Genius Squad (13 page)

‘We don’t want to create problems for you, Detective,’ Trader declared, ‘so we’ll take our leave now, as a demonstration of our desire to cooperate. Nevertheless, I’m sure we’ll meet again very soon – and in more favourable conditions, I hope.’

Saul grunted.

‘I’m quite convinced you’ll find Clearview House a satisfactory option for Cadel,’ Trader continued. ‘Our policy is to have one adult supervisor per child at all times, except on night shift. And we try to encourage a lot of staff–resident interaction, so that the children have constant access to carefully screened role models.’

‘We’re just like one big family,’ Judith interposed, as if she meant it. Saul didn’t look impressed. But Trader did; he bestowed a lustrous smile on his colleague, very briefly, before focusing his attention on the only other female in the room.

‘Goodbye, Sonja. It’s been a real pleasure. Goodbye, Cadel. Have a think about what I said.’ Moving towards the door, Trader clapped Cadel on the shoulder as he passed. ‘Come on, Judith. I get the feeling that we’d better clear out, don’t you? No point treading on official toes.’

Judith sniffed, but complied. Saul stepped aside to let her leave. Before she had crossed the threshold, however, he said, ‘I’ll have Detective Constable Mattilos show you both out.’

The last thing Cadel heard from Sonja’s visitors was the sound of Judith’s scornful muttering, as she and Trader and their plain-clothes escort trudged away down the corridor.

‘I have to apologise,’ Saul remarked, almost formally, upon turning to Sonja. ‘They should never have got in here. There was a procedural glitch – we weren’t notified when they first arrived because they had official visitor clearance from DoCS. It was Mick who picked up on what was happening.’

‘
There
’
s-no-need-to-apologise
,’ Sonja insisted, using her Dynavox with unexpected agility. And Cadel said, ‘We were glad to hear about Clearview House. It sounds like it might be a good idea.’

‘You think so, do you?’ The detective’s grave regard aroused uneasy feelings in Cadel, who made his eyes very big, and his mouth very small, as he presented his defiant rebuttal.

‘Well, I’d rather live with Sonja than with Mace,’ he said. ‘Anyway, don’t you
want
me to move? That guy – Mr Lynch – he was talking about how you’ve been trying to get me out of the Donkins’ place.’ Seeing Saul hesitate, Cadel took advantage of the detective’s obvious unease to shift the subject slightly. ‘I mean,
someone
sure knows I’m living there, or I wouldn’t have got that message. Have you worked out who sent it, yet?’

‘No,’ Saul had to admit. But he wouldn’t be distracted. ‘So you’d prefer to live at this youth refuge place?’ he queried. ‘Is that what you’re telling me?’

‘I don’t know,’ Cadel replied. And he didn’t. There hadn’t been time to make a decision.

He hadn’t yet analysed all the available data.

‘Maybe you two need to talk about it,’ Saul suggested, looking from Cadel to Sonja and back again. ‘I’m gonna have to discuss it with Ms Currey, that’s for sure. It strikes me as a peculiar kind of set-up.’ His voice didn’t change as he adroitly switched directions. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘what was in that yellow envelope? Did he show you?’

‘No,’ Cadel answered, without a second’s thought. Only later, when Saul was driving him back to the Donkins’, did it occur to Cadel that the detective might have been setting a trap. What if Saul should seek out Trader, and ask him the same question? What if Trader’s response proved to be different from Cadel’s?

What if the detective started to smell something fishy as a consequence?

It will only matter
, Cadel concluded,
if I decide to join Genius Squad. If I don’t, I’ll just tell the truth.

And he stared out the car window, fretting away with feverish concentration behind a perfectly tranquil, sweetly disarming countenance.

PART TWO

ELEVEN

Cadel sat in Fiona’s car, heading for Clearview House.

He was still worried about visiting the place. Though he and Sonja had spent hours discussing Trader’s proposition, he couldn’t help feeling that they had made the wrong choice – simply because it was the obvious one to make. Why
not
choose Clearview House? It was full of like-minded people and cutting-edge technology. It was frequented by Com’s sister, who might have some idea of her brother’s whereabouts. Best of all, it came with a salary. Fifty thousand dollars for three months’ work! And five thousand per month after that! How could anyone with even half a brain turn down such an offer?

Cadel viewed the money as a kind of insurance. Even if Clearview House closed its doors, he and Sonja would have enough put aside for Sonja’s care, at least. That was the important thing. Cadel’s own future was so hazy that there wasn’t much point fretting about it; for all he knew he might be in another country by the end of the year, and out of Sonja’s reach. So he was determined that, if she did end up in a nasty little house full of people who didn’t understand her, she would have the funds to pay for a full-time attendant with a cheerful personality and an interest in mathematics.

He had said as much to Sonja, though he hadn’t mentioned going away. She found the subject too upsetting. They had agreed that the money was a big plus. They had also agreed that living in the same house would be a definite advantage. (Sonja had called it ‘a dream come true’.) They had discussed all the possible drawbacks of the scheme – unknown housemates, questionable practices, lying to the authorities.

‘
I-don’t-like-breaking-laws
,’ Sonja had said. ‘
But-tapping-phones-and-intercepting-mail-isn’t-too-bad. Especially-if-it-stops-more-people-getting-killed.
’

‘And we can make sure things don’t get
too
illegal,’ Cadel had remarked, trying to salve his own unsettled conscience. ‘We can go to the police if we’re concerned.’

Fighting a wearisome battle against her own capricious and wilful body, Sonja had finally tapped out an exhausted response. ‘
Because-the-police-will-always-be-around
.
We-won’t-be-in-danger-if-the-police-are-tailing-you
.’

Sonja’s heart had been working against her head; Cadel understood this only too well. She was so desperate to share a house with him, and to spend time with mathematically inclined people, that she was willing to overlook all her niggling little doubts. Cadel was the same. Apart from anything else, he couldn’t bear to see her disappointed again, because disappointment had so far been her lot in life. Having been born with cerebral palsy, abandoned by her parents, and stuck in a series of state-run institutions like an unwanted package, she was overdue for a bit of good luck.

So Cadel had decided in favour of Clearview House. Nevertheless, something about it disturbed him. He felt that the people running it might have a secret agenda. He couldn’t quite believe everything that he’d been told; all his instincts were prompting him to be cautious. But were those instincts reliable? Or had they been warped by his childhood training?

If only I could calculate the probabilities
, Cadel thought, as he sat in Fiona’s car. Alas, however, his algorithms were useless, simply because he didn’t have enough data about Clearview House and its occupants. There were too many variables.

‘Here we are,’ Fiona announced. With a grinding of gears, she pulled up in front of a big iron gate in a high brick wall. Treetops were visible above the wall; through the gate, Cadel could see a gravel drive leading to something that looked like an Edwardian mansion. ‘This must be Clearview House,’ Fiona said. ‘I wonder how we’re supposed to get in?’

‘There’s an intercom,’ Cadel pointed out. He was on the verge of suggesting that he should look for a button when the gates began to open automatically, swinging slowly apart on well-oiled hinges.

‘Goodness,’ said Fiona, with a frown. ‘This is all very elaborate.’

Cadel wondered where the security camera had been installed.

As they drove into the grounds, Cadel realised that the gates had been slightly misleading. Though Clearview House was big, it had definitely seen better days. Its gutters were rusty and its paint was peeling. Something fuzzy and green was growing on one of its chimneys. Apart from a few straggly, overgrown flowerbeds, its garden was all unkempt grass and disintegrating asphalt.

Shabby but not too shabby.
Cadel remembered Judith’s comment. Peering at what looked like a bed-sheet hanging in one of the bay windows, he couldn’t help thinking that Trader and his friends had overdone the shabbiness.

But Fiona seemed to find this rundown aspect reassuring. More reassuring, at least, than the silently welcoming gates.

‘Well,’ she said, with a cheerfulness that was only a little bit forced, ‘it’s certainly not cramped.’ And she stopped near the front steps.

Cadel unbuckled his seatbelt. They both climbed out of the car and approached the house, which was three storeys high with all kinds of gables and verandas and bits of fretwork trimming. Two other vehicles were parked near the entrance: a battered blue van and a rather sleek four-wheel drive.

Cadel made a mental note of their registration numbers. He also scanned the façade of the house for signs of electronic surveillance – and was pleased to discover an almost invisible wire running along one pediment. If there were any cameras, however, they were well disguised. Extremely well disguised.

They stepped onto the front porch, past a bicycle and a canvas hammock. Fiona’s knock was answered immediately. The door swung open to reveal Trader, looking lean and tanned and remarkably well groomed. Fiona’s jaw dropped. Though she quickly tried to conceal her amazement, his chiselled features and Hollywood smile had a very obvious effect on her. She lost every trace of composure, groping for her handbag and stammering out a feeble explanation.

‘It’s Cadel. And me. I’m Fiona. Currey.’

‘Yes, of course. We’ve been expecting you. I’m Trader Lynch. How do you do, Ms Currey?’

‘We’re here to see if we like the look of this place – ’

‘I know. Come in.’

As he ushered her inside, Trader directed a surreptitious wink at Cadel. Then he swept them both into a large and lofty room which occupied most of the front part of the house. The room had ornate ceilings and enormous windows, but it was very shabby, with scuffed floors and scarred woodwork. It contained three battered couches, a beanbag chair, a television set, a DVD player, a bookshelf, and a coffee table heaped with old magazines, dirty cups, compact discs and tangles of earphones.

It also contained two people. One, a teenage boy, was slumped in the beanbag chair, reading a computer magazine. His feet were dirty, and a black woollen beanie was pulled down low on his head, concealing his hair colour. He wore olive-green cargo pants and a drab zippered sweatshirt, both so baggy that it was hard to judge his build. But whether thin or fat, he was certainly very pale. And he had terrible acne.

Opposite him, on the couch, sat a heavy teenage girl with a pierced lip and eyebrow. She was dressed in black; even her hair was black. Though she had the same small dark eyes and plump cheeks as her companion, her skin was much clearer than his.

She was simultaneously chewing gum, painting her toenails and humming through her nose.

The humming stopped when she saw the new arrivals.

‘This is Lexi,’ Trader announced, gesturing at her. ‘And this is her twin brother Devin. Lexi, this is Cadel Piggott. I told you about him.’

There was a moment’s silence. Devin didn’t even look up. Lexi stared, her face a mask of astonishment. Then she burst into delighted giggles.

‘Oh, man!’ she exclaimed. ‘He’s so
cute
!’

‘And this is Cadel’s case worker, Ms Currey.’

‘Hello,’ said Fiona.

But Lexi was interested only in Cadel.

‘He’s such a little doll!’ she yelped, ignoring Fiona. ‘Can I keep him? Please? I won’t break him, I promise!’

‘Behave yourself, Lexi.’ Addressing her brother, Trader added, ‘Aren’t you going to say hello?’

Devin grunted, still not looking up. Lexi, however, jumped to her feet – with such energy and enthusiasm that the floor shook.

‘Are you showing them around?’ she asked. ‘Can I come too?’

Trader glanced at Cadel, wearing an apologetic half-smile. Cadel hesitated. Though he found Lexi intimidating, he didn’t want to admit it.

‘Sure,’ he mumbled. ‘She can come if she wants.’

‘So this is the lounge room?’ Fiona interrupted – rather stupidly, Cadel thought. But perhaps she was trying to distract Lexi, who was still devouring him with her eyes.

‘Yes, this is the lounge room,’ Trader confirmed, retracing his steps into the hallway. ‘And down here, behind it, we’ve got Sonja’s bedroom – with attached bathroom – and beyond that is the kitchen . . .’

Heading towards the back of the house, he pointed out various newly installed ramps and handrails, while Fiona stumbled along beside him, and Cadel brought up the rear. They passed a sweeping staircase, then turned right. Lexi kept nudging against Cadel as they walked.

‘I can’t believe you’re fifteen,’ she said. ‘You look about ten. Have you really finished school, already?’

‘We’ve widened the door, here, and all the switches and controls are on one remote circuit,’ Trader continued, advancing into Sonja’s room. It was very big, and furnished with a brand-new desk, bed, chair and built-in wardrobe. ‘We turned this parlour next door into a bathroom, so it’s nice and big,’ Trader went on, proudly indicating an enviable array of fixtures, fittings and taps. (Cadel couldn’t wait to tell Sonja about them.) ‘And she’ll be right next to the kitchen,’ Trader finished, ‘so everything will be within easy reach.’

‘Is she a friend of yours? This spastic girl?’ Lexi asked Cadel, in a low voice. ‘Judith says she’s super-smart.’

‘She is,’ Cadel said shortly. They were now back in the hallway and moving towards the kitchen, which lay at the rear of the house. Cadel could smell food cooking. He wasn’t surprised when, upon entering a spacious room full of pine cupboards, they found a man stooped over a six-burner stove. This man was wearing an apron, and stirring the contents of a massive steel pot.