Genius Squad (23 page)

Cadel felt a prickling in his tear-ducts. It was totally unexpected, and horribly disconcerting.

I must be tired
, he told himself. And he tried to conceal his weakness by clearing his throat.

‘You can still do that, then?’ he queried. ‘Make people pass out?’

‘Oh, yeah.’

‘But you’re not wearing a suit any more.’

Again, Gazo shrugged.

‘I’ve learned to control it better,’ he replied. ‘If I ’adn’t, you’d be out cold by now – the way you took me by surprise.’

‘So it’s not a problem any more? Your condition?’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’ Gazo was starting to sound more confident. Clearly, he wasn’t quite the same old Gazo. Life as a gardener had made him more sure of himself. ‘It’s still a problem sometimes,’ he allowed. ‘But what I’m doing now is, I’m trying to find out more about what I got. Scientifically.’

Hearing this, Cadel swallowed. It was exactly the opening he needed.

‘How?’ he asked. ‘I mean, how are you finding out more?’

‘Well – it’s genetic, i’n’t it? So I’m getting me genes sorted.’ From the way he expressed himself, it was obvious that Gazo didn’t have a very strong grasp of exactly what gene analysis meant. ‘There’s these people called GenoME,’ he said, ‘and you pay ’em money, and they work out what’s wrong wiv your genes.’

‘Gazo . . .’ Cadel took the plunge. ‘I don’t think you should be going anywhere near GenoME.’

Gazo frowned. ‘Eh?’

‘GenoME was a Darkkon project,’ Cadel revealed. ‘Dr Darkkon set it up.’

His words had an immediate effect. Gazo staggered, and turned white. He dropped his gardening gloves.

‘Christ,’ he said.

‘It’s not a reputable company,’ Cadel continued. ‘And if you’re worried about Prosper – ’

‘But I never seen nuffink about this!’ Gazo exclaimed. ‘In the papers or on the telly – not a word!’

‘The connection isn’t well known. That’s why GenoME’s still operating.’ It saddened Cadel to witness all the confidence drain out of his friend. ‘I only know myself because . . . well, because of my background,’ he finished, and watched a weak-kneed Gazo sink onto one of the concrete benches.

Cadel sat down next to him.

‘It’s a shame,’ Cadel said quietly. ‘You must want to leave all this stuff behind. I would myself, if I could. But I can’t.’

‘Do you fink Prosper knows where I am?’ Gazo rounded on him. ‘Will he come after me?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘But there’s a chance, right?’

‘Maybe.’

‘So what should I do?’

Cadel hesitated. ‘If I was still the old Cadel,’ he sighed at last, ‘I would have told you to cooperate with the police. For your own protection. Because it would help me.’ He spread his hands. ‘But now I’m really not sure, Gazo. You’ll have to decide for yourself.’

Gazo studied Cadel’s face for a moment, as if trying to extract an answer from it. Close up, Cadel could see a scar running across his friend’s forehead. It was a nasty scar.

He wondered if it marked the spot where Vadi – Prosper’s valet – had struck Gazo to stop him from rescuing Cadel.

‘Let’s talk to the coppers, then,’ Gazo suddenly declared. ‘Let’s do it now, before I change me mind.’ He glanced over at the partly planted garden bed, with its freshly turned earth and tumble of empty plastic pots. ‘Only I gotta finish puttin’ in them ’ellebores, first,’ he concluded. ‘I can’t let the boss down.’

And he stood up to do his duty.

TWENTY

Saul Greeniaus was already on his way to the university when Cadel phoned him. Ten minutes later the detective arrived, dressed in a neat grey suit and flanked by the surveillance team.

Cadel immediately became conscious of an unpleasant smell.

‘Blood and bone?’ said one of the team, screwing up his nose as he eyed the newly dressed garden bed. ‘I hate that stuff.’

‘It’s me,’ mumbled Gazo. ‘I’m sorry.’

Cadel was alarmed. He had experienced the impact of Gazo’s gale-force stench in the past, and didn’t particularly want to endure it again.

‘Are you going to be all right?’ he asked, edging away from his friend. ‘Are you going to be able to control it?’

‘I fink so.’ Gazo was still hunched on the concrete bench beside Cadel, nervously wringing his hands. ‘Long as they don’t arrest me.’

‘They’re not going to arrest you,’ said Cadel. And he addressed Saul Greeniaus. ‘You don’t want to arrest him, do you? You just want to talk to him.’

Saul’s dark gaze travelled from Cadel to Gazo. His expression was impassive.

‘We’d like to interview Mr Kovacs, yes,’ he rejoined, in a formal tone. ‘Mr Kovacs has a lot of questions to answer.’

Cadel began to cough. The smell was getting worse; even the surveillance team retreated a few steps.

Saul’s eyes widened.

‘Gazo –
hack-hack! –
doesn’t have to tell you anything!’ Cadel spluttered. He rose and stumbled away from Gazo, who was trying to calm himself with a deep-breathing exercise. ‘If you scare him he’s going to end up knocking us all out!’

Cadel had hardly finished speaking when Saul grabbed his arm. The surveillance team had already whipped out a couple of handkerchiefs to clamp over their noses and mouths. Saul was breathing in shallow little gasps as he pushed Cadel behind him.

‘You’d better get out of here,’ the detective coughed. But Cadel shook him off irritably.

The smell was already weakening.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Cadel. ‘Gazo won’t hurt me. I told you, he wants to help.’

‘I’ve got me old airtight suit at home,’ Gazo suddenly remarked. ‘Maybe I should put it on before I talk to anyone.’

‘That’s a good idea.’ Cadel looked up at Saul. The detective’s attitude towards Gazo didn’t impress Cadel; it was little short of antagonistic. ‘Why don’t you meet Gazo at his house this afternoon?’ Cadel suggested. ‘Around five o’clock, say? That would give him time to put on his protective suit, and call a lawyer.’ He turned to Gazo. ‘I think you should get yourself a lawyer, just in case.’

Gazo swallowed. The surveillance team gagged.

For a moment, Cadel felt dizzy. He staggered, and Saul seized his arm again.

‘Jesus,’ the detective choked.

‘I’m not saying you’ll
need
a lawyer,’ Cadel said faintly, gulping down lungfuls of air. ‘Gazo? I’m sure you won’t. But it’s best to be on the safe side.’

‘Yeah. I understand.’ Gazo was beginning to sweat. ‘Maybe you’d better go,’ he advised anxiously. ‘Maybe you’d better
all
go. I’ll be fine if I do some meditation.’

‘What’s your address?’ rasped Saul. When Gazo gave it to him, the detective produced a mobile from inside his jacket, and made a brief, one-handed entry before adding, ‘I sure hope I’m gonna find you there this afternoon, Mr Kovacs. I sure hope you won’t do anything stupid.’

‘Of course he won’t!’ Cadel was growing cross. Why did Saul have to be so unreasonable? ‘If he wanted to disappear, he’d have done it already. Ow!’ Saul’s grasp on his arm had tightened. ‘Don’t do that!’

‘Is this your correct address, Mr Kovacs?’ the detective queried, ignoring Cadel. ‘Are you
quite
sure?’

Gazo nodded.

‘And could I have your phone number, please?’ Saul went on.

Gazo recited it, his forehead creasing as Cadel tried to wriggle out of Saul’s iron grip. At last Gazo said, in a slightly sullen manner, ‘You know, Cadel’s just a kid, and he’s small too. I don’t like it when people push ’im around.’

Saul’s reaction to this comment was unexpected. He studied Gazo in silence for a good ten seconds, then released Cadel and slipped the mobile back into his pocket.

‘Point taken,’ the detective replied, before shifting his attention from Gazo to Cadel. ‘I’ll drive you home, now. Since we need to give Mr Kovacs some space.’

Cadel blinked. ‘Oh, but – ’

‘If you stay here,’ Saul interrupted, ‘Nick and Luca will have to stay here with you. And I think Mr Kovacs would prefer it if they didn’t. Wouldn’t you, Mr Kovacs?’

Gazo didn’t know how to answer. He shifted about on his seat. At the same time, the air thickened with a faint, fetid odour that sent Cadel reeling backwards.

‘All right,’ he gasped. ‘Okay. Maybe that’s the best thing. Are you all right with that, Gazo?’

‘Yeah,’ Gazo muttered. ‘Sorry, Cadel.’

He lifted a hand, and the police seemed to view this action as some kind of signal. They immediately withdrew, dragging Cadel with them. He found himself being hustled through a door, into a foyer, and then out onto a stretch of avenue, where two unmarked police cars had been left in a No Standing zone. He recognised one of these vehicles as the surveillance team’s car. The other belonged to Saul Greeniaus.

‘Get in,’ said the detective, disengaging all of its locks. Cadel climbed into the front passenger seat. He knew that Saul wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t happy himself. So that made two of them.

Saul didn’t speak again until he had started the engine, and was driving towards King Street.

‘I hope you didn’t give that guy your address,’ he snapped.

‘No,’ said Cadel.

‘Then don’t. Not yet. Not until we’ve checked him out.’

Cadel heaved a long-suffering sigh. ‘You can’t arrest him. Not without gas-masks,’ he said. When there was no reply, Cadel tried another tack. ‘You shouldn’t be so suspicious. Gazo isn’t a crook. He’s just trying to help.’

‘You can’t be sure of that, Cadel.’

‘Yes, I can.’

‘How do you know he’s not working for Prosper English?’ Accelerating onto King Street, Saul flicked his passenger a stern, admonishing glance. ‘He made contact with you, didn’t he? How do you know it’s not a trap?’

‘Because he
didn’t
make contact with me. I made contact with him.’ Hearing Saul’s intake of breath, Cadel hurriedly continued. ‘I used the Internet,’ he volunteered. (This wasn’t a lie; it simply wasn’t the whole truth.) ‘He calls himself Russ Adams, now, and that’s an alias he thought up at the Axis Institute.’

Suddenly the car swerved, as Saul pulled over. He stopped in a bus zone, jerking at his handbrake as if he were trying to snap it off. Then he swung around to confront Cadel, his face so pale that his eyes looked almost black.

‘Do you mean to say you approached this guy?’ Saul demanded. ‘Do you mean to say you set up a meeting without telling me first?’

Cadel flinched. But he refused to buckle. ‘If I’d told you first, you wouldn’t have let me go,’ he pointed out.

Saul wasn’t impressed. His voice became rougher.

‘Have you any idea of the
risks
involved in what you just did?’ he exclaimed, and Cadel scowled.

‘Yes. As a matter of fact. I calculated them.’ Seeing Saul open his mouth, Cadel cut him off. ‘Don’t you understand what I’ve been doing for most of my life? Don’t you understand that calculating risk is what I do
best
? When I was thirteen, I even started developing a formula for predicting people’s behaviour.’ Catching sight of Saul’s blanched knuckles on the steering wheel, Cadel forced himself to continue in quieter, more even tones. ‘Do you think I can’t work out the odds of Gazo being a plant?’ he said. ‘Mr Greeniaus, they’re negligible.’

By this time Saul wasn’t staring at him any more. The detective’s full attention was fixed on the windscreen; a nerve was twitching high on his left cheek.

‘And what about my job?’ he asked, exerting enormous control over his delivery. ‘Is that negligible too? I’m supposed to keep you safe. Did you take my situation into account, when you did your calculations? Do you understand what I just went through?’

Cadel flushed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I really am.’ Sensing that his apology wasn’t accepted, he blurted out, ‘But you wouldn’t have let me go! And if I hadn’t gone, Gazo wouldn’t have talked! And the whole thing would have been a disaster!’ When there was still no reply, he began to lose patience. ‘I got you another witness, didn’t I? You should be
pleased,
’ he protested.

Saul said nothing. He simply adjusted his handbrake and gearstick, then swung out into the traffic.

Not another word was uttered by either of them during the rest of their trip back to Clearview House.

When they arrived, Saul didn’t simply drop Cadel at the front steps. Instead the detective climbed out of his car, and requested a meeting with Sonja. ‘I’ve been told that Sonja moved in today,’ he announced, ‘and I think it would be a good idea if I said hello.’

‘So she knows that you’re keeping tabs on her?’ Cadel said waspishly. The words had barely left his mouth before he regretted them. They sounded childish. Vindictive. ‘She’s probably home,’ he mumbled, trying to make amends. Then it occurred to him that Sonja might be in the War Room, and he racked his brain for a story that would account for her absence if she was. ‘Unless Judith’s taken her for a walk,’ he concluded feebly.

However, Sonja wasn’t downstairs working. She was in her own room, and Zac Stillman was combing her hair. At least, he was trying to.

But he didn’t appear to have mastered the knack.

‘Here,’ said Cadel, upon observing the way Zac was clumsily dabbing at Sonja’s head. ‘I can do it.’ He took charge of the comb, and stationed himself in his customary hair-combing position, slightly to the rear of Sonja’s wheelchair.

Saul’s brown eyes met Sonja’s own as the detective quietly absorbed the scene in front of him.

Meanwhile, Zac relinquished his duties with evident relief.

‘I’ve got to start dinner now,’ he said, stooping slightly to converse with Sonja. ‘Are you going to be all right with Cadel?’

‘
Yes
,’ the Dynavox buzzed.

‘Good. Right.’ Zac nodded at Saul on his way out. ‘Just give me a yell if you need anything.’

‘We will,’ said Cadel, wondering how on earth Sonja was supposed to give anyone a yell. (With her intercom, perhaps?) Picking gently at a knot of food-encrusted hair, Cadel became conscious that Saul was watching him.

But when he looked up, the detective glanced away – and stepped forward to shake Sonja’s hand.

‘How are you doing?’ Saul murmured. ‘Settling in okay?’

Sonja couldn’t respond until he had dropped her hand. Then she asked, through her Dynavox, ‘
Is-that-a-gun-in-your-coat?
’