Vanishing Point (39 page)

He wedged the bar under the lip of the boot lid and somehow, with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, he prised it open.

He heard gasps behind him. And realised that the armed response unit had followed him, as had the paramedics.

A girl with long dark hair lay naked in a foetal position. Arms and legs bound, mouth gagged.

For a moment, Brady thought she was dead. Her skin unnaturally pale. The torches shining into the black, industrial plastic lined boot showed an arsenal of torture implements. Varying lengths of knives neatly arranged in a leather holder. Ropes and black tape lay across the knives, ready and waiting. But in the corner of the boot, Brady immediately recognised a captive bolt pistol from the images Claudia had shown them at the briefing which now felt like a life-time ago.

He looked at the girl’s chest, to see whether she was still breathing. To his relief he could see it move. Delicately and out of balance.

Brady bent down and as gently as he could tore off the black tape that gagged her mouth.

She gasped.

Eyes wide, terrified. She stared at him. Her large almond brown eyes screamed of the unimaginable horrors she had witnessed.

‘Monika?’ he quietly questioned. ‘It’s the police. You’re alright. You’re going to be alright.’

Brady stood back and let the paramedics get her out. He watched as she was wrapped in a blanket and then laid on a stretcher. He realised that her captors had drugged her: her eyes were wide open. Her mouth unmoving, her breathing like a bird with a broken wing struggling to fly.

Brady stared into her eyes. He knew she held the key to the whereabouts of both Melissa Ryecroft and Nicoletta.

‘Monika?’ he whispered, crouching down. ‘Where’s Melissa? Girl who looks just like you. They took her. The men that took you, they took her as well. And another girl, Nicoletta. Where are they?’

Monika stared at him, eyes wide with terror.

She somehow managed to shake her head.

‘No … no …’ she mumbled with a heavy Eastern European accent.

‘What, Monika? What did they do?’

‘They … they have her. Took her in the van …’ she mumbled in shock.

Brady watched, feeling his stomach contract.

‘Who? Monika? Took who?’ he desperately demanded.

‘Melissa …’ she whispered.

‘Nicoletta? What about Nicoletta?’ pleaded Brady.

She looked at him terrified. She shook her head.

‘I don’t know … . I don’t know …’

Brady felt sick. He realised she was telling the truth. She had no idea.

He then thought of Melissa. The black Mercedes van in which the Dabkunas brothers had sped off.

He didn’t have time to think. He had to react.

He didn’t realise it but he was shaking. Trembling uncontrollably.

A paramedic wrapped a blanket around him.

Brady threw it off.

He limped to his car just as the Ambassador’s Russian-plated limousine pulled up.

The driver got out. But the Ambassador had already got out first. He pushed his way through the police towards Brady. His bright blue eyes mad with fear.

‘Monika?’ he questioned. ‘My daughter? Monika?’

Brady touched the Ambassador on the shoulder to reassure him.

‘She’s going to be alright,’ Brady said.

Tears flowed down the Ambassador’s face as he lost all restraint.

He nodded in gratitude.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

Brady watched as he left him and moved through the officers and medics to get to his daughter.

He turned to make his way to the Granada, catching the Ambassador’s driver’s eye as he did so. The other man gave Brady a curt, stiff nod of respect before he took charge again.

Brady automatically checked the limousine as he passed it, but could see that Nick wasn’t in the car. He expected no less.

He walked over and climbed in the Granada. He then picked up his phone.

He had four missed calls from DS Harvey.

‘Tom?’ he questioned. ‘Where are you?’

‘Wallsend docks, Jack.’

‘Did you get them?’

‘The bastards got away from us. They had another car waiting for them. Took off before we realised it. Daniels and Kenny tried to follow but they’ve just disappeared. The chopper’s looking for them now but I wouldn’t hold much hope. Didn’t even see the make of the car. Looked like a black BMW saloon, but couldn’t be sure. Didn’t even get a partial on the licence plate. Between the two cars we managed to get the van off the road. But they were too quick. They’d had a car following. They’d obviously planned to dump the van.’

Brady sat back. His breathing shallow and low as he listened.

He didn’t want to ask the inevitable question. But he had no choice.

‘Are they there? In the van? Melissa Ryecroft? Nicoletta?’

‘I’m sorry, Jack. I really am,’ answered Harvey.

‘For fuck’s sake, Tom. Just give it to me straight will you?’

Brady noticed that his free hand was trembling.

‘Melissa Ryecroft is in a bad way. She’s been badly beaten and raped, but she’s still alive. Paramedics are taking her to Rake Lane. But …’ Harvey’s voice faltered.

‘What? What did they do to Nicoletta? What the fuck did they do?’ demanded Brady.

‘She’s not there, Jack. We have no idea where she is,’ answered Harvey quietly.

‘What about Melissa Ryecroft? Does she know what’s happened to Nicoletta?’ asked Brady, unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

‘I’ve questioned her about Nicoletta. And she’s answered as well as she could under the circumstances. But she doesn’t know her whereabouts or what happened to her.’

Brady hung up. There was nothing left to say.

He didn’t have the time to fill Harvey in on all the details. Not that he knew, anyway. He would have to wait until the Ambassador made a formal statement to know whether or not his daughter had been kidnapped and held for ransom. And what part his own brother had played.

He needed to get as far away from the flashing blue lights and screeching sirens as he could. He would answer questions later. First he needed to find Nick. He needed to check he was alright. And then he needed answers.

He pulled back onto the Links dual carriage way and sped back towards the lighthouse, trying to block out the image of Conrad lying on the ground, unconscious. The paramedics had assured him he would be alright. That it was a superficial wound. The bullet had gone through his shoulder. It could have been worse: it could have gone through a vital organ. Not that that made Brady feel any better.

He still felt as if he was going to throw up.

How could he have let this happen to Conrad?

Frustrated and angry with himself, he violently swung the car off the dual carriageway, turning as tyres protested onto the single-lane road towards the lighthouse. He sped past the first car park, forcing the car round the bend into the second one.

His headlights lit up the bleak, isolated spot. It was deserted.

He got out the car, leaving the engine running and walked over to where he had seen his brother fall. Blood covered the ground. Nick’s blood.

Brady wildly looked about him. No one.

‘Nick!’ he frantically screamed at the top of his voice.

‘Nick?’ he repeated in all directions until his voice turned hoarse.

Nothing. He had gone.

Chapter Forty-Six

Brady looked up expectantly at Claudia as she walked out of Simone Henderson’s room.

Despite the fact it was 2:47am she was still dressed for the Ambassador’s function at the Grand Hotel in a long black dress. In her hand she carried a pair of designer three-inch heels.

Brady stood up, holding back a wince. His leg and ribs still throbbed from the exertion of running after Ronnie Macmillan.

Claudia walked over to him, her bare feet softly padding against the sterile floor.

She shook her head apologetically.

‘I’m sorry … she’s refusing to see you, Jack.’

Brady tried to swallow back his emotions.

‘I … I understand …’

‘She’s just not ready to see anyone,’ explained Claudia.

But he wasn’t anyone, thought Brady.

He nodded. He would give her some time and then he would come back. He needed to talk to her. Reassure her that he would be there if she needed him. Brady accepted that it was irrational to feel responsible for what had happened to Simone, but it didn’t lessen the overwhelming guilt he felt.

‘What do you think she’ll do when she recovers?’ asked Brady.

‘I know the force wouldn’t turn their back on her. I’m sure they’d find a position for her when she’s ready,’ quietly answered Claudia.

‘What? A desk job? That’s not Simone. It would kill her …’ Brady said, faltering.

‘I don’t know, Jack. I think the focus right now is on her recovery.’

Brady turned away from Claudia. He didn’t want her to see how the thought of what lay ahead for Simone pained him.

‘At least we have her evidence against Ronnie Macmillan and his men. And the Dabkunas brothers,’ stated Claudia optimistically, in an attempt to change the subject.

But Brady knew it was false optimism. They might have evidence against the Dabkunas brothers. But that was all.

‘I’ve got to go,’ he muttered dejectedly.

‘Are you okay?’ asked Claudia, concerned.

She gently rested her hand on his arm.

He looked at her, not knowing what she expected him to say.

‘I mean … I heard … about Conrad.’

‘Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks to him. If he hadn’t taken that bullet in his shoulder for me it would be a different story.’

‘How is he?’

‘Out of surgery. The doctors reckon he was lucky it was just his shoulder …’ answered Brady, not wanting to think about what could have happened to his deputy.

He owed Conrad his life. Something he would never forget. He had paced the floor for the past two hours while a team of doctors and nurses had worked to remove the shattered pieces of bone. Only when he knew he was definitely going to be alright had Brady left his side. He still had a job to do. And he knew that was what Conrad would have wanted.

Claudia stared at him. Waiting.

‘Jack?’ she began.

Brady wasn’t sure what she wanted. He wasn’t sure about anything any more.

‘There was nothing you could have done,’ she said, as if reading his mind.

He looked at her.

‘Nicoletta. The Dabkunas brothers have no doubt taken her. Look, if it’s any help there’s a nationwide search on to apprehend them. All airports, ports and docks have been informed. It won’t be long before we get them. And hopefully Nicoletta,’ reassured Claudia.

But her voice sounded as confident as Brady felt.

He knew the chances of catching them were slim. They were ex-militia with an international network behind them. And money. The Nietzschean Brotherhood had successfully eluded the authorities so far. And Brady couldn’t see why that would change.

Claudia’s phone suddenly buzzed. She took it out and looked at the message.

‘Look, I’ve …’ she faltered, unsure.

‘I know. He’s waiting for you outside.’

Her hand limply dropped back to her side.

‘Give Conrad my best,’ she said.

Brady nodded.

He watched as she disappeared through the ICU security doors.

He knew she’d be alright. After all, she had DCI Davidson waiting to take her home.

*

Brady sat still, very still beside Melissa Ryecroft’s bed.

She had fallen asleep. Her breathing soft and relaxed.

The exertion of telling him what had happened had taken its toll.

As had the sadistic cruelty she had suffered.

At least she was heavily sedated. The drugs working to keep the nightmare of the past seventy-two hours at bay. For the time being, until she woke up. Then she would have to relive the horror of being raped, again and again.

But Brady still had questions he needed answering before her parents would be brought to her bedside.

Unfortunately, questions she couldn’t answer.

She had no idea what had happened to Nicoletta. Didn’t know whether she was alive or dead. The last time she had seen her was in the back of the black Mercedes van hours earlier when they had taken Monika out, leaving her and Nicoletta. They had then drugged them both and when she had come round she had been alone in the van.

The Dabkunas brothers had gone. Taking whatever personal belongings they needed before getting out of the North East – including the women they owned. Melissa had explained that Macmillan and the Dabkunas brothers had kept at least ten girls enslaved, hidden in some undisclosed apartment down by North Shields quayside.

It fitted exactly with what Nicoletta had told him.

But they were gone. Long gone. Dismantled their sick operation when Claudia’s team had gone in, their investigation inadvertently warning the Dabkunas brothers and Macmillan that the police were watching them.

Brady couldn’t help noticing the bruising on Melissa’s pale thin arms where she had been held down. Her face was swollen and covered in cuts from where she had been hit. And hard, thought Brady.

He looked at the tell-tale mottled, purplish bruising around her neck where one of the Dabkunas brothers had choked her until she had passed out.

She had told him how she had tried to escape on the first night; the Thursday night after they had picked her up from the airport.

She had been taken, blindfolded, to the undisclosed apartment where the other girls were held. An apartment that they were still searching to no avail in a desperate bid to find Nicoletta.

Gates had ordered every officer in and had demanded backup from other area commands. But so far, Nicoletta hadn’t been found.

Brady looked at Melissa. He didn’t like to think of what she had suffered. Brutally raped into submission by both brothers. Then taken out of bed for a meeting in the early hours of Friday morning with a prospective punter. One with a distinctive feature – he had a finger missing. And he was part of the Nietzschean Brotherhood. The white platinum ‘N’ signet ring a giveaway.