Chapter Sixteen
When Donovan stepped from the elevator Phoebe was standing alone in the foyer. She didn’t speak, just stared at him with wide-eyes. As he placed his arm around her shoulders he could feel her trembling, and hastily guided her to the door. The moment they were on the street he hugged her tightly.
“Take a deep breath,” he murmured, placing his lips against her ear.
“I can’t s-stop shaking.”
“It will pass, and you were brilliant. When we get in the car and I start talking just follow my lead. It’s possible Koslov was able to plant a bug in it overnight.”
“Okay.”
As they settled into their seats he could see she was still trying to calm herself. Reaching across the console, he took her hand and kissed it, then started up and pulled into the street.
“I have no idea where Peter has hidden that portrait,” he began. “God only knows how I’ll convince him to part with it, but I’ll do whatever it takes. If it comes down to a choice between you and that damn painting there’s absolutely no contest. If Peter doesn’t see that, then…”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know yet but I’ll think of something. I’ll make sure Alexi gets his portrait, then we can put this behind us and go home.”
Turning the corner, he drove the short distance to the hotel but past the valet parking. It was one of the few places in the upscale community that offered an underground garage, though it was small and only available for VIP guests and suite owners. Pulling into his assigned space, they climbed out and he removed their suitcases.
“Time for a long hot shower,” he declared, as they headed towards the elevator.
“And a drink,” she added, then whispered. “I can’t remember ever being so scared. Did you feel the evil in him?”
“Felt it and saw it. I’ve been around some ruthless people, but no-one like him,” he whispered back.
Only a few minutes later they were in the suite, and he was scanning their suitcases with a bug detector. Finding nothing, he canvassed the suite while Phoebe poured herself a shot of vodka, following it with a second.
“I didn’t find anything,” he said solemnly, walking over to her and bringing her into his arms. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“The night we met in that storm was violent and crazy, but being in the presence of that man…it was worse. I kept thinking he would transform into an ugly, horrible monster right before my eyes.”
“You were seeing who he really is. People don’t often unnerve me, but he came close.”
“Donovan, it just struck me…I bet he feels the same way about you,” she remarked, pulling back and staring up at him. “You didn’t flinch, not for a second. I’m sure he’s not used to that.”
“Maybe, but he has black ice in his veins. I can’t imagine anything fazing him.”
“So…where do we go from here? What will you tell Peter?”
“First things first. I need to call Sam,” he replied, stepping back and lifting out his phone. “Can you do me a favor and make some coffee?”
“Sure. That vodka is starting to work but it might also make me sleepy. I could use some too.”
Moving across to the window as he called Sam, Donovan studied the city stretched out in front of him. It seemed never-ending, and the slate gray sky suggested the rain for which London was famous.
“Donovan, I’m very relieved to hear from you,” Sam said as he answered.
“And I’m relieved to be calling you. Being in the lion’s den was an experience, but before I tell you about the ultimatum I was given, I need a new car, and make sure your guys check out the one I was driving with a fine tooth comb. It was parked outside Koslov’s house all night. There’s no telling what he might have done.”
“I had the same thought. I’ve arranged a new vehicle for you and you’ll be picked up in the garage by a town car with tinted windows. No-one will see you leave. If you’re ready to go back to Hawthorne Hall you should bring your luggage. So…where are we? What’s this ultimatum?”
As Donovan gave him a full report, Phoebe brought over a mug of steaming coffee and placed it on the side table next to the couch.
“Do you know where Peter hid the painting?” Sam asked. “Do you think he’d part with it—even temporarily?”
“Yes, I know where it is, but I have an idea and I wish I’d thought of it sooner, though I don’t know if Peter has what we need. If he doesn’t I’m not sure we can pull it off in two days. Regardless, what do you think about this?”
* * *
At Hawthorne Hall Peter was welcoming the security team Donovan had arranged. Six muscled men had arrived in gun metal gray SUV’s. When they began unloading aluminum suitcases and trunks, Peter experienced a ripple of reassurance.
“Lord Hawthorne,” one of them declared, stepping up and extending his hand. “I’m Bruce Rathbone. If you have any questions or concerns just let me know. My team will be setting up an electronic barrier on both sides of your fencing. It’s invisible and effective. It won’t harm an intruder, but it will make a frightening sound that will scare them and alert us. There will be three men on watch at all times, day and night. Rest assured they’ll respond to any potential threat. All we need is to be shown our quarters. If nothing is available we can use our SUV’s.
“Bruce, I’m deeply grateful,” Peter replied, his reassurance being joined with wave of relief. “I have an apartment ready for you in the east wing. It does have a kitchen, but my staff is at your disposal, and that includes the cook. She’ll be very pleased to take care of you and your men.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll start by showing you to our modest security room, then give you a rundown of the house.”
Bruce signaled his men to join him. Introductions were made, and they followed Peter into the home.
* * *
Watching through the windows from the drawing room, Jane grinned. Having half-a-dozen hunky young men at the Hall was fine with her. She was about to hurry after them when she spied a black truck stopping at the gates. She’d been expecting her bodyguard, but she’d noticed the security team locking the chains after they’d entered. Running outside, she jogged up to check, only to break to a walk and catch her breath as the driver stepped out. He was sun-tanned, blonde-haired, and ridiculously handsome.
“Hi, I’m Trevor Martin,” he declared, striding towards her. “You must be Jane.”
“Yes, I’m Jane,” she managed. “Let me get this padlock off. It can be tricky.”
“You haven’t asked me for any ID.”
“Excuse me?”
“I could be anyone.”
“But you just said you’re Trevor Martin.”
“Rule number one, and it’s an old one. Believe half of what you see and none of what you hear.”
“That’s so cynical.”
“Sure, but in your situation it’s good advice,” he replied, lifting out his wallet and displaying his Driver’s License. “Now you can unlock the gate.”
“Like I said, it’s tricky. It sort of sticks.”
“Would you like some help.”
“I can manage!”
He didn’t respond, but leaned back against the front of his truck and crossed his arms. She hadn’t meant to be so brusque, and she could feel his eyes on her. It was nerve-racking. The more she jerked on the padlock, the more frustrated she became. Feeling her face flush red, she finally threw up her hands and stepped away.
“Fine. Go for it.”
“Is that your way of asking me for help?”
“Obviously.”
“Donovan was right,” he remarked, calmly moving up and opening the padlock. “You do need me.”