Gentlemen Prefer Nerds (9 page)

“Maddie’s never stolen a thing in her life,” Al said, a distinct note of regret in his voice. “How do you plan to get the diamond back?”

“Yes, good question,” Maddie said. “How?”

“First thing we need to do is track down the thief.” Fabian rubbed his hands together. “May I use your phone?”

Al took a few moments, silently sizing Fabian up. Then he said, “Right through here,” and led him across the hall into his office. “I think you’ll find everything you need.”

Her father’s setup included three computers, several telephone lines, a copy machine capable of high-quality color reproductions, and a police scanner. If Fabian was taken aback by the abrupt transition from antiques to high tech he didn’t let on. Seating himself at a desk, he reached for the phone.

“Who are you calling?” Maddie asked.

“An associate in London.” Fabian punched in the numbers.

Maddie motioned Al to a pair of office chairs in front of the bank of computers on the other side of the room. She wanted to give Fabian privacy but at the same time keep an ear open on his conversation.

“So this is the man who slipped the note under your door,” Al said thoughtfully. “What do you know about him?”

“Practically nothing. Shh.” She heard a smattering of disconnected words—
Cape Town…pink diamond…Auckland…Roland Price.

“Do you trust him?” Al asked.

Good question. Instinct, experience and Al had taught her not to trust members of the Establishment, aka Suits. Admittedly, Fabian was different from your average ad exec, but she wasn’t sure yet to what degree he differed, or how. “He saved Jinx from Shirley Tamworth and the RSPCA.”

“A point in his favor. But will he be able to protect you?”

“He got me away from the police.” Maddie chewed at her lip, still not entirely convinced that was a good idea.

“I’m not worried about the cops. But thieves commit murder for a lot less than twenty million dollars. A rare diamond makes some people crazy, willing to do anything to get it. And keep it.”

It was true. History was full of stories of intrigue and danger surrounding famous jewels. Maddie thought back to the way Fabian had coolly stolen her away from Detective Sergeant Billson, driven like the devil, and then daringly swept her off her rooftop and away over the city.

“If anyone can protect me from bad guys, Fabian can.”

On the other hand, who was going to protect her from him?

“Once you walk on the shady side of the street, it’s hard to turn back.” Al’s cherubic face was uncharacteristically sober as he imparted this life lesson. “I’m not saying I’m against it but you’ve got to be sure.” He paused. “Pity I didn’t get to see that diamond before it was stolen. Are you sure you don’t have it? You can tell your old pop.”

“Do you really believe I’m capable of stealing a twenty-million-dollar diamond?” Maddie asked, dismayed.

Al tweaked her nose playfully. “A father always wants his children to do better than he did.”

“I’m not turning to a life of crime.” True, running away from the police could be construed as the thin edge of the wedge. But she didn’t have time to think about that now. “Have you seen the doctor yet?”

“Connor bribed me into going with the promise of an empty mansion in Toorak full of antiques,” Al grumbled. “You raise children, lavish them with love and affection, and then they betray you.”

“What did the doctor say?” Maddie asked impatiently.

“He’s sending me to the hospital for tests.”

“When?”

“This afternoon.”

“Then it’s urgent!”

“No, I’m fine,” Al insisted. “You’ll see.”

“Don’t you dare back out.” Maddie gave her father’s hand a quick squeeze and then went over to Fabian. He’d hung up the phone and was rubbing the back of his neck. “Who’s Roland Price?”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s impolite to eavesdrop?”

Maddie waited.

With a sigh, Fabian said, “Roland Price is one of the aliases used by the Chameleon.”

“Why didn’t you tell me his name before?”

“There was no need. The Chameleon aka Roland Price traveled from Cape Town to New Zealand. There the trail goes cold. There’s no record of him entering Australia.”

“We’d better tell the police he’s traveling under the name of Roland Price before he leaves the country.”

“No police.”

“But if they can find him—”

“No police,” Fabian repeated, his tone uncompromising. “That is the express wish of the person I’m working for. If you want my help you’ll go along with that.”

“I’m not sure I do want your help—”

“We’ve been through this already. The Chameleon is too slippery for the slow machinery of the law enforcement agencies. If he thinks they’re after him, he’ll escape the country. Then we’ll never get the diamond back.”

“If I were him I’d be heading quick smart to a foreign gem dealer.” Al strolled over to join the conversation. “Thailand or Burma. Preferably black market.”

“I don’t believe he plans to sell the Rose,” Fabian said. “He’s likely to leave Melbourne certainly but from what I know of him, he’ll head someplace warm and luxurious to gloat over his success. After his last heist he spent five months in Monte Carlo.”

“There are tropical resorts up north in Queensland,” Al said. “The trick would be finding which one he went to. If Connor were here he’d be able to help.”

“It’s hopeless. I’m going to call Grace.” Maddie got her phone out of her purse and started punching in the number. “She’ll be worried sick wondering what’s happened to me.”

“Don’t.” Al lunged for Maddie’s phone and snatched it away before Fabian could. “The cops can trace you on that thing. It’d lead them straight here.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.” She wrapped her jacket tighter and gave him an anxious glance. “The detective in charge of the case already knows you’re my father.”

A heavy silence fell. Fabian’s thoughtful gaze shifted from her to Al. “No one likes to be bothered by questions from the police.”

“Lord, no,” Al blustered. “They might catch me out on that overdue parking fine.”

“Maybe we should be going,” Maddie said nervously, though where they’d go, and how, she didn’t know.

The front door slammed.

“Hey, Dad! Are you home?” Connor’s running shoes thudded softly as he ran through the house. “Dad, where are you? I just heard on the scanner—the cops have an APB out on Maddie!”

Maddie sat down abruptly. “I feel sick.”

The younger of Maddie’s two brothers came to a halt in the doorway to the office. He was short like Al but thin and wiry, dressed in a dark sweatshirt and jeans. He’d inherited his mother’s fair hair and blue eyes. His gaze homed in on his sister. “Boy, are you in trouble.” He jerked his head toward Fabian. “Who’s he?”

“A friend of Maddie’s,” Al replied before Fabian could speak. “Listen, boyo, get on the computer. You’ve got to hack into the airlines.”

“What am I looking for?” Connor took a seat at the middle computer.

“We need to know if a Roland Price was on a flight out of Melbourne either late last night or early this morning,” Fabian said. “And his destination.”

“Roland Price. No worries.” With a touch of the mouse, Conner pulled the computer out of sleep mode. He grinned over his shoulder at Maddie. “When you decide to break into the family business, you do it in a big way. Twenty million dollars!”

“Will you shut up?” Maddie said fiercely. “I had nothing to do with stealing that diamond.”

Al went to stand at Connor’s side. “Just get on with your hacking, lad.”

Fabian leaned over and spoke in Maddie’s ear. “Family business?”

“It’s a joke,” Maddie muttered, avoiding his gaze. “Connor’s clowning around.”

“I see,” Fabian replied. “How very amusing.”

“They’ve changed their operating system.” Connor’s fingers raced over the furiously clacking keys.

“It would seem he’s done this before,” Fabian remarked.

“He’s a…uh, computer programmer.” Turned rogue. Bringing Fabian here had made Al and her brothers vulnerable. If anything happened to them as a result…

“I hope he’s not one of those email scammers who ask strangers for bank account details.”

Despite her anxiety Maddie gave a snort. “That would be so beneath him, a waste of his talent.”

“I’m relieved to hear it,” Fabian said dryly.

“Hurry, Connor.” She glanced at her watch. “We’ve been here half an hour already. This is probably the first place the cops will look, especially if they saw the direction our chopper took.”

“It’ll take longer if you pester me,” he pointed out.

“We’ll let the maestro work.” Maddie grabbed Fabian’s hand and pulled him from the room. “Dad, have you got anything to eat? I’m starving.”

“I’ll make sandwiches.” Al took himself off to the kitchen.

Maddie paced the living room, peering out the lace curtains to the empty residential street. She cocked her head. Was it her imagination or did she hear sirens? No, it must be her imagination.

Fabian took out his cell. “Jack, how are you going? Did they catch up with you? No? Good. Stand by for the next phase. Seymour. Righteo.”

Maddie turned away from the window. “Does the pilot know what’s going on? He could lose his license for being an accessory to a crime.”

“Jack is an old buddy of mine,” Fabian strolled leisurely about the room. “He used to be in the SAS and is, shall we say, flexible when it comes to the law.”

She scooped the dead leaves that had fallen off a poinsettia left over from last Christmas from an antique side table. It was such a shame, Al had all these beautiful things but there was no one with a feminine touch to look after the home. “So you’re in the SAS. No wonder you can leap into helicopters at a single bound.”

“I was in the SAS. Not anymore.” Fabian paused to examine a Picasso from the blue period hanging on the wall.

Yet he still possessed a hyper-awareness in his wide-legged stance and in the alert tilt to his head. There was power in those broad shoulders, strength and vigor in his long legs. “Here I thought you would have had a cushy job in the House of Lords.”

“I won’t take my seat until my father passes away, hopefully many years from now.”

“Would he be Lord James Montgomery, the Earl of Landsdowne?”

Fabian turned sharply, long fingers curling into his palms at his side. “What do you know about my family?”

That had gotten his knickers in a knot. “Only what I found out from Google, which was precious little.”

Fabian’s shoulders dropped and he unclenched his fists. Gesturing to the painting, he said, “I believe this is a forgery. Does your father know?”

Al had probably commissioned it. “Google didn’t turn up anything on you that Grace and I could find. Why would that be?”

“I lead an uneventful life. There’s nothing of interest to report.” Fabian crossed to the window to look out at the derelict yard.

She hated what he must be thinking, that her family were low-class criminals. Her mother, at least, had come from a distinguished family descended from free settlers. Not that Maddie was particularly proud of Grandfather Abercrombie, the original Arrogant Suit.

“I’m in!” Connor called out.

“Come on.” Maddie hurried to the office with Fabian close on her heels.

“Nothing’s showing up on international flights,” Connor reported, typing rapidly. “I’ll try domestic.”

Al came into the room, brushing crumbs off his hands.

“Nothing on Qantas or Virgin Blue. Wait a minute…Bingo!” Connor cried. Maddie, Fabian and Al leaned in to peer at the monitor. “Roland Price. Jetstar Flight 89 at 11:30 p.m. from Melbourne to Hamilton Island.”

“Where is Hamilton Island?” Fabian asked.

“North Queensland,” Maddie said. “It’s a resort island on the Great Barrier Reef. You were right about warm and luxurious.”

Connor whistled through his teeth. “Expensive holiday. Do you want me to see if I can locate him on any of the hotel guest lists?”

“That would be helpful.” Fabian turned to Al. “Could we borrow a car?”

“Come with me, I’ll get you the keys.” Al went back through the lounge room to the hall.

“It’s a four-day trip,” Maddie said as she and Fabian followed Al. “Who knows where Roland will get to by then. We should fly.”

“You can’t, darlin’.” Al opened the drawer of an art deco table. “The cops will have your name at every airport, train and bus station as well as every car rental in the country.” He found a set of keys but held them in a tight grip in front of Fabian. “I hope I can trust you with my little girl.”

“For God’s sake, Dad, he’s not taking me to the prom.” She snatched the keys from his hand. “Thanks.”

“The car can’t be traced to me because it’s not registered in my name,” Al said to Fabian. “Just don’t get stopped for speeding.”

“Good luck on that one,” Maddie muttered.

Connor emerged from the office. “I couldn’t find Roland Price anywhere on Hamilton Island. I’ll keep checking.”

“I’ll be in touch when we get there.” Fabian tipped him a salute.

Maddie hugged her father goodbye.

“Ordinarily I wouldn’t just hand over my only daughter to a stranger,” Al assured her. “But he knew that table was Gustavian. He can’t be all bad.”

“We’ll see about that,” Maddie said. “Take good care of Jinx. Get word to Grace that I’m all right. Tell her I’ll be back as soon as I can with the Rose. Make sure you keep your appointment with the cardiologist. Oh, dear, how am I going to find out the results of your tests?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Al said. “You just look out for yourself.” He turned to Fabian. “I don’t care about the car. Just make sure you bring my Maddie back in one piece.”

Fabian held out his hand to shake. Al gave him one of his bone-grinding grips and a steely-eyed stare that belied his small stature. Fabian endured both without flinching. Nothing Maddie’d seen of him so far impressed her so much as this.

A volley of loud bangs sounded on the front door.

Maddie’s veins turned to ice. Her gaze locked on Al’s. He raised a finger to his lips and gestured for her to go out the back way. She grabbed Fabian’s hand and they moved swiftly and silently down the hall. Before they were over the threshold to the kitchen, the front door burst open. Maddie’s older brother, Liam, a red-haired throwback to some respectable Irish woman on the tinkers’ trade route, entered, his brawny arms wrapped around a case of beer.

“Liam! You scared us half to death.” Maddie’s blood started flowing again. She laughed out of sheer relief.

“I’m not exactly alone.” Liam stepped aside.

Two police officers were coming up the steps.

Grabbing Fabian’s hand, she ran through the kitchen toward the back door. In passing she noted with regret a plate of sandwiches on the counter. The cops shouted for them to stop, and then there was a thunk as Liam accidentally dropped his case of beer on a policeman’s foot. Al added to the confusion by launching into a torrent of outrage, invective and pure blarney that would have delayed the devil in pursuit of a soul.

Once they were outside, Maddie dropped Fabian’s hand and tore on ahead of him through the overgrown garden. Ducking through a loose board in the weathered palings, she skimmed along the edge of the thick bushes that separated her father’s property from the school grounds.

Fabian squeezed through the narrow opening right behind her. “Where is your father’s car, exactly?”

“He rents a garage at the end of the block. It opens onto a different street than the one the house fronts on to.” Maddie pushed through the horizontal branches of a ti tree, stumbling over the exposed roots. She wished she’d changed into running shoes instead of ruining her leather ballet flats. Was it only this morning she’d dressed for the unveiling of the Rose, happily contemplating how nice her dress and vest combo would look on TV?

Thick jasmine vines grew up and over the garage, covering the crumbling brick building in luxuriant green foliage dotted with tiny pink buds. Maddie pressed the automatic door opener. The roller lifted, revealing a battered white Ford parked rear end-in, poised for a quick getaway.

Fabian held his hand out for the car keys.

Maddie tightened her grip, not keen on another hair-raising ride with Fabian behind the wheel. “I’ll drive. I know the quickest way out of town.”

Fabian edged past cardboard boxes marked Fragile stacked along the side of the garage to the passenger side. “Your father has taught you well.”

“No! I didn’t mean—I’m not like them—oh, never mind.” She jumped in the driver’s seat and turned over the ignition. The car roared to life with the trillion or so horsepower Liam had installed to soup up the V12 engine. Tentatively pressing her foot to the pedal, she eased out of the driveway and drove slowly down the residential road.

“Can’t you go faster?” Fabian demanded. “At this rate Roland could swim to South Africa before we get there.”

“And draw attention to ourselves? You heard what Al said about getting caught speeding.” Cautiously, Maddie accelerated to thirty kilometers per hour. Her shoulders were hunched with tension and her gaze flitted constantly to the rearview mirror. She turned on to a crossroad after scanning both ways for police cars. So far so good. “So Roland Price really is from South Africa?”

“He was born in England and moved to Johannesburg in his midteens. He returned to England to go to university and eventually went back to South Africa.”

“You do know him.”

“Is that your stomach growling?” Fabian cocked his head, listening.

Maddie glanced at the clock on the dashboard. One-fifteen. No wonder she was starving; she hadn’t eaten yet today. “There’s a fast food outlet where we turn on to the freeway heading north.” She threw him a sidelong glance. “I suppose sons of earls don’t eat anything as plebeian as a hamburger.”

“Where do you get your information from—Monty Python reruns?” Fabian inquired. “We’re not all twits.”

“I’m relieved to hear it because it’s a long way to northern Queensland. And I get cranky when I’m hungry.”

“We’re not going to drive all the way.”

Maddie mentally shuffled through the alternatives. If they couldn’t fly, or go by train or bus… “A boat?” Her eyes widened in horror. “No freaking way will I get in a boat! If there’s anything I hate worse than heights it’s being on the water.”

Fabian swiveled in his seat to stare at her. “You’ve gone white as a sheet.”

“No boats,” Maddie muttered, hunched over the wheel.

“Relax, we’re not taking a boat. There’s a small airfield in a place called Mangalore just north of Seymour. Do you know of it? Jack is meeting us there with a small fixed-wing aircraft.”

“Seymour is off the highway an hour and a bit from here.” She drove in silence, the morning’s events spinning through her mind. There were so many unanswered questions where Fabian was concerned she hardly knew where to begin. “Why did you pretend to my father that we were going to drive all the way to Queensland?”

“I don’t want him or your brothers to know too much for their own good. If the police question them—”

“Dad would never dob us in.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t. I suspect Al Maloney knows a thing or two about evading the police,” Fabian said. “But in my experience, the fewer people who know the whole plan, the less chance that something will go wrong.”

“‘In your experience.’ What exactly does that mean?”

Fabian shrugged and remained silent.

“Is there something about the Rose I don’t know?” Maddie probed. “Something to do with British or Australian national security?” It seemed highly unlikely but then so did an Englishman coming all the way to Australia to try to prevent a robbery by a South African.

“I can assure you the British government hasn’t got the slightest interest in your diamond.”

“What about your pilot, Jack? Who’s paying him?”

“I am.” Fabian pointed to a bright yellow restaurant across the road. “Go through the drive-through. From the gruesome sounds being emitted by your stomach, I’d say you’re in immediate need of emergency rations.”

“I don’t usually eat at these places,” Maddie said, putting on her indicator. “But if you insist…”

* * *

Jack was waiting at Mangalore Airfield, just as Fabian promised. The airfield was tiny, comprising a single hanger, three or four small airplanes lined up outside and a short runway between grassy paddocks. Maddie parked in the gravel lot in front of an electrified fence. On the other side of the wire, black-and-white Holsteins chewed cud and eyed them with mild curiosity. The reminder of her black-and-white bra hit her in the face.

Fabian shot a glance at Maddie. “Friends of yours?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m very fond of cows.” Maddie got out and slammed the door.

She strode off along the edge of the windy tarmac. Seeing the plane they were to fly in, she came to an abrupt halt. It was a toy!

“Let’s take a moment to think this through,” she said, stalling. “Maybe we’ve made a mistake. Maybe some random thief stole the Rose. Are you sure Rolf is a baddy? He seemed so harmless. It’s hard to imagine him as a jewel thief.”

“He’s not the man you think you know.” Fabian produced a photo from his inside pocket.

In spite of the warning, Maddie got a jolt. The man in the photo had the same boyish good looks as Rolf but there the resemblance ended. Clean-shaven and without glasses, he was seated at a table covered in green baize, his arm draped casually around a voluptuous redhead in evening dress. A bottle of Stolichnaya sat at his elbow next to a smoking cigar in an ashtray. Half out of the photo but clearly distinguishable was a roulette wheel. The date on the bottom of the photo was six weeks before Rolf had arrived in Melbourne.

“Where was this taken?”

“The Casino Royale in Monte Carlo.”