Genius Squad (14 page)

‘Meet Zac Stillman, one of our trained youth counsellors. He’s on lunch duty.’ Trader surveyed the unoccupied chairs and deserted sink. ‘Where’s Hamish?’ he asked the cook. ‘Isn’t he rostered on today?’

Zac turned, wiping his hands on his apron. Tall and thin and bearded, he wore his blond hair tied back in a ponytail. Everything on him appeared to be tie-dyed, except his sandals. Cadel judged him to be somewhere in his thirties.

‘Hamish is upstairs.’ Zac’s voice was as gentle as his placid face and washed-out blue eyes. ‘I’ve asked him twice, and he keeps saying he just has to finish one more thing.’

‘Don’t ask him again,’ Lexi pleaded, loudly and plaintively. ‘We’ll all die of food poisoning.’ Leaning towards Cadel, she screwed up her little pug nose. ‘Do you know what he did last time? He tried to cook chicken schnitzels in the toaster.’

‘I seem to recall
you
once tried to feed us fish-finger sandwiches, Lexi,’ Zac remarked, and extended a damp, red hand. ‘You must be Cadel,’ he said. ‘Welcome to Clearview.’

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Everyone seemed surprised – even Trader. When Fiona assured him that she hadn’t invited anyone else along, he pursed his lips, and told her to stay put for a moment. ‘I’ll just go and see who it is,’ he said, training his radiant smile on her. But Cadel saw him shoot a quick glance at Zac, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Clearly, life at Clearview House wasn’t as casual as it might appear.

‘I want to find out what you think of your room,’ Lexi informed Cadel, as they listened to the sound of Trader’s receding footsteps. ‘Because I helped Judith fix it up.’

‘Oh. Thanks,’ said Cadel.

‘You’re right on the top floor,’ Lexi said, then added, in tones of commiseration, ‘Next to Hamish. He snores, but he doesn’t smell. Much.’

Cadel didn’t know what to say to this, so he said nothing. During the silence that followed, he could hear a faint rumble of voices. One belonged to Trader; the other was flat and deep, with a distinctive Canadian accent.

Cadel recognised it instantly.

‘That’s Saul!’ Fiona exclaimed, before he could open his mouth. ‘What’s
he
doing here?’

She hurried from the room, her heels rapping out an urgent rhythm. Cadel was about to pursue her when Lexi grabbed his arm, detaining him.

‘Who’s Saul?’ Lexi demanded.

‘He’s a detective,’ said Cadel, trying to pull away. Zac winced.

‘Oh, no! The fuzz!’ Lexi cried. She struck a theatrical pose of exaggerated alarm, throwing up her hands and allowing Cadel to break free. He hurried into the hallway, aware that Lexi was right behind him. Saul, he could see, was at the foot of the staircase, conversing with Trader. The detective looked terribly neat and formal in his dark suit. He stood stiffly, his face very serious, while Trader lounged against the banisters, smiling and joking and waving his hands about.

When Cadel appeared, Saul inclined his head.

‘Hello, Cadel,’ he murmured, interrupting Trader’s description of the Clearview schedule. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I came to check this place out myself.’

Cadel shrugged, pretending to be unconcerned. ‘I don’t mind,’ he said. ‘Why should I?’

‘Ms Currey mentioned you were coming,’ Saul continued. ‘I thought I’d better make sure that you were going to be safe on this little tour.’

‘Oh, you don’t have to worry about his
safety
, Detective,’ Trader joked. ‘We keep all our velociraptors under lock and key, in this establishment. House rules.’ Struck by a sudden thought, he laid a friendly hand on Saul’s shoulder. ‘Speaking of house rules, would you like a copy of our mission statement? I gave one to Ms Currey, but I’d be happy for you to see it.’

‘I’ve seen it,’ Saul replied, shaking off Trader’s clasp. At that moment Devin appeared at the door of the front room. After briefly contemplating the boy’s bare feet and sullen slouch, Saul locked gazes with him – until Devin yielded, glancing away.

Lexi said, in strident tones, ‘It’s the fuzz, Dev, you’d better hide your spliffs!’ And she manufactured a vicious sneer as Saul studied her.

‘You must be Alexis Wieneke,’ he said, to Lexi’s obvious surprise. Fiona frowned, and Trader’s smile became slightly starched-looking.

‘I see you’ve been doing some research,’ he commented. ‘I suppose it’s understandable.’

‘There isn’t much on file.’ Saul’s manner was calm but authoritative. ‘That’s why I came. To see for myself.’

‘And is there anywhere you’d like to start?’ Trader inquired, with just the faintest edge to his voice. ‘What can I do to set your mind at rest, Mr Greeniaus?’

‘Not a lot,’ Saul admitted. ‘I’m not paid to be satisfied.’ He laid a hand on Cadel’s shoulder, in a pointed fashion. As if he was marking out his territory. ‘Maybe we should start with Cadel’s room.’

‘Very well. Cadel’s room it is,’ said Trader. And he began to climb the stairs.

TWELVE

Though Trader’s ultimate destination was the top floor, he didn’t head straight for Cadel’s room. On the contrary, he made a slight detour when he reached the first landing. ‘Just wait one moment,’ he requested, ‘while I have a word with Hamish.’ And he strode towards the front of the house, where the old master bedroom had been stocked with computers, dartboards, stereo equipment and a half-sized pool table.

None of this equipment was new, but it seemed to be in working order.

‘Hamish,’ said Trader, upon reaching the door of the games room. Peering past him, Cadel could see someone seated in front of a glowing monitor, tapping away at a keyboard. Galvanised by Trader’s greeting, this bowed figure straightened and spun around on the pivot of an armless office chair.

Cadel felt a twinge of dismay when he saw Hamish. While the twins looked convincingly like juvenile delinquents, Hamish did not. He was a juvenile, all right; Cadel judged him to be about fifteen. But despite his studded leather jacket, grubby bandanna and enormous biker’s boots, Hamish didn’t make a credible delinquent. He had the glasses, the braces, the bleached skin and the springy, unmanageable hair of a stereotypical computer geek.

His knobbly hands seemed far too big for the rest of him.

‘Hamish,’ said Trader, ‘aren’t you supposed to be helping out in the kitchen?’

‘Uh – yeah.’ Hamish pushed his glasses up his long, straight nose. His nails were bitten down to the quick. His wobbly voice occasionally tripped up on a stammer. ‘I just have to d-do this, first.’

‘Get down there, Hamish,’ Trader said sternly. ‘I won’t tell you again.’

‘And don’t boil eggs in the electric jug, this time!’ Lexi warned, from behind Cadel’s shoulder. Glancing in her direction, Hamish narrowed his smoky grey eyes. He had spotted Cadel.

‘Are you the new kid?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said Cadel.

‘This is Cadel Piggott,’ said Trader, ‘and this is Ms Currey, his case worker, and Detective Inspector Greeniaus.’

Hamish goggled at Saul, while Cadel scrutinised the computer screen. Even from a distance, Cadel could recognise a fully operational PIN scan when he saw one.

Saul, however, obviously couldn’t.

‘What are you doing here?’ Hamish demanded of Saul, blankly incredulous. ‘Are you the bodyguard?’

‘In a manner of speaking,’ Saul replied.

‘You mean you’re going to
stay
?’ Hamish sounded so appalled that Cadel couldn’t help cringing. Fortunately, the detective didn’t notice Cadel’s reaction. He was staring at Hamish, one eyebrow raised.

Then Trader intervened.

‘Go on, Hamish. Off you go,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Zac’s waiting for you.’

‘Yeah, yeah. I’m going.’ Hamish began to rise, engineering a quick withdrawal from his Nmap program as he did so. Cadel decided not to ask him about intrusion detection systems – not yet, anyway. Not until Saul Greeniaus had left.

Then Lexi nudged Cadel in the ribs.

‘Do you want to see my room?’ she queried.

‘Uh – ’

‘Come on. It’s right next door.’

Tugging at his sleeve, she dragged him past the first-floor bathroom into what she called her ‘boudoir’, which had purple walls and a black ceiling studded with glow-in-the-dark constellations. It wasn’t very tidy (there were great heaps of clothing, magazines and CD covers everywhere) but Cadel immediately spotted some interesting books on her bookshelf, including
Computers and Intractability: A Guide to the Theory of NP Completeness
. These books looked very well thumbed; in fact one of them was falling apart. They aroused within him a new respect for Lexi.

‘That’s a good book, isn’t it?
Computers and Intractability
?’ he said.

‘Oh, yeah.’ She darted forward. ‘But I tell you what’s even better. It’s this new thing I picked up, about assymetric ciphers . . . you wouldn’t believe how good it is . . . where the hell’s it gone?’

As Lexi began to rifle through her bookshelf, pulling out volumes and casting them aside, Cadel glanced back to see Saul and Fiona hovering on the threshold. Saul’s calm gaze moved swiftly and efficiently from one side of the room to the other, taking in the crucifix, the heart-shaped cushion, the black sateen doona, the knitted unicorn.

Suddenly, a piercing shriek almost deafened Cadel. It was Lexi, screaming at her brother.

‘
DEVIN!
’ she yelled. ‘
WHERE’S MY NEW BOOK?
’

Even Saul flinched, shocked out of his professionally detached air. Lexi bolted past him into the room next door, which was labelled
Devin Only – Keep Out
. She began to throw her brother’s things around, making a great deal of noise in the process.

‘Come on.’ Saul beckoned to Cadel. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

Cadel hurriedly complied. He escaped just ahead of Trader, who was shaking his head ruefully; together they followed Saul and Fiona to the top-floor landing, where they almost collided with a middle-aged man dressed in a neatly pressed white shirt and grey trousers. The gurgle of plumbing announced that this man had just emerged from the upstairs bathroom.

‘Ah! Tony!’ said Trader. ‘Everyone, this is Tony Cheung. Tony, this is Cadel Piggott, and his case worker, Ms Currey. And this is Detective Inspector Greeniaus.’

Tony smiled politely. With his slicked-back hair and gold-framed spectacles, he looked like a lawyer or an accountant. There was a silver pen tucked into his breast pocket, and a fancy watch strapped to his wrist. When he shook Cadel’s hand – apparently oblivious to the banging and screeching just below them – he did it in a brisk, businesslike way, his palm warm and dry.

‘Tony has a diploma in nursing as well as social work,’ Trader revealed. ‘Though he’ll mainly be caring for Sonja, he’s good with more wayward kids too.’

As if in response, a terrific clamour arose from downstairs. Cadel realised that the twins were battling over Lexi’s missing book. Either Lexi had gone to confront Devin, or Devin had answered Lexi’s summons; they were now locked in mortal combat. It was hard to distinguish one from the other, because they were both yelling like football hooligans.

‘Excuse me,’ said Tony Cheung, in his light, pleasant, well-modulated voice. ‘I think perhaps I should intervene.’

‘Thanks, Tone.’ Trader spoke gratefully. ‘And make sure Hamish is in the kitchen, will you? I sent him down, but you know what he’s like.’

‘Of course,’ said Tony, inclining his head. ‘Pleased to meet you, Cadel. Ms Currey.’ Then he scooted off without a backward glance, his pace steady, his footsteps almost inaudible. Trader heaved a long-suffering sigh.

‘Those two . . .’ he groaned, and gestured at a nearby door. ‘That will be your room, Cadel, right next to the office. We’ve put a couple of beds in the office for staff on shift work, but you’ll find it’s very peaceful up here. Even Hamish doesn’t make much noise – not like those Wienekes.’ The words were hardly out of his mouth when the twins’ racket abruptly stopped, as if someone had flipped a switch. Cadel could only assume that Tony Cheung had reached them. ‘If there’s anything you don’t like, just tell me,’ Trader added, leading the way into Cadel’s bedroom. ‘I’m afraid Lexi had a bit of a hand in this, but we were very firm. We vetoed her offer to decorate the walls with famous graffiti tags.’

Having seen Lexi’s taste in interior decorating, Cadel was almost expecting to see blood-red paint or fluorescent curtains. To his relief, however, he found himself standing in a perfectly ordinary space, lit by one large window. Though the colour scheme was uninspired, it wasn’t offensive. And all the beige furnishings – including the built-in wardrobe, desk, chair, bed and bookshelf – were brand new.

‘Goodness,’ said Fiona. ‘Aren’t these lovely!’

‘Aren’t they?’ Trader stroked the desk-top like a furniture salesman. ‘Ash veneer. Lexi chose the lamp.’

‘It’s nice,’ Cadel said, astonished that Lexi should have picked such an elegant, streamlined piece of equipment. He noted with approval the number of outlets (all newly wired, he felt certain) and the lock on the door. No one would be getting into
this
room without his permission.

‘So what do you think?’ Trader inquired. And Cadel turned to Fiona.

‘When can I move in?’ he said.

Trader laughed. Even Fiona smiled. But Saul remained impassive.

‘You can move in any time,’ said Trader. ‘Tonight, if you want.’

‘Perhaps we ought to discuss things first,’ Fiona suggested, and Trader agreed.

‘Take your time,’ he told Cadel. ‘Get a feel for the place. I just have to duck down and see that everything’s in order.’ He offered everyone his toothpaste-advertisement grin. ‘Give me a yell when you’re done. I’ll probably be in the kitchen, showing Hamish how to crack eggs.’

And he made for the door, still smiling. Before he could cross the threshold, however, Saul Greeniaus detained him with a question.

‘I checked with DoCS,’ he said, ‘and they gave me a list of names. One of those names was Hamish Primrose. Is that the Hamish we just saw?’

‘Yes,’ said Trader, as Cadel caught his breath in disbelief.

‘Would he be the same Hamish Primrose who hacked into the Digital Image Department of the Roads and Traffic Authority?’ asked Saul. Whereupon Trader’s smile became a little lopsided.