The Genius Wars

By the time he had recovered his ability to speak, he was in the back of an ambulance. The paramedics wanted him to lie down; they told him that nausea and disorientation were symptoms of concussion. ‘But I’m not disoriented!’ he cried, his gaze falling on the straps used to restrain injured passengers. That was when it occurred to him: was this really an ambulance?

  Or was it an attempted kidnapping?

  The thought had barely crossed his mind when someone else jumped into the back of the vehicle. Just as the doors were beginning to close, Reggie Bristow wedged himself between them. ‘Police!’ he exclaimed, flashing his identification. Then he wiggled free and vaulted up over the rear bumper, landing beside Cadel.

  ‘This kid doesn’t go anywhere without a police escort,’ Reggie announced. He was panting and dishevelled, but not the least bit dusty. It was obvious that he hadn’t been inside the house. ‘Where are we going?’ he demanded, still waving his identification. With the other hand he was fumbling for his radio. ‘Which hospital?’

  ‘Uh – Sydney Children’s,’ came the reply.

  While Reggie was transmitting this news to his colleagues, Cadel agreed to lie down. He felt safe enough doing so, now that Reggie was on board. And it was encouraging to know that they were heading for the Sydney Children’s Hospital.

  At least I’ll get to visit Sonja, at long last, Cadel reflected.

  Aloud he said, ‘Tell the driver to be very careful. Because someone might sabotage the traffic lights. They might be on green when they should be on red.’

  The paramedics made soothing noises.

  ‘I mean it!’ Cadel snapped. ‘I’m not blithering! Someone’s out to get me!’ When the paramedics kept nodding and clicking their tongues, he appealed to Reggie. ‘Tell them, will you? That bus was hijacked by remote control.’

  ‘You reckon?’ Reggie sounded cautious. ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know. Through the Tacholink. They must have hacked into the GPS or the radio download.’ Seeing the paramedics exchange a quizzical glance, Cadel lost control. His eyes filled with tears of frustration. ‘Will you listen to me? You have to put on your siren! People will stop for a siren – it won’t matter if the traffic lights have been tampered with!’

  One of the paramedics patted his arm. ‘There are guidelines we have to follow when it comes to the siren,’ she told him. And Reggie added, ‘Don’t worry. Officer McNair is right on our tail.’ In response to Cadel’s startled look, he explained that he had been on surveillance duty with Angus, outside the house. ‘We were in the back lane, though,’ he said. ‘That’s why we didn’t see what happened.’

  ‘It wasn’t an accident,’ Cadel insisted. ‘Prosper tried to kill us. Saul and Fiona and me.’

  ‘Yeah. Well. I guess we’ll know for sure after the forensic guys have checked things out.’ Though Reggie’s tone wasn’t exactly dismissive, he did seem a bit uncomfortable. ‘Meanwhile, you should try to relax. You’ve had a big shock.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ the paramedics chorused in agreement, and Cadel gave up. What was the point of arguing? He would only come across as delusional, and he didn’t want to be sedated. Not when he needed to think. Not when he had plans to make.

  Desperate times call for desperate measures, he thought. I’ve got to launch a surprise attack, or I’ll never be safe. None of us will. Prosper won’t stop until he’s brought an aeroplane down on top of the hospital.

  He won’t stop until I’m dead, and all my friends along with me.

  TWENTY-ONE

  It was after midnight, and Cadel was still in the Sydney Children’s Hospital.

  For hours he had been lying on a high, white bed, wearing a hospital gown and staring at a blue-and-yellow curtain. Reggie Bristow hadn’t left his side for a moment – not even to take a piss. The nursing staff had promised to find out how Saul was doing, but had so far failed to report back. As for Reggie, he wasn’t allowed to use his mobile phone inside the Casualty area. And since he refused to go anywhere else until his relief arrived, he’d been unable to call Judith or Fiona for an update on Saul’s condition.

  Not that Cadel had wanted to think too much about Saul. Or Fiona. Or their little weatherboard house. It had been easier to concentrate on the various tasks at hand; conjuring up memories of Saul’s slack face, or the devastated kitchen, would have been too much like stepping off the edge of a bottomless pit without a parachute.

  Cadel couldn’t afford to let his sense of loss overwhelm him.

  At one point a cheery little woman with freckles had asked Cadel if his neck was hurting. When told that it wasn’t, she had removed his neck brace, informing him that he wouldn’t be getting a CAT scan because he had suffered no ‘overt abrasions’.

  ‘You don’t look too bad,’ she’d said, after checking his eyes and making him count various things. ‘We might just send you over to C3 South for the night, and take it from there.’

  Her name was Dr Jacobson, and she hadn’t known anything about Saul either. But she had been very helpful about the hospital’s computer system. Yes, she’d agreed: Cadel’s name, ward, admission number and so forth would soon be in the system, if it wasn’t there already. His full history, however, wouldn’t find its way into the medical record database for another two or three days. That was when the clerical staff would collate all of his charts and paperwork.

  ‘Why?’ she’d finished. ‘Is there a correction you want to make?’

  ‘Oh, no. I just wondered.’ Cadel, in fact, had been wondering how hard it would be to fake his own death. He had studied this subject at the Axis Institute, where his Fraud teacher had once given him an A-minus for a phoney death certificate. So he was already aware that it could be as long as forty-eight hours before discrepancies between medical and mortuary reports reached the attention of the Coroner’s Office.

  The fact that there were processing delays at the hospital, too, was an unexpected bonus.

  I could kill myself on cyberspace, and Vee wouldn’t know for at least a day, he’d concluded, after speaking to the doctor. He had then tried to formulate an escape plan, knowing that, if he didn’t keep himself busy and preoccupied, he would go mad with worry. It was now four hours since he’d laid eyes on Saul, and anything could have happened in four hours.

  Cadel didn’t even want to think about the best-case scenario, let alone the worst one.

  His main problem was Reggie. He couldn’t make a move while Reggie was around. Yet the policeman was impossible to shift; he had an iron bladder, displayed no interest in coffee, and was able to sit for hour after hour doing absolutely nothing. Cadel was beginning to despair when one of the nurses stuck her head into his holding bay.

  ‘Somebody called Gazo wants to see you,’ she informed Cadel. ‘He says he’s your brother.’ Her tone was slightly sceptical as her gaze roved across his delicately flushed, perfectly proportioned, heart-shaped face – which certainly didn’t look much like Gazo’s. ‘He says he’s got news about Saul Greeniaus?’

  ‘Oh! Yes!’ Cadel reared up, using his elbows to support himself. ‘Saul’s my dad! The one I was talking about!’

  She pursed her lips.

  ‘The dad who’s over in Casualty next door?’ she asked.

  Cadel nodded. His heart was pounding in double-quick time.

  ‘I see,’ said the nurse. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, we just got a call from Radiology, and apparently your dad had some X-rays done before he went to theatre. But I’m not sure if he’s in Recovery yet.’ Heaving a sigh, she suddenly gave in. ‘I suppose a visitor wouldn’t hurt. Since it’s family. But your brother can’t stay long – we’ll be moving you down to the ward, soon.’

  Then all at once, with a swish of the curtains, she vanished. Cadel heard her shoes squeaking across the shiny floor.

  Reggie stood up. ‘I’ll just make sure it’s really Gazo,’ he growled, positioning himself so that he had a clear view of the approach to Cadel’s bed.

&n
bsp; If Saul was in a bad way, they wouldn’t send Gazo, Cadel told himself. They’d send a priest, or a social worker. One of Fiona’s friends would come. Or Judith, perhaps, but not Gazo.

  All the same, he was feeling positively queasy by the time Gazo appeared. Shuffling along behind the sceptical nurse, poor Gazo looked tired and cowed; it was obvious that he hadn’t even washed his hands since the bus crash. His clothes were filthy and his eyes were red-rimmed. The first thing he said, upon catching sight of Cadel, was, ‘They cleaned you up.’

  Cadel couldn’t reply, so Reggie did it for him.

  ‘How’s Saul?’ asked Reggie, as the nurse squeak-squeak-squeaked back to her station. ‘They reckon he had to have surgery, is that right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Gazo confirmed. ‘They pulled some glass out of ’im, but he’s all stitched up now. Judith says they’re waiting on a brain scan, because he’s got a sore neck. So they put ’im in the Surgical High Dependency Unit.’ Gazo went on to describe how Judith had been demanding information from every doctor and nurse she could lay her hands on; it was thanks to Judith that Gazo knew as much as he did. ‘Your mum’s been sedated,’ he warned Cadel. ‘I guess she’ll be discharged pretty soon, since there ain’t nuffink wrong wiv ’er.’ Gloomily he glanced towards the nurses’ station. ‘When I told ’em what really happened, they didn’t believe me. Nobody ever does.’

  ‘They thought I was disoriented,’ Cadel concurred, remembering the paramedics and their indulgent smiles.

  ‘They fought your mum was hysterical.’ Gazo gave a shrug and a sigh, before proceeding. ‘Anyway, Judith says you can both stay at ’er place, seeing as how you ain’t got nowhere else to sleep. She says you can go straight there, soon as they let you out.’ He cocked his head. ‘Do you know when they’re gunna let you out?’

  ‘Not yet,’ answered Cadel, racking his brain. (He had to get rid of Reggie!) ‘I’m supposed to be moving to Sonja’s ward, first.’

  ‘Yeah? Really? That’s good,’ said Gazo.

  ‘No it’s not. If I’m a target, I shouldn’t be going anywhere near Sonja. Or Fiona. Or Judith.’ Even as he spoke, Cadel had an idea. He would send Reggie out to make a request for safe-house accommodation, over the phone, while Gazo served as a stand-in bodyguard.

  It wasn’t much of a plan, but Cadel was growing desperate.

  ‘Hey, Gazo,’ said Reggie, just as Cadel opened his mouth, ‘I need to piss – can you stay here till I get back?’

  ‘Uh … yeah. Sure.’

  ‘Thanks. I wouldn’t ask, except that I dunno what’s happened to my bloody back-up.’ Reggie’s tone was caustic. ‘And I figure if Saul let you drive the kid around, you’ve gotta have something a bit special.’

  ‘Special?’ Gazo repeated, sounding rather dazed. ‘Yeah. I guess.’

  ‘Won’t be a minute,’ Reggie assured him, before hurrying off towards the nearest toilet. Cadel could hardly believe his luck. He was so flabbergasted that it took him four or five seconds to collect himself.

  Then he flapped his hand urgently, beckoning to Gazo.

  ‘Sst! Listen!’ Not wanting to be overheard, Cadel kept his voice low. ‘I need your help. I need to get out of here.’

  Gazo blinked. ‘But –’

  ‘Soon. If I don’t leave soon, Prosper will do something really bad. Like crash a plane into the hospital.’ Satisfied that Gazo was suitably appalled (and speechless along with it), Cadel began to fire off a list of demands. ‘I need you to go back to my house,’ he whispered, ‘and get my computer out of the gun safe – the spare key’s in the cutlery drawer.’

  ‘The gun safe?’

  ‘It’ll be fine. Safes are tough – they’re built that way.’ After a moment’s reflection, Cadel added, ‘You might want to take a torch with you. Then once you’ve emptied the safe, I want you to go to the laundry. Do you know where our laundry is?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Gazo. ‘It’s the little room next to the kitchen.’

  ‘That’s it. Go in there and look in the yellow hamper. You’ll find Saul’s Arab costume. The black one he borrowed from Fiona. I want you to take that, too.’

  ‘Cadel –’

  ‘Shh. I’m not finished. On your way out, I want you to duck into our garage. Go to the back, where all the gardening equipment is, and on the top shelf you’ll find a green bag under a pile of old magazines. Get that bag. It’s mine. It’s important.’

  ‘But what if I’m not allowed in?’ Gazo protested. ‘What if the coppers are there?’

  ‘Of course you’ll be allowed in.’ Cadel made an impatient gesture. ‘The police all know who you are. Just say that you’re getting some clothes for me. From the laundry. In fact you can get some clothes for me, so it won’t be a lie. I’ll be needing more clothes.’

  ‘All right,’ Gazo murmured.

  ‘After that, I want you to take Saul’s Corolla.’ Anticipating a flat refusal, Cadel kept reeling off instructions at top speed. ‘It’s parked in the back lane, a few blocks from the house, so no one will see you,’ he said. ‘You can do that hot-wiring thing you learned at the Institute, and park it in exactly the same place when you’re finished with it. I guarantee, no one will even notice it’s been gone.’

  ‘But Cadel –’

  ‘You’re going to need that Corolla!’ Cadel argued. ‘You can’t drive your car, because Vee will recognise it by now. And you’ll be coming back here. To pick me up.’

  ‘I will?’

  ‘At 4:30 a.m., I want you sitting in the Emergency Department, wearing that Arab costume. With the veil over your face and everything. Understand?’ When Gazo nodded, Cadel continued. ‘I’ll meet you at the seats farthest from the reception desk. But you have to come in Saul’s Corolla. And you have to make sure you bring the green bag and the laptop.’

  ‘Into the waiting room?’

  ‘No. Leave them in the car. Does Saul have any kind of protection?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘A guard. You know.’ Cadel could feel himself growing snappish. He sensed that time was running out, and begrudged every wasted second. ‘Is somebody watching Saul like Reggie’s watching me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. In that case, at 3:45, I want you to call the Surgical High Dependency Unit. I want you to ask them if Saul has a bodyguard stationed outside his room. Don’t tell them who you are. Just say you’re a friend, and ask them that question.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. But if they want to know who you are, hang up. You’ve got to sound really suspicious.’ Conscious that brisk footsteps were rapidly approaching, Cadel began to count off the crucial six steps on his fingers. ‘Remember: laptop, Arab clothes, green bag, Corolla, phone call, waiting room,’ he hissed. ‘Got that?’

  ‘I – I think so.’

  ‘Good,’ was all that Cadel could manage before Reggie reappeared, looking much more relaxed. Gazo, in contrast, was visibly tense. He mumbled something incoherent when Reggie thanked him, and almost fell over his own feet in his haste to get out. Cadel didn’t like to see Gazo unsettled. An anxious Gazo was a dangerous Gazo, especially in confined areas like the Casualty holding bays.

  So his departure was a huge relief to Cadel, who now had nothing to do but wait and hope.

  Luckily, his move to the ward happened shortly afterwards. From the bright, bustling, noisy Casualty Department he was wheeled up to the dim tranquillity of Ward C3 South, where most of the patients were sleeping, and most of the night staff were attending to mysterious jobs in little rooms. Cadel’s arrival caused a bit of a stir, but it was brief and muted. He was installed in his new bed with a minimum of fuss, largely because another boy was already occupying the bed next to him. Rather than wake Cadel’s neighbour, the nurses were careful not to speak loudly or bang things.

  Only Reggie raised his voice when he saw what the arrangements were. He demanded that Cadel be put in a room by himself, and upon being informed that no other rooms were available, asked if Cadel could be moved to S
onja’s room, around the corner. No, he was told – that wouldn’t be possible. Boys and girls didn’t usually share.

  ‘Then I’ll have to sit beside him,’ Reggie insisted. ‘And if you’ve got a problem with that, you can call the Police Commissioner.’

  No one, however, did have a problem with that. As one of the nurses pointed out, parents often spent the night with their children. And although Reggie wasn’t a parent, he was filling the role of guardian.

  So he stationed himself in a visitor’s chair next to Cadel’s bed, and hardly moved a muscle for the next hour or two. While Cadel pretended to sleep, Reggie sat like a carved watchdog. Even when a nurse popped in to change the plastic bag attached to Cadel’s neighbour’s arm, Reggie didn’t so much as glance at her. It wasn’t until 3:55 exactly, when his mobile rang, that Reggie finally bestirred himself.

  Rising, he moved towards the door. Though Cadel couldn’t risk taking a peek, he did hear the sound of retreating footsteps.

  ‘Yeah,’ Reggie muttered. ‘Yeah, that’s right. And I was due to be relieved back at … what? When? Shit. No, I didn’t make that call.’ A pause. ‘Yeah, I can get over there, but what about the kid? Oh. Right. And how long will that take?’

  Cadel kept his eyes screwed tightly shut; he had a feeling that Reggie was probably glancing his way.

  ‘Nah, he’s asleep. All right. What’s his ETA, then?’ Reggie grunted. ‘So I’ll tell them … what? Twenty minutes? Yeah, it should be. Okay. Understood.’

  There was a tiny, almost inaudible beep, followed by more footsteps. Hinges creaked slightly. A muffled click told Cadel that the door had swung shut, but he didn’t open his eyes. Instead he remained perfectly still, while several minutes elapsed.

  Only when he was quite sure that Reggie had left the room did he climb out of bed and put on his hospital-issue dressing-gown. It was now 4:04 a.m. In a quarter of an hour (or thereabouts) Reggie’s replacement would arrive; that, at least, was what Cadel had deduced from the bits of conversation he’d overheard. So if everything went according to plan, he would have fifteen minutes in which to get downstairs and meet up with Gazo.