"Oh, yeah. I'm fine." Cadel's harsh tone made both his companions turn pale. "I was just thinking: How on earth did my mother fit Prosper in, when she was already having it off with Chester Cramp and Phineas Darkkon? I mean, she must have been pretty busy!"
Saul shut his eyes for an instant. Fiona put an arm around Cadel's shoulders.
"We don't really know what happened to your mother," she pointed out. "She was very young, don't forget. And these were unpleasant, overbearing men. We're not in a position to judge her, Cadel. You mustn't think the worst of her."
"Besides, no matter what she did, she didn't deserve to be killed," the detective declared firmly. When Cadel clenched his fists, Saul added, "At least you know now that your father didn't kill your mother."
"Oh, yeah," Cadel spat. He could hardly contain his fury and dismay. He wanted to punch someone, or overturn the bench on which they were sitting. "Terrific. That's a real bonus, that is."
"Cadel. Look at me." Saul's firm grasp moved to Cadel's wrist. "It doesn't matter who your parents are. It matters who you are."
"Tell that to Prosper English!" Cadel snarled, finally erupting. "If he finds out about this—god, he'll be furious! He'll kill me!"
"No—"
"He will! He'll kill Chester Cramp, and then he'll kill me!" Cadel threw off Saul's hand and Fiona's arm. He sprang up and spun around to confront them both. "I know too much! He can't afford to let me survive! Not now that I've turned out to be Chester Cramp's!"
Saul reached for him. "Listen—"
"And what does that mean, anyway?" Cadel cried, stumbling backward as the detective rose. "Does it mean I'm American? Does it mean I'll be deported? Am I going to have to live with Chester Cramp?"
"Be quiet." Saul spoke sharply. He caught hold of Cadel with fingers like steel rods, and shook him. "Calm down. Look at me. Cadel? Look at me. Chester Cramp was born in Australia. He had an Australian father. Which means that you're part Australian. And that's good news. Are you listening?"
Cadel nodded. All his red-hot energy had suddenly evaporated like steam. He was close to tears.
Saul must have seen this, because his grip relaxed.
"Chester Cramp is not your problem," he said quietly. "I haven't finished with Chester. You don't have to worry about him—he won't be in a position to make any demands on you." Saul took a deep breath. "As for Prosper English—well, that's something else we have to talk about. Because I agree: He's still a risk. It's my belief he won't want you anymore when he finds out you're not his son, but you're right, that doesn't mean he won't try to get rid of you. As a potential witness." The sound of these words, spoken aloud, seemed to pain Saul. He flinched, as if he himself were the one threatened with physical harm. "I'm sorry, Cadel. This can't be something you want to hear. It's just the situation as I see it."
Cadel swallowed. "I know," he whispered. "Me, too."
"So unless we catch him, you're always gonna be looking over your shoulder. And we don't want that." Saul's clear, brown, sober gaze contained not only an immense amount of sympathetic resolve, but also the faintest, most fleeting glint of excitement. "Which is why I have a proposal to make," he said. "A proposal about Genius Squad.
"Because I happen to think Genius Squad might be the solution to our problem."
FORTY-SEVEN
The meeting was held at Sydney University.
It was a Sunday evening, so everything was very quiet. The grounds were largely unoccupied, save for the occasional lone pedestrian. The library was shut, and the quadrangle deserted. The long, dingy corridors were empty, and most of the doors that lined them were locked.
But one small corner of the History Department was filling up slowly. As the shorter hand on the tower clock crept toward five, a few people began to arrive at a top-floor seminar room. Some used the ancient, creaky lift; others slowly ascended the stairs, their voices and footsteps echoing off shiny linoleum. All of them converged on the numbered door behind which Saul Greeniaus was standing, next to a silent, gray-haired, flinty-faced man in a three-piece suit.
This man was introduced to Cadel as Garth Renmark. "Mr. Renmark will be signing off on our project," Saul muttered vaguely, leaving Cadel none the wiser as to Garth's actual job. But it was apparent, from Saul's edgy and watchful demeanor, that Garth was either a very senior police officer or a government official.
Cadel decided that the Audi parked near the downstairs entrance probably belonged to Garth.
Cadel himself had come in his lawyer's car, along with Fiona Currey and the surveillance team. Mel Hofmeier, Cadel's lawyer, was a fat, untidy, middle-aged troll of a man, with the face of a wise old frog. His clothes were all custom-made; he wore platinum cuff links and a gold signet ring, and the look in his pouchy eyes suggested that nothing on earth would ever surprise him. When Cadel saw Garth Renmark, he was very glad that Mel had decided to attend the meeting. Because even someone as formidable as Garth couldn't intimidate Mel Hofmeier.
After exchanging names and handshakes, Mel and Saul and Garth made a few desultory comments about the large, shabby seminar room in which they were gathered. This room was painted a dispiriting shade of buff. It contained a battered collection of furniture made of steel and plastic and melamine, together with an empty bulletin board and an oil heater. The room had been Saul's choice, selected because it was central and private.
"Hotels these days are like sieves," he remarked, in reply to a question from Garth. "And people might notice a bunch of kids heading into an office block."
Garth sniffed. He didn't give the impression of being someone who spent much of his precious time sitting on plastic chairs under flickering fluorescent lights. Perhaps he was offended that no one had thought to serve him drinks or canapés.
The next arrivals were Hamish Primrose and his parents. His mother was plump and flustered, while his father was skinny and severe; they sidled in apologetically, looking confused. Standing between them, dressed in a blue blazer and tie, Hamish had the appearance of a prisoner under escort. He was almost unrecognizable without his leather jacket and biker's boots.
When he spotted Cadel, his mouth fell open—exposing a wad of gray chewing gum.
"Hello, Hamish," said Cadel. To which Hamish replied, "Wow. You are here."
"Yeah. I'm here."
"I heard you were locked up in the hospital or something. I heard they wouldn't let you out."
"Who said that?"
"I dunno." Hamish shrugged. "Lawyers. Lexi."
"Have you seen Lexi?"
"I saw her the other day. She told me Prosper English tried to kill you. That's why you were locked up."
"No." Cadel shifted uncomfortably, glancing over to where Fiona and Mrs. Primrose were deep in conversation. "No one's tried to kill anyone."
"She said Prosper threw acid in your face," Hamish scoffed. "She's so full of it."
As if on cue, Lexi herself appeared at the door, closely followed by Devin and a pair of total strangers. Cadel never discovered the names of these two female attendants, because he was instantly swept up in a noisy reunion with Lexi Wieneke. She bounded across the room toward him, threw her arms around his neck, and planted a series of smacking kisses all over his forehead.
"Thank god you're all right!" she exclaimed shrilly, pressing her cheek against his. "I thought he was going to kill you!"
"What was all that crap about an acid attack?" Hamish demanded, as Cadel tried to extricate himself from Lexi's embrace. "I don't see any scars on him, do you?"
"I never mentioned an acid attack," she said, rubbing purple lipstick off Cadel's temple. Hamish scowled.
"You did, too!" he insisted, and appealed to Devin. "You were there! She told us Prosper English threw acid in his face!"
"Oh, I never bloody listen to her," Devin said. He was skulking uneasily against one wall, as if all the suits in the room were making him nervous. Unlike Hamish, he had retained his Clearview House clothes: namely his beanie, sweatshirt, anorak, and camoufla
ge pants.
Lexi's outfit was also familiar to Cadel, who had once rejected the black net tank top that she was wearing, when it was offered to him as a disguise.
"You weren't listening," Lexi informed Hamish. "What I said was that I'd kill anyone who did throw acid at him." She was enormously difficult to repel; Cadel had no sooner peeled one of her sweaty hands off his chin than she had clamped the other over his ear. "It would be a crime against humanity to ruin this face. Like blowing up the Mona Lisa, or something."
Then Fiona approached them, and the conversation became more stilted. It was difficult to forget that during her previous encounters with the inhabitants of Clearview House, Fiona had been thoroughly hoodwinked. Hamish seemed very conscious of this fact; he stared at the floor and mumbled. Devin glowered. Lexi took one look at Fiona's left hand and said, in tones of unflattering surprise, "Are you getting married, or something?"
Fiona blushed. Cadel said crossly, "She's getting married to Mr. Greeniaus," and slipped out of Lexi's clinging headlock just as Judith Bashford wheeled Sonja into the room.
Judith was accompanied by Sonja's social worker, and by a bald man in pinstripes who must have been a lawyer, to judge from the way Mel Hofmeier hailed him. But Cadel wasn't interested in lawyers or social workers. He headed straight for the wheelchair, wearing a tremulous smile.
As far as he could see, Sonja looked well enough. She was dressed in a new velvet skirt, and her hair was neatly braided. Someone had been keeping her nails trimmed.
Her feet were encased in the slippers that she had received from Cadel.
"Hi," he said. "I've been waiting for you. Did you get my letters?"
Sonja jabbed at her DynaVox. Unfortunately, however, she was too excited to spell out a coherent reply: She kept missing the keys, partly because her neck muscles were going into spasm. She couldn't even direct her eyes toward the screen in front of her.
Seeing this, Cadel dropped to one knee beside the wheelchair and took her clawed hand in his.
"It's okay," he muttered. "I heard the news from Saul. He told me you'll be living with Judith."
"Providing that I have anywhere to live after the dust settles!" Judith blared. She was draped in layer upon layer of embroidered cheesecloth, and had thrust her wide feet into a pair of sequinned sandals. "What with all the bloody lawyer's fees I'm having to shell out, and the way the tax office has been poking its nose in, I'll be lucky if I'm left with the price of a cappuccino!" She leaned forward to pat Sonja's shoulder. "But if Sonja's around, they'll think twice about turfing me onto the street. In fact, I'm hoping this scheme goes ahead, so she'll be able to support me in my old age."
Cadel smiled uncertainly. He knew something about the complicated agreement that Judith had thrashed out with the police, in an effort to avoid paying too high a price for her activities at Clearview House. He also knew that her offer to look after Sonja was regarded with suspicion by everyone who'd heard about it—except Sonja herself. A lot of people had tried to dissuade Sonja from even considering the placement, which was considered "highly irregular" by various health and welfare offices. But since Sonja was about to turn eighteen, and Judith could easily afford round-the-clock nursing care, it was hard to find any solid grounds for refusing the application. Not unless Judith was actually convicted of a crime.
Cadel himself was cautiously optimistic. He had long ago decided that Judith was genuinely attached to Sonja; in fact, he believed that Judith had blown the whistle on Genius Squad purely out of concern for his best friend's safety. And after interrogating Judith for several hours, Saul now shared this opinion. "I suppose DoCS would have to keep an eye on them both," he'd mused at one point, "but I think Judith Bashford is Sonja's best option right now."
Cadel agreed. Judith Bashford was undoubtedly Sonja's best option, because her overpowering personality and skewed sense of humor didn't seem to faze Sonja at all. Certainly Sonja didn't flinch when Judith loudly demanded, "So what are we waiting for? I thought this thing was supposed to start at five!"
"We're waiting for Gazo Kovacs," Saul explained. The words were barely out of his mouth, however, when someone coughed over near the doorway and a small voice said, "I'm here."
Turning, Cadel saw that Gazo had, in fact, already joined them. He had somehow managed to enter the room without attracting notice—perhaps because he was clad in such dull, unassuming clothes. Catching Cadel's eye, he gave a little half smile. But before either of them could say anything, Saul began to address the assembled company.
"If you could all just find a seat," he announced, in a slightly strained fashion, "we can kick off the proceedings." Over the subsequent clatter of steel chair legs, he added, "As you know, we're here to decide how the so-called Genius Squad concept can be used to facilitate the capture of Prosper English. And I realize you must have discussed this idea at length, in private meetings with various—ah—advisors and interested parties. But my intention today is that we should clarify exactly what we want to do here, and exactly what we're all expecting to get out of the proposed scenario." As everyone sat down, Saul unexpectedly walked around the circular arrangement of graffiti-covered desks until he reached Cadel. "I'm hoping," the detective said, laying a hand on Cadel's shoulder, "that most of you who know Cadel, and realize what a special kid he is, are partly motivated by a desire to make sure he's not gonna be living in fear of Prosper English for the rest of his life."
"Hear, hear!" cried Lexi, causing Judith to roll her eyes, and Hamish to snort. Almost everyone else looked startled, including Saul Greeniaus—who was thrown off his stride, and had to think for a moment before continuing.
"Basically," he said, "we have some ground rules to lay down, some terms to negotiate, and also, I presume, some questions to answer. Once that's done, then maybe we can tackle the important issue of locating Ulysses Vee. Because Vee's still at large, and we know that Prosper's been using his services. If we can find Vee, we might find Prosper English." Then Devin put his hand up, and Saul blinked. "Uh ... yes, Devin?"
"What about Cadel?" Devin asked, to which the detective's answer was: "What about him?"
"Well, we can't do this without Cadel. He knows more than any of us, especially when it comes to Prosper English." Though Devin spoke as if it pained him to make such an admission, Cadel was touched. "How can he help us, if you've locked him up somewhere and won't let him out?"
"Good point," drawled Mel Hofmeier, with a sideways glance at Saul, who dragged his fingers through his hair in a clear sign of agitation.
"Um ... Cadel isn't locked up, exactly," Saul replied. "But I agree, his situation could be better. Which is why it's important that Genius Squad starts work pretty soon. If we can locate Prosper English, then we'll hopefully be able to anticipate and prevent any attack on Cadel. And if we can do that, then we can take him out of the high-security environment in which he's currently placed."
"And put him where?" Judith wanted to know. Before the detective could respond, however, Lexi interrupted.
"He'll be earning money, too, won't he? Like the rest of us?" she said. "You'll be paying him to be on Genius Squad?"
"Well, yes. That's the theory," Saul confirmed. "If we can get the budget approved under a special provision—"
But Lexi wouldn't let him finish.
"Then Cadel could move in with us! With me and my brother!" she cried. "We're going to share a house with Gazo Kovacs and pay part of the rent out of what we earn! Why can't Cadel live there, too?"
"Because he's only fifteen." Fiona torpedoed Lexi's proposal with a kind of sympathetic regret. "He's just a bit too young. You're sixteen, Lexi, you're old enough to live without much supervision."
"Yeah, but—"
"Anyway," Saul broke in, "we're working out somewhere for Cadel. We just haven't finalized the details yet. When we have, you'll be the first to know."
Cadel stared at him in surprise. If plans were afoot to change the current arrangements, Cadel hadn't been apprised of them. H
e would have liked to hear more. He even raised his hand, to request further details.
Saul, however, wasn't ready to indulge him. "I'll talk to you later," he said, without waiting to hear Cadel's question. Then he launched into a long speech about Genius Squad's proposed operational parameters and how it would be a highly confidential experiment, with built-in safeguards and a strict probationary period for all concerned. He explained that much of the equipment from Clearview House would be requisitioned for the squad's use, although some of it was being held as evidence; he stressed that rules had been bent slightly to acquire it, and that everyone had to be very careful about following various codes of conduct relating to its custody and treatment or it would be taken away.
Cadel already knew most of this; it had been explained to him several times. So he let his attention drift around the table, studying one face after another, as he wondered where he was going to end up. Obviously he wouldn't be staying with Gazo—Fiona had made that quite clear. And it was just as well, too, because Cadel didn't want to live with Lexi again. His heart went out to Gazo, who probably didn't know what he was letting himself in for. Lexi was an awful lot of work, and Gazo didn't respond well to sudden shocks. He might get jumpy if the twins were always fighting. He might lose control of his stench and knock them both out by accident.
Gazo and Cadel exchanged another fleeting, embarrassed smile. It would be nice to have a chat at some stage, Cadel thought. Then his wandering gaze alighted on Sonja, who was having an especially bad bout of painful muscular contractions. Normally Cadel would have leaped to her aid. He would have tried to stop her from hurting herself, by supporting some of her limbs and intercepting others. But Judith seemed to have mastered that knack. She did it almost instinctively.
Watching her, Cadel decided that she was the right person to care for Sonja. The question was: Had Judith volunteered to take him in, as well? Was that the option being "finalized" by Saul? Or had someone else made an offer? Mr. and Mrs. Primrose, perhaps?