"Ah." Trader inclined his head, as if the penny had dropped. "So what you're saying is—"
"What I'm saying is that maybe you want Earl to kidnap me! Because if you catch him breaking the law, it'll help you to bring down GenoME!"
"Ingenious idea," Trader had to confess, with a kind of rueful admiration. But Judith colored. Her brows snapped together.
"For Chris'sake, what do you think we are?" she protested. "As if we'd ever consider something like that!"
"You might. Why not? I don't know you. You could be anyone." Before she had a chance to defend herself, Cadel turned to glare at Trader. "You could be working for Prosper English. You could have made everything up, just to get me into your car!"
For some reason, Trader was hugely diverted by this proposal. He began to laugh, much to Judith's annoyance.
"It's not funny," she growled.
"Yes, it is. What a mind!" Trader leaned across and slapped Cadel on the back, still chortling irrepressibly. "If I was working for Prosper English, kid, I wouldn't be driving a car," Trader quipped. "I'd be driving a Humvee. Or maybe a secondhand Batmobile."
"We don't work for Prosper English." Judith broke into Trader's fanciful repartee with obvious impatience. "We work for Rex Austin."
"Who?" said Cadel, mystified.
And then his cell phone rang.
TEN
As Cadel reached into his jacket, Trader delivered himself of a rapid and fervently argued appeal.
"That might be the police," Trader said. "If it is, could you stall them? Just until we're finished. Then you can decide what to do." He took a step backward and plucked a large yellow envelope from Sonja's desk. "How can you draw a valid conclusion if you haven't got all the data?" he queried, waving the envelope temptingly under Cadel's nose.
Cadel hesitated. His gaze traveled from the envelope to Trader's smooth, vivid face and back again. Then he looked at Sonja, whose tongue was churning anxiously behind her teeth.
Then, after a moment's quiet reflection, he answered the call.
"Hello?" he said.
"Cadel?" It was Saul. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"Who's there with you?"
"How did you know—"
"WHO IS IT, CADEL?"
Conscious of Trader's bright-eyed regard, Cadel said slowly, "Just a couple of social workers." And he saw Trader bite back a grin.
"I'll be there in a few minutes," Saul declared. "Don't move. Don't go anywhere. Just stay put." He broke the connection.
Startled, Cadel pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it.
"We don't have much time," Trader announced. He thrust the yellow envelope at Cadel, who couldn't examine its contents until he had released Sonja and pocketed his mobile. The envelope was stuffed with newspaper clippings, all of them about the mysterious Rex Austin. Apparently, Rex was an American oil and shipping magnate, worth billions of dollars. His grown-up son, Jimmy, had died in mysterious circumstances after becoming involved with the GenoME organization. Rex blamed GenoME for Jimmy's death.
In Rex's opinion, his son had been killed because, after investing millions in GenoME, Jimmy had grown disillusioned and had wanted to pull out. So far, however, Rex had been unable to prove that GenoME was responsible for killing Jimmy. The newspaper clippings reported that Rex had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars pursuing GenoME through the American courts, to no avail. But Rex had also vowed that he would never give up until the organization was brought to justice. And after studying his photograph, Cadel believed him.
Rex Austin was a lean, leathery, sun-whipped old man with the coldest eyes and hardest mouth that Cadel had ever seen.
"Our boss," Trader informed Cadel, flicking the photograph with one manicured fingernail. "He's unusually generous, for a wealthy man. If you join our team, Cadel, you'll receive a lump sum of fifty thousand dollars."
Cadel nearly dropped his envelope.
"Fifty thousand dollars?" he squawked.
"With an extra five thousand dollars a month if the job extends for more than three months," Judith hastened to add, in a manner that Trader seemed to find amusing. He grinned at her fondly.
"Judith deals with our pay packets," he said. "You'll have to discuss the tax implications with her—if you've got a week to spare."
His chuckle indicated that he was poking fun at Judith, who rolled her eyes. She didn't seem offended, though. "The tax system in this country is obscene," she informed Sonja, "but there are ways of avoiding it if you have to. I mean, why fund the programs of a morally bankrupt government?"
"Don't worry," said Trader, still grinning. "Judith has never been charged with tax evasion. She's too damn smart."
Cadel was growing tired of all this banter. It was clouding the issue. What he wanted was a straight answer to a straight question.
"You still haven't proved that you're on the level," he said. Whereupon Trader shrugged, philosophically.
"I'm telling the truth, Cadel," he declared. "This has nothing to do with Prosper English. Our job is simply to find out how GenoME might have been breaking the law, either by murdering people or by committing fraud or whatever. We did hope that you might be able to shed some light on the Darkkon Empire, but it's your hacking talents that really interest us. So if you want to join our team, we'd be grateful."
"And if you don't," Judith advised, "we'll pay you to keep your mouth shut. Five thousand dollars, paid over a three-month period."
As Cadel absorbed this startling information, Sonja began to spell out a question, laboriously, on her DynaVox.
"Is-Clearview-House-convincing?" she asked, and didn't need to elaborate. Trader seemed to understand exactly what she meant.
"Totally convincing," he assured her. "You can't fault the setup—it's been inspected half a dozen times."
"Shabby but not too shabby," Judith agreed. "That's the trick."
"Whatever you decide to do, you can call me on this number," Trader concluded, as if conscious of an imminent deadline (or an approaching policeman, perhaps). Reaching into the breast pocket of his stylish linen shirt, he pulled out a business card, which he surrendered to Cadel. "All you have to do is tell me if you're interested in moving to Clearview House. Or you can get your social worker to do it, if you'd prefer."
"I can understand how you feel," Judith assured Cadel, "but don't shoot yourself in the foot. I mean, you're surrounded by coppers. What can happen? Christ, we had a hard enough time getting a message through to you."
"Give it some thought, anyway." Trader didn't seem the least bit put out. On the contrary, he was smiling again as his gaze traveled from Cadel to Sonja. Gently he plucked the yellow envelope and its contents from Cadel's hand. "I like the way you approach things," he said. "Every angle covered. It's a rare gift. We could do with more of it in Genius Squad."
"Genius Squad?"
"Our nickname," Trader divulged, with a laugh. Even Judith was smirking now. Smirking and shaking her head.
"Hamish thought it up," she said. "What a character."
"You'll have a lot of fun at Clearview House," Trader confirmed, lowering his voice as the distant slap-slap-slap of footsteps on linoleum reached their ears. "And you'll be doing the whole world a favor in the process. It's a win-win situation, I guarantee."
"But what about the police?" Cadel asked. "They're trying to trace that message you sent. What if they manage to do it?"
Trader's smile didn't flicker.
"Like I said, Cadel—we're Genius Squad," he replied, in a voice so low that it was barely a murmur. "The police haven't a hope in hell of tracking us down."
Suddenly the door sprang open, revealing Saul Greeniaus on the threshold. Behind him stood Mick Mattilos, the plainclothes officer. Both were slightly rumpled and breathing heavily.
Saul scanned the room at lightning speed.
"Sorry to interrupt," the detective remarked, his gaze snagging on Trader. "But I'm afraid this is an unauthorized meetin
g."
Trader blinked, and his smile vanished. It was replaced by a wounded look.
"I beg your pardon?" he said, as Judith rose. Then Saul caught sight of the card in Cadel's hand and twitched it away.
"I gather you're a social worker, Mr....Lynch," the detective observed, reading out Trader's surname. "The staff here have informed me that you run some kind of kids' home?"
"Clearview House," Trader agreed. "We specialize in out-of-home care and shared-support accommodation. We've been contracted by the Department of Community Services to look after children like Sonja." He nodded in her direction. "Our objective is to facilitate the emotional development and social integration of bright kids with dislocated backgrounds."
"I see," was Saul's rather flat response.
"And who might you be?" Judith demanded, folding her arms. Cadel decided that her mulish demeanor and eccentric clothes made her a far more convincing social worker than Trader, who was too well dressed. Saul certainly seemed to think so, at any rate. His manner became notably less hostile as he answered Judith's question.
"I'm Detective Inspector Saul Greeniaus," he said. "I'm here because Cadel is under twenty-four-hour surveillance. Can I please have your name, ma'am?"
"Not until I see some identification," Judith retorted huffily. "And don't call me ma'am. I'm not the queen."
Even Sonja snorted at that one. Trader smothered a smile. Saul studied both their faces, in an appraising fashion, while he produced his identification for Judith. Then he addressed Sonja.
"You must be Sonja Pirovic," he said. "I'm very pleased to meet you." He reached for her hand, his fingers closing over hers with such delicacy that he might have been trying to capture a butterfly. "Sorry to bust in like this. But I guess you must understand the situation."
"I certainly don't," Trader complained. "We're totally aboveboard, Detective. Clearview House is regulated by the New South Wales Children's Guardian Office. We've been approved by the Association of Children's Welfare Agencies. You can check with them both—we've every right to be here."
"No, you don't," Saul bluntly replied. "You need an AFP clearance to approach Cadel, and it has to come through DoCS via his caseworker—"
"But we weren't approaching Cadel!" Judith pointed out. "We came here to visit Sonja!" She went on to explain that Sonja had requested a transfer to more suitable accommodations, and that Clearview House was a possible alternative to Sonja's present address. "We've got everything she might need in the way of special facilities," Judith said, counting these features off on one hand. "Ramps. Handrails. Renovated bathroom. It's ideal for her."
"And for Cadel," Trader hazarded, replacing his injured expression with something far more genial and benign. "I don't know if you're aware of this, Detective, but several submissions have been made to DoCS on Cadel's behalf," he said. "Apparently there's a wide-ranging belief that his current circumstances aren't exactly ideal."
"I know." Saul's tone gave nothing away. "I made one of those submissions myself."
"Oh, did you?" Trader's high-voltage smile had a visible effect on the detective, who drew back, startled. Wearing such a smile, Trader resembled a soap-opera star on the cover of a glossy magazine. "Well, isn't that extraordinary? First Cadel turns up, and now you," Trader said. "If his caseworker were with us, we could make our arrangements right here!"
"But only if Cadel is interested in moving to Clearview House," Judith amended.
"Well, yes. That goes without saying." Trader beamed at Cadel before fixing his attention once more on Saul Greeniaus. The effect, Cadel thought, was rather like being caught in a spotlight; when Trader flashed his shiny white teeth at you, it was hard not to shade your eyes. "Though I gather there's some sense of urgency attached to this particular submission?" Trader inquired. "I seem to recall it was red-flagged—"
"Cadel has some very special requirements," the detective interrupted. "Whether your facility can satisfy them or not will be a matter for his caseworker to decide—once various other factors have been given due consideration."
"Yes, of course," said Trader.
"It shouldn't take long," Saul allowed. He cut a quick glance at Cadel. "There have been certain developments ... certain breaches of security..." Saul hesitated. Cadel knew exactly what he was referring to. Clearly, Saul had been greatly alarmed by the message from Com. "If we could expedite matters, that would be helpful," the detective concluded, "but not to the point where Cadel's safety is compromised. What I suggest, Mr. Lynch, is that you proceed with your application, through the correct channels, while I have a word with Cadel's caseworker. Perhaps we can find a solution that will meet with everyone's approval."
"I certainly hope we do," said Trader, as if nothing in the world would please him more. Almost immediately, however, he attached a proviso that was practically a veiled threat. "We would very much appreciate a speedy response, however," he added, "because there's such a high demand for the kind of services we provide. And I'd hate for Cadel to miss out."
"So-would-I," Sonja volunteered, unexpectedly. Everyone stared at her. Even Cadel was taken aback.
Don't tell me she's made up her mind, he thought.
"Well ... I'll do what I can," was the detective's promise, offered up after a long pause. Then he turned back to Trader, reaching into his jacket as he did so. "In the meantime—and I hope you don't take this the wrong way, Mr. Lynch—but I would appreciate it if you'd notify me personally before you or any of the other Clearview House staff come here again." He produced one of his cards, which Trader accepted with every manifestation of sunny goodwill. "Cadel often visits Sonja, and I wouldn't want there to be any unfortunate misunderstandings."
Judith pulled a face. "Talk about Big Brother," she grumbled. But Saul didn't appear to take offense. Instead he observed quietly, "I don't believe you mentioned your name, ma'am."
So Judith was forced to introduce herself, while Trader examined Saul's card with a glint in his eye. That giveaway glint was the only crack that Cadel had so far witnessed in Trader's otherwise flawless facade; in every other respect, Trader came across as a gregarious, jovial, back-slapping enthusiast.
His movie-star smile was flashing again when he thrust his right hand at the detective—who, though taken by surprise, recovered quickly. Their palms met in a civil enough farewell, even if Saul did seem a trifle bemused by Trader's energetic pumping action.
"We don't want to create problems for you, Detective," Trader declared, "so we'll take our leave now, as a demonstration of our desire to cooperate. Nevertheless, I'm sure we'll meet again very soon—and in more favorable conditions, I hope."
Saul grunted.
"I'm quite convinced you'll find Clearview House a satisfactory option for Cadel," Trader continued. "Our policy is to have one adult supervisor per child at all times, except on night shift. And we try to encourage a lot of staff/ resident interaction, so that the children have constant access to carefully screened role models."
"We're just like one big family," Judith interposed, as if she meant it. Saul didn't look impressed. But Trader did; he bestowed a lustrous smile on his colleague, very briefly, before focusing his attention on the only other female in the room.
"Good-bye, Sonja. It's been a real pleasure. Good-bye, Cadel. Have a think about what I said." Moving toward the door, Trader clapped Cadel on the shoulder as he passed. "Come on, Judith. I get the feeling that we'd better clear out, don't you? No point treading on official toes."
Judith sniffed, but complied. Saul stepped aside to let her leave. Before she had crossed the threshold, however, he said, "I'll have Detective Constable Mattilos show you both out."
The last thing Cadel heard from Sonja's visitors was the sound of Judith's scornful muttering, as she and Trader and their plainclothes escort trudged away down the corridor.
"I have to apologize," Saul remarked, almost formally, upon turning to Sonja. "They should never have got in here. There was a procedural glitch—we weren't notified w
hen they first arrived, because they had official visitor clearance from DoCS. It was Mick who picked up on what was happening."
"There's-no-need-to-apologize," Sonja insisted, using her DynaVox with unexpected agility And Cadel said, "We were glad to hear about Clearview House. It sounds like it might be a good idea."
"You think so, do you?" The detective's grave regard aroused uneasy feelings in Cadel, who made his eyes very big, and his mouth very small, as he presented his defiant rebuttal.
"Well, I'd rather live with Sonja than with Mace," he said. "Anyway, don't you want me to move? That guy—Mr. Lynch—he was talking about how you've been trying to get me out of the Donkins'." Seeing Saul hesitate, Cadel took advantage of the detective's obvious unease to shift the subject slightly. "I mean, someone sure knows I'm living there, or I wouldn't have got that message. Have you worked out who sent it yet?"
"No," Saul had to admit. But he wouldn't be distracted. "So you'd prefer to live at this youth-refuge place?" he queried. "Is that what you're telling me?"
"I don't know," Cadel replied. And he didn't. There hadn't been time to make a decision.
He hadn't yet analyzed all the available data.
"Maybe you two need to talk about it," Saul suggested, looking from Cadel to Sonja and back again. "I'm gonna have to discuss it with Ms. Currey, that's for sure. It strikes me as a peculiar kind of setup." His voice didn't change as he adroitly switched directions. "By the way," he said, "what was in that yellow envelope? Did he show you?"
"No," Cadel answered, without a second's thought. Only later, when Saul was driving him back to the Donkins', did it occur to Cadel that the detective might have been setting a trap. What if Saul should seek out Trader and ask him the same question? What if Trader's response proved to be different from Cadel's?
What if the detective started to smell something fishy as a consequence?
It will only matter, Cadel concluded, if I decide to join Genius Squad. If I don't, I'll just tell the truth.