Page 16 of Donovan Blake: Passion

CHAPTER NINE

Opening the briefcase, Donovan unzipped a compartment, withdrew a red cellphone along with a small metal box and called 999.

“What is your—”

“My name is Bjorn, I am on holiday,” Donovan exclaimed breathlessly in a thick Norwegian accent. “In the trees North of Elsworth Village are men with guns holding a boy. It is just past the first sharp bend on the left. Please, be quick.”

Immediately ending the call, Donovan opened the phone, removed the SIM card and slid it through a slot into the metal box.

“But, Donovan, even if that thing destroys the SIM card can’t they trace the phone?”

“Nope. There are a number of ways to prevent tracking, you just have to know what they are.”

“My God. You’re James Bond.”

“I taught the man everything he knows,” Donovan quippeid with a grin. “Now I have to call Sam.”

“Wait….”

“Why?”

“Sorry, but I need a hug. A big one.”

“I thought you loved this stuff. You said you’re an adrenalin junkie.”

“I am, but—uh—seeing that gun pointed at that kid’s head—sorry—I can’t stop shaking.”

“No, I’m sorry,” he replied, lowering his voice and leaning across the console. “Sometimes I forget you’re not Superwoman.”

As he wrapped his arms around her as best he could, she buried her head in his shoulder and let out a heavy sigh.

“At the trauma ward I dealt with some pretty gruesome stuff,” she mumbled, “but that was different. Even hidden behind those rocks I could feel his terror. Those people are monsters.”

“And we’ll get them,” he promised as he pulled back. “You’ll have the satisfaction of seeing them hauled away and locked up.”

“Alexi Koslov wasn’t.”

“True, but men like him live in their own kind of hell. Their enemies are like rabid dogs and they’re always threatening.”

“I hope so.”

“Feel better?”

“A bit, but I really need to be in bed with you.”

“I second that, and you will be soon.”

* * *

During the drive to Hawthorne Hall Jimmy had been afraid to speak. His minder looked like an evil warlord, and his physical appearance matched his despicable deeds. He wasn’t just powerfully built, he had a scar over his lip that gave him a permanent sneer, and his eyes were frighteningly, icy blue. But as they approached the stately home and Jimmy saw the blazing lights he felt a ripple of relief. It would be impossible to enter the grounds.

“Uh…I don’t think we can…”

“You’re not here to fucking think,” the brute barked. “Pull over.”

As Jimmy rolled to a stop he continued staring at the house. There were only two possible explanations. Either Lord Hawthorne knew the painting had been taken from the basement and was taking extra security measures, or he’d been warned he was about to have unwelcome visitors. If that was the case, it meant someone had witnessed the horrendous scene in the woods. Though the thought was reassuring it was also unsettling. Who could have been there, and why?

“Has it ever been lit up like that before?” Oleg demanded, breaking into his thoughts.

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