Page 20 of Donovan Blake: Passion

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Donovan and Phoebe had been on the road for almost two hours tracking the van as it traveled to London. During the long drive Sam had kept them updated. It had been a mix of good and bad news.

The group in the woods had been rounded up, but no-one was talking. Nigel, Jimmy Pike’s cohort, was safe, but traumatized and recovering in a hospital. Though Jimmy Pike and Oleg had been arrested, Oleg was suffering from a drug overdose and couldn’t be questioned. Donovan had hoped to arrive in London armed with inside information, but in spite of all his efforts he was still in the dark about virtually everything.

Now exiting the motorway the blinking red dot was moving at a fast clip through the city. Determined to be there when the van stopped and was unloaded, Donovan accelerated.

“Hey, Phoebe,” he said quietly, touching her leg, “wake up, we’re in the city.”

Blinking open her eyes and yawning, she stared across at him.

“I don’t remember falling asleep. Sorry.”

“It’s okay and I’m not surprised you did. It’s almost 3.00 am.”

“What’s going on?”

“I think the van is nearing its destination and we need to be there.”

“Do you think it will be unloaded?”

“Well, it’s middle of the night, the streets are relatively empty, and I doubt they’ll want to leave the painting in the van even if they have a garage or lockup somewhere.”

“I need a cup of tea,” she mumbled, reaching into the back seat for the basket Peter had given them for the drive. “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be great, but look, there it is—the van,” he exclaimed, slowing down.

Staring through the windshield she could see it turning a corner a short distance ahead.

“Donovan, where are we?”

“Knightsbridge.”

“I’m loving this,” she said excitedly, carefully when pouring the hot coffee into a travel mug and pushing down the lid. “Whoever packed this basket did an amazing job.”

“You’re something else,” he said, shaking his head as she handed it to him.

“Why?”

“We’re following a ruthless criminal who’s delivering priceless cargo, and you’re commenting about a picnic hamper.”

“Well it’s the truth. It is fantastic.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered with a grin.

“Oh, good, we’ll have to stop at that light. I can pour myself some tea. I almost spilled that coffee.”

“Phoebe, do you have any idea how insane this conversation is?”

“Uh, no…why is it insane?”

“It’s possible that painting is about to be delivered to the people behind the string of art thefts. Don’t you get that?”

“Of course I do, and like I said, I’m excited. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have a cup of tea. Would you like a sandwich?”

“I give up,” he mumbled, then quickly pulled to the curb as the van stopped at the end of the block.

“Uh…so, Donovan, what do we do now?”

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