‘Leave it to Officer McNair,’ he replied.
‘But –’
‘We can’t take any risks.’
Cadel bit back a retort. He knew that if there was going to be another attack, it would be launched by a wireless network, rather than by someone who showed up and rang the bell.
He wasn’t surprised when the newcomer turned out to be Hamish Primrose.
‘You know this guy?’ Angus queried, upon escorting Hamish into the kitchen. ‘He says he’s a friend of yours.’
‘He is a friend of mine,’ Cadel said patiently. And Hamish snorted.
‘Some friend!’ he scoffed, jerking out of the policeman’s grip. ‘Word is that Sonja fell d-downstairs. I heard she’s in hospital. Is that true?’
Cadel could only nod. The picture that had invaded his mind – of Sonja’s striped headband smeared with blood – had rendered him speechless.
‘Then why didn’t you call me?’ Hamish spoke through a mouthful of chewing gum. ‘She’s my friend too, y’know.’
Before Cadel could think of an excuse, Fiona rose from the table. ‘It’s been a bit hectic,’ she admitted. ‘Do you want something, Hamish? Maybe a cup of tea?’
‘I left four messages,’ Hamish went on accusingly, as if she hadn’t spoken. He was glaring at Cadel. ‘You d-didn’t answer them.’
‘I don’t have my phone,’ Cadel rejoined. ‘Speaking of which, are you carrying a phone? Because you can’t bring it in here.’
‘Huh?’ Hamish seemed too stunned to resent this advice. He goggled like a fish, apparently unaware that Angus was already patting him down. ‘Why?’
‘Because someone sent a Bluetooth transmission to Sonja’s wheelchair.’ Cadel explained what had happened, while Angus produced a mobile phone from somewhere deep within the oversized leather jacket that Hamish was wearing. Only when Cadel had finished did Angus inquire as to whether Hamish had come by car.
‘Uh – yeah,’ said Hamish. ‘It’s parked outside.’
‘Make and model?’
‘It’s a green Prius.’
‘Can I have the keys?’
‘I guess so.’ Hamish fished them out of his pocket. ‘Why? Are you going to check it for bombs?’
‘No.’ The policeman remained poker-faced. ‘It’s a safe place to put your phone.’
‘Because we don’t want that phone anywhere near us,’ Cadel broke in. ‘You and I were both at Clearview House, Hamish, so we might have ended up with the same problem. It’s no good hunkering down in an unwired house if you’re surrounded by sabotaged mobiles.’
Angus, by this time, was on his way out the door; Cadel could only assume that he was heading for the Prius, which Hamish had received from his parents upon finally securing a driver’s licence after three failed attempts. Cadel had always been slightly suspicious of this unexpected achievement. He couldn’t help wondering if Hamish, with his wide knowledge of traffic-related computer networks, might have given himself a pass mark on the driving test.
‘So you figure it was Dot who messed with your phone?’ asked Hamish. He acknowledged Gazo with a careless wave, then threw himself into one of the kitchen chairs. ‘Or Trader, perhaps?’
‘Perhaps.’ Cadel pushed aside his half-eaten pancake. ‘Unless you did it.’
‘Ha, ha. Very funny,’ Hamish snapped.
‘It’s all part of the same set-up,’ said Cadel, as Fiona whisked his plate away. ‘That, and the CCTV bug, and the malware in Judith’s system. It’s all connected somehow.’
But Hamish wasn’t enlightened. ‘What malware?’ he demanded. And Cadel suddenly realised that, in all the confusion, Hamish hadn’t been kept properly informed of recent developments.
There was no quick way of summarising them. It took Cadel at least ten minutes to describe the events of the past two days, while Hamish listened avidly, and Fiona stacked the dishwasher. By the time Cadel had said his piece, nothing was left on the kitchen table except a sugar bowl.
‘So what makes you think you’re the main target?’ Hamish inquired at last, thoughtfully peeling gum off his braces. ‘Couldn’t Sonja be the one?’
‘No.’ Cadel shook his head. ‘That chair was programmed to follow my phone signal. I was supposed to get hurt as well.’
‘Or killed.’ Hamish seemed almost excited, as if he were engaged in some kind of virtual role-playing scenario. And although Cadel found this attitude intensely discomforting, it also gave him an idea.
‘Listen, Hamish,’ he said. ‘Remember you were telling me about that computer graphics guy? The one in your gaming group?’
‘Warren, you mean?’
‘I think so.’ More than once, Cadel had been invited to join a gang of young tech-heads who met at irregular intervals, in various living rooms, to enjoy a spot of networked computer gaming. ‘You told me he got hired by a visual effects company.’
‘That’s right,’ Hamish confirmed. He regarded Cadel in a speculative fashion. ‘You want me to ask him about that CCTV bug?’
‘Not really.’ As far as Cadel could recall, Warren was no older than Hamish, and hadn’t been employed for very long. ‘I need to talk to someone with a lot of experience. Someone who knows that industry back to front. I thought your friend could give me a name.’
Hamish shrugged. ‘I guess I could call him.’
‘Now?’ asked Cadel, then turned to Reggie. ‘Have you got a phone he could use?’
Reggie blinked.
‘It’s the safest option, since I’ve never met you before,’ Cadel continued. ‘And I’ll pay you back.’
Before Reggie could respond, there was a slight disturbance at the other end of the house. A low buzz of voices, a shuffle of feet, and the bang of a screen door suggested that someone else had arrived. Hearing the jingle of keys, Cadel wondered if Angus had returned.
But in that case, who could be with him?
‘For Chrissake,’ Reggie growled. As he hurried across the room, however, Hamish blocked his path with one outstretched hand.
‘Phone?’ said Hamish.
‘Please?’ Cadel added.
Reluctantly, the policeman reached into his pants pocket. By this time Cadel had identified the voice in the hallway; he glanced at Fiona, who had also recognised her husband’s Canadian accent.
‘Saul?’ she said, frowning. Gazo sprang to his feet. Distracted by the sudden flurry of movement, Reggie allowed Hamish to relieve him of his mobile phone.
By the time Saul appeared, with Richard Buckland close behind him, Hamish had already vanished into the laundry to call his friend Warren – and Cadel was the only person in the kitchen still sitting down.
‘Don’t panic,’ Saul declared. ‘It’s only me.’
He was wearing his charcoal-grey suit, which made him look very stiff and formal. Richard, on the other hand, was all mismatched clothes, windblown hair and frank curiosity. He grinned at Cadel, who stared at him in astonishment.
‘Your dad told me you wanted to talk about wireless mapping,’ Richard said. ‘How are you, Cadel?’
‘Um – okay. I guess.’
‘This is Richard Buckland,’ Saul interjected, for the benefit of those (like his wife) who were at a complete loss. In a tired voice he then proceeded to introduce Fiona, Reggie and Gazo, all of whom stepped forward to shake Richard’s hand. Gazo didn’t know what to say. Reggie’s greeting was flat and dismissive. But Fiona made an effort; she thanked Richard for all his help, and apologised for the state of the kitchen.
‘It’s been like a wet weekend, around here – lots of people stuck inside with nothing to do,’ she confessed. ‘Would you like tea or coffee? Or maybe some lemon squash?’
‘Just water, if that’s all right,’ said Richard.
‘Hang on.’ Cadel glared at Fiona. ‘What do you mean, “nothing to do”?’ It irked Cadel that Fiona, of all people, should have accused him of wasting time. ‘I’ve had something to do,’ he protested. ‘I’ve been thinking. And I’ve worked out how I can trav
el around safely, without worrying too much about CCTV cameras.’ Uncertain as to how much Richard might know about recent events, he paused for an instant, studying his teacher doubtfully. ‘Did you hear about this whole camera business?’
As Richard opened his mouth, Saul jumped in ahead of him. ‘You shouldn’t stop worrying about CCTV cameras, Cadel,’ the detective insisted, ushering Richard towards an empty chair. ‘I don’t care what car you’re in; once you leave this house, you’ll be running a big risk.’
‘No, I won’t. Not if I take a few precautions.’
‘Like tinted windows?’ Saul murmured. Then he peeled off his jacket, tossed it onto the table, and removed his shoulder holster – which he placed gently beside the jacket. ‘Officer Bristow’s car might have tinted windows, but it’s also got a Bluetooth GPS receiver. As for the rest of us … well, it’s possible that all our cars are being tracked. Which is why I’ve swapped mine for a 1999 Corolla.’ He gestured towards the front of the house. ‘It’s parked two blocks away, and it has no GPS, no car phone, and no E-tag device for toll-booths. Even the radio doesn’t work.’
Cadel was startled – and impressed. In fact he was so impressed that he refrained from pointing out that a GPS jammer, attached to the cigarette lighter in Reggie’s car, would effectively block most of the tracking devices that might be used to infiltrate the vehicle’s systems. After all, he thought, there is a lot of anti-jamming technology about. Who knows what kinds of pluggers or pseudolites Vee might be messing with? In the final analysis, he agreed with his foster father: an old bomb would definitely be the safest option to drive.
Fiona, however, was appalled.
‘What do you mean?’ she demanded, gawking at her husband. Though she tried to remain calm, her voice was steadier than her hand; when she placed a glass of water in front of Richard, several drops spilled onto the table. ‘What on earth has happened to your car?’
‘It’s a temporary switch,’ Saul replied. ‘I’ll get it back when it’s safe to use.’
‘And mine?’ said Fiona.
‘Cadel should stay away from your car. And Gazo’s. And Hamish’s.’ The detective peered around, somewhat irritably. ‘Where is Hamish, anyway?’ he wanted to know. ‘Isn’t that his Prius parked out front?’
‘He’s in there,’ said Gazo, pointing at the laundry door. And Richard raised an eyebrow.
‘Are you talking about Hamish Primrose?’ he asked, without receiving an answer. Cadel, for one, refused to be sidetracked.
‘The Corolla’s a good idea,’ he conceded. ‘But I don’t have to stay inside it.’
‘Cadel –’ Saul began.
‘No, wait. Just listen.’
Challenging Saul took a lot of courage. The detective’s words were infused with a kind of leaden authority, which was even more intimidating than his carefully positioned firearm. But Cadel didn’t feel that he could back down.
‘I don’t care how smart this hacker is,’ he argued, ‘no one can watch the feed from every camera in Sydney – not for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Not even if he has a team of people working for him. That’s why he’ll be using video analytics.’
Fiona sighed. ‘Video what?’ she said hopelessly. Whereupon Richard kindly translated.
‘A computer program will be monitoring the footage being hacked,’ he informed her. ‘There are algorithms that can filter incoming video data by looking for specific things. So you can pinpoint exactly what you want to see.’
‘And this hacker wants to see me,’ Cadel declared. ‘But if I’m not in the usual places, how’s he going to find me? Unless he gets his software to search for someone with my dimensions, and my clothes, and my movements.’ His gaze was like a drill bit as he aimed it at Saul. ‘All I have to do is change those things.’
‘So what are you saying?’ Fiona interrupted. ‘That you want to disguise yourself? Is that it?’
‘Sort of.’ Cadel hesitated, wondering if ‘disguise’ was really the right word. Perhaps ‘adjust’ or ‘distort’ would be better. ‘I mean, it might not be much of a disguise,’ he said. ‘It might just be a matter of covering my hair … wearing oversized shoes … maybe a couple of shoulder pads …’ Seeing Fiona’s puzzled frown, he tried to explain. ‘Computers don’t think like us. They’re not looking for a complete person, they’re looking for measurements. Proportions. Spatial relationships. Sometimes they can’t see the wood for the trees.’
At that point the front door slammed. For a moment everyone stiffened, then relaxed as a familiar, lumbering tread announced that Angus had returned. In the pause that followed, Reggie checked his watch, and Cadel covertly studied the laundry door. Gazo’s attention wandered towards a glass jar full of brownies. Fiona, who didn’t like to see guns lying around, glowered at Saul’s pistol. Richard sipped his water, eyes downcast.
Only Saul remained focused. His dark gaze never moved from his foster son’s face.
‘I don’t understand why you’d have to get out of the car,’ he finally said. ‘You told me this project of yours would involve driving around Dulwich Hill, scanning for signals. You didn’t say anything about doing it on foot.’
Cadel’s heart skipped a beat. ‘I didn’t say anything about Dulwich Hill, either,’ was his immediate response. ‘Is that where Bev called from? Dulwich Hill?’
Saul nodded.
‘Well that’s not a big suburb. We could easily wardrive that.’ Catching sight of Richard’s quizzical expression, Cadel flushed. ‘I mean … if no one objects. To doing it as a class project.’
Cadel could feel a prickle of sweat on his upper lip. The idea had seemed like a good one, when it had first occurred to him. Now, in Richard’s presence, he was beginning to have second thoughts. Was it presumptuous to expect a group of virtual strangers to get involved in such a big and complicated exercise, when they had masses of other coursework to do?
‘Did Saul tell you what I had in mind? About wireless mapping the source of that Bluetooth hack?’ Aware that his voice had grown husky, Cadel coughed to clear his throat. ‘I was thinking we wouldn’t need more than half a dozen cars. And if we didn’t have enough antennae, we could build some ourselves.’
‘Mmm-hmm. Yes.’ Richard had a habit of punctuating his remarks with enthusiastic little murmurs. ‘Yes, I think I’ve got a handle on what you want, but … who else is going to be involved?’
Although this was a reasonable question, it stumped Cadel – who hardly knew any of his fellow students. And he was about to say as much when suddenly Hamish appeared, triumphantly waving Reggie’s phone. ‘Got it,’ Hamish announced. Then he caught sight of Richard, and his jaw dropped.
‘Hello, Hamish,’ said Richard.
‘What are you doing here?’
It was possible that Hamish didn’t mean to be as rude as he sounded. Happily, Richard wasn’t the least bit annoyed.
‘I thought you might need some extra tutoring,’ he joked, as Saul scowled at the dumbstruck Hamish.
‘You’ve been making a phone call?’ the detective spluttered. ‘I hope that’s not your own mobile you’re using!’
‘It’s not,’ Cadel assured him, before turning to Hamish with another question. ‘Did you get anything?’
‘A name. And a number. And a Newtown address,’ said Hamish. ‘He’s called Andrew Hellen.’
‘Who’s called Andrew Hellen?’ Saul demanded. He was interrogating Cadel, who tried to explain as clearly and simply as possible.
‘Andrew Hellen is the guy I have to talk to. He’s a computer graphics expert. I need to show him that footage you showed me.’
The detective sighed. ‘Cadel,’ he began, ‘we’ve already run those shots past several VFX guys –’
‘You might have, but I haven’t!’ The words had barely left Cadel’s mouth before he regretted their tone. He didn’t want to lose his cool in front of so many people. It was awkward, having to discuss the matter in such an overcrowded room; he would have preferred more privacy.
Nevertheless, he ploughed on, conscious all the while of Fiona’s anxious presence, and Gazo’s lost look, and Richard’s sympathetic regard. ‘You told me no one knows how this bug even works. Is that right?’
‘That’s right,’ Saul admitted.
‘Well, did you try to figure it out?’ Cadel couldn’t entirely banish the impatience from his voice. ‘Did you ask your CG friends if someone’s been making waves with – I dunno – new-generation tone-mapping algorithms, or whatever?’
There was a brief silence. Hamish grinned. Reggie rolled his eyes. Saul scratched his jaw.
‘Because with any luck,’ Cadel continued, ‘only a handful of people in the whole world could have pulled off that CCTV malware. And someone with a bit of inside knowledge might be able to identify who they are.’
Saul grunted. He was looking very tired. It was Fiona who began to raise objections. ‘Couldn’t you ask your expert to come here?’ she said plaintively. ‘Instead of going to meet him somewhere else?’
Cadel shrugged. ‘I guess so. But why should he agree? I’ll be taking up enough of his time – he won’t want to waste any more of it, coming over to our place.’
‘But what if his office has security cameras?’ Fiona seemed surprised that her husband wasn’t backing her up. ‘Saul? What if Cadel gets filmed going in there?’
‘As long as I change my dimensions, and stay off the beaten track, I should be all right,’ Cadel argued. ‘And Newtown isn’t far. It won’t take long.’
‘Fine.’ The detective gave in, suddenly. ‘I believe you.’
‘And if I’m in the Corolla –’
‘Cadel. I said yes.’ Having made his decision, Saul wasn’t in the mood for further debate. ‘Will you be going this afternoon?’
Cadel hesitated.
‘Uh – yeah. If I can set up a meeting,’ he replied. ‘The sooner the better.’
‘Hang on. Wait a minute. Are you sure about this?’ Without waiting for an answer, Fiona appealed to Richard. ‘Are shoulder pads really going to be enough protection?’
For the first time, Richard looked faintly ill at ease. ‘Oh, I think it might take more than a couple of shoulder pads,’ he mumbled, at which point Saul addressed Cadel once again.