Okay, was her quick response.
Do you believe me?
Yes.
Feeling slightly better, Cadel was willing to concede a point. I can see what you mean, though, he acknowledged. About Mace. It doesn' t seem like his kind of revenge.
Have you run the probabilities? Sonja wanted to know. When Cadel confessed that he hadn't, she continued: Then you should. Because it's all very peculiar, don't you think?
Cadel agreed. It was very peculiar.
It didn't feel right.
TWENTY-FIVE
The next day, Genius Squad began to turn GenoME inside out.
It was a complicated job, requiring a range of skills. While Lexi and Sonja toiled away over ciphers and subkeys, Tony helped Judith to review the financial data that had already been decoded. And while Hamish and Cadel busied themselves with the American interface, Dot and Devin were supposed to be keeping an eye on local activity.
Cadel's piggyback operation was short-lived; it stopped altogether, once the American operation had shut down for the night. But before that occurred, he discovered (to his surprise) that the online Hamish was a very different animal from Hamish in the flesh. Cadel would have picked Hamish for an e-prankster, continually planting booby traps and careening messily through databases with no thought for the chaos that he might be wreaking. Oddly enough, however, the virtual Hamish wasn't like that at all. On the contrary, he prowled around networks like a cat, silent but deadly.
Cadel was most impressed.
He said as much to Trader just before the afternoon update meeting. This took place in the kitchen and was attended by everyone except Zac—who was on eavesdropping duty downstairs. The proceedings opened with a brief status report from Trader; having first delivered Cadel's news about the dead prison guard (for the benefit of those who hadn't already heard it from Cadel), Trader then gave an account of his own recent telephone conversation with Saul Greeniaus. According to Saul, Mace hadn't been trying to remove anything from Clearview House. On the contrary. Having stolen Hazel Donkin's grandfather's fob watch, Mace had intended to plant it somewhere in Cadel's new residence.
"I gather he wanted you blamed for the theft," Trader told Cadel, with barely suppressed amusement. "Obviously not a very bright lad, in many ways."
"What's going to happen to him?" Cadel inquired. "He's not going to be charged, is he?"
Trader shrugged. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "But whatever does occur, it's not your problem. Your problem is breaking into GenoME's American network." He offered up his most encouraging smile. "Have you done that yet?" he asked.
Shifting slightly in his chair, Cadel was forced to confess that so far, he and Hamish had only just managed to infiltrate the node-code analysis program. Nevertheless, they were hoping to use this program as a platform for conducting raids on the rest of the system, once the computers in California were operating again.
Trader seemed to accept this. At any rate, he moved on, questioning Dot about the contents of Jerry's computer files. Had any further progress been made? When Dot revealed that most of the GenoME's Australian profits were going straight to a company in the Cayman Islands, Trader glanced at Judith.
"You might want to look into that," he said. Judith's response was to rub her hands together, eagerly. Tony couldn't suppress a smile of satisfaction as he scribbled in a memo book with his gold fountain pen. (Being a methodical and precise sort of person, he was the only member of Genius Squad who ever took notes during meetings.)
"We've also worked out that Carolina's been keeping tabs on Prosper English," Dot continued—and all eyes immediately swiveled in Cadel's direction. He felt his face grow hot.
"What—what do you mean?" he stammered.
"She's got a file full of newspaper downloads," Dot replied. "Articles about Prosper's arrest. That sort of thing. Plus a collection of stuff that's been lifted directly off the police system."
"The police system?" said Judith, sounding alarmed. And Lexi exclaimed, "Does that mean she knows where Cadel is?"
Sonja began to grunt as she flailed around in her wheelchair. Cadel saw that she was trying to use the DynaVox, so he reached over to steady her arm; his gentle grip gave her the support she needed to spell out the words "There's-nothing-about-Cadel-in-her-files."
"She might not have found his stuff yet," Hamish remarked, pushing his glasses up his nose. "The last time I looked, he was in a high-security part of the Federal Police d-database."
There was a pause. During it, Trader tapped at his teeth with one finger, in a meditative fashion, while Cadel sat dumbly, trying to process what he'd just heard. At last Trader said, "It's no big deal. Carolina can't get at Cadel while he's in here. Our security's too good—and besides, we'd find out what she was doing before she did it." Having aired this opinion, he proceeded to another topic. "What I want to know is: Was she behind that prison-guard business?" he demanded. "Was she trying to kill Prosper English, or what?"
He looked to Lexi for an answer. But Lexi seemed uncertain. "I don't think so," was all she would say, as she glanced at Sonja—whose own response was made slowly and clumsily.
"Carolina-knows-about-the-dead-guard,' Sonja confirmed, "but-she-found-out-from-hacking-the-police-system. She-wasn' t-involved.'
"Really?" Trader was now drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. She-sent-her-findings-to-Jerry-via-e-mail. Her-covering-note-was-very-surprised.'
"What a pity," Trader lamented. "If GenoME had tried to kill Prosper English, we might have been able to use that against Earl Toffany. As the company boss, Earl would have to be implicated somehow." He raised an eyebrow at Cadel's shocked face. "What?" he pressed. "You're not worried about Prosper English getting killed, are you? I thought he put a gun to your head?"
"I don't—," Cadel began, but couldn't find his voice for a moment. Trader's careless, offhand manner had chilled him. It had put him in mind of other discussions, about other deaths. "I don't want anyone killed,"" he gasped. "That's the way people used to talk at the institute!"
There followed a long, embarrassed silence, during which Trader scrutinized Cadel with less than his usual insouciance. It was Cliff who changed the subject.
"Anything else?" he queried. "Has anyone found out anything about Rex Austin's son? Or Fountain Pharmaceuticals? Or NanTex?"
No one answered. Not immediately, at any rate. Finally Sonja remarked, through the agency of her DynaVox, "One-odd-thing.' And then she hesitated.
"What?" said Cliff. But still she seemed reluctant to talk. It was Lexi who finally said, "That guy, you mean?"
"What guy?" Trader wanted to know. At which point, high and piercing, the alarm shrilled—making everyone jump.
"Shit." Cliff bounced to his feet. "Who could that be?" He moved to the bulletin board hanging on a stretch of wall near the pantry and pushed it aside to reveal a CCTV screen. "It's bloody Saul Greeniaus!" he protested. "For Chris'sake, Cadel, what does he want now?"
"I don't know." Cadel resented being asked. "How should I know? Maybe he's got some news about Mace."
"Lexi, tell us about your guy—quick," Trader snapped. And Lexi shrugged.
"Jerry's got a file on him," she explained, as various people whisked their laptops out of the kitchen. "He's not staff, and he's not a client. He may have had something to do with GenoME once, but nowadays he's just working in a bank."
"Show me the file," Cliff ordered, propelling Lexi toward the lift. Trader called after them, "Make it snappy, please!" then grabbed Cadel's arm.
"You need to take care of this." Though Trader's tone was pleasant and easy, the pressure that he applied to Cadel's wrist suggested that he wasn't as tranquil as he appeared. "See if you can't get rid of Greeniaus quick-smart—we don't want him hanging around."
"Okay, okay," Cadel muttered. He was still trudging down the hallway when the doorbell rang again. Trader had already vanished; Cadel didn't know where he'd gone. Only Judith remained in the ki
tchen with Sonja.
Cadel checked his watch. It was 2:38 P.M.
Upon opening the front door, he found Saul Greeniaus waiting on the veranda. "Hello," said the detective, who looked as dark and straight and narrow as a stick of charcoal in his gray suit. "Should you be answering the door by yourself, do you think?"
Cadel sighed.
"Should you be speaking to me by yourself, do you think?" he retorted, and glanced around in a pointed manner. "Hasn't Fiona come?"
Almost at once, he regretted having lost his cool—because Saul studied him thoughtfully, eyes narrowed.
"Something bothering you, Cadel?"
"No," Cadel replied.
"You aren't being hassled by anyone?"
"No!" Cadel retreated into the dimness of the hallway. "Come in, if you like. I don't care. I just figured you wouldn't want to get in trouble, that's all."
His words were convincing, but his tone was wrong. And he could see how Saul took note of this even as he crossed the threshold at Cadel's invitation.
"Fiona won't be coming," the detective announced, surveying his immediate vicinity. He was carrying a large yellow envelope. "This will only take a minute. Is there someone here who could stand in for Fiona? A concerned adult?"
"Um ... well ... Judith's in the kitchen." Cadel wondered where Trader had disappeared to. "If you don't mind Sonja being there as well."
"I imagine you probably tell Sonja everything you hear from me, anyway," Saul said dryly, and followed Cadel to the back of the house. Here Judith had been busying herself with various innocent-looking jobs around the sink; she bustled up to the detective, wiping her plump red hands on a tea towel. The word harmless was practically tattooed on her forehead.
"Would you like something?" she offered. "Coffee or tea?"
"No, thanks," Saul replied. "I won't be long." And he nodded at Sonja. "Hello, Sonja," he said, moving toward the table. "I'm sorry to interrupt."
"Is-it-about-Mace?" was Sonja's response. Whereupon the detective paused, clearly thrown off balance.
It was apparent that the previous night's events were not uppermost in his mind.
"Oh," he said. "Yes. I mean—no." He turned to Cadel. "Have you not heard about that? Mr. Lynch called me..."
"I've heard that Mace wanted to get me into trouble for stealing Hazel's watch," Cadel confirmed. "But how did he find me? How did he even get here? It's miles away from the Donkins house."
"He was visiting his sister-in-law, who lives near here," Saul explained. "He does that sometimes—takes off after school, and stays the night. Or so Mrs. Donkin says."
Cadel nodded. It was true. And Hazel had always regarded these infrequent excursions quite favorably, because she approved of Mace's sister-in-law. Alone of all the Logge relations, this sister-in-law was a kind, decent, hardworking woman—despite (or because of) the fact that her husband was in jail.
"It was very unfortunate," Saul added. "That other kid at the Donkins ... What's his name?"
"Janan," Cadel supplied.
"Yeah. Well, he asked Mrs. Donkin for your address. So he could write and remind you about something. Something to do with chocolate-bar wrappers?"
"Oh. Right." Cadel felt a pang of guilt. "I promised to send him some."
"Did you? I wish you hadn't." The detective went on to describe how Hazel had seen no harm in allowing Janan to correspond with Cadel, though she wouldn't have dreamed of allowing Mace to do the same. "She should never have been given this address in the first place," Saul declared, and it was obvious from the detective's tone that the idea hadn't been his. "When she wrote it down, Thomas must have seen it, and that was that. I only hope he doesn't shoot his mouth off. Because if he does, you might not be safe here."
"Oh, surely it isn't that bad!" Judith objected. And Cadel asked, "You mean you think Mace is working for someone else?"
"Someone else?" Saul blinked in surprise. "Hell, no," he said, without hesitation. "I think this whole thing was the dumb plan of a dumb kid. But if the news spreads, someone might hear it who isn't so dumb."
Cadel bit his lip. He wasn't convinced that Mace's actions had been completely without sense or forethought. Nevertheless, he refrained from commenting—and Saul seemed to regard this silence as evidence that Cadel agreed with him.
"Anyhow," said the detective, "it's no big deal. No matter what kind of penalty Thomas Logge is given, it won't make any difference. He'll end up in prison one day, just like his brother. It's probably where he wants to end up. Kids like that—they can't imagine anything else." Saul reached into his yellow envelope and produced a small photograph, which he placed on the tabletop. "Here's something far more important," he assured Cadel, indicating the picture. "Do you know this girl?"
Cadel stepped forward. He found himself staring at a snapshot of two people: a man and a woman. The man was big and beefy, with a crew cut. The woman was small and pretty, with dyed red hair.
Cadel knew that it was dyed, because he knew the woman.
He stepped back abruptly, as if he'd been burned. "That's her," he gasped, his heart hammering. Saul frowned.
"That's who?" he asked.
"Niobe! That's Niobe, from the institute! Remember? She was one of the twins—they were assassination students." Seeing the detective's pinched expression, Cadel grabbed his sleeve. "Where is she? Have you found her?"
"Not yet," was Saul's calm response, as he disengaged himself from Cadel's grasp.
"Where did you find the photo?" Judith interjected.
"This photograph was in the dead guard's apartment." Saul didn't even glance at Judith. He hadn't taken his eyes off Cadel. "Your old friend appears to have been living with him. But now she's packed her bags and gone."
"It was her," Cadel croaked. The scenario was unfolding in his head, so quickly that his tongue could hardly keep up with it. "She tried to kill Prosper, because she blames him for what happened to her twin," he gabbled. "I bet that's it. She can't stand the guilt of having fractured her own sister's skull, so she must have decided that Prosper was ultimately responsible. And she only shacked up with the guard to make sure he'd deliver Prosper's letter. But the guard got worried about what was inside. That's why he opened the envelope—and was hit by whatever she put in it." He appealed to Saul. "Some kind of chemical, maybe? One that would react with the air?"
Saul placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Sit down, Cadel," the detective advised. "You don't have to worry."
"Would-she-know-about-Cadel-being-Prosper's-son?" Sonja asked. She tried to say something else as well; her muscles, however, wouldn't oblige. They began to work against her, contorting uncontrollably.
"Niobe won't go after you, Cadel," Saul insisted, reproving Sonja with a grim look. "She doesn't know where you are, to begin with. Unless someone in Clearview House has spilled the beans."
"Oh, no." Judith had been inspecting Niobe's photograph; now she raised her head, becoming quite defensive. "No, we've all been warned about Cadel's situation. No one here would put him at risk."
"I hope not," Saul dourly observed. Turning back to Cadel, he said, "We have you under surveillance. Niobe can't get near you—as long as you don't open any mail."
Cadel was studying Niobe's two-dimensional face. It had changed a lot since their first meeting. Back then, Niobe had been bubbly and affectionate. But the institute had warped and twisted her personality. It had taught her to do more than lie and cheat.
It had taught her to kill.
"If she ends up killing Prosper, it'll serve him right," Cadel declared. Though he made an effort to sound untroubled, his voice cracked before he could finish.
Saul's grip on his shoulder tightened.
"I'm sorry, Cadel." It was a gruff but heartfelt apology. "I'd have asked Gazo to identify her, except that we don't know if he's still connected with this woman."
"He isn't," said Cadel. "He never liked her much." After fingering the photograph for a moment, he passed it to Saul. "She was quite n
ice, really. Until they screwed her up at the institute."
Silence fell. Saul returned the snapshot to its envelope. Sonja was fighting a muscular spasm. Judith was trying to calm her down.
Cadel stood irresolute. He still felt shell-shocked.
"I won't bother you anymore," Saul finally announced. "I'll just tell you that Prosper English will be appearing at the Coroner's Court on Monday, in relation to this death. As a witness. Of course his connection seems pretty tenuous right now, but it's the coroner's job to investigate all deaths that aren't from natural causes, so Prosper really has to be questioned. To establish if any charges should be laid..." Saul shrugged, in a resigned manner. "You mustn't worry, though. He'll be closely guarded. I'll make sure of it."
When Cadel didn't reply, or even acknowledge this news with a grunt, Saul murmured, "Will you be all right, Cadel? Do you want me to call Ms. Currey?"
"I'll be fine," said Cadel. Then it occurred to him that Trader would probably want Saul escorted from the house. (What if the detective decided to poke around on his own?) So Cadel gestured at the back door. "You can leave this way, if you want," he said, adding, "There's something I want to ask you."
Saul didn't object. At least, he didn't give Cadel one of his quizzical looks. Instead he bade a polite farewell to Sonja, thanked Judith, and followed Cadel outside.
Together they walked around to the front of the house, Saul keeping his eyes peeled, Cadel racking his brain for a convincing question to ask. It wasn't until they had reached Saul's car that Cadel finally spoke up, having experienced a last-minute flash of inspiration.
"You told me that you were analyzing the envelope with Prosper's name on it," he said. "Does that mean you've done a matching DNA test on Prosper?"
Saul paused in the act of unlocking his driver's door.
"We can't use that sample for a paternity test. Not without permission," he said, reading between the lines. "I'm sorry."
Cadel shrugged. "I figured you couldn't, or you would have told me."
For some reason, this careless remark made a big impression on Saul. He pondered it for a while, his expression serious. At last he said, "You're right. I would have told you. There are people who believe you should be shielded from this kind of stuff, but ... if I keep things from you, you won't have all the facts. And without the facts, you won't be able to protect yourself." He lifted an eyebrow. "I know you're smarter than most of us. That's why I figure, when it comes to the crunch, you'll be safer if you're properly informed. Don't you think?"