Malcolm and Ives 02 - Trouble With Air and Magic (29 page)

“I’m with your father at the office. I’ve sent FF’s money back to their bank accounts with a note from your father attached. I’m hoping for fireworks. Can you see these shots from the video camera?” He punched up the camera on his iPhone and aimed it at her father first. Dorrie exclaimed in surprise. Conan continued strolling into the office, leaving Franklin behind.

In one cubicle, the blond, plump bookkeeper named Tillie was worriedly showing an older woman something on her screen. “A supervisor?” Conan asked, giving Dorrie a shot of what he was seeing.

“Tillie is a first-class bookkeeper,” Dorrie replied. “She would see the deposit first and call in management. That’s the accounting department supervisor with her. All proper and aboveboard. Where’s Zimmer?”

“I’m looking for Zimmer. Presumably he has access to the account and can see the deposit, too?”

“Just a minute,” Dorrie said, “and I’ll borrow Pippa’s phone and call Tillie.”

Conan watched as Tillie picked up the receiver. When both women glanced up at him, he grinned and kept on walking.

“They have the deposit,” Dorrie said into his ear. It was like having his own personal elf sitting on his shoulder. He was kind of enjoying it. “Watch your back,” she warned. “I think they’re calling security. Is your Fred Liu around?”

“He or one of his men will be in the building. I’ll tell them to keep an eye on your father. He insisted on coming, and he’s our weak spot.”

Conan figured if Dorrie really could send energy arrows, she’d be knocking him over about now for placing her father in jeopardy. Apparently, phones weren’t a good conveyor of
dim mak
. He used his spare phone to text Fred while keeping the video open for Dorrie.

As Conan strolled down the glass corridor, he could see a gray suit and balding head leaning over Dorrie’s desk in the cubicle at the end of the hall. Baldie appeared to be fiddling with the computer’s wires. Dang, such a predictable anticlimax. He’d really wanted to catch a Chinese predator.

Conan turned the camera so Dorrie could see as well. “Anything you want me to ask Zimmer?”

“Like what the hell he’s doing at my desk?” she asked in a voice dripping sarcasm.

“Looks like he’s trying to fry your computer system. Want to shoot some arrows at him?” he said mockingly, gesturing with his head when he saw Fred Liu’s man arrive through a rear door.

“Consider yourself smacked,” she told him. “How can he fry a computer system? And why would he?”

Conan leaned against the sunny wall of windows, crossing his ankles as the security man worked his way through the cubicles. “I’m assuming he’s created paperwork proving you stole the money, and he figures taking out the computers will cover up any trail.”

“So Zimmer really is our thief?” she asked in wonder. “Does that make any sense? Should I call my dad and tell him to get down there and watch the spectacle?”

“Let’s wait to see if he has a weapon.” Conan watched Tillie’s expression turn to one of horror as the servers crashed.

Instead of keeping his back to the office to hide what he was doing, Zimmer really should have been sitting at Dorrie’s nicely arranged desk, watching the door. Then he’d have seen Conan and the security guard and maybe had time to run. Probably not, though. The treasurer was old and the cubicle farm was a maze.

As it was, Ryan Franklin’s aging friend looked up just as the guard blocked the office door, weapon in hand. Ouch. Conan bet Dorrie wouldn’t approve of guns in the office, so he didn’t show her. “Call your dad now. Zimmer is about to get frisked, and that should be fun.”

“He’s already on his way,” Dorrie reported a few seconds later. “Tillie is screaming about a server blowing, and he’s riding to the rescue. Not that he knows anything about computers, mind you,” she added. “He just needs to feel needed.”

“Got it. Here he comes. Zimmer is cursing and trying to elbow the guard to death. He’s pretty bony. That’s gotta hurt.”

“You’re a jerk, Oswin,” she told him without wrath. “But thank you for catching the bastard. Just don’t let Papa get too overwrought.”

“I love you, too, beautiful. Where will you be when I drive back up there?”

“Heading for Mojave. Your brother checked and General Adams’ murdering son has skipped town.”

Conan stared at the phone in disbelief.
Mojave?
A murderer was on the loose and she was heading to the desert? Without him?

As he’d gone to the office without her. Damn. Payback was a bitch.

Conan’s cell phone video cut off just after he sent Dorrie shots of her father roaring his wheelchair down the tiled corridor, screaming at someone other than herself. It had been an interesting shot. She had to wonder if Ryan Franklin was shouting at Conan, Zimmer, or the security guard. Probably all three.

But what she took away from the scene was that her father hadn’t died from the pressure, that his wheelchair worked better on tile than the carpet she would have installed, and that the problem at the office had nothing to do with Bo. Conan was right. She hadn’t needed to be at the office to watch her father suffer the betrayal of a man he called a friend.

She’d like to believe that actually sharing the performance with her might be a little more than Conan would have done when she’d first met him. She wanted to think that he’d learned a little from her, just as she’d grown new horizons from watching him.

Now she had to take the lessons learned and build on them.

Independence could be hers, if she had the courage.

Dorrie hugged Toto and left him with Amy and the kids. They were happily following Dorrie’s suggestion and decorating Oz’s unfinished rec room. They were painting wood frames green for the family photos, all good symbols for the family sector. They didn’t ask where she and the Oswins were going. She still couldn’t bear to raise their hopes.

As her frail bones demanded, Grandmother stayed in the security of Oz’s mansion and acted as command central. The house was a mini-fortress despite its unfinished state.

Ling Fai had already called Cho and Francesca to help in the search for Bo. Francesca’s psychic abilities might pick up more GPS signals if they were close to Bo. And Dorrie had photos of both Magnus and Bo for Cho to target with his finding gift.

Jack and Tom were going with them to help as they could.

The Oswins and her cousins set out in separate vehicles. Jack and Tom commandeered the Hummer that Oz summoned from his pool of vehicles. Her cousins weren’t inclined to express their thoughts, but Dorrie knew they would be having fun with the high-powered vehicle.

Bo would have, too, if he’d been there. The ache in her heart that was her missing brother became unbearable just watching the cousins with whom he’d once played.

Dorrie rode with Pippa and Oz in his BMW. While Conan’s brother and sister-in-law discussed impossible strategies to find what was lost in the middle of a desert, Dorrie called her father.

“Are you back in charge?” she asked, keeping her tone light when he answered, hiding her hope. As much as anything else, she was thrilled that Conan had actually dragged Ryan Franklin out of his comfortable hiding place and back into the world.

“Where the hell are you?” her father grumbled. “The office is shot to hell and we need you here to calm things down.”

Interesting approach. Had her father actually been listening to her all these years? “Cheerful music, a pizza party, send everyone a bamboo plant as a gift for keeping up without you,” she suggested. “You don’t need me there for that.”

“A bamboo plant? What kind of screwy—” He backed off and finished grudgingly, “Pizza sounds good. They can’t get anything done until we have the computers back online.”

“Is Conan with you?” she asked, astonished by her father’s new demeanor and looking for a reason.

“He brought in a crew to get the servers running again. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about Zimmer. He must have gone senile without me noticing. He said he wished he’d slashed you instead of your tires. No one slashed your tires, did they?”

Dorrie shuddered. “Someone did. That’s why I called in Conan, remember?”

Her father paused, probably because his memory still wasn’t the most stable. He returned to his original thought. “I don’t know about vandals, but Zimmer was ranting about how he should have been in charge instead of you. Old fart can’t find his own rear end with his hand, and he thought he was better than
my daughter
?”

Still horror struck by how much the crazy old man hated her, Dorrie was caught off guard by her father’s question. Astounded, she stared at the phone as if it had grown an ear. Her father thought she was good at running the office?

Zimmer was probably right that he’d have been better as the business manager, but the foundation was more about people than money. She supposed she did have a few advantages when it came to making decisions about clients. Fighting the pain that her unnatural gift had caused her more than one enemy, she let her father’s confidence in her boost her esteem a little.

She added a smile to her voice just for him. “You can put me in charge of deciding on the tough cases, but you and Bo are the business managers, not me. You didn’t answer earlier—is Conan still there?”

“He left after the cops arrived. Oswin is a pain in the ass, but he’s good,” he said with grudging admiration.

Dorrie chuckled. “A lot of people would agree with you. Will you be okay in the office if he’s left? Do you have a way of getting home?”

“I have the limo. I don’t need babysitting. Oswin said maybe you ought to stay up there with your friends a while longer. I think he’s still looking for the guy who shot at you. What’s that all about?” he sounded worried.

Dorrie luxuriated in his unusual concern. Her father would be back to his old self once he settled in, but for now, it was good to be reassured that under all that bluffness, he really cared. “Probably nothing,” she said to soothe him, “but Conan likes to play it safe. I’m having fun up here, so don’t worry about me.”

“I do worry about you, you know,” her father said gruffly. “You’re all I have left. It’s not right for a parent to outlive a child.”

“It’s okay, Papa,” she said, blinking back tears. “We’ll be okay. You just be careful and don’t work too hard, please?”

Pippa turned to look over the backseat as Dorrie hung up. “Is your father all right? Conan hasn’t locked him up or driven him up any walls?”

Dorrie managed a smile. “He’s fine. He’s better than fine. He’s grieving over Bo. Conan did a good thing dragging him out of the nursing home.”

“Baby bro isn’t good at explaining things, but he’s good at getting things done,” Oz threw over his shoulder. “Is he on his way back here?”

“You think he’d tell us if he was?” Dorrie asked, calling his number next.

Both Pippa and Oz exchanged knowing looks when her call went to Conan’s voicemail. It was like dealing with a ghost—now he was there, now he wasn’t.

Tucking the phone he’d bought for her into the purse Pippa had loaned her, Dorrie thought sadly that she might as well get used to Conan not being there.

***

Dorrie nervously climbed out of the BMW after Oz parked it in the Mojave airport parking lot. It wasn’t a busy passenger airport. Industrial and business planes would be her guess. Shimmering in the heat, the blacktopped lot was nearly empty. The sky was cloudless. She was glad it was nearly October so they weren’t totally frying.

Jack and Tom left the Hummer to join them. “Once Cho and Francesca arrive, we need to divide the area into a grid, break into pairs, use the airport as our central base, and start searching outward.”

Dorrie translated for the puzzled Oswins. “Cho is a Finder. He takes a mental picture of our target, which is why you needed to bring a photo and an object belonging to Magnus. He picks up—I don’t know, vibrations? Perhaps another form of energy tracing? None of this is scientific. It just increases our odds to a small degree. Francesca is a pilot and the closest we have to a genuine psychic in the family. Grandmother can be uncanny in her predictions, but Francesca can sometimes detect thoughts. She’s better when she can see faces, but if Bo and Magnus are close by and thinking hard, she might
hear
them.”

“Wow,” Pippa said in awe. “I wish I’d known your family while I was growing up.”

Jack snorted. “No, you don’t. Cho could find our hidden stashes and Franny tattled on everyone unless we bribed her. She still doesn’t make friends easily. We all wanted to be only children.”

“Besides being bigger than all of us,” Dorrie elbowed her cousin, “Jack picks up traces of who touched an object last. If we took his toys, he knew who had played with them. He never could explain how, so he just beat the stuffing out of the thief.”

“Did not,” Jack objected, following his brother to the fence. “I just hung them upside down until they coughed it up.”

Dorrie nodded toward her other detective cousin who was already exploring the sand and gravel along the perimeter. “Tom can smell things others can’t, which isn’t exactly an advantage at the best of times.”

“
Kimchi
and dog poop is all I’m getting,” Tom called back in acknowledgment of her explanation. “Nothing here that smells like body odor or decomposition.”

Jack smacked his brother’s head and Tom shut up.

Sprawling buildings and aerospace firms surrounded the airport. A convoy of pickups rattled down the road, turning toward the parking lot. One truck veered off toward the administration office under the old control tower. The others pulled up by the fence line, as Oz had done. When they began unloading gear, Oz strolled over to talk to them.

“Conan’s tracking team,” Pippa explained. “They’re trained to track lost children, but they have other uses.”

Lost children.
Her enigmatic white knight had brought together an entire team to locate lost children! She hadn’t thought he even liked dogs, much less children. And he’d summoned them out here while accosting Zimmer and dragging her father out of his padded cave. Multitasking, indeed.

A helicopter zoomed in overhead, skimming the control tower and swinging into the landing pad with the dexterity and speed of a military maneuver. Dorrie didn’t even have to ask. She could
feel
him. Conan was in that helicopter.