"Only because you weren't expecting him! You didn't think he knew where I lived!"
"That's right. I didn't." Saul stopped beside the four-wheel drive. "I guess I wasn't fully informed."
Saul's words were carefully chosen. They hit Cadel with as powerful an impact as the detective's heavy, reproachful gaze. Cadel blanched. The long-dreaded moment had finally arrived.
And he wasn't ready for it.
"You mean—are you talking about..." He took a deep breath. "Genius Squad?" he bleated.
There was a pause. Cadel was conscious of Sonja squeaking and twitching in the backseat of Saul's car, but couldn't drag his eyes away from the detective, whose expression he was trying to decipher.
"Is that what you call it? Genius Squad?" Saul finally said. "I have to admit, I'm still in the dark. There are people in Sydney who've been interviewing your Clearview House friends ever since Judith Bashford spilled the beans. But I don't really know what's going on. I've been too busy to find out." He heaved a sigh. "All I know is that I look like a goddamn fool."
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Cadel was frantic. He couldn't bear the thought of Saul's disapproval. "I'll tell you everything! I've been wanting to all along, I swear! I hated lying to you!"
"Why did you, then?"
"Because ... because..." Hesitating, Cadel glanced through the open car window beside him. Sonja seemed to be in a highly emotional state; she was whimpering and grunting, her fingers splayed, her back arched. "Because there was nowhere else for us to go," he said at last, hopelessly.
During the silence that followed, Saul studied him with the shrewd, dispassionate, hard-bitten appraisal of an experienced policeman. It was a long and uncomfortable moment. Then the detective placed a hand on Cadel's head, leaning forward to drive home the point that he wanted to make.
"Don't lie to me again, Cadel."
"I won't."
"If you lie to me, I can't protect you."
"I promise I'll never lie to you again! Not ever!"
Cadel meant it. He meant it with all his heart. And this must have shown in his strained and desperate air, because Saul's own demeanor softened, suddenly.
"I don't want to believe you," Saul muttered, "but I can't help it. There's something about your face." He pulled open a car door. "Now get in. We can talk on our way out of here."
FORTY-FOUR
Sonja was very stressed. When Cadel climbed into the car beside her and tried to lift her head into his lap, her lunging hand connected with his jaw.
Her cheeks were tearstained, and there was blood in the saliva smeared across her chin.
"She's bitten her tongue," Cadel groaned, trying to smooth the sweaty black hair away from her eyes. "She's hurt herself!"
"She's had a tough time," Saul observed grimly, from the driver's seat. "Our first priority is to get her somewhere safe."
"It's all right. I'm all right." Cadel attempted to soothe her, without much success. As Saul completed a three-point turn, she became so agitated that she nearly rolled off the backseat onto the floor. "You don't have to worry. It's over now," Cadel declared, then was struck by a sudden thought. He raised his head. "You didn't get hurt, did you?" he asked Saul. "Prosper said you didn't, but ... well, Prosper lies. Ow!" Sonja had jabbed him in the neck.
"I wasn't hurt," Saul assured him, swerving to avoid the bronze sedan. "No need. They just came over and asked me to open the cupboard. Next thing I woke up in it." His tone became pensive. "I don't really remember the chloroform."
"They told me they tied Trader up. So he could pretend he wasn't involved." Cadel was probing for information, even as he struggled with Sonja's uncooperative limbs. He saw the detective nod.
"Yeah." Saul spoke dryly. "It didn't work, though. I knew that guy was dirty the minute I met him." He clicked his tongue. "I should have figured out he was working for Prosper English."
"He wasn't," said Cadel. "Dot was, but he wasn't. Trader worked for Rex Austin. He was just helping Prosper, in exchange for leverage against GenoME." Sonja's shrill piping interrupted him at this point, causing him to abandon his conversation with Saul. "Sonja, it's all right!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter? Are you in pain?"
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know. I can't tell." Cadel was ashamed at having to make this admission. "She needs her DynaVox."
"We'll get it. We'll sort it out, just as soon as we can." Plunging into a stand of scrubby forest, Saul left the airfield behind. He never once took his eyes off the road ahead. "Why the hell did Prosper want her, anyway?"
"To stop me from trying to escape," Cadel replied. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "You do realize that Trader was after GenoME, don't you? We all were. Did Judith tell you that?"
At first Saul didn't answer. His car bumped over a pothole, and slowed when it reached a shallow dip. On both sides of the road, paper-barked eucalyptus trees with bowed, misshapen trunks looked as if they were bending down to peer through the windows.
But they couldn't have seen much, because Saul was driving too quickly.
"It was chaos at first," he finally confessed. "I figured Trader must know something, so I didn't let him leave. And I rounded up the rest of his crew, just in case. Brought them back from Maroubra to Clearview House."
"The squad, you mean?"
"The kids. The staff. Everyone. At first they acted like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. But then Fiona gave me your message, and I asked Judith Bashford about it. That's when Judith opened up." Saul braked for a lizard, which crawled across the dirt track at a glacial speed. "She was mad," he continued, with obvious satisfaction. "Really mad. She realized Trader was to blame straight off, because he'd talked her into letting him use her cabin. She said she never would have if she'd known he was helping Prosper English."
"Judith's a good person," Cadel insisted. "She cares about Sonja."
"I guess she must." With the lizard safely out of his path, Saul accelerated again. "Because she really laid into him. Boy! She let him have it."
The detective explained that Judith had accused Trader of putting his own pocket ahead of a child's life. She'd demanded that he tell her instantly where Prosper would be taking her plane. And when Trader had claimed to know nothing about Prosper English, she'd proceeded to expose all his secrets.
"He went crazy," Saul reminisced, "because she spelled everything out. How he'd probably made a deal with Prosper because Prosper must have given him stuff on GenoME. And when Trader tried to claim that she was deluded, telling me he wasn't remotely interested in GenoME, she mentioned that room downstairs. Which is when he blew his stack." Saul sounded rather pleased. "I thought they were gonna kill each other."
"Really?" said Cadel, fascinated despite himself. "What about the rest of the squad? Did theytell the truth?"
"I wouldn't know. I didn't hang around long enough to find out."
"Oh. Right."
"I had to get over here before it was too late," Saul continued. "And I don't have a phone right now, so I haven't been getting regular updates." For the first time, he glanced into the rearview mirror. "I guess you don't have your mobile on you?"
"No." Cadel flinched away from Sonja's flying fist. "Prosper took it."
"Yeah. He must have taken mine, as well." Saul's voice was stern as he swung off the dirt track onto paved road. "Unfortunately."
This last observation had such an ominous ring to it that Cadel was alarmed. "Did you have a lot of personal stuff on that phone?" he queried, raising his voice over Sonja's guttural cawing.
"You could say that," Saul replied.
"Not Fiona's number?" Cadel said anxiously.
Then Sonja hit him in the mouth.
It was the last straw. "For god's sake!" he cried, in sheer exasperation. "What is it? What's the matter? We're safe now, I told you—ow!" Her fingernails had grazed his upper lip. "Please, Sonja, will you calm down? Listen. Look at me. Calm down."
He placed a hand on each side of her head, to steady
it—and as he did so, he saw the look in her eyes.
It made him catch his breath.
"Something's wrong," he gasped. "Saul? She's trying to tell me something."
"What?"
"I don't know." Desperately, he racked his brain for a series of questions that would narrow the possibilities. "Listen, Sonja, blink twice for yes, once for no. Can you do that?" Promptly, she blinked. Twice. "Okay. Now. Is something wrong?" Two blinks. "Are you hurt?" One blink. "Are you angry at me?" One blink. "Are you scared?" Two blinks. "She's scared," Cadel announced.
"Why?" The car slowed. "Am I driving too fast?"
"Maybe." Cadel once more addressed Sonja. "Is Saul driving too fast?"
Sonja whimpered. She blinked, her feet churning.
"No. It's not that," said Cadel.
"Nobody's gonna arrest you, sweetheart, if that's what you're worried about." Saul spoke loudly, as if concerned that she wouldn't hear him. "There's no way on earth anyone would put you in jail."
"Is that it?" Cadel asked her. "Are you scared of what will happen to us in the future?"
One blink. By now she was distraught. Tears were trickling into her hair.
"Gnn-nn," she moaned.
Her fear was beginning to infect Cadel, who turned to scan the road behind them. But no one was in pursuit.
"Did you see something scary, back at the airfield?" was his next question, to which Sonja's reply was two blinks. "Before the police came?" One blink. "After?" Two blinks.
"Did you see Prosper English?" Saul interposed, and Sonja blinked twice, exploding into a flurry of movement.
"She did," Cadel croaked. "She saw him."
"Where?" Saul demanded. "In the hangar?"
One blink.
"Did you see him running away from the police?" asked Cadel. One blink. "Did you see him hiding?"
Two blinks.
"She saw him hiding," Cadel gasped, and Saul barked, "Where? Not in the other plane?" But Sonja only blinked once.
"He wasn't in the other plane," said Cadel. "Was he near the office, Sonja?"
One blink.
"Was he in the bush?"
One blink.
"What about the second hangar?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake," a familiar voice drawled, from behind Cadel. "I'm in this car, you fools."
Cadel was paralyzed. Time seemed to stand still; there was too much to process all at once—the hand on his neck, the rustle of canvas, Sonja's wail, Saul's shocked eyes in the rearview mirror. Then the car screeched to a halt.
"Oh no, you don't," said Prosper. "Keep driving. Or I'll shoot somebody."
And they started to move again.
He had been hiding under a tarpaulin in the load space at the back of the vehicle. Cadel realized this even as he struggled to understand how it could have happened. And when. While the police were concentrating on Vadi and Alias? While Saul and Sergeant Cope were in the hangar?
By concentrating on these questions, Cadel hoped to control his own mounting sense of panic and disbelief.
"Pick up the pace, Mr. Greeniaus," Prosper instructed. "I'm aiming straight at the girl, in case you don't have a clear view." And a hard, chilly weight settled onto Cadel's right shoulder.
It was the base of the handgrip on Prosper's gun. Cadel could see it out of the corner of his eye.
He didn't dare move his head, though.
"I told you I'd be back," said Prosper into Cadel's ear. "You shouldn't have got so impatient."
"Please put the safety on," Saul requested, almost eerily calm. He was staring straight ahead, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "If you don't, there'll be an accident. The road's too rough."
"Why, Mr. Greeniaus," Prosper sneered, "are you attempting to advise me, by any chance? That's rather amusing, all things considered."
"I'm worried about the kids," Saul replied.
"Then you shouldn't have left your car unsecured." Prosper spoke in a light, conversational tone, which contained just the faintest hint of contempt. "At the very least, you should have double-checked your luggage. Speaking of which, were you intending to take a camping trip while you were out here? Indulge in a spot of trout-fishing, perhaps?"
It was a moment before Saul answered.
"This isn't my car," he said at last, without expression. "I borrowed it."
"Oh, yes. That's right. I took your car, didn't I? And your phone. And your gun. And your cheap Kmart tie." Prosper's dislike of Saul was beginning to mar his placid demeanor. Black malevolence dripped from his tongue like poison. "You really are a joke. I've never seen such incompetence. No wonder my son's been fretting about you. You're incapable. You need looking after, like a pet."
"That's not true," Cadel faltered. But it was Saul, not Prosper, who cut him off.
"Don't worry, Cadel. I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
"He's right, dear boy. Don't worry about him." Prosper gestured with his gun. "You should be worrying about Sonja. I think she's about to have a stroke."
Looking down, Cadel realized that Sonja was almost drowning in her own tears. Gasping and gurgling, she had rolled about until her head was dangling off the end of his knee, unsupported. Her face was red; her eyes were bulging.
Quickly he adjusted her position, racked by guilt at the thought of how terrified she must have been, while she was trying so desperately to deliver her urgent message.
The message he'd been too stupid to understand.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. Then he raised his voice—and his chin—until he was staring at the back of Saul's head. "I'm so sorry."
"Stop apologizing!" Prosper snapped. "I've told you before, it's an abominable habit!"
"You've nothing to be sorry for," Saul agreed. "This isn't your fault, Cadel."
"Quite right," said Prosper. "But I can do without your support, Mr. Greeniaus. Just concentrate on your driving, please."
There was a short silence. Surveying the roadside bush as it slid past, Cadel saw nothing that offered any hope or protection: just endless stretches of shaggy eucalyptus trees and dry, spiny undergrowth, broken up by the occasional creek bed, dirt track, or rearing boulder.
"I guess you know that Carolina took out a contract on you," Saul remarked suddenly. Reflected in the mirror, his gaze flicked toward Prosper before returning to the windshield. "I guess you know you're lucky to be alive."
"Luck had nothing to do with it," Prosper retorted. "What you saw at that courthouse wasn't luck, Mr. Greeniaus. It was good management."
"Yeah, but there's a price on your head. That's what I mean." Though Prosper sighed impatiently, Saul added, "I'm guessing Earl Toffany is the one who's willing to pay that price, and we've got nothing on him. Not yet. So right now you're living on borrowed time."
Prosper pulled a face and shook his head. "You see, Cadel, this is what I've been talking about—this complete inability to think through a situation with any sort of logic," he complained, in long-suffering accents. "Isn't it obvious that Earl Toffany has nothing to fear from me as long as I'm out of jail? His great fear was that I'd cut a deal at his expense. Which I'll hardly be tempted to do if I'm not in custody."
"But that's no guarantee," Saul pointed out, his voice colorless and even. "What makes you think he won't kill you, anyway? Just to be on the safe side?"
"What makes you think he'll be able to?" Prosper sounded almost roguish, as if he was toying with the detective. "You really mustn't worry about me, Mr. Greeniaus. Assuming that Earl Toffany does want me dead—which I'm not confirming or denying, by the way—he'll never get to me before I get to him. I'm rather well-informed, you see. On certain subjects." All at once he stiffened, and his voice changed. "Just turn left up here. Beyond that sign."
"Where are we going?" asked Saul, eliciting a snort of amusement from Prosper.
"You don't honestly expect an answer to that, do you? If so, you're even dumber than I thought."
Without another word, Saul spun the wheel, and they jolted off the paved
road onto an unpaved one. Clouds of dust billowed up behind them as they rattled over its corrugated surface, which was lined on each side by posts bearing red reflector patches. Bits of gravel occasionally bounced off the doors and the undercarriage.
"Good thing you chose a four-wheel drive," said Prosper, addressing Saul in a companionable kind of way. "This looks as if it's going to get rough."
"Did you see that we caught your two friends?" Saul replied, working hard to control the shuddering wheel. "They'll end up talking, you know. They might even feel let down because of the way you ran off and left them."
Prosper chuckled. "My dear fellow," he said airily, "if I'd done anything else, I think they would have died of pure shock. Isn't that right, Cadel?"
Cadel said nothing. He kept stroking Sonja's hair, his head bowed, his lips pressed tightly together.
He wasn't about to agree with Prosper on any subject.
"My son can tell you that I loathe violence," Prosper continued. "It's the last resort of the idiot—and it's inherently risky. If I'd started a shooting match, what good would have come of it? The odds weren't exactly in my favor, after you'd handcuffed Vadi. Whereas now, of course, I'm in a position to campaign more efficiently on his behalf."
"No, you're not." Saul displayed a momentary flash of feeling. "Not by a long shot. I wouldn't call this free and clear, would you?"
"No," Prosper allowed. "You're right. I still have a way to go yet. But you don't, Mr. Greeniaus." He leaned forward suddenly, his rib cage pressing against Cadel's scalp, and leveled his gun at the detective. "Stop the car," he ordered. "Now."
FORTY-FIVE
Saul braked. Looking around, Cadel saw that they had stopped halfway up a hill, near a bend in the road. On all sides lay half-cleared land studded with fallen logs, lichen-encrusted boulders, and outcrops of eucalyptus trees that seemed to be huddling together for protection. Glimpses of a distant valley were visible through the leaves.
A collapsing wire fence and a faraway scattering of sheep on golden pasture suggested that somebody, somewhere, must have been interested in this obscure corner of the world. But the complete absence of roadside litter told Cadel that the route wasn't a popular one.