Steal It All
- The third story in the series Donovan: Thief For Hire, begins with a brutal daylight murder of an English citizen in the Canadian embassy in London, England. The ambassador calls upon a combination of Scotland Yard and the RCMP .
- Then there’s the ace up his sleeve. Sean Donovan, a thief for hire who doubles as a security consultant.
- But Donovan isn’t nearby. He’s in Canada, learning about the business of winemaking and thinking about his new girl, and contemplating his recent exit from the business of theft.
- Even as he inches away from a life of crime, an art collector he owes a favor to, approaches him: is he willing to do the tiniest of thefts? Would Donovan track down a missing piece of art? Can the collector, Gaia, be trusted? Of course not. Can Donovan resist? Of course not. Is there easy money to be made? Oh, yes.
- Nothing is ever easy for him.
- Donovan may be betting his life on this gig.
|Title||Steal It All|
|Series||Donovan: Thief for Hire
|Release||January 26, 2016|
|Tags||Thriller, Suspense, Murder, Theft, Manchester, London, Niagara, Ambleside, England, Canada, Lakes District, Gang, Consortium, New York City, Art, Warehouse, Scotland Yard, RCMP, Romania, Constanta, Bucharest, Wine, Winery, Vineyard, Travel, Thief For Hire, Contract Thief, Hammersmith, Gaia, Embassy, Ambassador, Potato, Lorry, Truck,|
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The man went to work. “What’s your first name?” He pulled out a set of handcuffs, clicking one manacle onto her left wrist.
“Okay, Brenda, sit on the toilet in the far cubicle.” He produced two feet of wire cable and moved closer to run the cable behind the toilet reservoir. He leaned in, straddled above her, in order to complete the wire attachment. Her knee came up, hard, making contact with his inner thigh.
“Ungh!” He sat down on her lap and one hand closed off her windpipe. Squeezing hard enough to send a message, he breathed out a terse statement. “That wasn’t in our script. Bravery will make your child an orphan, Brenda.”
He released his grip and covered her mouth with duct tape, and then stepped away. He used the tape to secure her feet at the ankles and then wrapped it around the toilet seat. “I’m sorry,” he said, double checking the tape on her mouth, and then he left.
Once outside the washroom, the man continued down the hall, turned right and walked all the way to the back corner of the floor. He approached the door marked Director, Trade, opened it and walked in.
The door, very solid, closed behind the intruder and the discreet click alerted the director to the presence of a guest. He swivelled around in time to receive a slug between the eyes. The man fired a second shot through the director’s heart, but he was already dead.