They collapsed into some chairs near the coffee shop.
“Th-thanks,” Gerald said, finally finding his voice.
“No problem,” the girl replied. “You looked like you needed some help.”
“You could say that. How did you know?”
“My brother and I were hanging around the back stairs. We saw that guy pull a knife on you.”
A fair-haired boy about Gerald’s age appeared and dropped into a chair.
“That all seemed to go to plan then,” the boy said, clapping a hand on Gerald’s shoulder.
Gerald winced.
“Oh, sorry. Sore, is it?”
The boy had a happy face, with a strong jaw and a scattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His blond hair was short and his skin looked ready for the first tan of summer. He was shorter than Gerald and looked pretty fit.
“We figured your bad guy wasn’t going to cause a fuss if we grabbed you right in front of a policeman,” the boy said. “Lucky he was there or we’d have needed Plan B.”
“What was Plan B?” Gerald asked.
His rescuers looked at each other.
“Um, we were still working on that,” the girl said. “But Plan A seemed to go okay.”
Gerald let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Do you think that guy’ll come back? Y’know, looking for you?” the girl asked.
Gerald shook his head.
“Not with all these people about. And not after that policeman got such a good look at him. Who is Tony Valentine, then?”
“Our cousin. It was the first name that popped into my head,” the girl said. “I mean, you had to be someone.”
Gerald grinned. “My name’s Gerald,” he said. Then, as an afterthought, “Stupid name, eh?”
“Only if your last name is Grasshopper,” the girl said. “I’m Ruby. Ruby Valentine. This is my brother, Sam.”
“What’s your story, then?” Sam asked, resting his elbows on the table. “Who wants to kidnap you?”
Gerald looked at the two sets of inquisitive eyes. He reached around, pulled out his wallet, and opened it. Sam gaped at the wedge of fifty-pound notes poking out.
“Who feels like hot chocolate?” Gerald asked.
Twenty minutes and two rounds of hot chocolates later, Gerald finished the tale of his holiday so far: a funeral, a fat inheritance, abandoned by his parents, chased by photographers, a stolen diamond, a possible murder, and a knife-wielding kidnapper.
Sam scraped bits of chocolate from the bottom of his mug.
“You don’t want to go to the police because your great-aunt said they can’t be trusted?” he said.
“That’s right. Why would they believe any of this anyway? I can’t even believe it,” Gerald said. He paused. “You believe me, right?”
“Why not?” Ruby said. “That guy had a knife at your back. You didn’t make that up.”
“Who’s the professor we’re trying to find? Mackelberry?” Sam said, pushing his chair back from the table and half standing up.
“It’s McElderry, but you don’t need to—”
“Oh, come off it, Gerald,” Ruby said. “Our dad had to go back to work. He left us to look around here all day. There’s only so many Greek relics you can stand in one go. Your quest sounds a lot more fun. Besides, you need some local knowledge.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, clapping Gerald hard on the shoulder again. “We’re family, remember, cousin?”
The elevator to the administration wing opened onto a narrow corridor lined with dark red carpet. A board on the wall opposite listed a number of offices. Professor McElderry’s was down the long hallway.
“You guys are twins?” Gerald said, leading the way.
“Yep,” Sam said. “I’m older by two minutes.”
“But not identical twins?”
Gerald stopped.
“I can’t believe I said that.”
“Don’t worry,” Ruby said. “We get it all the time.”
“Really?”
“Nah. Just trying to make you feel better. Identical twins! Pfft!”
Sam shouldered past his sister. “Ignore her, she’s a pain. What do you want to get from this professor?”
“He’s the only lead I have to my great-aunt’s death,” Gerald said. “He was the one who brought the diamond out from India, which seems to be the thing that got everyone excited. The thin man wanted to know about a diamond casket. Maybe the professor knows something about it.”
They stopped outside a dark wooden door with PROFESSOR K. MCELDERRY in gold letters across the central panel. As Gerald reached out to turn the handle, they heard a bellow from inside.
“I don’t care if he’s the queen’s uncle! I don’t have time to see him!”
The door opened to reveal a small reception area. A timid-looking woman sat behind a wooden desk in the corner. An enormous man leaned over her. His face was a spectacular red that outshone his thatch of auburn hair and unkempt beard. He looked like a strawberry jelly that had been dropped on a barber shop floor. The woman held a telephone to her ear, a tiny hand trying in vain to cover the mouthpiece.
“But what should I tell the prime minister’s office?” she said. “He wants a meeting.”
“Tell him I died in a mine explosion,” the man fumed. “And I’ll call him tomorrow.” He stormed into an adjoining office, slamming the door behind him.
The woman looked at the telephone receiver and took a deep breath.
“I’m afraid Professor McElderry is unavailable today. Perhaps Tuesday?”
She finished the phone call and made a note in a diary on the desk. Then she turned to the three children in the doorway.
“Yes?” she said wearily.
“We’d like to see Professor McElderry, please,” Gerald said.
The woman folded her arms across her chest and stared at him.
“The professor is busy.”
She snapped the diary shut and returned to her work.
Gerald looked at the others and shrugged.
“I guess that’s that,” he muttered. “Come on, Valentines, let’s go.”
“Rubbish,” said Ruby, who had been studying the room. “You haven’t said the magic word yet.”
“What?” Gerald said. “Please?”
“No,” Ruby replied. “Money.”
She pushed past Gerald and strode up to the desk.
“Excuse me,” she said in a clear voice. “My friend would like to see Professor Mackelberry.”
The woman lifted her head and glared at Ruby.
“As I have told your friend, Professor McElderry is busy.”
“I’m sure he is, but—”
“And if the prime minister of Great Britain can’t see him, I don’t think your friend is going to skip to the front of the queue.”
Ruby eyed the woman.
“I noticed the plaque on your desk,” Ruby said. “The one that thanks the Archer Foundation for funding this section of the museum.”
“What about it?” the woman said.
“After the sad death of Geraldine Archer, I believe the sole director of the Archer Foundation is standing in the doorway.” Ruby pointed to Gerald, who was watching with a look of wonder. “And while the prime minister can’t get in, I’m sure the person who pays the professor’s salary might be able to buy five minutes of his valuable time.” Ruby leaned closer and whispered to the woman, “I guess he probably pays your wages, too.”
The woman looked at Gerald, then back at Ruby. She glanced at a copy of the morning paper on her desk, which had a large photograph of Gerald on the front page. She cleared her throat.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
She edged out from behind the desk and scurried to the door through which the professor had disappeared. She closed her eyes, summoning strength, then tapped on the wooden doorframe.
A thunderous roar blasted back.
“What in the blinking blue blazes do you want? I am not to b
e disturbed!”
The woman swallowed tightly and opened the door just wide enough to poke her head through.
Gerald couldn’t make out what the woman was saying but within seconds Professor McElderry’s enormous frame filled the doorway.
“Gerald Wilkins?” he asked.
Gerald held his hand up timidly.
“Why didn’t you say so? Come in!”
Gerald, Sam, and Ruby squeezed past Professor McElderry and found themselves in what could have passed for a war zone. There was stuff everywhere. Great towers of paper were stacked on every surface. If the place was a bomb site, then the desk was ground zero. Old teacups nestled atop leather-bound volumes. Great sheaves of notes and pencil sketches spilled across the surface like water overflowing from a bath. A bookcase behind the desk was stuffed with statuettes and carvings, shoved in at all angles on the shelves, but, curiously, not a single book. The books were piled on the floor next to the stuffed head of some sort of antelope.
They found some chairs and sat down among the carnage.
The professor pushed his way through the debris and went to settle behind his desk. McElderry had barely sat down when he leaped up, cursing to himself, and removed a tortoise from his chair.
“Found this little chap on the slopes of Parnassos,” he said, moving it out of the way.
“Is it alive?” Gerald asked.
“Alive? Course it’s alive,” the professor said. “Smell something awful if it was dead.” He looked around for a place to put the tortoise and eventually decided on the pile of books closest to the antelope. The tortoise stuck out its head and peered around, then withdrew inside its shell.
“Can’t say the same for this fellow,” the professor said, pointing at the stuffed head. “Bagged that one in India twenty years ago. Bit moth-eaten now but still has its uses. Here, watch.” He picked up a battered hat from behind a rubbish bin and flung it across the room. The hat sailed well clear of the antlers and careened into a tower of folders and old shoe boxes, sending the lot tumbling onto Sam.
“You get the idea,” the professor muttered. “Now, you’re Geraldine’s nephew, are you?” He studied Gerald from beneath a canopy of shaggy red eyebrows.
“Uh, great-nephew.”
“Not come here to cut off my funding, have you?”
“No,” Gerald said quickly.
“Well, that’s a relief,” the professor said. “Couldn’t do what we do without the Archer Foundation’s cash. In that case, what do you want?”
Gerald mustered some courage and wriggled upright in the chair. “Um…Geraldine left me a note saying that you might be able to help me.”
The professor appeared surprised.
“Help you? From what I read it doesn’t look like you need much help from anyone. A tick over twenty billion quid, wasn’t it?”
Gerald flushed. He was still getting used to the idea of being a billionaire.
“Look, Professor Mackelberry,” Sam piped in, shoving the last of the shoe boxes from his lap onto the floor, “Gerald’s great-aunt reckons she was murdered because of the diamond that was on display here at the museum. And she said you might know something about it.”
The professor swung away from Gerald and locked his gaze onto Sam like a gun turret turning on a battleship.
“Geraldine reckons she was murdered, does she?” McElderry said.
“That’s right,” Sam said.
“And how does a dead woman—God rest her soul—tell you she’s been murdered? Pop by for a chat, did she?”
“Um, no. She wrote a letter, actually.”
“A letter! And how was it delivered, may I ask? Through the ghost post?”
“Well, I—”
“I expect she has a bit of spare time to be writing nice little notes now, her being dead and all.”
Sam shifted in is chair. “No, no. You misunderstood. She wrote it before she was killed.”
“Yes, that would be more traditional. And predicting her own demise, was she?”
“Well, yes.”
“At the hands of the same person who nicked my diamond?”
“Um…I guess.”
“From my recollection the diamond was stolen the day before Geraldine Archer passed away. Are you suggesting that a master criminal who has just flogged the world’s most valuable gem from under the nose of a policeman, rather than fleeing the country, wakes up the next day and pops down the road to snuff out an old lady for no personal gain and every risk of capture by the police? Is that what you’re saying?”
Sam paused. “Um, yes. That is what I’m saying.”
Professor McElderry motioned for Sam to lean in closer.
“You know something, son?” he asked.
“What?” Sam said.
“I think you might possibly be the stupidest boy in the world.”
The tortoise sitting on top of the stack of books poked its head out.
McElderry stood up and pushed his way around to Gerald.
“Listen, Gerald, I admired your great-aunt. She was a very generous supporter of our work and she had a genuine love for science and discovery. About a year ago the opportunity came up to bring the Noor Jehan diamond out here to be the centerpiece of an India exhibition. It was a coup for the museum to get it. But the insurance cost was ruinous. Your great-aunt offered to pay for the lot. A remarkable woman.”
“What’s so great about this diamond?” Gerald said.
McElderry let out a ripe snort.
“Noor Jehan—it means ‘the light of the world.’ It’s the largest flawless diamond ever discovered. It’s the big sister to the Koh-i-Noor diamond in the British crown jewels. That one-hundred-million–pound value everyone’s talking about? It’s meaningless—there are collectors out there who would write a check for that without blinking. It hadn’t left India for seventeen hundred years and now it’s been stolen. I’ve got the insurance company breathing down my neck, the prime minister’s worried about relations with India, and the gem’s owner is due to arrive any moment. He’s not going to be blowing me kisses.”
McElderry placed an arm around Gerald and led him toward the reception area.
“It is a great tragedy that Geraldine passed away. But she was old. And I hate to say it, the last few times I spoke with her she didn’t seem altogether there. You know, a bit batty. Maybe she was imagining things. It can happen. But linking her death to the theft of the diamond? Nonsense.”
Gerald stopped as they reached the door.
“One more thing, professor,” he said. “This diamond, is there some sort of casket that goes with it?”
McElderry looked at Gerald.
“There have been tales over the centuries that Noor Jehan was once stored in a fancy box, but I’ve never seen any evidence of it. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” Gerald said, rubbing his still-tender shoulder. “Thanks anyway.”
Gerald was out in the corridor before he realized that Sam and Ruby weren’t with him. He was about to go back when two things happened. First, a roar from behind the door confirmed that the twins were still inside. And secondly, three people emerged from the elevator at the end of the corridor. A tall and elegantly dressed man led the way, limping slightly on a wooden walking stick. His short silver hair was combed neatly with a gun-barrel part on the side, suggesting an early life in the military or, at the very least, boarding school. His back was ramrod straight, though he did tilt a bit to the right on account of the limp. He was followed by a plump, middle-aged Indian man in a bottle-green suit, his neck swelling at the collar and his face a deep shade of purple. Gerald guessed from his expression of bottomless anger that this was the owner of the missing diamond. With them was a girl, perhaps two years older than Gerald. She wore a sari, the same bottle green as the plump man’s suit. Her dark hair was pulled into a single thick braid that reached well down her back. The girl glanced at Gerald, revealing dark almond eyes and a beautiful face, but she looked away, tilting her slightly upt
urned nose even higher, as if she’d just passed a dodgy fish shop.
The door behind Gerald opened and Sam and Ruby bundled out into the corridor, followed by a blustering Professor McElderry.
“Damned cheek. Going through my papers!”
Sam stood defiantly and held up his index finger, which bore a livid red mark.
“I was not,” he said. “Your stupid turtle bit me. Look!”
“It’s a tortoise, you twit,” McElderry said, looming over Sam. “Better than a guard dog, he is. He knows when someone’s up to no good.”
“Pity he wasn’t guarding your precious diamond then, isn’t it!”
McElderry’s awninglike eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth to speak when the silver-haired man stepped forward.
“Knox, I hope we haven’t arrived at an awkward time?” It was a voice of quiet authority.
McElderry looked up and was startled to find three new faces in the corridor, each one staring at him.
“Sir Mason,” he said, withdrawing his raised fist. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Hardly a surprise, Knox, I’m sure,” the tall man said. “You remember Mr. Gupta?”
The plump man elbowed past Sam and barreled up to the professor. His head came up to McElderry’s hairy chin but he didn’t appear at all intimidated.
“Remember me? He’ll rue the day he met me if I don’t get my diamond back!”
McElderry’s whiskers bristled.
“That diamond was under the protection of the Metropolitan Police, and I’ll be blowed if I’m going to take blame for any—”
The silver-haired man coughed into his hand.
“Perhaps, Knox, this conversation would be best held inside your office?”
The professor and Mr. Gupta eyed each other. McElderry mumbled something and opened the door.
Mr. Gupta motioned to the girl, who had been standing sullenly to one side.
“Come along, Alisha,” he said. “This concerns you as much as anyone.” The girl glided past Gerald without sparing him a glance, jasmine-laced fragrance wafting after her. The silver-haired man went to follow his companions when his eyes came to rest on Gerald.
The Billionaire’s Curse Page 8
