Malcolm and Ives 02 - Trouble With Air and Magic

by Patricia Rice

  He didn’t bother chasing the skinny kid, just sauntered toward him as if he might be concealing a big bat in his pocket. The kid scrammed. Who needed muscle? It was all in the attitude. Well, size might have influence as well.

  The furry-faced dog licked at the window. Probably his lunchtime, too. Conan glanced over the low rooftops. He’d seen a golden arch back toward the highway. He had a vague recollection that Oz wouldn’t let his munchkin ride in a car without kid seats. Dorrie had no kid seats. He’d promised the brats Big Macs.

  Problem solved. Whistling, he shoved his prescription shades up his nose, punched through the apps on his phone, found the one with the electronic signals, opened Dorrie’s electronic door, and climbed into the driver’s seat. 007 didn’t have tools like his.

  As she emerged from the back yard with the kids, he waved and shouted, “Be back with the burgers!” and drove off.

  ***

  Dorrie stared after him in astonishment. Her security expert had just stolen her car! How? She’d been ready to hit Conan upside the head for suggesting burgers, and now he was stealing her only means of providing them?

  “Can we picnic at the park?” her six-year-old nephew Christopher asked, tugging her toward the playground on the corner. The youngest, he had Amy’s brown hair but Bo’s slanted green eyes.

  “Is he coming back?” At ten, her niece, Alexis, was more suspicious of the actions of her elders. She had Bo’s shiny black hair—Bo hadn’t inherited their father’s kinky curls—and she wore it in a long, sleek braid that complemented her pale Irish skin. She was gorgeous.

  “He’s gone to get your Big Macs,” Dorrie said with what she hoped sounded like truth. “We can sit at the picnic table and talk. How is school?” she asked.

  “It stinks,” eight-year-old Brandon said gloomily, trudging along the fractured sidewalk holding Chris’s hand. With the more dominant brown eyes and black hair of the Ling side of the family, he also had their more exotic features. “When is Daddy coming home?”

  Amy had tried explaining to them that their father wasn’t coming back, but like Dorrie, the children didn’t believe it. Bo had been their world up until the divorce last year, when Amy had grown tired of waiting for him to leave the Air Force. Even then, he’d been around most weekends.

  Dorrie didn’t know what her brother’s exact job classification was, but it had involved aircraft at the base. He’d teased her that he was special forces and his duties were classified. She could tell he’d been enjoying what he was doing, so she hadn’t rocked the boat when he’d let his job take precedence over family.

  Maybe it was time to rock boats and blow them up if she didn’t get answers. She needed Conan for that, dammit.

  “Daddy liketh Big Macsss,” the youngest declared as they reached the dusty playground. Chris had just lost his top front tooth. “We could go to McDonalds and look for him.”

  “Mr. Oswin will check while he’s there,” Dorrie said with a smile at her nephew’s limited perception of the world beyond this neighborhood.

  To Dorrie’s relief, after minutes of discussing school bullies and teachers who didn’t understand, she saw the electric blue Prius cruising down the street. She rolled her eyes as Conan incorrigibly drove it over a crumbled curb and onto the dusty play yard like some careless teenager. She’d known his mind did not travel her obedient paths, but she hadn’t realized he thought he could make his own rules.

  Striding across the lot, he dangled the greasy bags above the children dancing to grab them. In his other hand, he balanced a tray of soft drinks. Dorrie knew she should disapprove of the nutritional disaster except all kids deserved candy once in a while. Soft drinks were roughly the equivalent. She hurried to the car to fasten a leash to Toto so he could come out and play as well.

  “Wath Daddy there?” Christopher asked as Conan lowered the food to the picnic table.

  Conan looked startled and glanced to Dorrie as she returned. The earth’s energy shifted as he dragged his attention from her to the children. Interesting. He had a focus so strong that he moved chi. She lifted her hand helplessly, leaving the ball in his court.

  “I didn’t see him,” Conan responded, handing Chris a greasy paper of burger and a box of fries. “Maybe he was hiding. Does he do that often?”

  “He hides and we find him,” Brandon declared, tearing into the bags without waiting to be handed his share. “And then we hide, and he finds us.”

  “Okay, then maybe you should tell us where you think he is,” Conan suggested. “Where does he usually hide?”

  The children cheerily made suggestions as they tore into their burgers as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Dorrie knew Amy loved her children and fed them well, but kids had hollow legs. Providing food for a growing household was expensive. Amy’s pockets leaned toward beans and rice, not Big Macs.

  She listened in amazement as Conan rested his back against the table top, clicking away on his phone, while the kids spilled suggestions for hiding places. He didn’t even seem to be paying attention to them, but when their interest flagged, he showed them a satellite picture of their house roof to prove their father wasn’t there, and they started up all over again.

  She only wished looking for Bo could be so easy.

  By the time they marched the trio back to their house, Amy had had time to recover. She met them with weary acceptance.

  “I’m sorry. I’m still adjusting. I keep waiting for Bo to walk through that door. And the kids blame me for making him go away.” Her eyes were red from weeping.

  “If I had anywhere to take them, I would,” Dorrie said sympathetically, “but Dad’s house is slipping into the ocean.”

  “I saw that on the news,” Amy said with concern. “Will you be able to move all his lovely furniture somewhere? You are welcome to sleep on our couch, if you want, but you won’t get much sleep.”

  “I’ll not risk a moving truck on a mudslide zone, even if it was allowed in. Thanks for the offer, but I’m staying with friends for now.” Dorrie didn’t glance over her shoulder at Conan, or Amy might get the wrong idea.

  Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, Conan interrupted. “Do the kids have a computer?”

  Amy shook her head. “Just the ones at school. They had one at Bo’s place, but it wasn’t in his belongings when they shipped them to me.”

  Dorrie felt Conan come alert at that, but he stayed on topic. “I’ve got a refurbished laptop they can use. They can play some educational games on it, take it to the library and use the Internet there, whatever. That should keep them occupied a while.”

  Amy looked shocked, then relieved. “They have eager minds, like their father. Perhaps that will help. Thank you. I’m at my wits’ end trying to keep them occupied.”

  After saying their farewells, Dorrie walked back up the sidewalk to the Prius with Conan silently loping at her heels. “Thank you for that. Amy’s kids are the kind of clients the Foundation would help, except it’s a conflict of interest, and she would never ask.”

  Again, she could feel the thought energy pouring off of him. She didn’t know of anyone else who could express himself so loudly without saying a word.

  “I’ll put some of my team on it,” he said as soon as they’d strapped themselves into the car.

  Dorrie shot him a look of annoyance when he said no more. The man needed to learn communication. “Your team?”

  “They’re trained to look for lost kids, but they can poke around and ask questions about that missing computer. Any good reason why your brother taught his kids to hide?”

  Dorrie blinked in startlement. “It’s a game, Oswin. Kids play hide-and-seek all the time.”

  He crossed his arms and shook his head. “Didn’t sound like a game. What they described was a military exercise. He even used a stop clock. How many people do you know can find three kids scattered around the neighborhood in three minutes?”

  Bo could. Bo had always been able to find her when she’d hid from him as a kid. Bu
t she’d always been able to find him, too. He had a strong, unique chi, like Conan. Could the kids do that? Wow.

  Could she tell Conan how Bo did that? She wasn’t even certain she knew the specifics. “He was testing them,” was all she said as she backed out of the drive. Except she didn’t know where to go. “Thank you for offering the laptop. Do you really have something they can use?”

  He snorted. “You’ve seen my place. What do you think?”

  “That I don’t want to go back there,” she retorted. “But if you actually have something they can use, I can take it to their school and leave it with Alexis on Monday. Maybe your good deed karma outweighs your really bad feng shui.”

  She thought a brown cloud floated over his head as he fell silent again.

  Chapter 8

  The Dragon Lady didn’t want to return to his house. That burned. He’d offered her free rent and a great house and she didn’t want to go back. He should be thoroughly relieved, but he wasn’t. Why?

  Because she was in trouble, Conan decided. He needed control of the problem while he worked on it, so he needed her where he could see her. Where he could ask questions when he started sorting out clues.

  Which mean he wanted what Oz and Pippa had while they were searching for Oz’s kid. He was officially on the batshit nuts list. He couldn’t communicate and didn’t do relationships. He’d had counselors mutter about high-functioning Aspergers, but he was pretty certain he could read social cues. He just didn’t bother. He didn’t have his brother’s charm and had never seen the point in developing it.

  At least Dorrie wasn’t throwing things at him like Pippa did. Except—the Librarian could be saying she or her brother were dangerous. Did that mean the brother might be alive? With Magnus? All the better reason to keep an eye on her.

  Besides, those kids needed their auntie. Alexis, Brandon, Christopher, ABC—he snorted and wondered if Bo needed the alphabet to remember their names. Would they have named the next one Dorothea?

  “What do we do now?” she asked, reluctantly taking the freeway west.

  “There’s no we to it,” he said grumpily, processing too much information. “Your brother’s e-mail account didn’t hold anything of interest. If we don’t have his computer, I’ll have to hack Air Force servers, which means I need my computers. I can’t watch you and work at the same time.”

  “Don’t you know people we could talk to instead? Do we have to risk arrest?”

  He’d seen her soft cuddly side with the kids. It was starting to blend with her brisk business persona—like the curls continually popping from her tight hairpins. For a brief moment, he focused on the padded cushion of her pink bottom lip, then he dragged his attention back to the conversation. He had to keep his head on his shoulders with this woman.

  “I’m authorized. If I can hack their computers, someone isn’t doing their job, and I’ll file a report—after I’ve found what I want. Have you given what you’re asking any thought whatsoever? If the government reported a helicopter down and it isn’t…”

  She scrunched up her shoulders and a dangling curl shook. “It could have crashed on a desert island. We just need them to look.”

  “Woman, you’re in serious denial!” he almost shouted before biting his tongue when she cringed. “That copter was a result of years of billion dollar research. The feds are all over its disappearance. If it crashed on a desert island, they’d have found it. What you’re saying is making no sense, but if there’s any chance at all that you’re right—that copter has been highjacked. And if we go asking questions and there really is a cover up, we’re walking targets for some real nasty asshats.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, shooting him a fierce glare when the traffic slowed down. “Why did you come to me? If you’re not just humoring me, why don’t you believe the crash report?”

  He sat stonily staring ahead for a while. She was right. He’d gone to her, not the other way around. She had a right to ask. Maybe if he gave a little, she would, too. He just couldn’t tell her the real reason was the Librarian’s warning, because then Dorrie would know she was on his shit list.

  “Magnus possessed a…gift…for knowing if something was wrong in an engine even before it sputtered. He would never have flown in a copter with a faulty engine.”

  Let’s see what she made of that. Conan waited with interest, checking out her jacket to distract himself. He wished she’d take it off so he could see what bit of frill she wore underneath.

  “You think their copter was shot down? They were flying off the coast of California!”

  Huh, she didn’t question gifts or knowing about engines. Interesting point. “Shooting would require bodies, wouldn’t it?” he asked. “And there aren’t any. Unless you planted them under the pepper tree.”

  No explosion of fury. No halting of the car and heaving him out. She simply glared out the windshield. This was one seriously focused lady. He was starting to enjoy his ability to say anything he liked without getting walloped. He’d been ready to accept that she was shoving him away. Now he didn’t know where he stood. Women were a royal pain in the ass, but this one… Damn his curiosity anyway.

  Her phone rang, and she tapped a button on her steering wheel. “Dorothea Franklin,” she said, in that cold business tone Conan was starting to despise.

  The voice emerging from the speaker sounded livid. “Who is this person reading our reports and what is he doing here? I’ve called the police!”

  “And good afternoon to you, too, Mr. Zimmer. That’s Mr. Liu and I recommend that you call the police and tell them it’s a false alarm. I’ve hired him to recommend security measures. My tires were slashed last night, and I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”

  “We can put security guards in the garage!” her board treasurer shouted. “We don’t need someone snooping through personnel files!”

  Dorrie pinched the bridge of her nose. “External security begins with internal security, Mr. Zimmer. You know that. Why are you there today?”

  “I work overtime all the time. If you worked the same hours I did, you’d know that!”

  The phone on the other end went dead. With a sigh, Dorrie pulled into the parking lot of a Mexican restaurant.

  “I’m sorry. I need food before I go over there and throttle our treasurer,” she told the seriously annoying man watching her as if she were a bug on a rug.

  Neither of them had eaten hamburgers with the kids. Right now, she needed a heaping Mexican salad and tortillas with salsa. Her 007 consultant could just do whatever he liked.

  He apparently liked to do margaritas. He ordered a pitcher after they took a patio table so Toto could sit with them. Observing Conan studying the menu, it occurred to Dorrie that he was probably the best-looking date she’d ever had, hawk nose and attitude and all.

  Or maybe she simply liked non-classically handsome more than she liked bland good looks. Or the sun-bronzed V of muscled chest revealed by his open polo had washed her brain. She’d better get her brain back real soon. He still wasn’t speaking to her. Any man who could forget her existence within five seconds flat just wasn’t that into her. Her parents were a good example of how well disinterest didn’t work.

  With their orders placed and drinks in hand, Conan apparently decided she was worth his notice again.

  “If your hothead is your board treasurer, how well do you know him?” he asked.

  “Wrong direction,” she warned. “Marion Zimmer has worked with my father since the foundation began. Yeah, he’s a bad-tempered old coot, but he’s my father’s best friend. I seriously doubt the missing funds have anything to do with Zimmer or Bo.”

  “Did your brother ever work with the foundation?” He scooped salsa onto his chip and waited.

  Conan’s eyes weren’t all brown. They glinted with gold when he focused all that formidable masculine attention on her. For a moment, she couldn’t even think. She fought the butterflies in her stomach. And the tingling in her br
easts. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t notice her most of the time.

  “We both worked there when we were in college. It wasn’t as big as it is now that Dad has retired and funded it completely. Bo’s good at business management. I’m not. I’d rather talk to the clients.”

  “So your brother hasn’t been in the office for what, ten, fifteen years?”

  “He’s eight years older than I am. The Air Force put him through college, and he went straight into officer’s training after that. So around that. Dad and Amy have been trying to persuade him to quit the service and return to business, but I think he’s married to his work, which is why Amy booted him out.”

  “So you’re stepping into your brother’s shoes in the family business?” he asked, sipping his margarita and still studying her.

  Dorrie ran her fingers over her hair, checking for loose strands. “I’m my mother’s daughter, not my father’s. I have no head for business. I’ve taken the classes. I’m trying.” She’d far rather have taken over her mother’s feng shui design firm, but that had gotten Mei killed, so Dorrie hid her talents in that department. Unfortunately, she didn’t have many others.

  Conan sipped his drink before speaking. “The missing money isn’t complicated. You have clients in your system who are recorded as no longer active, but to whom foundation funds are still being transferred. I’ve traced the expenditure from those funds through a maze of different accounts and finally to deposits in a single account, but I’d rather have permission for access from the bank than hack into their computer. You need to set outside auditors on it. They would have more authority than I do to call police and access outside accounts. I can’t rule out your employees.”

  Dorrie thought the bottom fell out of her stomach. She no longer wanted the food the waitress set in front of them. “Someone really is siphoning money from FF?”

  “Looks like it, although I’m not seeing any connection to your brother.”

  She did, but she didn’t want to lose Conan’s objectivity by telling him at least one of her employees was operating on irrational energy. It had been irrational energy that had killed her mother. “Zimmer will complain to everyone on Monday about your security guy,” she said instead of explaining. “They’ll know something is wrong, so I guess it won’t hurt to call in auditors.”