Chapter 20
Derrick walked into Cameron’s downstairs office to the usual confusion that accompanied a collection of his lads setting up shop.
He had to shake his head briefly over the possessive term. They were his, he supposed, given that they worked for the company he now owned. They were loyal and seemed to enjoy their work, but whether that was because of the company or him, he couldn’t say.
How they had all come to be involved in that company was, he had to admit, perhaps slightly random.
Oliver had rescued him and Cameron both one night along a deserted side street in London.
Cameron had invited him to come in for an interview.
Oliver’s unflinching expression during the hearing of a private investigator’s report of his entire life had earned him both a job and trust. Peter had come a bit later, a lad with a particular set of skills and a willingness to use them.
Their expertise in antiques, his and theirs, had come by working for Cameron for so long.
It could be safely said that Robert Cameron had an uncanny knack for rooting out things that were staggeringly valuable.
The lads enjoyed that part, but Derrick was sure it was the spy bit that they loved the most. He trusted them implicitly.
But they did tend to make a bit of a mess with their cables and cords and high-tech intrusion sweeping devices.
Oliver looked at Peter from where he had opened his laptop right in the middle of Cameron’s desk, his preferred place to roost. “Clear?”
“Still working on it,” Peter said, his head bent over his own laptop.
Samantha leaned closer to him. “Why are you bothering out here in the wilds of Scotland?” she asked.
“Thugs are everywhere,” Peter said absently.
“Cynic,” Oliver stated.
Peter only grunted and continued with his work.
“Where’s Rufus?” Derrick asked politely.
“On the way to London, leading our thugs on a merry chase,” Oliver said. “He’s a couple of hours out still.”
Derrick frowned. “Then how did you get here?”
“Rented a car, mate,” Oliver said. “You didn’t expect us to take the train, did you?”
He wouldn’t have been surprised, but then again, he’d been quite surprised several times over the past few days so perhaps he wasn’t one to judge. It had been one of those weeks.
“But,” Samantha said slowly, “won’t bad guys trace you from your credit card?”
Oliver lifted an eyebrow. “We’re ghosts, miss. That, and Peter had to have something to do on the drive north.”
She looked at Derrick with a frown. “What does he mean?”
Derrick shrugged. “Paperwork problems. Happens all the time.”
“You hacked into a rental car company’s system to erase paperwork?” Samantha asked uneasily.
“Not to worry,” Peter said, still peering at his screen. “Car’ll be back in Inverness with a bow on the bonnet by tomorrow night. They’ll never know.”
Samantha frowned thoughtfully, then leaned closer to him. “Is this what you do?” she asked. “This kind of thing? For tracking down antiques?”
“We’re a full-service operation,” Oliver said.
“Except for cleaning,” Peter said. “We don’t pick up cleaning.”
Derrick pursed his lips. “I think before we go any further, introductions are in order. Samantha, that’s Oliver, who doesn’t know when to shut up, and Peter, who is very shy around girls.
You’ve already met Rufus, who isn’t here.
Lads, this is Miss Samantha Drummond, who didn’t steal a very valuable piece of Elizabethan lace but unbeknownst to her seems to have picked up another freeloader. ”
“Do we get to see?” Oliver asked. “Just curious.”
Derrick looked at Samantha. “Why don’t you show them what you found in the lining of your purse.”
Bless the girl, she didn’t hesitate. She simply walked over to the desk and deposited the bag of stones next to Oliver’s computer. Oliver looked at Peter.
“Clear yet?”
“Done,” Peter said, setting aside his laptop. “What’ve you got there?” He walked over to peer at the pile on the desk, then let out a low whistle. He pulled a jeweler’s loupe out of a pocket and set it alongside Oliver.
Derrick stood back and watched the pair do the other thing they did best, which was to appreciate things that cost vats of money.
Oliver sat back, considered, then looked at him. “Not modern.”
Derrick only lifted an eyebrow and said nothing.
Oliver frowned and went back to his study. Derrick waited for a bit, then finally cleared his throat.
“Five,” he suggested.
“Bollocks,” Oliver said with a snort. “Ten or none.”
Derrick waited until Peter had finished his perusal, then looked at his chief hacker. “Well?”
“Twenty,” Peter said firmly. “Not a penny less.”
“Twenty what?” Samantha asked.
Peter glanced at her only as quickly as good manners dictated. He was, for all his swaggering, all thumbs when it came to the opposite sex. “Twenty million quid,” he said. He shot Derrick a look. “Just a guess.”
“What do you think, boss?” Oliver said.
“I haven’t had a chance to look,” Derrick said. He looked at Samantha. “Want to go first?”
“Oh,” she said, hesitating, “I don’t know anything about gems.”
“Derrick will give you the lecture,” Oliver said. “Boring unsuspecting lassies is what he does best, but boring them with lectures about the various methods of cutting gems over the centuries is what he likes the most.”
Derrick rolled his eyes. “I have no preference.”
Oliver tsk-tsked him. “Shouldn’t lie. It’s bad for you.” He shifted. “Here, Miss Drummond—”
“Samantha.”
Oliver smiled. “Samantha. You take my chair while you’re looking.
And Derrick can indeed give you a lecture that would leave you begging him to stop, but perhaps today I’ll give you the quicker one.
It’s all about the cut. Well, quality helps as well, but the cut’s the thing.
These would be worth more if they’d been in an original setting—and that setting had been either perfectly preserved or repaired flawlessly—but they’re worth plenty as is. ”
Derrick had his own look after Samantha had finished, then looked at Peter.
“Fifty.”
“Well, you are the expert,” Peter said seriously.
Samantha shook her head. “Fifty million pounds?”
Derrick shrugged. “There are a lot of them and that’s just a guess.
It isn’t so much what they’re worth as what someone would be willing to pay for them.
There is that certain je ne sais quoi that comes with owning something from the past, so unless we were to find the right sort of lad or lassie to pull out the bank draft, I might be grossly overestimating the value.
” He shrugged. “I’d have to think about a buyer or two in order to be more accurate.
” He scooped the stones back up into the bag, then nodded toward the fire.
“Let’s go poke around online for a bit. Oliver, do you have another tablet handy for Samantha? ”
“Always. Samantha, let me set you up.”
Derrick left her in good hands, though he had to admit there was something about how happy Oliver looked to be helping her that set his teeth on edge. It didn’t help that Oliver waggled his eyebrows at him as he was seeing Samantha seated.
Derrick left the office before he did something stupid.
Elizabethan gems. Why wasn’t he surprised?
He ran up the stairs, collected his computer, then trotted back down to the office. Samantha was already engrossed in what she was doing. Oliver looked up when he closed the door behind him.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Think you can track down those Ambleside lads and find out where else they’ve been?”
“Might be able to.”
“Any word from Rufus?”
“Still the same. He sent me the plate number. I’ll see where that leads.”
Derrick nodded, then looked at Peter. “And you?”
“I’m snooping.”
“Care to divulge where?”
“Stolen property lists.”
Well, that might have been interesting, but Derrick suspected what they were looking at wouldn’t find itself listed on any stolen property—
He stopped in midstep. Maybe that wasn’t quite true.
He had to wonder what might turn up if he looked for the theft of a substantial number of gems, say, in a different century.
He had his doubts such a thing might appear on any easily found list, but the miscreant—if he’d been caught—might show up in some popular jail or other.
He went to sit across from Samantha. “How are you?”
She didn’t look up. “Reading email.”
She was starting to sound like one of the lads. “Anything interesting?”
“My parents told me to come home immediately.”
“Did Gavin tattle on you?”
She looked up then. “He did, actually. He said I was over here without supervision. I’m guessing Lydia told him I quit.”
“I’ll supervise you,” Derrick said. “You can tell them I said as much.” And whilst she was doing that, he would check Gavin’s email account to find out exactly what Lydia had told him.
“And just who are you, O Responsible One?” she asked politely.
“A pirate,” Peter said.
“Rabble-rouser,” Oliver suggested.
Derrick shot them both a pointed look. “A respectable businessman dealing in the acquisition of exclusive antiquities. Tell them you’re helping me with a research project. Or you could just tell them to go to hell.”
She laughed uneasily. “I’ll think about it and email them later. I’ll definitely be rude to my brother now, though.”
“He would deserve it, the annoying git,” Peter said, then he looked up quickly. “Sorry.”
Samantha only smiled and went back to her emailing.
Derrick watched her thoughtfully for a moment or two.
He had to admit that she had changed. The clothes were different, obviously, but it was something more than that.
She was sitting in the midst of a roomful of pirates and she looked comfortable. Happy, even.
It was amazing what a little time traveling could do for a woman.
He put his head down and concentrated on his own business, because it was safer that way and would probably save Oliver’s life. If he had to look at that smirk one more time, he was going to wipe it off rather abruptly.