Genius Squad (35 page)

‘But Hamish didn’t really do that?’

‘
No
.’

According to Sonja, the truth was that Hamish had acquired an iPod identical to Devin’s (‘
Which-wasn’t-hard, when-you-consider-that-Devin’s-taken-the-serial-number-off-his
’), and had spent hours downloading ‘
sad-old-fart
’ songs onto it. Then he’d swapped the two machines.

‘
Imagine-putting-in-all-that-time
,’ Sonja marvelled, ‘
just-to-piss-off-Devin
.
It-doesn’t-make-sense.
’

But it made perfect sense to Cadel. In fact the whole scenario was ominously familiar.

‘Hamish is bored,’ he sighed. ‘GenoME’s shut down for the weekend, so he’s bored.’ Something occurred to Cadel suddenly, and he considered it for a short time before continuing. ‘The strange thing is that Hamish won’t mess with people’s computers. He’ll play stupid practical jokes in real life, but he won’t do it in virtual space. It’s like he’s only grown up when he’s on-line.’

‘
He’s-certainly-not-grown-up-about-money,
’ Sonja observed. ‘
He-won’t-have-any-left-if-he-keeps-buying-iPods.
’

‘Better than stealing them.’

‘
True
.’

‘Though I’m not sure if Devin really stole that iPod of his. I know he claims he did. I know he says that’s why he scraped off its serial number. But sometimes I wonder if he got rid of the serial number just to make himself look tough. To make it
look
as if he’s bad.’

Sonja snorted. ‘
You-have-a-suspicious-mind,
’ she said, and Cadel shrugged.

‘On the contrary, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.’

‘
You-never-give-anyone-that
,’ Sonja ploddingly countered. ‘
You-were-brought-up-not-to.
’ Then, to Cadel’s astonishment, she said, ‘
I-think-we-should-go-back-now
.’

Cadel stopped in his tracks.

‘Why?’ he demanded.

‘
I-have-decoding-to-do
.’

‘But it’s Sunday. It’s our day off.’

‘
I-like-decoding
.
It’s-fun.
’

Sonja craned around to look at him, but her head wouldn’t cooperate. She couldn’t quite meet his eye, so she gave up.

‘You’ll tire yourself,’ he objected. At which point a thought struck him. ‘Do you need to go the toilet?’

‘
No
.’ The serene tone of the Dynavox was contradicted by the abrupt, almost violent manner in which Sonja attacked it. Clearly, this question had annoyed her. ‘
I-want-to-get back.
’

Cadel sighed. He knew that he couldn’t exactly take the moral high ground, when he himself had been working until the early hours of the morning. And he
certainly
couldn’t say that Sonja needed more rest than he did. Any suggestion of that kind would infuriate her.

So he began to execute a wide and gentle U-turn, causing the surveillance-team driver to rev up his engine. There was a prolonged silence. At last the Dynavox squawked, ‘
Are-you-angry?
’

‘No.’ To prove it, Cadel added: ‘Why should I care what time we get back? Besides, Fiona said she might drop in today, so I ought to be around when she arrives. Because Trader won’t want her poking around.’

‘
Isn’t-this-the-second-Sunday-she’s-given-up-for-you?
’ Sonja inquired. ‘
She-must-care-about-you-a-lot
.’

‘I guess.’

‘
You’re-lucky. My-social-worker-doesn’t-care-about-me.
’

Cadel couldn’t contest this claim. He
was
lucky. Fiona really did care about him; he wasn’t just another file number to her. And when he gave the matter some consideration, he realised that Sonja was no longer his one, true friend. Sonja wasn’t the only person who would be upset if anything happened to him. Fiona would mind too. As would Saul Greeniaus. The trouble was that Cadel hadn’t been truthful with either of them, so he couldn’t really derive much comfort from their obvious concern. The more sympathetic they became, the worse it made him feel.

At least with Prosper he had never felt guilty about lying. On the contrary, Prosper had always encouraged him to lie. With Prosper, Cadel hadn’t been obliged to pretend that he was a good person.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

As he pushed Sonja’s wheelchair along the uneven footpath, Cadel tried to concentrate on what she was saying. He listened to her account of how she had traced the differential characteristics of the database cipher by ‘trying each possible final-round sub-key with a number of input pairs satisfying the first-round differential’. Cadel had no trouble following Sonja’s narrative. He was interested in the entire process. Nevertheless, even while he nodded and grunted and made occasional comments, his thoughts kept drifting towards Prosper English.

He didn’t want to think about Prosper. Every time he did, his stomach would churn. But he realised that his stomach was trying to tell him something. And he was forced to admit that, despite all his claims to the contrary, he
did
care about Prosper. Because he was convinced that Prosper cared about him – albeit in a warped, enigmatic sort of way.

No one believed it, of course. Though Cadel had insisted, over and over again, that Prosper would never harm him, the general consensus was that Cadel had been brainwashed by a ruthless manipulator. ‘
Just-because-he-didn’t-shoot-you
,’ Sonja had once remarked, ‘
doesn’t-mean-he-didn’t-regret-it-afterwards
.’

But she was wrong. Cadel knew it. And he couldn’t banish from his heart every faint, lingering trace of regard for the first person who had ever shown any real affection for him.

If it hadn’t been for Prosper, he might never have learned how to love at all. Because the ability to become attached to people was something that you had to exercise at an early age, if you didn’t want to lose it altogether.

And Cadel had exercised his on Prosper English. For want of a better alternative.

‘
Isn’t-that-Fiona’s-car
?’ Sonja suddenly inquired. And sure enough, Fiona Currey’s vehicle was passing through the Clearview House gates, immediately ahead of them.

Cadel cursed aloud.

‘
It’s-all-right
,’ Sonja assured him. ‘
No-one-will-be-doing-any-work. Everything-will-seem-pretty-normal.
’

She was right. When Cadel and Sonja arrived back at the house, they discovered that Genius Squad had succumbed to the normal Sunday-morning atmosphere. Dot was absent. So were Trader and Tony. Cliff was on lunch duty, firing orders at Hamish. Judith was hanging out laundry, whistling in the sunshine. Devin was hunched over his iPod. Zac and Lexi were playing pool.

It was as if every one of them had been carefully briefed beforehand. Had they all been discussing a church picnic, they could not have made a more thoroughly disarming impression on the visiting social worker. Fiona was relieved. Though she tried to hide it, Cadel could see her getting more and more cheerful every time they encountered another harmless scene in another tranquil domestic setting. She smiled at the slouching, uncommunicative Devin. She helped Judith to hang out the clothes. She even played pool for ten minutes, before engaging Cadel in a long, earnest discussion about his private affairs.

‘Mel’s been looking into that sample collected from Prosper English,’ she related. ‘The one they took to see if it matched the skin on the envelope found with that poor dead guard. Apparently it didn’t; there’s no proof that Prosper ever went near the envelope. But Mel’s hoping that we might be able to use your dad’s sample for a paternity test.’

‘I thought we needed Prosper’s permission for something like that?’ Cadel inquired, and Fiona shrugged.

‘Maybe. All I know is that Mel’s hoping to force the issue. Though we can’t expect an answer very soon.’ She hesitated before adding, ‘Even if we do run a paternity test, it might not advance your case. You know that, don’t you, sweetie?’

‘Yes,’ said Cadel.

‘Because you don’t want to end up in Scotland with Prosper’s cousin as your guardian. As a worst-case scenario.’

Fiona went on to announce that she had been speaking to her friend about his Cryptography and Security course. ‘The problem is, it’s on a Monday evening,’ she said. ‘And I don’t like the idea of you riding around on buses at that time of night. Though of course those policemen would be watching you.’ Fiona sighed. ‘Which raises another problem. Your attendance at the university is supposed to be unofficial. What happens if it’s recorded somewhere in the police files? I don’t want my friend getting into trouble, just because he helped us out.’

Cadel said nothing. He was at a loss for an answer, since he knew that he wouldn’t be attending any evening courses for quite some time. Not until GenoME had been dismantled, anyway.

Fortunately, Fiona didn’t seem to expect any useful suggestions from him.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll figure something out. Meanwhile, how have you been? Are you feeling better now?’

‘Better?’

‘You haven’t thrown up again?’

‘Oh.’ Cadel winced. He was ashamed of his weak stomach. ‘No, I’m fine.’

‘What did you eat for breakfast?’ Fiona asked. Then, apparently satisfied with his response (which was ‘scrambled eggs’), she glanced around his room. ‘And what have you been doing with yourself? Have you been able to use that computer in the office?’

‘Sometimes.’ Cadel realised suddenly that no one in Genius Squad had arranged a fake computer schedule to cover the office machine, which was supposed to be the only computer in the place. It was a dangerous oversight. Suppose he claimed that he had access to the office computer on Tuesdays and Thursdays only, and heard something different from another member of Genius Squad?

If that happened, he would be caught out.

‘Sonja’s been teaching me a really neat cipher,’ he quickly remarked, to distract Fiona’s attention. ‘It’s called the Solitaire Cipher, and it lets you communicate with another person in a really complex code without using a computer. All you need is a deck of cards.’

He went on to explain, in minute detail, how the Solitaire Cipher worked. Fiona smiled and nodded, and made an effort to understand. She didn’t try to interrupt or turn the conversation. Nevertheless, she looked deeply grateful when Hamish eventually announced, from the bottom of the stairs, that lunch was ready.

Cadel’s ploy had succeeded. After her long struggle with the cutting and counting of cards, Fiona had forgotten all about Cadel’s computer schedule. He had successfully bored her into a state of partial amnesia.

‘Okay,’ she said, almost jumping to her feet. ‘I suppose I’d better go. Have you spoken to Mr Greeniaus, since yesterday?’

‘No.’ Cadel was carefully shuffling his cards. In a bland voice he added, ‘Have you?’

Fiona coloured slightly.

‘No,’ she said. ‘But he did say that he’d be at the Coroner’s Court tomorrow, for your dad’s appearance. Just to make sure that nobody shoots anybody. So you’re not to fret. Because Mr Greeniaus has everything under control.’

Cadel remained silent. Sitting cross-legged on his rumpled bedspread, he quietly cut and stacked the deck of cards, his eyes cast down.

‘Cadel?’ A pause. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Yes there is.’

Cadel raised his head, as a terrible thought struck him. ‘
You’re
not going, are you?’ he demanded. ‘To the Coroner’s Court?’

‘No, no. Of course not.’

‘That’s good.’ The prospect had filled Cadel with dread. It was bad enough that Saul Greeniaus should be exposed to Prosper English, but Fiona Currey? ‘Don’t go. You mustn’t. Prosper mustn’t find out about you, not
ever
.’

‘Sweetie, we discussed this when we first met. Your case file is restricted. How could Prosper English find out about me?’ Fiona gently patted his arm. ‘You’ve got enough to worry about. Don’t concern yourself with me, or with Mr Greeniaus. We’re grown-ups – we can look after ourselves.’

Cadel disagreed. Fiona, he knew, wouldn’t stand a chance against Prosper English. But he refrained from making the obvious comeback. Instead he rose and accompanied her downstairs, where he waved her out the door just as Trader’s car pulled up alongside the front steps.

There was a brisk exchange of greetings. Trader flashed his glittering smile and indulged in his usual bantering tone. Despite this jovial façade, however, Cadel sensed that he was deeply agitated.

Sure enough, Fiona’s car was no sooner heading for the front gate than Trader sighed and said, ‘Thank Christ
she’s
gone. We need to talk.’

‘Why? What about?’ asked Cadel.

‘I’ll tell you in a minute. Where’s Judith? Is Tony here yet? It’s time we had a confab.’ Trader barged across the threshold, his smile extinguished, his eyes glittering. ‘I might be wrong,’ he said, ‘but I think I’m onto something. Something big.’

THIRTY-ONE

‘Okay,’ said Trader. ‘This is what I want to tell you. I’ve put two and two together, and come up with an idea.’ He glanced around the kitchen table, making sure that he had everyone’s full attention. ‘At the moment, Sonja and Lexi are trying to penetrate a well-protected database that Cadel discovered in the GenoME sytem,’ he announced. ‘You might remember that ten names are associated with this database, among them Jimmy Austin’s. You might also remember that only four of these ten people are still alive. Well . . .’ He took a deep breath. ‘I think I can guess why the six dead people were actually killed.’

The reaction was muted. Hamish continued to pick food out of his braces. Lexi gnawed at an apple. Devin belched noisily, as if he’d swallowed too much air while he was eating. Perhaps he had. Lunch had been a hurried affair for some of them, cut short by Trader’s insistence that they should be concentrating on facts, not food.

Dirty dishes were still strewn across the tablecloth.

Some of the squad hadn’t eaten at all. Poor Tony Cheung had been dragged away from a family beachside barbecue, in response to Trader’s urgent summons. Even Dot was back. She had appeared in the kitchen so suddenly that she gave the impression of having been teleported.

‘You see, Tony’s been doing some research on that Cayman Islands company,’ Trader continued. ‘The one that’s been sending money to Fountain Pharmaceuticals. Do you all remember that?’ Nods from the assembled squad. ‘Well, he’s discovered that it’s a subsidiary of something called NeuroSolutions. And you’ll never guess what NeuroSolutions is involved in.’