Vanishing Point (21 page)

Brady gave her a look which told her to move it along.

‘Nihilism is the belief that nothing has any inherent importance and that life lacks purpose. If God is dead, then nothing remains to which man can cling and orient himself by. He can effectively do what he wants as long as he doesn’t get caught.’

Brady noted that Claudia had lost Kenny and Daniels five minutes ago.

‘That’s all very interesting, I’m sure,’ interrupted Brady. ‘But what has a group of nihilistic blokes got to do with this investigation?’ he asked.

‘Everything,’ answered Claudia.

‘Go on,’ said Brady, intrigued by the conviction in her voice.

But he was already starting to do the maths himself.

The platinum signet rings that he’d seen the Eastern European men wearing had the letter ‘N’ as the emblem.

The note left in Brady’s car alongside the victim’s severed head had been signed with the ‘N’ emblem, matching the freeze-framed, digitally enhanced image of the ring’s emblem that Jed had sent him.

He then thought of the ‘N’ branded on Simone Henderson’s left breast.

Had Simone come across something to do with the Nietzschean Brotherhood? Is that what had brought up to the North East?

He wanted to run some of these ideas past Claudia to see what she thought. Also, given that Simone Henderson’s investigation was off-limits for him, he’d have to tread carefully.

‘Well …’ began Claudia. ‘Two things.’

She stood up and walked over to the whiteboard.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked Brady.

‘Be my guest,’ he replied, noting that she didn’t give him much choice.

Brady nodded at Harvey to step down.

Harvey shot a questioning look at Brady. As did Kodovesky.

Brady discreetly gestured for them to let Claudia talk.

Claudia looked at the whiteboard which was also a smart board.

Brady watched as she touched icons at the bottom left-hand corner of the screen, bringing up multiple images of the branding found on Melissa Ryecroft’s body.

‘As you can see here, the two letters “MD” positioned below the scorpion are roughly three inches in diameter. This branding exists in the livestock trade of course, but also in the sex slavery world. It’s about ownership, as I’m sure you have realised.’

She paused as she uploaded new photographs of other female victims onto the whiteboard.

‘These ten female sex victims you can see here have all been branded with the same mark as your murder victim,’ Claudia pointed out. ‘I’ve seen these letters “MD” and the scorpion marking on five victims from the South as well as ten allegedly trafficked girls brought to the North East and made to work in the sex trade. We carried out a raid on the Dock pub down by the quayside in Newcastle. The seedier end, not the refurbished part.’

Brady nodded. He knew exactly where it was – had been dragged down that way a couple of times by the lads. It wasn’t a savoury place. It was down the dark end by the Tyne Bridge where hookers stood about in doorways tabbing or injecting, depending on their habit. And once they’d had their fix, they would be ducking and peering as the cars slowly drove down. Money for their next fix their only concern.

Claudia continued. ‘The place was raided because we’d had reports that the lap dancing girls there were offering an extensive range of sexual services in a couple of the back rooms. That, and they were being held against their will. One of the punters had become concerned when one of the girls disappeared. His favourite girl. She told him her name was Edita Aginatas and that she was from a Lithuanian village. He couldn’t remember the name of the village, only that it began with “R”. He started asking too many questions about where she’d gone and ended up badly beaten on his way home from the pub one night. Reckoned it was one of the men in charge of the girls: had an Eastern European accent like them. Punter reported the attack, which is why we went in. But by the time we got there we found that the girls had been moved.’

She turned and looked at the room, her face expressionless.

‘We presume that when the punter kicked up a fuss about the missing girl, they got nervous and relocated the group. It happens.’

Brady noticed a hint of regret in her voice.

Regret that they hadn’t got there sooner.

‘That wasn’t that long ago. Last Saturday night to be precise,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘But the information we got from the punter is that all ten girls were branded with this identical mark. So I’d suggest that the victim you have here, Melissa Ryecroft, was either bought or lured by the men that ran the operation at the Dock pub and are presumably running it at some other premises.’

‘Where is she now? The girl who the punter reported missing. Did you find her?’ asked Brady, leaning forward.

‘No … we did run a check on the name. We found out that Edita Aginatas is in fact a seventeen year old from a Lithuanian village by the name of Raseiniai.’

Claudia suddenly put her photograph on the whiteboard.

‘Now listed as missing. The punter did say that she hadn’t been branded like the others with the letters “MD” below the scorpion. Why that was, we have no idea. Maybe they were planning on selling her on and so didn’t brand her, we’re not sure.’

Claudia tentatively bit her lip as she looked at the photograph of the girl.

The missing teenager had long dark hair tied up at the back. Her dark brown eyes smiled at the camera. Her tanned skin glistened in what must have been the summer sun. She had a carefree beauty about her.

But something about her reminded Brady of someone.

He realised it was Melissa Ryecroft.

‘Lithuanian, you said?’ Brady questioned, his mind racing.

He thought of the two Eastern European looking brothers and the Lithuanian licence plate on the black Mercedes his brother was driving.

Johnny Slaughter’s words had also got under his skin, making him uneasy.

‘Lithuaks’, Johnny Slaughter had said. ‘Lithuaks’ who dealt in sex trafficking.

‘Yes, definitely Lithuanian,’ answered Claudia. She caught his eye, curious as to what was going through his mind.

‘I believe these initials belong to the two Eastern European brothers who are running this operation,’ continued Claudia.

‘Eastern European?’ questioned Brady.

Claudia nodded. ‘Yes. Edita Aginatas had told this punter that one of them was her boyfriend. He was Lithuanian also. They’d met allegedly in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania, and he had persuaded her to come over to the UK. She flew into London a few months ago, flight paid for by him. When she landed, he was waiting … with his brother. They took her passport and took her to an undisclosed house in London where she was raped and beaten by both men, until she acquiesced.’

Claudia noticed the confusion on Daniels’ face.

‘They rape and beat these girls to break their spirits. Sometimes it takes a couple of days to break them, for others it can take up to a week. Then they get put to work, maybe servicing up to twenty punters a day, working a fifteen-hour day.’

‘Why don’t they escape then or go to the police?’ asked Daniels.

‘They’re threatened that if they run, or tell any of the punters what’s really going on, then they’ll be punished. Or worse, a family member back home will get hurt. They’re also watched twenty-four-seven by these men. They’re valuable commodities that can earn these men tens of thousands of pounds.’

Daniels looked taken aback.

Brady had to remind himself that the kid was working in Whitley Bay, not London or Paris or Frankfurt. This was a small seaside resort that relied on stag and hen parties to keep the pubs and clubs afloat. Or more to the point, to keep North Tyneside Council in revenue.

‘Brothers? You said the two Eastern European men were brothers?’ questioned Brady.

Claudia nodded.

‘That’s all the information we got. No names, nothing. Just that the men were Lithuanian and were brothers. Evil by all accounts,’ she added.

‘Why did they move her up here from London? And the other girls, I presume they were moved as well?’ asked Brady.

‘Maybe they’ve relocated here because it was starting to get too difficult for them in the South. They could be getting squeezed out. Or it could simply be that they’re expanding. I don’t know. All I know is that they brought this girl up with them along with the others. But this is the first time we’ve come across this type of branding up here in the North East. So they’re new to the area.’

‘Did you get a description of the brothers, apart from the fact that they’re Eastern European?’ asked Brady.

Claudia shook her head.

‘The girl was too scared to tell the punter. Thought they might kill him if he found out too much. And she was scared they would harm her for talking.’

Brady nodded, disappointed.

‘Two rules when you’re a sex slave. Never say no to a punter, regardless of what they want. And rule number two, you don’t talk. Nothing personal about your old life or who’s pimping you.’ Claudia paused as she looked around the room. ‘Sorry. Wish I had more to give …’

‘You’ve told us a lot more than we expected,’ assured Brady.

He sat back and thought over what she had told them. His eyes were automatically drawn to the images of the sex slaves on the whiteboard whose whereabouts were unknown.

Brady leaned forward, turning his attention back to Claudia. ‘You said the punter was attacked? Who attacked him? Did he give you a description of them?’

Claudia shook her head. ‘No, it was dark and the attacker was wearing a hoodie under his leather jacket. Had it pulled right over his head, partially covering his face. The punter reckoned he was tall, about 6´2? and well-built. As if he went to the gym. He also reckoned he had an Eastern European accent.’

‘I see,’ muttered Brady. ‘Can we talk to this punter?’ He realised he could have some information that could help the investigation.

Claudia shook her head. ‘No … last Sunday evening, the night after we’d raided the Dock, his first-floor council flat in Elswick was firebombed. The front door was the only way in and out and it had been locked from the outside. He was barricaded in. I don’t know if you remember it on the news? It made national headlines.’

Brady nodded, as did everyone else. They had heard about it.

A single man in his early fifties had burnt to death, unable to get out the front door. Even if he hadn’t been locked in, he would have had to run through the petrol that had been poured through the letterbox and set alight. And then there was the Molotov cocktail they’d thrown in for good measure.

What the hell were they up against, Brady mused as he looked at Claudia.

He wondered if she knew more than she was telling him. If she was holding something back. Something connected to Simone Henderson. But what?

And as for the Eastern European brothers, he wondered whether they were the same men that Nick was working for and perhaps, as Claudia had suggested, the same men connected to Melissa Ryecroft’s murder. Brady didn’t want to think about the part Simone Henderson had played in all of this. Whatever she had found out had cost her more than she could ever have anticipated.

His biggest problem now was keeping Adamson in the dark as much as possible. He needed to get to Nick first. Talk to him before he brought these men down. He still couldn’t believe that his own brother could be involved in organised crime of this nature. And until he had confirmation from him and him alone, Brady still held onto the belief that Nick was being forced to do this against his will. That these men had some hold over Nick.

He looked at the photograph of the missing Lithuanian girl, Edita Aginatas. He had a gut feeling that she had suffered the same fate as Melissa Ryecroft. And what of the other girls that had been relocated?

The odds of finding them were heavily stacked against them.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

‘So, what have these European brothers and the sex business they’re now believed to be operating here in the North East got to do with “The Nietzschean Brotherhood”?’ Brady asked.

Claudia nodded at him. ‘That was my next point. The note left with the victim’s head in your car,’ she said, bringing up an enlarged image of the note. ‘It’s been signed with the letter “N”. Unfortunately, no forensic evidence was found on the note. Whoever left it was very careful not to leave any traces behind.’

Brady nodded, dreading what might be coming next.

‘From the source we have regarding the Nietzschean Brotherhood they wear a crest ring or a signet ring with the “N” emblem. Just like the “N” on the note here.’

Brady did his utmost not to react.

‘So you think someone from this Brotherhood followed me and dumped the victim’s head and a note in my car?’ he said calmly.

Her look said it all.

‘Why?’ asked Brady.

There was a heavy, pregnant silence in the room.

‘Can we discuss this in private?’ Claudia replied.

Brady frowned. This was obviously what she had wanted to talk about earlier.

He looked from Claudia to Conrad.

Conrad dropped his eyes.

He obviously knew what it was that Claudia was holding back.

Brady cursed under his breath, feeling very much left out of the loop. But it was his own fault. He had chosen not to listen to her. She had tried to tell him and he had insisted on starting the briefing regardless.

‘Look, Jack, this organisation is not to be messed with … These are powerful men who so far have eluded justice.’

Brady didn’t say a word.

Instead he looked at the brutal images of Melissa Ryecroft’s tortured body.

He then looked back at Claudia.

‘I don’t give a damn how rich or powerful this group is, no one has the right to rape, sodomise and torture a young girl,’ Brady said, his expression darkening as his voice slipped into a thick Geordie accent. ‘And I for one will not be threatened or scared away by anyone. So you tell your informant, whoever he is, that they can go fuck themselves.’

Claudia looked at Brady, her eyes burning a vivid emerald green.