That kind of thing.’
Brady was silent for a moment.
Then he struck. His patience gone.
‘Wolfe, just tell me!’
Silence.
Brady waited.
‘The serial number in the silicone implants that I removed were implanted in an seventeen-year-old female named Edita Aginatas from a village in Lithuania called Raseiniai.’
Brady tried to steady himself.
He thought of Nicoletta.
He then thought of Edita Aginatas’ baby and what would happen to her now. And then of what had been done to Edita. Exactly as Nicoletta had said, she had disappeared. Her body savagely and sadistically raped and mutilated and a captive bolt pistol put to her head.
Brady swallowed. His eyes burning.
Tiredness, he thought. That’s all. He didn’t have the luxury to get emotional.
So Melissa Ryecroft was still missing.
And now Nicoletta.
That had to be the focus now.
He knew exactly who had Nicoletta: the Dabkunas brothers.
And Nick.
Brady had to contact Conrad before the press call went ahead. That was, if it already hadn’t started.
He needed Melissa Ryecroft’s details released. He needed the digitally enhanced images of her getting into the black Mercedes with the Dabkunas brothers shown on local and national television. And he needed to call Rubenfeld before his leading story went to print. And the worst part of all, the part that was really needling his spinal cord, was that he needed to make that call to Melissa Ryecroft’s parents. He needed to tell them that he had fucked up. He had really fucked up big time.
Brady was anxiously waiting for Claudia to answer her phone and hoped that she hadn’t already left for the Lithuanian Ambassador’s swanky dinner at the Grand Hotel. It was now 6:17pm and there was a good chance she would be too preoccupied to talk to him.
He slowly breathed out, trying to steady himself.
In the event the press call had gone ahead at 6:00pm instead of 5:00pm, thus giving Gates enough time to collate the new information. Allegedly Gates was impressed that Brady had managed to forewarn them before they had gone public with the incorrect details on the investigation.
Brady wondered what would happen to Wolfe. It was a huge fuck-up. The first of its kind. Brady was worried: worried that Wolfe’s liquid breakfasts and lunches were starting to take their toll on the Home Office pathologist. There would be an investigation and questions would have to be answered. Hopefully, Wolfe would get away with it this time. But what about the next time? Because Brady was certain there was going to be a next time. And if not, a time in the future would no doubt be waiting for him in the flat-bottomed transparent base of an empty bottle of Scotch. Reality had a way of catching up with you; a truth all too apparent to Brady at this particular moment in time.
‘Claudia?’ Brady said with relief when she eventually picked up her phone.
‘Sorry, Jack. I’m really sorry. We found nothing. The girls that were in the club were all UK citizens and they were kosher.’
‘What about the other premises that he owns?’
But he knew the answer would be the same. Daniels and Kenny had already reported back to him that there was nothing suspect about any of the properties or land that Ronnie Macmillan had acquired.
‘Same deal – nothing,’ answered Claudia. ‘He’s clean, Jack.’
Brady sighed. He had expecting as much but still hadn’t wanted to hear it.
‘Okay, thanks,’ he said. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘The victim?’ Claudia questioned.
‘It’s not Melissa Ryecroft. She’s still missing. Whether that’s giving her parents any comfort, who knows? They’ve seen the footage of her being led into a black Mercedes and being driven off.’
Brady didn’t want to think back to the conversation he had with Brian Ryecroft after Wolfe’s admission.
‘I know … I can’t imagine what they’re going through,’ said Claudia.
‘No … neither can I,’ answered Brady.
‘The two men? Are they the Dabkunas brothers?’ questioned Claudia.
‘Your guess is as good as mine.’
He had too much to lose by sharing the information he had gleaned. He knew at this stage of the investigation, Claudia would take it to Gates and Adamson. She would have no choice given the fact that the two men seen abducting Melissa Ryecroft in the CCTV footage were the same two caught on surveillance camera at Rake Lane Hospital asking after Simone Henderson, and then later following Brady and Conrad as they left the hospital car park.
‘Jack?’ questioned Claudia. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Everything,’ he answered quietly.
He hung up.
Brady stood up and put his jacket on. He’d had a call from Ainsworth saying that his car was ready to be collected. And given what he was going to be doing later that evening, he would need it. He needed to make sure that Conrad was busy – too busy to come looking for him. He knew from the way Conrad had been acting around him, questioning his judgement calls, that he had to do this alone. That, and the fact that he needed to make damn sure that no one knew about Nick. He was determined to bring down the Dabkunas brothers and their sick, twisted, lucrative enterprise.
And he would make damned sure that Nick was as far away from the North East as possible when it happened.
Brady parked down a side street next to the abandoned eyesore that was the Avenue Pub. He looked across at the calm North Sea. It was a dirty grey colour. Reminiscent of the sky overhead. He rolled a cigarette as he steeled himself for what was to come next.
He had got out the station just in time. Turner, the desk sergeant, had rung him to tell him to watch out, that Adamson was searching the station for him in relation to Simone Henderson’s attack.
‘Reckons there are questions need answering, Jack,’ Turner had said. ‘Told him you were tied up on a joint murder and missing person investigation. Wasn’t interested. Reckoned it would be the last case you’d ever work on. Arrogant bugger that he is!’
Brady appreciated Turner’s loyalty. He had been around for years. But that didn’t buy him any respect from the young blood coming through. They saw him as an old fool, too close to retiring age to be of any use to anybody. But Brady knew better than that.
He had left Conrad at the station researching Nykantas Vydunas, the Lithuanian Ambassador. Conrad wasn’t overly impressed; not least because Brady wouldn’t tell him why he was so interested in him. Brady had kept it to the point and stated, ‘Mayor Macmillan.’
He had also left Conrad the job of finding out what they didn’t already know about Ronnie Macmillan. The local drugs dealer-cum-gangster was becoming too powerful, too fast. And Brady wanted to know why. Brady was certain that his politician brother was pulling the strings, but he needed proof, and quickly.
He also needed to make sure that Conrad’s hands were full. Too full for him to bother Brady tonight.
Kenny and Daniels were now chasing up various leads from Melissa Ryecroft’s friends on Marijuis Dabkunas, her boyfriend. Including re-examining her Facebook page, her blog and her Twitter account for anything that would give them a lead on Marijuis and his brother. Whether anything would come of it, Brady seriously doubted.
And as for Harvey and Kodovesky, Brady had them staked out by the Hole. Just on the off-chance that
