The Genius Wars

  But Saul was in the way, and didn’t step aside. On the contrary, he grabbed Cadel’s arm.

  ‘Calm down,’ the detective ordered.

  ‘I’m not –’

  ‘Calm. Down.’

  Cadel suddenly realised that he was clenching his fists. Subdued by Saul’s dark and sombre gaze, he made a deliberate effort to relax, taking a deep breath while he flexed his fingers.

  ‘I know you’re upset, and I know why,’ Saul declared. ‘But there’s no need to panic, okay?’

  Cadel nodded.

  ‘I’ll go and see what I can do.’ Saul straightened, then raised his voice to address Sonja. ‘Sorry about this,’ he went on. ‘I’ll be back in a minute to say hello – I just figure it’s more important that we fix you up with some way of saying hello back.’

  From the other side of the room, Sonja gave a squawk that might have been an affirmative response. Fiona said to her husband, ‘I’ll go, if you like. I know how these bureaucrats think.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he rejoined, ‘but I’ve got my ID on me. And I’m also carrying a gun.’ As his wife heaved a long-suffering sigh, he turned back to Cadel. ‘You go and talk to Sonja. That’s why you’re here. Just leave the rest to me – I’ll take care of it.’

  ‘How can I talk to Sonja?’ Cadel demanded, gesturing wildly around the room. ‘Even if she did have a Dynavox, just look at this place! It’s all wired up, and I don’t know anything about the systems! I don’t know if there’s wireless medical equipment! I don’t know what the security’s like!’ He started to tug at his hair. ‘Suppose they have a computerised medication schedule? Suppose someone gets into that, and adjusts Sonja’s dosage?’

  ‘Cadel. Sweetie. Look over there.’ It was Fiona who decided to reassure him. She pointed at Sonja’s bed. ‘That’s a clipboard. With a chart on it. The people here are still using paper, Cadel – you don’t have to worry so much.’

  ‘We can look after ourselves,’ the detective confirmed. ‘And we can look after Sonja. You’re not responsible for our safety; that isn’t your job.’ He put an arm around Cadel’s shoulders. ‘You know what concerns me? That you’ll get all worked up, and then you’ll lose it. Because you’re not Superman, son. You’re just a really smart kid with a lot on your plate.’

  ‘No one expects you to save the world,’ Fiona agreed. ‘You can’t fix everything, no matter how brilliant you are. You shouldn’t have to. I don’t want you to.’

  I don’t want me to, either, Cadel thought sourly. Trouble is, I don’t have much choice. Not now that Prosper English is back.

  ‘You’ve got to learn to trust other people,’ Saul remarked, as if he’d read Cadel’s mind. ‘Just let it go, and get on with your visit.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘I know Sonja isn’t able to talk, right now,’ the detective continued. ‘That doesn’t mean you can’t talk to her, though, does it?’

  Cadel hesitated. He wondered if he was being paranoid. After all, what were the chances that Prosper had somehow bugged Sonja’s room? Was it unreasonable to be so anxious? Was he thinking like a graduate of the Axis Institute, instead of a normal human being?

  Or was it unwise to discuss anything of importance with Sonja, while she was trapped in an environment that he didn’t entirely understand?

  ‘Here.’ All of a sudden, Saul’s arm dropped away from Cadel’s shoulders. The detective fished around inside his jacket – but he didn’t pull his gun out of its holster. Instead he produced a small, ring-bound notebook and a ballpoint pen. ‘If it makes you feel better, you can write things down,’ he said. ‘And if you’re really worried, you can write things down in code. Either way, you’ll still be talking to Sonja. And no one can possibly overhear you.’

  As Cadel mutely accepted the notebook, his foster father offered him one more piece of advice along with it. ‘You’re both smart kids, and you’ve got half an hour left before the ward closes. Why don’t you make the most of it while you can? By the time I get back, I bet you won’t even need a Dynavox any more. You’ll be jabbering away with the TV remote or something.’

  ‘With the what?’ said Cadel. But it was too late. Saul had already spun around, and was disappearing into the corridor.

  ‘Listen, sweetie.’ Fiona waited until her husband was out of earshot before speaking. ‘If you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to,’ she said. ‘You’re tired. You’ve had a big day. Just give me the word, and I’ll take you home. Sonja won’t mind, I’m sure.’

  Cadel, however, wasn’t listening. He was staring across the room at the TV remote.

  The TV remote.

  There were a lot of things you could do with an infrared remote control …

  TWELVE

  Thi Thuoy lived in a two-storeyed townhouse made of brick. The next morning, when Saul and Cadel arrived there, they noticed several cars parked out front. One of these cars belonged to Hamish Primrose. Another was Gazo’s little blue bomb.

  Thi answered the door in person. He had dimples, a nose stud, and a big, white, dazzling smile. Over a pair of almost threadbare jeans he wore a Massachusetts Institute of Technology sweatshirt.

  Cadel recognised him instantly from the K17 computer labs.

  ‘Hi,’ said Thi. Though his expression was quizzical, he didn’t comment on Cadel’s ski-gloves, flippers, or padded anorak, having already been warned about them during various phone conversations with Richard Buckland. ‘Come on in.’

  ‘Are you Mr Thuoy?’ Saul inquired, from beneath the black Islamic chador that he’d draped over his head. He was dressed from head to toe in a traditional Arabic woman’s outfit, which had been a gift to Fiona. Because it was a bit too short, the cuffs of his trousers were clearly visible beneath the hem.

  ‘Call me T,’ said Thi, his grin widening. ‘I guess you must be –’

  ‘Detective Inspector Saul Greeniaus. And this is Cadel.’

  ‘From the labs,’ Thi confirmed, in satisfied tones. He was eyeing Cadel. ‘I thought you might be the one that Richard was talking about.’

  ‘Is Richard here?’ asked Saul, as Thi stepped back to admit him.

  ‘Sure is.’ Thi waved his two guests over the threshold. ‘Second door on the right. He came with Boyd – you know Boyd?’

  Cadel shook his head. The front entrance of Thi’s house opened directly into a narrow corridor, which dodged a carpeted staircase and passed several rooms on its way to a big, open-plan living area. Cadel caught a glimpse of glossy floorboards, bright paint and colourful bookshelves some distance ahead, before the detective suddenly stopped short in front of him, blocking his view.

  They had reached the second door on the right.

  It was Hamish who had once informed Cadel that Thi Thuoy was rich. ‘You know that guy with the nose stud and the fancy haircut? Well, his dad owns one of those hardware chains,’ Hamish had said, his expression a mixture of jealousy and awe. ‘That’s why he’s got about five computers, and his own house in Leichhardt.’ Thi certainly wasn’t living like most of his classmates; though he was a final-year student with part-time tutoring work, there could be no doubt that he had some form of financial support.

  This became even more glaringly obvious when Cadel peered through the second door on the right, and saw about a dozen computers lining the walls of the room beyond.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Thi, from behind him. ‘It’s a self-contained system. There’s no connection with the outside world.’

  ‘It’s a virtual Internet,’ Hamish announced, from inside the computer room. He was perched on a kitchen stool next to the door. With him were Richard Buckland, Gazo Kovacs, and two other people: a lanky, raw-boned, bearded hippy sporting a rat’s nest of blond dreadlocks, and a tall, plump, pimply youth whose foot was encased in a plaster cast. This cast was covered in ciphers and mathematical equations, all painstakingly inscribed with a ballpoint pen. The owner of the cast wore a baseball cap over a long greasy ponytail, and a t-shirt bearing the words ‘I’ve been a bad Boyd’
.

  Cadel realised that he did know Boyd – at least by sight. Boyd was a prominent member of Richard Buckland’s Advanced Programming class, always spilling soft drinks and tripping over electrical cords. Boyd’s high-pitched, nasal voice was as familiar as his fingerless gloves, which he never took off. Hamish had often theorised that ‘the big, fat guy in the baseball cap’ must have been born with hairy palms, or six fingers on one hand. ‘He’s hiding something,’ Hamish had repeatedly insisted. ‘Maybe a really sick tattoo. Or maybe someone tried to crucify him once, and the scars are still there.’

  Cadel didn’t know exactly how Boyd had broken his leg, but had a sneaking suspicion that it hadn’t been done on a football field, or a basketball court.

  ‘Isn’t this fantastic?’ Hamish went on. ‘I wish I had a virtual Internet to play with.’

  ‘It has air-gap security,’ Thi offered, just as the doorbell rang. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘That must be Vijay.’ And he went off to admit yet another member of Richard’s wardriving team.

  ‘It’s a closed circle, this system,’ Hamish finished. ‘There isn’t any way in, unless you’re sitting right here. So it’s safer than it looks.’ With a sigh, he added, ‘I wish I was rich.’

  ‘You are bloody rich!’ yelped the hippy. ‘You’ve got your own car, haven’t you?’

  ‘So have you,’ Hamish retorted.

  ‘Yeah, but I stole mine,’ the hippy pointed out, before erupting into an abrasive cackle.

  Cadel decided: You must be Duke. He had heard about Duke.

  ‘This is Duke,’ said Hamish, by way of confirmation. ‘He bb-brought a car with him.’

  ‘Which he stole,’ Saul concluded, sourly eyeing the dread-locks. He had already ripped off his chador, exposing his sweaty, rumpled hair and grim expression.

  Duke’s answering grin revealed that he had lost at least one tooth.

  ‘Only from my dad,’ he said. ‘And it was never reported.’

  ‘He’s joking,’ Hamish assured the detective, who sighed. Cadel knew that Duke didn’t have a police record. Upon hearing that Hamish intended to bring one of his computer-gaming buddies along on Richard’s wardriving exercise, Saul had immediately run a check on Duke, but had discovered nothing sinister about him. Duke was twenty-six years old. He worked in a warehouse, lived with his two elder brothers, and was trying to pay off several overdue parking fines. According to Hamish, Duke was such a video-game addict that he’d been thrown out by three successive girlfriends – though Cadel doubted very much that this was true. It was hard to believe that any girl would be interested in such a scruffy, hollow-chested, rootless obsessive.

  Hamish was full of stories about Duke, who had once stayed up for fifty-three hours straight, consuming litres of coffee and cola, as he struggled to defeat an American opponent. Duke often peed into a bottle, rather than getting up from his keyboard. He was known to have lost six jobs because of his all-night, online gaming habit. In the circumstances, Cadel felt sure that if any girl had ever let Duke into her home, she would have done so out of pity, and would have made him sleep on the living-room floor.

  ‘What’s with the flippers?’ asked Boyd. He was gaping at Cadel, who had already removed four layers of woollen beanie, after spitting out a mouthful of cotton gauze. ‘No one said anything about going for a swim.’

  ‘They’re a security measure,’ Saul explained. ‘Those flippers affect the way Cadel walks.’

  ‘We discussed this, Boyd,’ Richard gently interposed. ‘It’s all about video analytics, remember?’

  ‘Oh. Yeah. Right,’ said Boyd. And Duke said, ‘Man, you guys look like total freaks!’

  Cadel bit back the obvious retort – which was that Duke looked like a bigger freak than anyone, with his musty dread-locks and missing tooth. There was no point taking issue with a person who obviously didn’t know enough to go to the dentist, occasionally.

  Peeling off a flipper, Cadel resolved to stay calm and focused, no matter what.

  ‘So which one are you?’ Duke went on, studying Saul with an almost manic curiosity. ‘Are you the cop, or the stink-bomb guy, or what?’

  ‘He’s the cop,’ said Hamish, causing Duke to raise his hands in an attitude of mock surrender, crying, ‘It’s all right, officer! I’ll be good! I’ve never had one single speeding ticket in my whole life – you ask anyone!’

  ‘Don’t worry about Duke,’ Hamish declared. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him.’

  ‘No you won’t.’ Saul folded his arms, and was about to elaborate when Thi reappeared on the threshold, escorting three newcomers. Cadel knew the smallest of them, whose name was Egon, and who invariably sat in the front row of Richard’s Advanced Programming lectures. Egon had a conspicuously large, beaky nose under an eye-catching crop of fuzzy black curls. He always dressed in the same baggy, stained sweatshirt that hung halfway down to his knees; from the rolled-up wrists of this sweatshirt, his thin and brittle wrists protruded like a pair of ivory chopsticks, attached to a couple of disproportionately large hands. But the most noticeable thing about Egon was his grouchy expression. It never changed. He looked permanently dissatisfied, and resentful, and put-upon.

  If he was pleased about his invitation to Thi’s house, it certainly didn’t show. He was wearing a discontented scowl, as usual.

  ‘Okay, everyone – this is Egon,’ said Thi. ‘And this is Vijay, and this is Vijay’s dad … uh … Mr Naidoo.’

  ‘I will be providing a car, and also my services as a driver,’ Mr Naidoo advised the gathering. He was a solid, balding, middle-aged man in a suit and tie. ‘Good morning, Mr Buckland. We met once before, I think.’

  ‘Yes,’ Richard confirmed, leaning over to shake hands. ‘Thanks very much for coming. We need all the help we can get.’

  ‘No problem,’ Mr Naidoo said expansively. His son remained silent and poker-faced; unlike the other teenagers in the room, Vijay had donned a neatly pressed shirt, a blue blazer, and dark trousers with a crease ironed into the front of each leg. His hair was beautifully cut, and he had remarkably clear skin. Yet somehow he wasn’t memorable. Cadel couldn’t recall having seen him in Richard’s class.

  ‘All right.’ Saul abruptly called the meeting to order, glancing around the overcrowded room with quiet authority. ‘Is everyone here, now? Where’s your girlfriend, Mr Thuoy? I thought she was going to help out?’

  ‘She is,’ Thi assured him. ‘She had to go to the library, but she’ll be back soon.’

  ‘In that case, if anyone wants to relieve themselves, you should go now,’ the detective advised. ‘Because once this thing gets started, there won’t be any rest-stops. You’ll have to wait till we’re through.’

  ‘Bathroom’s next door,’ Thi added, at which point Gazo began to make a slightly sheepish exit, muttering apologies as he sidled past various clumps of people. As soon as he’d disappeared, Egon said, in tones of caustic disapproval, ‘Who the hell was that? Haven’t I seen him mowing grass somewhere?’

  Cadel couldn’t help bristling, but it was Saul who answered. After regarding Egon for a moment, the detective said, ‘That’s Gazo. He has high-level security clearance, and he’s going to be one of our drivers.’

  Egon sniffed. ‘And who might you be?’ he asked, with the air of someone determined to be unimpressed, no matter what Saul decided to say. ‘Are you the copper Richard was talking about?’

  ‘That’s right. My name is Detective Inspector Saul Greeniaus, and I’ve been helping to coordinate this exercise with Mr Buckland, here.’

  Mr Naidoo cleared his throat. ‘Essentially, however, this is a university project, is it not?’ he said quickly, seeking reassurance from Richard. ‘It’s an extra-curricular assignment option delivering additional course credits. Am I right, Mr Buckland?’

  ‘More or less,’ Richard agreed. ‘But we’ll be helping the police, as well.’

  ‘Does that mean you’ll forget all about my parking fines?’ Duke joked, energetically scratching his scalp as he addressed Saul.
‘Since I’m not getting marked on this, I deserve some kinda payback.’

  ‘Traffic violations aren’t my job, Mr Moloney,’ the detective rejoined. He was about to continue when keys jingled, hinges creaked, and a screen door banged shut somewhere nearby. Cadel heard footsteps, then a melodious female voice.

  ‘Thi? Are you home?’

  ‘In here!’ Thi called, before announcing to the rest of the group, ‘Snezana’s back.’

  Snezana’s appearance caused a sudden hush. Jaws dropped in perfect unison as she paused on the threshold of Thi’s computer room, because she was tall and willowy, with enormous grey eyes and long dark hair that fell to her waist. With her lush lips, fine skin, exotic jewellery, stylish clothes and high-heeled boots, she could have been a fashion model. Even Mr Naidoo looked slightly dazed at the sight of her.

  Saul raised his eyebrow a fraction.

  ‘Sorry I’m late.’ Snezana sounded genuinely apologetic. ‘There was roadwork.’

  ‘We haven’t even got started,’ said Thi. Then Duke butted in.

  ‘Are you really Thi’s girlfriend?’ he demanded, goggling at Snezana. ‘Or did he hire you for the day?’

  Boyd snickered. Egon rolled his eyes. Saul said sharply, ‘Ms Zivanovic is studying costume design, and has very kindly offered to help us with certain security measures we have to take.’ Before anyone could question him about these security measures, he turned to Hamish. ‘For instance, you’ll need some extra padding in various places. And so will Gazo.’

  ‘Me?’ Hamish was dismayed. ‘Why me?’

  ‘Because you and Cadel are known associates,’ the detective replied. ‘I shouldn’t have to tell you this, Hamish.’

  ‘But I’m not even using my own car!’ Hamish protested. ‘I’ll be in Duke’s dad’s car!’

  ‘No, you won’t.’ Saul raised his voice to harangue the entire group. Despite (or because of) his flowing black garments, he cut a very imposing figure. ‘That’s the first thing I wanted to say, before handing these proceedings over to Richard Buckland,’ he continued. ‘Mr Buckland will be in charge of the technical side, but I’ll be managing the security of this operation. And if anyone’s got a problem with the rules that I’m about to lay down … well, let’s just say they’re non-negotiable.’