Page 38 of Donovan Blake: Passion

“Just like Ari did.”

“Exactly. My other phone’s beeping I have to go. Keep me updated and I’ll send you that link.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

Ending the call, Donovan returned to the dining room and sat down. Peter and Trevor were discussing cricket while Jane was telling Phoebe about a trendy new boutique that had an online store with all sorts of tech wizardry. It seemed so pleasant and normal, yet just a short time before he and Phoebe were in the presence of an evil villain, a man who had threatened to destroy Phoebe’s life if he didn’t get what he wanted.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, turning to face him.

“They caught Ari,” he whispered. “That’s all I know. We’ll be getting more details later, but we want you to watch his interview. You’ll be able to tell us when he lied.”

“It would be my pleasure. I just hope I can. I’ve only ever done it in person.”

“Phoebe, I’m beginning to think you’ll be a powerful new weapon in the fight against these bad actors. But you have to tell me if things get too much for you, like they did today.”

“Sure, but when can I see the video?” she asked excitedly.

“One step at a time,” he replied shaking his head. “Right now we’re having lunch, then a meeting.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Alexi knew something had gone horribly wrong. Ari always checked in on time. Always. It didn’t matter what he was facing or where he was. Initially Alexi had thought it was because there were areas in the country without cell service. But when an hour passed beyond the specified time he became deeply concerned. Ari was either in hell or in custody. No-one was irreplaceable, but he came close. With his canine companion at his side Alexi walked into the interview room and stared at the large, empty frame.

Was the portrait more of a liability than it was worth?

He didn’t need the money.

It was the esteem.

The acclaim.

Hearing the phrase, how did you do that?

But most of all it was the challenge.

He’d stolen paintings, jewelry and other treasures from private residences many times, and nothing could match his sense of triumph.

“Craig and Bob,” he grunted under his breath. “Fucking clowns, and I bet they’re spilling their guts to the NCA. But it’s okay Poncho,” he added, bending down and stroking his dog. “They don’t know the important stuff, and there’s nothing to prove those idiots even met me, let alone worked for me. Besides, they know what would happen if they dared to mention my name.”

He was so deep in thought when his phone rang it startled him. He was in no mood to talk to anyone, but he snatched it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. It was Ken Matthews, his contact at the NCA. He was low on the totem pole, but he had full access, a sharp ear, and a desperate need for money.

“Hello?”

“I only have a second, Mr. Kozlov, but in case you haven’t heard Ario Baptiste has been brought in.”

“I figured as much,” Alexi replied, feeling a huge ripple of relief that Ari wasn’t dead. “What are the charges?”

“Attempted auto theft. A fingerprint was found on a BMW that had been tampered with.”

“Has he been interviewed?”

“Yes, but apparently he didn’t offer much.”

“Can you get a message to him?”

“Yes, Mr, Kozlov, that’s not a problem.”

“Tell him to ask for a barrister. He’ll know what number to call.”

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