"Oh, sure," Hamish butted in airily. "I can do it myself." As he picked bits of gray goo off the metal in his mouth, Cliff regarded him without expression. Dot sniffed.
Trader turned to Cadel, who was rubbing his eyes.
"Cadel, I need you to find out what the coppers are up to. Since they won't be discussing their plans online, you'll be our only conduit. And we have to know what to expect."
Cadel grunted. It was bad enough lying to Saul Greeniaus about Genius Squad. Pumping the detective for information would be even worse.
"Now what about Carolina's e-mails?" Trader continued, throwing the question at Dot. "Have any more come through?"
Dot was the only squad member who didn't look tired. Her smooth, round, small-featured face was as implacable as ever. She sat like a carved Buddha, calm and solid in her neatly pressed clothes, not a hair out of place.
"There's been nothing in the past few hours," she said. "What came through earlier is still being decoded. But the arrangements for Monday seem to have been finalized."
"With Earl Toffany's input?" Trader sounded hopeful. Dot, however, shook her head.
"Not so far."
"You know, me and Sonja are really overworked," Lexi suddenly complained. Like Hamish, she was chewing gum; her bare feet were propped against the edge of the table, and she was playing fretfully with a rubber band. "There's heaps and heaps of decoding to do—I don't know why Devin or Tony can't take over some of the basic stuff." She directed her next comment at Tony Cheung. "You can decrypt Vigenère ciphers, can't you?" she whined. "It's just a lot of frequency analysis: Anyone can manage that." As he opened his mouth to reply, she plowed on, addressing Trader. "Anyway, I won't be working the whole weekend, that's for sure. I wanna go to the movies, like Devin did."
"You can go to the movies all you want, after Monday," Cliff growled. "Until then, we need to milk those systems as dry as we can." Without waiting for Lexi's protest, he shifted his attention to Sonja. "Anything more on that encrypted American link?" he demanded, and Judith said, "What encrypted American link?"
Cliff had been referring to the mysterious, heavily protected GenoME database discovered the previous day. When reminded of this, and of the ten client names linked to it, Judith smacked her forehead. "Oh, right," she mumbled. "Of course."
"It's-a-challenge," Sonja remarked, using her DynaVox with some difficulty. "It 's-going-to-take-time, getting-in."
"How long, do you think?" Trader queried.
"I-don't-know." There was an extended pause as Sonja struggled with her uncooperative right hand. At last Cadel had to put his own hand over hers and apply a comforting pressure.
"Don't hound her," he said crossly. "She gets really tired."
"I'm not hounding her," Trader said.
"She has to work extra hard, you know. Harder than anyone else. Just sittingthere takes it out of her."
"I'm aware of that, Cadel."
"Anyway, she's been doing stuff for Judith this morning."
Trader blinked, and peered at Judith. "What stuff?" he inquired.
Judith began to chuckle.
"Oh, you'll love this," she said. There followed a ten-minute digression on the subject of Cadel's latest discovery. A series of payments had been made to Fountain Pharmaceuticals by a company in the Cayman Islands. Though this company wasn't the same one receiving money from GenoME's Australian branch, Judith was convinced that the two organizations were closely connected. "They've got a couple of directors in common," she explained. "I'm still working out the exact relationship."
"Well, you'd better hurry up, then." Cliff's tone startled everyone; it was harsh and abrupt. Even Trader stared at him in surprise, prompting Cliff to thump the table again. "If the police decide to raid the Australian branch on Monday, we'll be left high and dry!" he barked, swinging his head from side to side like a bull in a ring. "Rex Austin wants to know what happened to his son, people! That's why we're here! And we might only have a day or so left to find out!"
A chill ran down Cadel's spine. The words "only a day or so left" sounded distinctly ominous to him. He sat up straight, and saw that other people were doing the same. Sonja lurched in her wheelchair, her hand writhing beneath Cadel's.
Trader shot his second-in-command a fierce, narrow-eyed look.
"For god's sake," he hissed, but wasn't allowed to finish. Lexi prevented him.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked Cliff, her chair tipping forward, her feet hitting the floor. "Why do we only have a day or so left? No one told me about any deadlines!"
"You said we'd be working on this project for months," Devin added. And Hamish said, "You're not planning to close Clearview House, are you?"
"No, of course not," Trader hastened to assure them. "What Cliff's trying to say is that we'll find it much harder to complete our mission if the Australian branch shuts down and we don't have access to the American system anymore." His gleaming smile flashed out yet again. Wielding it, he made a solemn promise. "Believe me when I tell you that Genius Squad will continue to exist," he declared, "just as long as GenoME is a going concern."
"Which won't be for much longer," Cadel remarked flatly. "Not if Sonja cracks that database."
He was feeling unsettled, and anxious, and guilty about Sonja—who had dark circles under her eyes. He was also sluggish with fatigue. His early awakening had been preceded by a restless night full of ominous dreams involving poison, jailbreaks, and Prosper English. He didn't want to interrogate Saul. He didn't appreciate being treated like an idiot. And he was beginning to wonder if he'd made a big mistake, coming to Clearview House.
More and more, as the days passed, he sensed that he was being manipulated.
"Haven't you been researching those ten client names I gave you?" he continued, irritated that his last observation had elicited from Trader only a puzzled look. "Jimmy Austin? Jenny Jarvis? Michele Sapone? It's easy enough to run an Internet check. I did it this morning and found six of them. Six names. In about two dozen newspapers." He glanced around the table. "You know why? Because they were all found dead, with severe head injuries—Jimmy Austin included. Though of course they didn't all die in the same place, or at the same time." Something occurred to him. "Which might explain why no one's made the connection before now," he mused.
"Oh my god," said Hamish. Blinking rapidly, he pounced on this tidbit like a kitten on a cockroach. If he'd had any fears about being evicted, Cadel's news had driven them straight out of his head. "So you think those six people might have been murderedby GenoME?"
"Yes," Cadel replied.
"What about the other four? The ones who aren't dead? How are they connected?"
"I don't know," Cadel admitted. "But the database might tell us why, when we finally get into it."
"Cool," said Devin. He, too, had been momentarily distracted from the problem of his own uncertain future. Even Lexi had brightened up.
It was amazing, Cadel thought sourly, how a little blood and gore always raised their spirits.
"Well, this is more like it," said Cliff. "If we can prove that Earl Toffany is a murderer, our job's done."
"Our job's also done if we can prove that Earl Toffany is behind the plan to abduct Prosper English," Trader retorted. "Trouble is, Earl's watching his back. He's delegating his decisions." Dragging his fingers through his hair, Trader let his smile slip sideways. "All we need is evidence of one illegal act that he's been directly involved in. Otherwise he can start blaming subordinates."
"And-that's-not-good-enough-for-Rex-Austin?" Sonja piped up. Whereupon Trader shook his head.
"There's a history between Rex and Earl," he divulged. "Rex is looking for a trophy. He wants Earl's head on a platter. It's personal."
Personal? Cadel sucked air through his teeth at the sound of that word. Destroying a dangerous corporation was one thing; personal vendettas were another. Cadel knew that when things got personal, they got obsessive. And vindictive. And blinkered.
"You told me
that Rex Austin wanted to bring down GenoME," he objected, breaking into the discussion. "You didn't say he wanted to bring it down on top of Earl."
Trader's eyebrows climbed his smooth, tanned forehead. Then he made a dismissive gesture.
"Well," he began carelessly, "since we can't really accomplish the first objective without achieving the second—"
"But we can!" Cadel's tone was sharp. "Of course we can! We could almost do it now, with what we've already got." Cadel scanned the faces around him, frustrated that most of them wore bored or puzzled expressions. Only Sonja seemed uncomfortable—but then, Sonja always seemed uncomfortable. (She was continuously fighting with her own limbs, after all.) "If we crack that database, and it shows that those six dead people were murdered by GenoME, what's our plan if Earl isn't implicated? Keep digging?" As Trader opened his mouth to reply, Cadel added, "Suppose GenoME kills somebody else in the meantime?"
"Listen, son." All at once Cliff took over. He held up a hand, to stop Trader from muscling in. "It's not a matter of what we decide to do. It's a matter of what Rex Austin wants us to do. He's the one paying us, so he calls the shots. Understand?"
The implication hanging in the air was that if Cadel didn't like it, he could always leave. Trader must have sensed this, because he intervened quickly.
"Not that we don't value your input," Trader insisted, crinkling his crow's-feet at Cadel in a reassuring display of advocacy. "God knows, we wouldn't have come this far without you. And of course, if we uncover any indications that GenoME's going to commit murder, then the police will be told about it."
"Yes, but—"
"We're not going to let GenoME get away with anything, believe me." Trader's indulgent little laugh grated on Cadel's nerves. "That's the whole point of this operation."
"Yes, but what about us?" Cadel snapped. "You said that Rex Austin has a personal grudge against Earl Toffany. Well, that's his business. But is it ours?" Ignoring Sonja's garbled attempt to intervene (her DynaVox squawked "cat," for some reason), Cadel clutched the edge of the table with white-knuckled fingers. "I mean, exactly how far would Rex Austin be willing to go to get his revenge? And how far would you be willing to go to satisfy him? Because it might be a lot further than I'm comfortable with."
The silence that followed was so taut—so tense—that everyone jumped like rabbits when the alarm sounded. Trader glanced at his watch. Cadel cursed under his breath.
"Four o'clock, on the dot," Trader said dryly. "That copper of yours is certainly reliable."
Reliable. It was another loaded word, and it snagged Cadel's attention. He sat for a moment, lost in thought.
Saul was reliable, all right. He was a man to be relied on.
Unlike Trader Lynch.
"Well, go on." Trader was unusually abrupt, as if slightly disconcerted by Cadel's absentminded air. "You'd better talk to him, don't you think? Before he calls in a SWAT team?"
"Yeah." Cadel stood up. "Yeah, I'll go and talk to him."
TWENTY-NINE
Saul and Fiona had come in the same car.
Cadel noticed this instantly. He also noticed that they were both wearing jeans and sneakers. But neither of them looked particularly relaxed as they trudged across the gravel driveway. And when Lexi screamed, they stiffened.
"It's all right!" Cadel assured them. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Devin chase Lexi out of the kitchen into the living room. There followed a series of violent thumps and yells; clearly, one of the twins had said something unforgivable to the other.
With a sigh, Cadel stepped onto the veranda and shut the front door behind him. "Can we go somewhere?" he pleaded, hoping to forestall any inquiries about the noise.
Saul and Fiona exchanged startled glances. Then the detective said, "Go where?"
"I don't know. Anywhere." Cadel winced at the sound of another faint scream. He was suddenly desperate to escape. "Maybe we could take Sonja for a drive. She hasn't been out since Tuesday."
Having made this suggestion, he regretted it almost immediately. He knew that the wheelchair wouldn't fit in Saul's car. He knew that they wouldn't be able to set up Sonja's DynaVox. There would be discussions, and disagreements, and loads of fuss, and it would mean going back inside....
"Forget it," he said abruptly, thinking, Judith's here. Judith will take care of her. "It doesn't matter. Let's go. Let's just go."
But Saul didn't move. He stood quite still, regarding Cadel with his usual solemn intensity, while Fiona frowned and fidgeted, her attention divided between Cadel and Clearview House.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "What's happening in there?"
"Nothing." Cadel brushed past her, heading for the car. "Where shall I sit? In the backseat?"
"But Cadel," said Fiona, pursuing him, "if something's wrong, we might be able to help. Is it the other kids? Are they picking on you?"
"No." Yanking open one of the car doors, Cadel caught sight of the detective's thoughtful expression and cried, "I'm nervous! That's all. I'm nervous about what you want to tell me. Is it bad news?"
"Oh, no!" Fiona exclaimed. "I have some great news!" She put an arm around Cadel's shoulder. "And you don't have to worry about Saul's—I mean, Mr. Greeniaus's news. It's not going to affect you at all, really. Is it?" she added, turning to Saul.
"I hope not," the detective replied. He cocked his head. "What about a park?" he inquired, without taking his eyes off Cadel. "Would you like to go to a park?"
"Okay." All at once, Cadel found himself longing for open space, green lawns, scattered trees...."By the water," he proposed. "A harborside park." At this hour, so late in autumn, the harborside parks wouldn't be very crowded.
Saul gave a nod. Then he slid behind the steering wheel, while Fiona climbed into the backseat, beside Cadel. Though he would have preferred to sit alone, Cadel didn't protest. He remained silent as they rolled down the drive and pulled into the street.
Only when they were well clear of the automatic gates did Fiona feel free to talk.
"The good news is that I've made some progress with one of the universities," she announced, her cheerful tone undermined by her creased forehead. "I met a man at dinner the other day, and he teaches at the University of New South Wales. He runs a cryptography and security course, and he doesn't mind if you sit in. Unofficially. You won't get any course credits, but it'll be something interesting to do while..." She hesitated a moment. "While we're sorting things out," she finished.
Cadel didn't know how to reply. A university course was out of the question, at least while he was a member of Genius Squad. He could only hope that Fiona's plan would take some time to arrange—because he couldn't refuse to cooperate. Not without arousing suspicion.
"Oh," he said faintly. "That's good." Catching sight of Saul's narrowed eyes in the rearview mirror, Cadel tried to change the subject by asking the first question that occurred to him. "Is this university guy your new boyfriend?"
Fiona blushed. "No!" she spluttered. "Of course not!"
"Oh." Cadel was surprised at how sharp her reaction was. "Sorry."
"It was a birthday dinner." Fiona directed this remark at the driver's seat. "There were about twenty people. I'd never met him before." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, he's married."
Saul nodded, but said nothing. Cadel glanced from the detective to Fiona and back again, wondering if he was imagining things. When Fiona fell silent, staring red-faced out the window, he decided that he probably wasn't.
Normally, he would have given the subject his full attention. He would have tried to calculate the odds of a union between Saul and Fiona. But though he was conscious of being vaguely pleased, he couldn't dredge up much interest.
He had too many other things on his mind.
The trip to Glebe Point park was a quiet one. Saul wanted to concentrate on his driving, while Fiona appeared to be speechless with embarrassment. When they reached their destination, however, something about the golden light and crisp afternoon air loosened their tongue
s. The park was almost empty. A few people were walking their dogs along the foreshore; half a dozen kids were playing soccer under the trees. The sun was so low that even garbage bins and benches cast long shadows across the grass.
A pink-and-white ice-cream van was parked nearby.
"The surveillance team didn't follow us," Cadel observed, as he scrambled out of the car.
"No." Saul was inspecting the ice-cream van. "I told them to watch the house for intruders. I can take care of you myself." He looked from the van to Cadel, and then to Fiona. "Would you care for a soft serve? My treat."
"Well, I shouldn't...,"Fiona began, before capitulating. "Oh, all right. Thank you. Single scoop for me. Vanilla."
Cadel requested two scoops of vanilla, and Saul contented himself with a can of lemonade. Having equipped themselves with their treats, they wandered over to a bench near the water, scaring off a couple of seagulls as they did so. Before them Sydney Harbor glittered like a sequinned cape beneath the lazy sweep of Anzac Bridge. Even the dockyards looked picturesque.
Cadel found himself sitting between Fiona and Saul. Both of them were beginning to relax. The lines on their faces had smoothed out.
"I heard somewhere that this stuff is made out of pig fat," said Fiona, through a mouthful of ice cream. "Amazing how nice pig fat can taste."
Cadel grunted. Saul gave a half smile. When he didn't comment, Cadel examined his clean-cut profile and said, "So what did you want to tell me?"
The detective sighed.
"To be honest, Cadel, I don't want to tell you at all," he confessed. "But I promised I wouldn't keep you in the dark." Dragging his gaze away from the shifting, gleaming surface of the harbor, he fixed it on Cadel. "Remember how suspicious I was about GenoME setting up a branch in Australia? Remember how I thought it might have something to do with Prosper's arrest?"
Cadel nodded, thinking, He doesn't know about my talk with Gazo yesterday.
"Well, I was right," Saul went on. "We've just received word from Gazo Kovacs that he's been approached by GenoME to take part in a plot involving Prosper English." After a moment's careful scrutiny, he added, "You don't look very surprised." And Cadel realized that he should have been guarding his expression, which was much too calm.