead. Luck had been on her side. And Brady’s.

‘If they hadn’t been in such a rush to get away they would have made sure that she didn’t survive that drop. They must have quickly pushed her over the edge which was fortunate for her as it seems that she rolled down the cliff’s slope, landing up against the rocks below. They didn’t realise we would find her. Let alone alive. They no doubt thought that if the drop didn’t kill her, then the tide soon would.’

Nick sighed, relieved.

He then looked Brady in the eye.

‘I wish we could talk but …’ Nick turned his head to the overhead bridge towards the dull sound of morning traffic.

Brady knew he had to cross the bridge heading south. Putting as much distance between him and the North East as physically possible.

‘The Dabkunas brothers?’ asked Brady.

‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ answered Nick.

‘The Ambassador?’

‘Contracted me to find his daughter,’ Nick replied. ‘Unofficial of course.’

Brady waited.

‘A month back she was drugged and kidnapped from a nightclub in London. Held for ransom. No police involvement or she ends up dead. Small mercy given what the Brotherhood would have done to her first,’ stated Nick.

‘Why? For money?’ questioned Brady.

He knew from Conrad’s research into the Lithuanian Ambassador that he was a multi-millionaire.

Nick narrowed his eyes as he studied Brady.

‘You call yourself a copper, Jack?’

Brady looked puzzled.

‘The Dabkunas brothers and whoever it was that was controlling them wanted a piece of his container line.’

Brady remembered that Conrad had said he had an international cargo business. One now contracted to the North East shipping Polish goods in. But Brady now realised what kind of cargo the Dabkunas brothers had intended on shipping.

‘Skin traders?’ questioned Brady.

Nick didn’t answer. There was no need. His eyes said it all.

‘Mayor Macmillan?’ Brady asked, all too aware that he had gone into partnership with the Ambassador. ‘What’s his involvement?’

Nick shook his head. ‘I’ve done my job. Like you said, yours is to tie up the loose ends.’

He pulled out a brown package from his jacket.

‘This might help,’ he said, handing it over to Brady.

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.

Brady sighed heavily. He hadn’t slept for days. But he wasn’t ready to go home; not yet. Still too pumped with adrenalin.

But he knew full well the reasons why.

It was watching a Lithuanian girl being brutally tortured to death. She had died a horrific, unimaginable death.

He raised the mug one more time.

‘Edita … and to the others still out there,’ Brady whispered.

His phone suddenly buzzed.

It was Amelia.

‘Hi,’ he quietly answered.

‘I just wanted to check how Conrad was doing?’ Amelia replied, her voice filled with concern.

‘He’s good. Or should I say as good as can be expected. It could have been a lot worse,’ sighed Brady.

‘How are you bearing up?’

‘I’m OK,’ Brady replied.

There was a heavy silence. They both knew he was lying.

‘If you want someone to talk to you know where I am,’ offered Amelia breaking the palpable awkwardness.

Brady didn’t answer.

‘Look, I’ve got to go. Let me know if you want to get together for a coffee or maybe a drink, yeah?’ suggested Amelia.

‘Yeah … Thanks,’ muttered Brady.

There was nothing left to say so she hung up.

Brady sighed heavily. He wasn’t ready yet.

But he recognised it was time to move on.

To let go of the past.

Read on for an extract of Danielle Ramsay’s compulsive
debut novel,
Broken Silence
, out now.

Chapter One

She felt sick, really sick.

She moaned as the ground started to swirl in front of her.

‘Oh fuck!’ she slurred as she drunkenly collapsed onto her hands and knees.