Gazo froze, looking surprised. Cadel released him, and began to poke around in the glove box. He wanted to look like a scavenger, not like a conspirator.
The glove box, he noticed, was full of CDs – most of them featuring organ music.
‘I’ll make this quick,’ he said. ‘You want to get out of here, don’t you?
‘Huh?’
‘I know you do, Gazo. You’re failing. You’re scared stiff. Isn’t that right? Don’t worry, this car won’t be bugged. Not yet.’
Speechless, Gazo stared at Cadel, who began to lose patience.
‘Look,’ he snapped, ‘do you want my help or not? Because I can help you, if you help me. We can both get out.’
‘You?’ Gazo gasped. ‘But –’
‘I hate this place. I hate it. My dad wants me here, but he’s crazy. I swear. He’s off his head. And Thaddeus – well, Thaddeus does everything my dad tells him to do.’
Gazo winced. Cadel, who knew how big a risk he was taking, reminded himself that if Gazo should ever repeat this conversation to Thaddeus, there was always one excuse that might sound convincing. ‘It was a trick,’ Cadel would say. ‘Of course I don’t hate my dad. But I had to make Gazo trust me.’
‘Listen,’ he now declared. ‘If I can get away, then I can help you. With money and things. Identification papers. But I need you to do something first. Without telling anyone. Will you?’ Dragging a CD case out of the glove box, Cadel waved it under Gazo’s nose. ‘We don’t belong here,’ he said, taking the opportunity to focus his laser-like gaze on Gazo’s face-mask. ‘You know we don’t belong here, this is a madhouse. And we’re not mad. Please, Gazo. We don’t have much time.’
‘All – all right,’ Gazo stammered. ‘But what do you want me to do?’
‘It’s very simple.’ Cadel explained quickly what would happen. That afternoon, when Gazo was at Yarramundi, Cadel would infiltrate the Yarramundi security system via Adolf’s computer. For exactly ten minutes, he would disable the program that controlled the surveillance cameras near Adolf’s office. ‘Your first class isn’t until three, is it?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, but –’
‘And you usually get a lift with someone?’
‘Yeah, but –’
‘Gazo, listen. You can take this car.’
‘This car?’
‘You have to. You have to get there early. By two-fifteen. You can do it, if you’ve got your own car. Between two-fifteen and two-twenty-five, I’ll disable the cameras. That’s when I want you to slip Dr Deal’s homework envelope under the door of Adolf’s office. The envelope he just gave you then.’
Gazo gaped.
‘It won’t have your prints on it, Gazo, because you always wear gloves,’ Cadel explained. ‘The only prints on it will be Dr Deal’s. No one will be able to connect you with it.’
‘But –’
‘You just have to take the homework out, and put something else in.’ Folding himself double, Cadel pretended to be searching under the seat. In fact, he was removing from his bag the rap-compilation CD case. After wiping it with a tissue, he carefully handed the case to Gazo, without allowing his skin to touch it again. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Stick this in the envelope. Not the case – just the disc. Have you got a watch?’
‘It’s in my bag. But –’
‘Go now,’ Cadel instructed. ‘Enjoy yourself. Drive around a bit. Just make sure you’re inside Yarramundi by two. Then slip this CD, in Dr Deal’s envelope, under Adolf’s office door. There won’t be anyone behind the door, I guarantee it. The Fuhrer will be in a meeting.’
‘And that’s all I have to do?’
‘That’s all you have to do.’
‘Well – it sounds okay,’ Gazo conceded. ‘But the car –’
‘This is the Axis Institute, Gazo. For God’s sake, you’ll probably earn extra marks for stealing Abraham’s car.’
Gazo blinked. Then he smiled.
‘You’re right,’ he chuckled. ‘Hey, I might even pass, if I do this!’
‘I hope not,’ said Cadel, seriously. ‘If you pass, it’ll mean that you’re like the rest of them. And you’re not. You’re better than they are. You’re like me – you’re a fully evolved human being.’ He took the rest of Abraham’s CDs from the glove box and stuffed them into his bag, just to lull the suspicions of anyone who might be watching. Breaking into a car was all right as long as it was done to steal something. Breaking into a car in order that you could talk with a friend – that was questionable.
‘All right,’ Cadel said, his fingers clamped around the door handle. ‘You got all that?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You know what to do?’
Gazo nodded.
‘Good luck, then.’ Cadel pushed open his door. ‘I’ll see you later.’
As he walked away from the car park, he didn’t look back to watch Gazo drive off.
He couldn’t afford to.
FORTY-ONE
Cadel’s next stop was Hardware Heaven. Here he pretended to be correcting his Embezzlement homework. In fact, he was copying Sonja’s algorithms onto the back of his money-laundering exercise. To do this effectively, he had to hunch over the document, shielding it from wall-mounted security cameras and even from his own computer screen. (Because who could tell what kind of monitoring devices were installed around the institute?)
He was sweating by the time he’d finished.
The homework went back into his bag. Then he hitched a ride on Dr Vee’s spy sweep, and hopped off at Brendan’s database. Sure enough, Art had been poking around in Brendan’s financial files, so clumsily that he had left electronic fingerprints all over the place. Upon checking Art’s computer, Cadel saw that Art had made copies of the Maestro’s account details.
He wondered how long it would take Art to steal the money that was in these accounts. Not long, probably. Not when he could easily forge a drivers licence or a passport bearing his own photo beside Max’s name. Cadel was quite sure that Art would steal the money, because there was a lot of it – several million dollars. And why sift through Brendan’s financial files unless you were planning to steal something? According to Cadel’s calculations, Art wouldn’t be able to resist several million dollars. He had once spent three years in gaol because he hadn’t been able to resist three hundred thousand.
The trouble was that stealing from Brendan would be a good deal safer than stealing from Max. Cadel realised this. He had taken it into account when drawing up his plans. Art wouldn’t steal a cent from Max unless he was fully prepared to duck out of sight once the money was his. Ducking out of sight wouldn’t be a problem for Art: no doubt he had plenty of false identification papers to fall back on. Cadel was counting on the fact that Art would disappear before Max found out what he’d done. And if he was discovered – well, that would be another way of removing a name from Cadel’s list. It wasn’t Cadel’s preferred way, but it would have the same result.
In either case, Art would no longer be around to talk about Cadel’s Ariel disguise.
Moreover, if Max did catch Art, then Cadel’s name wouldn’t even be mentioned. Brendan would cop all the blame. (He was an embezzler by trade, wasn’t he?) Again, this wasn’t a possibility that Cadel much liked. He didn’t want to see Brendan’s head blown off. But he had made certain other plans, involving Alias and Dr Deal, which would ensure that Brendan was given some warning. Some warning, and a chance to disappear.
He couldn’t warn Brendan himself. He couldn’t risk it. Writing out the brain-teaser had been dangerous enough. Anything more and he would look too involved.
‘I’ve got to do it,’ he muttered to himself. ‘I can’t help it. I’ve got no choice.’
Having satisfied himself that everything was going to plan, Cadel shut down his computer and went to give Brendan his homework. Sooner or later Brendan would mark that homework. And when he did, he would see Sonja’s brain-teaser, written out in Cadel’s hand. There was nothing that Brendan liked so much as a mat
hematical puzzle. With any luck, this one would distract Brendan from his computer files until after Art had stolen Max’s money.
Then it would just be a matter of ensuring that Brendan was warned before Max found out.
After dropping his homework off at Brendan’s office, Cadel went to buy some lunch. He was worried about Gazo. There was nothing terribly complicated about sliding an envelope under Adolf’s door, but if anyone could mess up such a simple exercise, Gazo certainly could. Standing at the refectory counter, Cadel checked his watch. Eleven forty-five: two and a half hours to go. He wasn’t concerned about the Yarramundi security system. It would be easy to disable. And if anyone ever tracked down the cause of the glitch, it would be traced to Dr Vee’s spy sweep. No one would start investigating Cadel – at least, not until he was long gone.
No, his only worry was Gazo.
Cadel took his lemon squash and his chicken roll back to Hardware Heaven. Here he scanned the Axis network for security alerts involving Gazo, the Ford Cortina, or anything else that might have an impact on his plan. He found nothing. There was very little activity on the network. The Grunts reported that Tracey Lane was heading for Yarramundi. Terry was at work upstairs. Luther was taking a class.
Dr Vee strolled into the room at about one, by which time Com, Sark and Richard were also present. Dr Vee challenged them all to download the password management files of a certain university’s computer network. He asked them to bombard the management files with as many possible passwords as they could, as quickly as they could. Dr Vee was interested in how fast they could be. ‘If you find the right password,’ he said, ‘there’s some cutting-edge software being tested on that network, and you’ll have first dibs. But I’m giving top marks for top speed. You can use your password dictionaries or whatever else you fancy. I want to see how far you’ve got. Just go, go, go.’
Com won, in the end. Cadel might have done better if he hadn’t been watching the clock. The countdown to two-fifteen was distracting him. When Dr Vee finally left, at five past two, he breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Ten minutes wasn’t much, but it was enough.
Yarramundi’s ‘Banksia Wing’ cameras went down at two-fifteen precisely. Cadel put a block on the failsafe as well, but couldn’t do much about the backup alarm, which was attached to a separate, ‘closed-loop’ system. This alarm began to sound at two eighteen in the control room, where the Grunt on duty spent about five minutes trying to find out what had happened, doggedly working through the correct procedures, which Cadel had memorised. (Cadel, who was plugged into Yarramundi’s security system, registered every query and reroute.) Having failed to correct the problem, the Grunt called Adolf’s office. Cadel had anticipated this step, because it was laid out clearly in the procedures. He also knew that the call wouldn’t be answered, because Adolf was in the armoury with Thaddeus. The Grunt then called Luther, at two-twenty-three, and this call was answered. At two-twenty-four, the connection was broken as Luther hung up.
Luther’s office was just around the corner from Adolf’s. It was possible that Luther marched straight around this corner and passed Adolf’s door – an activity that would have taken him as little as thirty seconds. Cadel prayed that Gazo hadn’t lingered in the corridor until two-twenty-five. If he had, there was a slight chance that Luther might have seen him. Not that it would matter now, of course, because Luther would have other things on his mind. But later?
Cadel quickly brought the camera network back online. He knew that by the time Luther reached the control room, everything would be restored to its normal state. With any luck, there wouldn’t even be an investigation. Luther might simply blame the Grunt for spilling coffee over the circuitry panel, or something equally stupid. The systems-failure report might simply record the incident, and conclude with the words: Failure undiagnosed. Functions normal. Recommend systems upgrade.
Cadel very much hoped so.
He would have liked to shut down his computer and go for a walk, but he couldn’t. He had to stay and monitor the Axis network for any alerts that might crop up, owing to his minor act of sabotage. Only at three o’clock did he feel safe enough to leave his computer and wander off to his Embezzlement class, which he didn’t dare miss. For one thing, Thaddeus didn’t like it when he missed Embezzlement. For another, Cadel wanted to know if Brendan had looked at his homework yet.
When he arrived, however, Brendan’s door was shut. And Douglas Prindle was waiting outside.
‘No answer,’ he informed Cadel, in his dry, croaking voice.
‘Oh.’
They both gazed down the corridor, first to the right, then to the left. There was no one about. Douglas glanced at his watch.
‘Phoebe, too,’ said Cadel.
‘Phoebe’s always late. Brendan never is.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘He’d better turn up soon,’ Douglas rasped, more to himself than to Cadel. ‘I can’t hang around all day – I told the boss I was going to my cardio check-up.’
Suddenly the lift chimed, and they both turned to look. When the metal doors slid open, Phoebe stepped out. She was as plump and glossy as a Chinese pheasant in black and gold and purple. Her feet were wedged into glamorous high-heeled shoes.
‘What’s up?’ she inquired, clicking towards them. ‘Isn’t he here, yet?’
‘Apparently not,’ Douglas replied.
‘Have you tried?’
‘I knocked.’
Phoebe made an impatient noise. She went straight up to Brendan’s door and turned the knob. Much to everyone’s surprise, it yielded to her pressure.
‘Hello?’ she said, pushing the door open. ‘Oh! Mr Graham?’
Cadel stood on tip-toe to peer over her shoulder. He saw that Brendan was inside his office after all, sitting at the desk, staring at the wall. He didn’t respond to Phoebe’s voice.
‘Mr Graham,’ she repeated, more loudly. ‘It’s three o’clock. We’re all here.’
Still no reaction.
Phoebe turned to look at Douglas, her dark eyes wide and frightened.
‘You don’t think he’s . . . he’s . . .’ she stammered, but was unable to finish the sentence. Douglas pushed past her. He approached Brendan and touched him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Brendan?’ he said. ‘Hello?’
‘Is he breathing?’ Phoebe squawked.
‘Of course he’s breathing!’ Douglas sounded cross. This time he grabbed Brendan’s arm, and gave it a shake. ‘Brendan! Snap out of it!’
‘Maybe he’s had a stroke,’ Phoebe suggested, as Douglas waved a hand in front of Brendan’s glazed blue eyes. When they didn’t blink, he frowned and stepped back suddenly.
‘This is no good,’ he muttered. ‘Something’s wrong.’
‘We should get someone,’ said Phoebe. ‘We should call an ambulance.’
‘Don’t be a fool.’ Douglas walked back into the corridor. ‘This has nothing to do with us – it’s staff business. We’ll just knock on a few doors. You start that side, I’ll start this side.’
He completely ignored Cadel, who wasn’t important now that Phoebe had arrived. As she and Douglas began to pound on neighbouring doors, Cadel moved into Brendan’s office. Cautiously, fearfully, he advanced towards the desk. Brendan didn’t twitch a muscle. He seemed utterly absorbed in some private meditation, blind and deaf to the outside world.
In front of him lay Sonja’s brain-teaser.
‘Brendan?’ said Cadel, in a small voice. ‘Can you hear me?’
No reply. Cadel reached for his homework. He had a horrible feeling that it might have something to do with Brendan’s condition, and he didn’t want anyone else to find it. But he couldn’t remove it without lifting Brendan’s hands, one by one. They were limp and cold and heavy.
Staring into Brendan’s eyes, he could see his own reflection – and nothing else.
Cadel broke into a sweat. He stuffed his homework into his bag and headed for the door. On the threshold he almost collided with Art, wh
o had been summoned by Phoebe. ‘Just let me have a look,’ Art was saying. ‘Oh! Hello, Cadel.’
‘He’s sick,’ Cadel mumbled. ‘There’s something wrong with him.’
‘Let me have a look,’ Art said again.
It didn’t take him long to reach a decision. Something definitely was wrong. Brendan appeared to be in a kind of cataleptic state. Having made this diagnosis, Art ordered Phoebe to fetch Thaddeus. But Thaddeus was at Yarramundi. So Art called Thaddeus there and was told to wait. Thaddeus would head back immediately. In the meantime, no one was to touch anything.
‘It might be some kind of poison,’ Art revealed, after speaking to Thaddeus. ‘Terry’s supposed to take a look. Would someone go and get him, please?’
‘I will,’ said Douglas.
‘All right.’ Art waved a hand at Cadel and Phoebe. ‘You two can leave. There’ll be no class today. If you’re needed, you’ll be informed.’
Cadel swallowed. ‘But –’
‘There’s nothing you can do here, Cadel,’ Art assured him. ‘You’re not a doctor, are you?’
‘No, but –’
‘Then off you go.’
There was no point arguing – it might have looked suspicious. So Cadel trudged away, acutely conscious of the folded sheet of paper in his pocket. Was Sonja’s brain-teaser really the cause of this whole frightening incident? Or was it a coincidence that Brendan had plunged into a trance while marking Cadel’s homework?
Cadel had a horrible feeling that he had miscalculated. Badly.
FORTY-TWO
Cadel couldn’t stay at the institute for much longer: he had his usual session with Thaddeus at half-past five. So at four-forty he left, catching a train to the psychologist’s office. On the way, he disposed of Abraham’s letter and Sonja’s brain-teaser. He tore them up into very small pieces and flushed them down a railway-station toilet.
When he reached his destination, he discovered that Thaddeus was late.
‘The doctor’s been delayed,’ Wilfreda informed him. ‘You’re to go up and wait – he won’t be much longer.’