The Genius Wars (30 page)

He vacated his seat just as Gazo slipped back behind the steering wheel; within seconds the gate had been pushed open, and Saul’s car had rolled past Cadel, heading down the gravel driveway towards Clearview House. Feeling rather exposed, Cadel shut the gate and wrapped the chain around it, loosely. He had changed out of his hospital gown in the car, so he didn’t look too peculiar – even though his clothes were rank and crumpled from their spell in Fiona’s laundry basket. All the same, he didn’t want to be seen. So he quickly followed Saul’s car around the back of the house, where Gazo was waiting.

Here someone had been busy breaking windows and spraying graffiti. There were shattered bottles in the overgrown flowerbeds, and a shopping trolley had been dumped beside the garage. Grass was sprouting from a chimney pot. The rotary clothesline had been pushed over.

‘Why do people write their names on walls?’ Gazo wondered aloud. He was still behind the steering wheel, but was leaning out of the driver’s window. ‘Why do they want people to know who done it?’

Cadel wasn’t listening. Not far from the kitchen door, embedded in the ground, there was a hatch that led down to the basement; originally this hatch had been built as a kind of coal chute, but it had been converted into an emergency exit when the lift was installed. To disguise this access point, a doghouse had then been glued to the hatch – but the doghouse had since disappeared.

So where was the hatch?

‘What are you doing?’ Gazo demanded, as Cadel poked around among the weeds and brickwork and bits of discarded rubbish. ‘I fought you wanted to go inside?’

‘I will.’

‘Then –’

‘Hang on.’ Cadel suddenly realised that he was staring at a patch of brick paving that didn’t quite match the surrounding brickwork. One prod revealed that it wasn’t made of bricks at all, but of polystyrene carved and painted by someone with an artist’s eye. Bits of dirt and leaf litter were stuck to the dried paint. A weathered stick, attached to a short length of fishing line, served as a handle.

Had all this been under the doghouse? Cadel couldn’t remember.

‘There won’t be any power,’ he said, giving the handle a tug. Slowly the hatch creaked open. It was heavy, and the weight of it made Cadel gasp.

‘Here.’ Gazo was suddenly beside him. ‘I’ll go first.’

‘Did you bring a torch? I told you to.’

‘It’s in the car.’

‘You get it.’ At Cadel’s feet, a flight of concrete stairs led down into a well of darkness. ‘I should have asked you to bring more than one.’

‘What about the resta your gear?’ Gazo had found Cadel’s computer in the Corolla’s back seat, near the torch. ‘What about your laptop and your green bag?’

‘Leave them.’

Cadel knew that he wouldn’t be able to restore electricity to Clearview House until he was able to hack into the power grid. But he wouldn’t be able to do
that
until he could find himself a network connection. And since the likelihood of picking up a wireless signal underground was pretty remote, he figured that he’d probably be taking his laptop for another little trip in the Corolla before very long.

‘I’ll need to do a bit of wardriving before you leave,’ he told Gazo, who had retrieved his torch, and was busy locking up the car. ‘Otherwise I won’t have any power. And I can’t live in that basement without power.’

‘I dunno if you can live in it
wiv
power,’ Gazo replied
doubtfully, as he rejoined Cadel at the top of the stairs. ‘It might be full of water or garbage or dead rats or somefink.’

‘I know.’ Cadel swallowed. ‘That’s why I didn’t do any wardriving on the way. No point if I can’t move in.’

‘Are you sure you wanna do this? It can’t be too helfy, down there.’

‘It is,’ Cadel insisted. ‘I mean – it
was
. I used to spend hours in that basement. We called it the War Room.’

Gazo shrugged. Then he sighed. Then he descended into the shadows, his torch-beam flitting about like an insect, from fusebox to drainpipe to conduit. There was a door at the foot of the stairs, faintly visible in the wash of pallid daylight flooding through the open hatch. Gazo’s torch-beam finally came to rest on a solid steel doorhandle.

When Gazo reached for this handle, Cadel warned, from behind him, ‘You’ll probably have to pick that lock.’ But the handle turned with a soft
click
.

Gazo froze. He glanced back at Cadel.

‘Go on,’ Cadel muttered.

Taking a deep breath, Gazo gave the door a shove. It swung open on creaking hinges. The air that rushed out didn’t smell damp, or even stuffy. It smelled of slightly stale fish and chips.

In the halo of Gazo’s wandering torch-beam, Cadel saw a plush-covered beanbag, a stainless steel bar fridge, and a pair of sneakers.

‘What the hell … ?’ a groggy voice complained. Then the overhead lights snapped on, as Gazo flicked a switch.

Cadel had to shield his eyes from the glare. Squinting, he realised that the War Room was not the empty concrete shell that he’d anticipated. Nor was it still furnished with all the elaborate computer equipment that had once filled every corner (courtesy of Rex Austin). Most of the technology now on show had quite a frivolous air to it; there were game consoles, and giant amplifiers, and iPhone accessories, and a DVD player, and padded earphones, and a widescreen TV set. Several laptops were also scattered about, among piles of discarded clothing and empty pizza boxes. Over
near the elevator doors, a tangle of expensive-looking bed linen had been dumped on top of an old foam mattress.

Cadel recognised the pale, pimply face peeping out from beneath a gold damask quilt.

‘
Devin
?’ he exclaimed.

‘Cadel?’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Oh, man.’ Devin grimaced. ‘How’d you track me down? Was it that bloody sister of mine?’

‘No,’ said Cadel. ‘I haven’t seen Lexi in six months, at least.’

‘Who’s that?’ Devin had spotted Gazo. ‘It’s not the copper, is it?’

‘Of course not. This is Gazo. Don’t you remember him?’

‘Nuh.’ Throwing off his covers, Devin revealed a little more of himself. Though he still wore his trademark black beanie and drab sweatshirt, he had definitely lost weight; his cheeks were no longer plump, and there was a sharp edge to his bristling jaw. ‘Who sent you?’ he asked, rising unsteadily. ‘Did you come to chuck me out? Is that it?’

‘As a matter of fact, I came to move in,’ Cadel replied. ‘I didn’t know you were here already.’

‘Yeah?’ Devin rubbed his bleary eyes, staggering a little.

‘I’m on the run,’ Cadel added. And Devin gave a snort.

‘Join the club,’ he said.

‘Not from the police. From Prosper English.’ Seeing Devin blink, Cadel started to elaborate. ‘Prosper’s trying to kill me. By remote control. He’s got a team out there hacking into buses and traffic lights and CCTV cameras –’

‘Wait. Hang on. Just give me a sec,’ Devin pleaded. ‘I’ve gotta go have a slash.’

As he stumbled off towards the basement bathroom, Cadel turned to Gazo with a question.

‘You remember Devin, don’t you? He was in Genius Squad. One of the Wieneke twins.’

‘Yeah,’ said Gazo. He didn’t seem very enthusiastic. ‘I remember.’

‘Looks like he’s got a network connection set up, so I can bring down my laptop after all,’ Cadel continued. Then the flush of a toilet reached his ears. ‘Sounds like he’s got running water, too.’

‘I dunno, Cadel.’ Gazo was gazing around at the general disorder. ‘Are you sure you wanna stay? This bloke’s
gotta
be bent – he’s probably nicked all this gear.’

‘Probably,’ Cadel had to acknowledge.

‘What if he’s working for Prosper English?’ Gazo said quietly. But Cadel shook his head.

‘I doubt it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he’s squatting in a basement. He can’t be getting paid, if he’s squatting in a basement.’ Cadel spotted a half-eaten hamburger lying near his feet. ‘Besides,’ he concluded, ‘Prosper wouldn’t want to be relying on someone like Devin. He’s too … I dunno … too
teenaged
.’

‘What’s too teenaged?’ asked Devin, emerging from the bathroom. He was fiddling with his fly. ‘Are you talking about my games, by any chance? You’re such a snob, man, you’re just like Lexi. I’m allowed to play teenage games. I’m seventeen, for Chrissake – I
am
a teenager.’

‘Where did you get them?’ Cadel welcomed the chance to ask about the loose clump of DVD cases that lay at his feet. ‘What are you now, a cat burglar? This stuff must have cost quite a bit.’

‘It did. But it’s all paid for,’ said Devin. ‘Except that one. That was a freebie.’ He pointed to the little USB rocket launcher plugged into one of his laptops. ‘They sent it to me as a thankyou, for buying so much of their other stuff. I should really take it apart – see if I can get any more range out of it.’

‘But where did all the money come from?’ Cadel demanded.

Devin smirked.

‘I’m like Robin Hood,’ he said. ‘I rob from the rich to give to the poor. Which is me.
I’m
poor.’

Gazo pulled a long face. As a former student of the Axis
Institute, he had developed a profound aversion to thieves and conmen. Cadel, however, kept his own expression blank.

‘What are we talking about, exactly?’ he asked Devin. ‘Identity theft?’

Devin shrugged, as if to imply that identity theft was no big deal. ‘There are plenty of bastards out there who are so rich that they don’t even notice they’ve been robbed,’ he answered, a little defensively. ‘Like Rex Austin, for instance. My landlord. Remember him?’ A sweeping gesture encompassed the entire contents of the War Room. ‘A lot of this stuff is courtesy of Rex.’

‘Account numbers?’ Cadel hazarded. ‘Passwords?’

‘Stuff like that.’

‘Did Lexi help you?’

‘A bit.’ Devin had always been loath to give his sister credit for anything. He quickly changed the subject. ‘Do you want some breakfast? There’s leftover pizza in the fridge.’

But Cadel wouldn’t be sidetracked. ‘Where’s Lexi?’ he wanted to know. ‘Does she live here too?’

‘In this hole? Are you kidding?’ Tugging at the waistband of his jeans (which were too large for him, now that he’d lost so much weight), Devin moved towards the refrigerator. ‘She lives with her friends, at party central. Still off the grid, but where the action is. Calls herself “Jessamine”.’ Devin’s tone dripped with scorn. ‘She’s so full of herself.’

‘I need her help with some encrypted codes,’ said Cadel. ‘Do you think she’d come here to see me?’

‘I guess so.’

‘Can you ask her? It’s urgent.’

Devin was hauling a greasy pizza box out of the bar fridge. ‘She’d have to do it at night,’ he rejoined. ‘Otherwise the neighbours might see her come in.’

‘That’s okay. I need some sleep anyway.’ Cadel suddenly realised how exhausted he was. ‘I didn’t get a wink, last night.’

‘You can use my bed if you want.’ Devin was sniffing at a limp slice of pepperoni pizza. It seemed to meet with his approval, because he stuffed half of it into his mouth.

Not wishing to be sprayed with masticated pepperoni, Cadel decided to break off his conversation with Devin and talk to Gazo, instead.

‘Can you get my laptop out of the car?’ Cadel requested. ‘And my green bag? I’d do it myself, but I have to write a note for Sonja.’

‘Really?’ Gazo perked up a little; he had been gloomily watching a cockroach scuttle across the floor. ‘What are you gunna say?’

‘I’ll tell her I’m okay, and that I’m sorting things out,’ Cadel replied. ‘The message will be encoded. You can take it to her when you visit the hospital, then destroy it afterwards.’

‘But –’

‘I won’t tell her where I am. I’ll just ask her to spread the news that I haven’t been kidnapped, and that nobody needs to panic.’ Seeing Gazo frown, Cadel offered reassurance. ‘She can pretend I talked to her on my way out, last night, so you won’t get in trouble.’

‘But she’s going home today,’ Gazo reminded him.

‘Then you can visit her at Judith’s.’ Cadel cast about him for something to write with – and on. ‘You’d better hurry, though,’ he finished. ‘If you don’t return that Corolla soon, someone’ll see it’s gone. And then you
will
get in trouble.’

‘Ubusheemamishadee?’ Devin gabbled, through a mouthful of cold pizza. When the other two stared at him, he chewed, swallowed and tried again. ‘Have you seen Hamish, lately?’

‘A couple of days ago,’ said Cadel. ‘Prosper put him in hospital, too. But he’s out now.’

‘Yeah?’ Devin didn’t seem particularly disturbed by Hamish’s plight. ‘How did that happen?’

‘I’ll tell you in a minute. I have to write this note, first.’ Once again, Cadel appealed to Gazo. ‘Please can I have my computer? I’ll be done by the time you get back, and then you can take off for good.’

‘For good?’ echoed Gazo, his brow puckering. ‘But I gotta check up on you, Cadel. Later on. Tonight, maybe.’

‘No.’ Cadel shook his head.

‘I’ll sneak in. I’ll be careful.’

‘Careful isn’t enough. Not against someone like Prosper English.’ Though Gazo’s wounded expression was discomforting, Cadel refused to back down. ‘He’s gunning for me, Gazo, and for anyone who’s close to me. I don’t want you ending up in hospital like the others.’

‘Oh. Right,’ Devin interposed, rather thickly. There was a wad of pizza dough wedged into his cheek. ‘You don’t want
him
ending up in hospital, but it doesn’t matter if
I
do.’

‘You won’t,’ Cadel promised. ‘I haven’t had anything to do with you for months. Prosper won’t be watching you, because he’s interested in me. He won’t even know I’m here.’

‘Unless he’s had you followed,’ Devin pointed out, in a sarcastic tone. Cadel, however, was adamant.

‘No one followed me,’ he insisted.

‘That you know of.’ Devin was obviously relishing the chance to argue; perhaps he was missing Lexi, who was his usual sparring partner. ‘Didn’t you say something about CCTV cameras? What if you were tracked?’

‘I’m supposed to be dead,’ said Cadel, bluntly. ‘And if I’m dead I can’t be moving around, can I? So why would anyone be trying to track me?’

There was a stunned silence. Even Devin looked startled. Finally Gazo found his voice.