Evil Genius (58 page)

Then Thaddeus staggered.

"
Elspeth?"he
hissed. "But you're dead! I saw you—"

He stopped suddenly, but it was too late.

Cadel already knew.

"
You
killed her," he gasped.

"
Cadel
?"

"You killed my mother." It was all so clear. Cadel had seen Thaddeus's expression. He had heard the anger and the fear and the hatred in Thaddeus's voice.

"Cadel, my god!" The psychologist stepped forward. "You
escaped
?"

"Get away from me!"

"Listen, Cadel—"

Cadel turned and bolted up the stairs. He intended to lock himself in his bedroom. But Thaddeus had longer legs than he did.

Cadel didn't even make it to the first landing.

"Wait! Cadel!"

"Let go!" Almost crazed with fear and revulsion, Cadel lashed out. He strained against the psychologist's grip. "I hate you!
I hate you!
"

"Cadel—"

"
I
know what happened!" cried Cadel. He kicked and clawed, exploding against the months and months of endless surveillance, the lying, the manipulation. "You were afraid, so you killed her! You
scum
! You
murderer!
" You've made me a
murderer!
"

"Shh. Calm down."

"You
shit!
" Cadel spat, tears of rage and sorrow spilling from his eyes. "You
lying scumbag!
" You lied to me,
Prosper!
"

The psychologist blinked, then stared. He opened his mouth. Before he could speak, however, someone else did.

"Hey."

It was Gazo. He was standing at the foot of the stairs, and he wasn't wearing his headpiece. For the first time ever, Cadel found himself gazing at Gazo's entire head. It was long and bony, perched on top of a long, skinny giraffe's neck. His close-cropped hair was a murky brown, and his ears stuck out like wings.

"Are you all right, Cadel?" he asked, frowning. Startled by his appearance, Thaddeus had loosened his grasp on Cadel—who took advantage of this fact by wrenching free and stumbling down the staircase.

The psychologist, however, had very quick reflexes. His hand shot out and grabbed Cadel's collar.

"Wait," he said.

"
Let go!
" Cadel gasped. He was nearly choking. "Gazo! Help!"

Vaguely, Cadel was aware of Gazo's anxious voice, bidding Thaddeus to let his friend go. Thaddeus, who had flung one arm around Cadel's wriggling body, snapped, "Get out of here! Now!" Then everything became confused. With the psychologist's arm clamped across his chest, Cadel felt as if he was suffocating. He bucked against it—the pressure fell away, but still he couldn't breathe. There was a terrible smell and his vision failed.

When he came to, it was dark. He was no longer on the staircase. He was no longer
inside.
And though he felt someone's arms around him, dragging him along, they didn't belong to Thaddeus.

He moved against them feebly.

"It's all right," Vadi gasped into his ear. "Calm down."

Cadel suddenly realized where they were. They were in front of the house, and there was Wilfreda's truck, and there was Gazo's car, and there...

There was Gazo. Lying facedown on the dirt, in a pool of light that spilled from one of the windows. "Gazo!" Cadel croaked.

"It's all right," Vadi repeated. He was slowly mounting the steps to the front door, his arms hooked under Cadel's. "It was a vicious smell, but I can hold my breath longer than any other man on earth. Long enough to swing a poker."

"Gazo..."

"I'll take care of him, never fear. But we have to be quick." Staggering through the door, he raised his voice. "Sir! Dr. Roth!"

"Here," came the feeble reply. It sounded as sick as Cadel felt. Now he was in the living room, and there was Thaddeus, collapsed across one of his stylish chairs, green-faced.

"Sir, are you all right?" Vadi queried.

"I'll live."

"He was trying to take the boy," Vadi continued, dropping Cadel onto the sofa. "I knocked him out."

"Well done," said Thaddeus, shutting his eyes. Cadel knew just how he felt. Nauseous. Dizzy.

But better than before. Definitely better.

"Sir, I have to report that there are cars converging on the other side of the wall."

"Cars?"

"Police cars."

Thaddeus hissed. He looked up and caught Cadel's eye.

Cadel glanced away. All at once he was very, very frightened.

"Sir, I think they're staking the place out," Vadi went on. "What should I do?"

"They're coming from inland, not from the sea," Thaddeus replied. He straightened and swallowed; the color was returning to his face. "We need to get to the boathouse quickly. Where's Wilfreda? She must be here. She brought Cadel."

"Sir, I don't know. I just got back from my sweep—"

"I have next to no staff," Thaddeus muttered. "They're all in Sydney, looking for Cadel. Dammit.
Dammit.
"

"Sir, what about that problem out in front? I don't think he's dead. Should I finish him off first?"

"No!" Cadel squawked, and the two men stared at him, long and hard. Then the psychologist's eyes narrowed. "You do that, Vadi," he said in the calmest of tones. "He knows far too much, wherever his loyalties lie. Can't have the
polizei
stumbling over him, can we?"

"No sir."

"Quick as you can, then meet us at the boathouse."

Vadi moved. So did Cadel. He launched himself out of the deep, dense cushions of the sofa, missed his footing, and hit the floor. By the time he'd scrambled up again, Vadi was holding his arm.

Cadel pulled free, but his head was swimming. He never made it to the front door. Vadi intercepted him.

"Cadel," said Thaddeus. Turning, Cadel saw that the psychologist had pulled out a small silver handgun. Staring down its barrel, Cadel froze. He felt, rather than saw, Vadi's surprise.

"Sir?"

"Go.
Now.
I'll take care of Cadel."

Hypnotized by the gleaming gun, Cadel didn't even hear Vadi's retreating footsteps, or the sound of the front door closing. He just stood, paralyzed. Slowly, Thaddeus rose from his seat, the gun steady in his hand. Slowly he approached Cadel.

"Right," he said. "Let me just point out, Cadel, that we have no time to waste on family skeletons and the like. Once we're in the clear, we can thrash out all your rejection issues at leisure. Until then, you'll oblige me by holding your tongue." He laid one hand on Cadel's shoulder. "Is that understood?"

Cadel nodded, speechless. He could hardly see; his eyes were full of tears. Somewhere outside, Vadi was killing Gazo. Gazo, who had come to Cadel's rescue. Cadel wanted to throw back his head and howl.

Instead, he allowed Thaddeus to steer him into the hallway, toward the back of the house. He was feeling much better now. So was Thaddeus, obviously, though he coughed a couple of times. They were moving at a brisk pace. As they passed the staircase, someone addressed them from the first landing.

"Dr. Roth?" It was Wilfreda.

"Where the hell have you been?" Thaddeus snapped.

"I'm sorry, sir, I was just—"

"We're getting out. Now."

"What?"

"They're coming by land, so we'll have to go by sea. I'll need your help, Wilfreda."

"Yes, sir, of course."

"Are you armed?"

"Uh—"

"Never mind. We can't linger. Come on."

Thaddeus didn't wait for Wilfreda to clatter down the stairs. He forged ahead, past a number of rooms opening off the hallway, until he reached the back door. He didn't fling it open, though. Instead, he peered through one of the panes of glass that flanked it, cautiously lifting the edge of a blind.

Suddenly a voice assailed them. It was a male voice, electronically magnified.

"
Attention! This is the Australian Federal Police! I am Detective Sergeant Ken Pearce! If there is anyone in the house, will you please come out and show yourself!
"

"The police!" Behind them, Wilfreda stopped in her tracks. "How—"

"
There is no way out!
" Detective Sergeant Ken Pearce continued. "
The house is surrounded, but we will not fire on you! If you 're in there, Mr. Ivan Bleski, or anyone associated with him, will you please show yourself!
"

"Look out the window!" Thaddeus ordered. He had his hands full; one was pointing the gun, the other was clutching the back of Cadel's neck. "Is it clear out the back?"

Wilfreda took up his station at the window, twitching at its blind.

"I can't see," she complained, in an unsteady voice. "It's too dark." She looked to Thaddeus for guidance, her face taut, her gaze questioning.

"
Attention, inhabitants o/Curramulla! We will not hurt you! This is the Australian Federal Police...
"

Somewhere several phones rang at once.

"That's them," said Thaddeus. He was frowning. "I'll have to answer or they'll start coming in. They'll think the place is empty." He cracked a mirthless half smile. "Which it practically is."

"How did they find us?" Wilfreda croaked.

"I don't know. But I can guess." To Cadel's immense fright, Thaddeus squeezed the back of his neck. "Lights off, Wilfreda. Yes, those. All of them." Wilfreda slapped at a bank of light switches positioned by the back door, and most of the lights were extinguished. Now Cadel could see only the shiny highlights on Thaddeus's nose and cheekbones, along with the gleam of his silver gun barrel. "Get down to the safe room," Thaddeus continued, addressing Wilfreda, "and bring up ... let's see ... bring up three gas masks and all the T-4 canisters. We'll fire 'em from the
back,
then make for the boat. Wind's an easterly. In the dark, we might just pull this off. And get the night goggles, too."

"But—"

"Do it! I'll keep them occupied. I'll be in the butler's pantry."

"But even in the dark, with the gas, once we're out there—"

"Once we're out there, we'll have a hostage," Thaddeus said calmly, gesturing at Cadel with the barrel of his gun.

Wilfreda gaped.

"
Him
?" she said.

"Him."

"But isn't that kind of dangerous? For him, I mean—"

"Wilfreda." Thaddeus spoke with barely controlled impatience. "Who do you think
told
them about this place?"

There was a brief silence. During it, the phones stopped ringing, before immediately starting up again. Wilfreda peered at Cadel.

"For Chris'sake...," she breathed.

"No time to lose, Wilfreda."

"No. Right."

Wilfreda turned and hurried through a door under the stairs.

Thaddeus pulled Cadel through another door, which led into the murky dining room. But they didn't stop there. Instead, they moved straight across the floor and darted into a small, enclosed, windowless room, which dazzled Cadel when Thaddeus switched on the light. For the room was lined with shelves, all of them bearing bright glass, shining silver, jewel-like bottles. There was a phone on the wall.

Thaddeus released Cadel's neck. He pushed his son against one row of shelves, so roughly that a wineglass was dislodged, falling to the floor with a crash. Thaddeus then placed the barrel of his gun directly between Cadel's eyes.

Staring into them, his own gaze unreadable, Thaddeus picked up the wall-mounted receiver with his free hand.

"H-hello?" he quavered.

His voice, nervous and weak and unsteady with age, was at odds with his expression. It sounded like the voice that Cadel had heard outside the warehouse when he was still in Tommy's custody. (No doubt Thaddeus had been with Wilfreda, beyond the double doors.) For a while the psychologist stood listening. Cadel could hear another voice jabbering away at the other end of the line.

Cadel himself was so terrified that he couldn't think straight. The gun had driven almost every other consideration from his head. As for Thaddeus's expression, it was unlike anything that he had ever experienced before.

It was so cold, so empty, that it was practically devoid of life.

"I don't know what you mean!" Thaddeus wailed. "My name is Walter Felton, I'm
renting
from Mr. Bleski! No, he's not here! There's only me and my wife and my grandson! What? He's ten years old..." Thaddeus suddenly winked at Cadel. The wink was so obscenely, shockingly frivolous that it was like a slap in the face and brought tears rushing to Cadel's eyes. But he blinked them away and swallowed.

"Are you sure? Can you prove it?" Thaddeus went on in a querulous tone. "What do you mean? I can't leave my wife! She's not well! She has a bad heart ... What's that? Phyllis? Oh my god ... oh my god, look what you've done! Phyllis!
Phyllis!
"

Thaddeus slammed the cordless receiver against a tabletop, returned it to his ear for a moment and listened. Then he closed the connection.

"Right," he said, tucking the phone into his back pocket. "That should hold them for a minute or so. Come on—we have to watch the access points."

He nudged Cadel through the door ahead of him. They retraced their steps until they were once more just below the staircase in the center of the house. From there, Thaddeus had a view of both the back and front doors.

"This place is a joke," he remarked softly, still holding his gun to Cadel's head. He was standing straight behind Cadel, who couldn't see his eyes. "It's got more holes than a sieve. Mind you, I never thought I'd be using it as a bloody
redoubt.
Well—I never thought anyone would find me here. Just shows you, doesn't it? I must be getting slow in my old age."

Cadel said nothing. He didn't know what to say. Staring blindly at the hall table in front of him, he felt Thaddeus tug the shoelace out of his tangled curls.

"What on earth is this getup?" the psychologist inquired. "Were you
trying
to look like your mother?"

Cadel shook his head, still unable to speak.

"Well, you do. It was the skirt that really threw me. She was a hippy at heart—she always used to wear those god-awful Indian things..." He trailed off, and Cadel felt the gun barrel quiver against his scalp. "I couldn't help it, Cadel," Thaddeus continued, so quietly that he was barely audible. "She was insane. She thought we could sit down and thrash it out, the three of us—her, me, and Darkkon. Apparently it never crossed her mind that he was a maniac. You don't betray Phineas Darkkon, not if you want to stay alive. I knew he'd have us all killed. You, too, because you weren't his son." Thaddeus sighed. "I couldn't risk that," he said. "Don't you see? I had to choose. I had to lose one of you or all of us."