The Genius Wars (24 page)

So Cadel had to answer Saul’s question.

‘The laptop’s booting up,’ Cadel explained.

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’ It was likely, however, that some sort of switch had been thrown when the machine was removed from its hiding place. Cadel suspected that a signal from the Northstar Horizon had been triggered after he’d failed to enter a certain code (or press a particular button) within the correct timeframe.

I’m such a fool
, he said to himself.

By this time Sid was frantically sorting through his collection of pocket-sized screwdrivers, which hung like keys from an overcrowded keyring. Cadel sidled past him to examine the gutted chassis of the Northstar Horizon.

Sure enough, there was a tiny contact pad inside.

‘Cadel. Don’t touch anything,’ Saul pleaded, as Sid fumbled to unscrew the laptop’s battery cover. It was a fiddly job, because the screw was so small – and because Steve kept shifting anxiously from foot to foot, jolting the machine in his arms.

‘Hurry!’ he begged. ‘Or we’ll lose it all!’

‘I
know
that!’ Sid snarled.

‘Just pull it off! Give it a yank!’

‘Will you
shut up
, please?’

At last the cover popped open, allowing Sid to remove the battery. Robbed of its power source, the laptop froze. Its lights were extinguished. Its circuits were silenced.

But Cadel felt quite sure that irreparable harm had already been done. If a self-destruct program had been initiated, it would continue to operate just as soon as power was restored. No matter what Sid or Steve might do to arrest the file-wiping process, something would almost certainly be lost.

And Cadel was to blame.

‘It’s all my fault,’ he lamented. ‘I’m so
stupid
!’

‘No, you’re not,’ Steve assured him.

‘I am! I shouldn’t have pulled so hard! I should have been more careful!’

‘You weren’t to know.’ Sid was examining the laptop with a critical eye. ‘Anyway, we’ll work something out. I bet we can save most of this. All it needs is a bit of lateral thinking.’

‘Is there anything else we should look at?’ Saul asked, watching Cadel intently. ‘Anything that strikes you as odd, or suspicious? Don’t rush. Think about it. Anything at all.’

Cadel rubbed his cheek with a trembling hand. His gaze flitted about, alighting on one object after another as he tried to ignore his emotional disarray and concentrate on what he was actually seeing. The big, boxy computers were certainly worth a look; all of them would have to be dismantled, though he doubted very much that Com would have used the same trick twice. The light fitting was a naked bulb. (Nothing concealed in there.) Moving down the hallway, he encountered a dingy, pale-green bathroom, empty except for a frayed towel, a moulting toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste. The bedroom next door contained only a blocked-up fireplace and more racks of computer equipment.

There was, however, a scattering of furniture in the main bedroom, which lay at the end of the hall. Grubby, tangled sheets were flung across a black futon, while the tallboy next to it was being methodically searched by a uniformed police officer wearing latex gloves. ‘Nothing so far,’ she said, upon catching sight of Saul – who had followed Cadel over the threshold. ‘Just clothes and batteries and extension cords.’

Two entire walls were stacked high with technology. The remaining walls were dusted here and there with patches of mould. A desk lamp sat on an overturned bucket. A dog-eared fashion magazine was lying on the bed.

‘Com reads
Vogue
?’ Saul exclaimed, in tones of disbelief.

‘It was propping the window open. That sash is busted,’ the policewoman explained. ‘I shook out all the pages, but there was nothing.’

‘Dot’s been here,’ said Cadel. He nodded at the magazine. ‘And she brought that with her.’

‘Really?’ The detective didn’t sound too convinced – perhaps because he was familiar with Dot’s bland, conservative, middle-aged clothes, and robotic demeanour. Clearly, she had never impressed him as being someone who might indulge in fashion magazines.

But Cadel knew her better than Saul did. He had walked in on her, once, when she was scrolling through an online lingerie catalogue. He had discovered that there was another, secret side to Dot.

‘Com couldn’t possibly have a girlfriend,’ he continued, ‘and that magazine isn’t his. It’s only a month old, too, so Dot could have been here quite recently.’ Contemplating the glossy cover, Cadel decided that at least three people had to be on Prosper’s infiltration team. Vee was the one who had hacked into Judith’s system. Dot knew all about Cadel’s phone. And Com … well, the extent of Com’s involvement would remain a mystery until his computer files had been examined.

‘Ah – Saul?’ It was Sid; he’d poked his head around the side of the doorway. ‘Could I have a quick word?’

‘What?’ The detective sounded impatient.

‘It just occurred to me …’ Sid hesitated, then took a deep breath. He was no longer nursing Com’s computer. ‘If we threw the switch on that laptop when we moved it …’

Another pause.

‘Yes?’ Saul rapped out.

‘Well, I was thinking … suppose we turned on something
else
, as well?’

Saul frowned. ‘Like what?’ he said.

‘I dunno. Like … a listening device. Or … or …’

‘A detonator?’ Saul shook his head. ‘There are no explosives in here. Keith’s dogs have already been through the whole place.’

‘Yeah, but you wouldn’t need explosives.’ Cadel couldn’t help butting in. ‘Not with a gas stove, and all this ancient wiring.’

Though he didn’t really believe that the house was booby-trapped,
he had to concede that Sid’s reasoning was flawless. And Saul must have realised it too, because his eyes widened suddenly.

‘Out,’ he barked. ‘Everyone outside.’

‘What?’ The policewoman straightened. ‘But –’

‘
Now!
’

Saul would brook no argument. He began to fire orders in every direction, chivvying people out of cupboards and corners. Voices were raised. Evidence was abandoned. Angus and Reggie converged on Cadel, who was almost lifted off his feet in the rush for the exit.

Within minutes, Com’s house had been evacuated. Cadel found himself squatting behind a police car, some distance from the fluttering yellow tape that now encircled an entire portion of the street. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was 10:15 p.m. Not very late, really. Yet the windows of the neighbouring houses were all dark.

He wondered about the people who had been expelled from these homes earlier in the evening. Would they be allowed to return any time soon? Probably not, if Saul had his way.

He was being very, very cautious.

‘Where’s Sid?’ Cadel asked him – because they were both crouched next to the same hubcap. ‘Has he got that laptop?’

‘No,’ Saul replied.

‘
No
?’ Cadel was appalled. ‘You mean he
left
it there?’

‘No. Keith took it. I told him to put it in one of his blast containment rings.’ Despite the darkness, Saul must have sensed Cadel’s incredulity. ‘That laptop could be some kind of fuse, for all we know,’ the detective added.

Cadel had his doubts. But he didn’t say anything – not for a while. Only after several minutes had elapsed, and nothing had exploded, did he hazard another question.

‘If the computer doesn’t blow up, what’s going to happen? Will you let me have a look at it?’ he inquired.

‘Umm …’ Saul was craning his neck, scanning the front of Com’s house. ‘Maybe later.’

‘What do you mean, later? Later when?’

A crunching noise from somewhere off to their right made Saul turn sharply. He relaxed, however, when he saw the shadowy, bent-kneed figure of Reggie Bristow waddling towards them.

‘Sorry,’ muttered Reggie. ‘I got caught up in all that dog-squad mess. I should have been watching this one.’ And he gestured at Cadel, who ignored him.

‘When can I have a look at the computer?’ Cadel demanded. ‘How long do I have to wait?’

‘We’ll see.’ Hearing Cadel’s sudden intake of breath, Saul shuffled around to confront him. ‘There needs to be a risk assessment, okay? That’s a dangerous piece of equipment.’

‘It’s not going to blow up!’ Cadel protested. ‘I
know
it’s not.’

‘You don’t know anything of the kind,’ Saul rejoined. ‘Besides, there are other considerations.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like the fact that it’s a primary target.’ Saul was peering at Com’s house again. ‘If it was
your
laptop, and
you
were our perp, what would you do? Eh?’

‘Destroy it at all costs,’ Reggie volunteered, before Cadel’s glare silenced him.

‘I wouldn’t
need
to destroy it if I’d installed a self-destruct program,’ Cadel pointed out. But Saul remained unconvinced.

‘It would be nice if everyone was as confident as you are,’ he said. ‘Personally, I wouldn’t wanna take the risk.’

‘You mean –’

‘It’s Sid’s call. When he’s ready, he’ll give you what he’s got. In the meantime I don’t want you anywhere near that computer.’ Before Cadel could object, Saul turned to Reggie. ‘Just watch him for a minute, will you? I need to figure something out.’

And the detective hurried away, leaving his foster son to fret and seethe. Such an excessive degree of caution was infuriating, though not entirely unexpected. It was the same old story. As a teenager and a civilian, Cadel had to shut up and take orders. His intellect and experience seemed to count for nothing; once
again, he found himself huddled in the background, waiting for permission to make a move.

He could feel an invisible net tightening around him. After the traffic-light incident, Saul would be reluctant to let him travel. Hospital visits would be curtailed, if not totally forbidden. Every step would be dogged by surveillance teams. Every phone call would be monitored. Every destination would be checked and double-checked.

It would be like the Axis Institute all over again – only worse, of course. Because now he had friends and family to worry about.

Cadel didn’t know what to do. Though he felt as if he ought to take matters into his own hands, he was also aware that, if he did, he would cause his foster parents a great deal of distress. They wanted to protect him – that was all. Yet in keeping him caged up, offline, and out of harm’s way, they weren’t really doing him any favours. He wouldn’t be safe until Prosper English was stopped, and how could that possibly happen without Cadel’s input?

Things would have to change. Saul needed to understand that. He’d have to be
made
to understand that.

Somehow.

Deedle-ee-deedle-ee-deedle-ee-dee!
The sudden tootling of a cell phone made Cadel jump.

‘Bloody hell,’ Reggie cursed. Looking around, Cadel saw him yank the warbling phone from his belt before slapping it against his ear. ‘Hello? Uh-huh. Yeah. Who’s this? Who? Oh.’

Reggie locked gazes with Cadel, whose heart skipped a beat.

‘Yeah. I guess so. No, he’s right here.’ Reggie offered up the phone. ‘It’s for you,’ he said.

Cadel swallowed.

‘Wh-who …?’ he stammered, but was unable to finish the sentence. He had been visited by a fleeting and truly horrible thought: could it be Prosper himself on the other end of the line?

No. Of course not. That was ridiculous.

‘It’s your friend from Newtown,’ Reggie growled. ‘The one who needs a haircut.’

Cadel took the phone.
For God’s sake get a grip
, he told himself. Then he said, very cautiously: ‘Hello?’

‘
Hello
?’

One low-pitched, rough-edged word was enough to reassure him. That burred voice wasn’t Prosper’s.

Almost dizzy with relief, he had to steady himself against the police car with one hand.

‘This is Cadel,’ he croaked. ‘Can I – can I help you?’

‘
It’s Andrew Hellen here
.’

‘Yes. Hello.’

‘
I’ve got you some contact details for that guy we were talking about. Raimo Zapp the Third. If you’re still interested.
’

‘Oh! Yes. Great. Thank you.’

‘
I don’t know if this is still current, but it’s the best I could do. No one’s had anything much to do with him, lately
…’

And as Cadel cast around for something – anything – to write with, Andrew began to reel off a Los Angeles address.

The next morning, Cadel woke up in something that resembled an armed camp.

Upon first opening his eyes, he was greeted by the reassuringly familiar sight of silver walls, a chequered floor and a giant chess-piece. But he soon discovered that his computer had been taken away during the night. And when he shuffled into the kitchen at around eleven o’clock, he found it occupied by a crew of strange police officers wearing suits and handguns. They kept appearing and disappearing as he ate his breakfast, their movements apparently dictated by some sort of rota.

Once in a while, they would reluctantly admit a couple of technicians with tool belts, who would scuttle around, wielding an electric drill or a spool of cable, before disappearing outside again. According to Gazo Kovacs, these technicians were installing a discrete alarm system – as well as a set of security floodlights.

‘I fink your dad might be worried about you,’ he observed, as he joined Cadel at the kitchen table. ‘He wants to make sure no one can get in.’

Gazo had nobly offered to keep Cadel company while Saul and Fiona were at work. With Reggie and Angus off duty, Gazo’s was the only familiar face in the entire house; if it hadn’t been for Gazo’s undemanding presence, Cadel would have felt utterly abandoned.

Not to mention sidelined.

‘Hamish is outta hospital, by the way,’ Gazo reported, watching Cadel shovel down a large bowl of muesli. ‘He got out this morning. He’s at home now, wiv ’is mum and dad. Should be all right.’

‘What about Sonja?’ asked Cadel.

‘She’s still in hospital. I ain’t seen ’er, yet. You want some toast?’

Cadel shook his head.

‘Sure?’ Gazo lowered his voice. ‘You should. If you don’t get in early, them bloody coppers’ll scarf all the bread. I already seen ’em polish off your mum’s brownies.’