FOURTEEN

When Cadel entered the kitchen, he saw that it was very crowded. Hamish was sitting with the twins at an enormous table, which was covered in a plastic cloth. With them was Cliff Wylie, who looked more like a gardener than a spy because of his squared-off, nuggetty build and weather-beaten skin. Or perhaps it was Tony Cheung's close proximity that made Cliff appear so rough-hewn. In his crisp white shirt and gold-rimmed spectacles, Tony could have belonged to a different species. He had the sort of mild, pouchy face that is the product of years spent in air-conditioned comfort, beneath artificial lights.

Judith was also present, a dominating figure in many swirling layers of orange paisley print. She was ladling risotto out of a cooking pot into several empty pasta plates. Zac had been given the task of distributing full plates to the hungry diners; he shuffled around in floppy sandals, still wearing his apron. Cadel wondered if he had set foot outside the kitchen since lunchtime.

A ragged cheer went up as Cadel made his appearance.

"Here he is at last," said Trader, who had come in behind Cadel. "Now, where's he going to sit?"

"Next to me!" cried Lexi, patting the empty chair to her right. But Judith overruled her.

"He can sit wherever he wants," Judith said, loudly and assertively. "Don't let that girl bully you, Cadel—I've told her to ease off. Do you like risotto?"

"Yes," Cadel replied.

"Not allergic to anything?"

"No."

"Hamish is allergic to seafood, dairy, and nuts." Judith sighed. "As if we didn't have enough to worry about."

"Come and sit beside me, kid." It was Cliff who spoke. "And we'll tell you what's going on."

Somewhat relieved, Cadel slid into the proffered chair. He was feeling horribly out of place. Although he'd become used to living a dislocated existence, full of strange houses and unknown people, the uprooting process was never easy. It always involved a brand-new set of names and rules and faces to learn. It always required a careful search for safe havens and potential risks.

Scanning his surroundings, he realized that—despite its many attractions—Clearview House would be a hard place to settle into. Unlike Hazel's residence, or even the series of safe houses that he'd previously occupied, his new address was crowded, busy, and riddled with complications. Not that this troubled him too much. Complex systems were his specialty, after all. But it was one thing to study a complex system from the comfort of a stable platform. It was another thing entirely to be floating around in a maze or flux, trying to navigate one's position.

At this point, Cadel knew, he had only two constant factors in his life: Sonja Pirovic and Prosper English. The move to Clearview House meant that, once again, he was confronted with the difficult task of surveying, analyzing, appraising, and defining a totally foreign environment.

So he took a deep breath, picked up his fork, and got to work—just as a heaped plate of risotto was placed in front of him.

"Can you please start with what I'm supposed to be doing?" he requested. "Can you tell me where I fit into your plan?"

It was Trader who obliged. In fact, Cadel very quickly deduced that Trader was top dog at that table, with Cliff running a close second; everyone else deferred to them somewhat (though Judith clearly did so with some reservations). From his seat across the table, Trader began to reel off various facts about Genius Squad, while the others held their tongues. According to Trader, there were three teams on the squad: the network infiltration team, the forensic accounting team, and the recon team. Cadel would be part of the network infiltration team, which also included Hamish, Dot, and the twins.

Cadel pricked up his ears upon hearing this.

"Dot?" he said. "You mean Com's sister?"

"She's downstairs," Hamish mumbled, spraying rice across the tablecloth. And Trader laughed at Cadel's bewilderment.

"Have you forgotten about the War Room?" said Trader. "We still have to show you that."

"All in good time," growled Cliff, who then proceeded to explain that when Sonja finally arrived, on Tuesday morning, she would become part of Judith's forensic accounting team—along with Tony Cheung. "Al Capone was a murderer, but he was finally jailed for tax evasion," Cliff remarked, in his gravelly voice. "Maybe we can bring GenoME down by finding out where its profits come from, and where they go." As for the recon team, its membership was confined to adults only: It was made up of Cliff, Zac, and Trader. "You need experience when you're dealing with the real world," Cliff announced, with a repressive glance at Devin. "Virtual reality is for cutting your teeth on."

Then Trader took over again. He explained that Cliff was a highly experienced private detective, while he himself had been trained in covert operations, specializing in spyware and the breaching of physical security (like alarm systems, for instance). Zac, on the other hand, had been chosen for his background in genetic research. His chief contribution would be made when they finally did manage to acquire GenoME's secret gene-plotting formula: It would be Zac's job to work out whether the infamous formula was really a big fraud.

Meanwhile, he would run errands, help around the house, and collect information by posing as a new GenoME client.

"He'll be our Node-in-Residence," Hamish snorted, much to Cadel's confusion. Whereupon Trader stepped in to interpret.

"GenoME calls its clients nodes," he said chirpily, "because each individual is at the intersecting point of a lot of genetic lines. Every client's gene map, or genome, is called a node-code. And its counselors are called potentializers."

"GenoME likes to keep its language obscure," Judith interjected. "So its clients won't understand much."

"I'm sending Zac in there as a client tomorrow," Cliff went on.

Cadel was taken aback.

"You mean the Australian branch is already up and running?" he said.

Around the table, everyone nodded. Some even grunted through mouths full of risotto.

"Unfortunately, they took us by surprise," Trader confessed, his fork poised above his plate. "If we'd managed to enter their building before they set up, we could have installed a few bugs. But they moved very fast."

"And now that place is like a fortress," Cliff complained. When Cadel asked why, there was a general groan. Judith slapped down her ladle and went over to an outlet that was fixed to the wall above the sink.

Then she flipped the switch and addressed the socket.

"Dot?" she said. "Could you bring up your plan for number eleven, please? Thanks."

As she settled into her own chair, Cliff began to describe Australia's new GenoME branch at number 11, Karajan Close, Burwood. According to Cliff, it was a freestanding structure with a drainage channel on one side, a gas station on the other, and a big cement car park at the rear. As a result, there was no way of burrowing into any of its walls from an adjacent building. In fact there was no way of approaching the branch at all without being seen. However, Cliff had managed to secure a plan of its layout from the local municipal council, because GenoME had submitted a development application before installing a laboratory on the first floor of its premises.

"The lab processes DNA samples." Cliff paused for a moment, to swallow a mouthful of food. And Trader took up where Cliff had left off.

"There are two lab technicians," Trader said, "who input Australian DNA profiles. The details are then sent to the U.S. for 'interpretation,' and the results come back pretty quickly. Over in America, GenoME has a huge databank full of node codes."

"So the system here and the system there must be linked," Lexi announced. "It's our access point to the U.S. network."

"Except that it's so well defended," her brother said gloomily. Cadel decided that Devin wasn't a particularly happy sort of person. While Lexi bounced, Devin slouched. It seemed odd that they should be twins.

"Apart from the two lab technicians, there are five potentializers, one marketing manager, one receptionist, and two information technology people," Trader proceeded, listing the complete roster of GenoME staff. "And there's the branch director, of course. Carolina Whitehead."

"She's our number-one target," Judith remarked, from the other end of the table. "If we can get something on her, it'll be a good start."

"Why?" asked Cadel. At that moment, however—before anyone could respond—there was a disturbance in the pantry. Peering through the door of this little room, Cadel saw one stack of shelves disappear sideways into a wall cavity, along with their lavish stock of tinned fruit and condiment bottles.

Amazed, he realized that the shelves were actually a heavily disguised sliding door and that the door itself belonged to an elevator. Stepping out of the elevator was Dot, who carried a laptop under her arm.

"Ah. There she is," said Trader. "Can you call up that map for us, Dot? We need to show Cadel." Then, with a sudden smirk, he remembered his manners. "By the way, I don't know if you've been formally introduced. This is Cadel, your new colleague. Cadel, this is Dot."

Dot made a clicking noise—which may or may not have meant "hello"—and deposited her laptop on the table near Cliff. She barely glanced at Cadel, preferring to focus her attention on her search for the required data.

Cadel, who had just placed a wad of sticky risotto on his tongue, munched away desperately; he was keen to ask her about Com, and couldn't do so until he had swallowed what was in his mouth. But he wasn't given the opportunity to speak. He still hadn't finished chewing when Dot cleared her throat, stepping back from the computer screen as if to announce that her job was done.

Cliff pushed the laptop toward him, indicating a portion of the displayed blueprint.

"As you can see, the GenoME branch is three stories high, with a big warehouse area stuck on the back," Cliff said. Crisply he proceeded to label all the rooms shown in the building plan, including the reception area, the conference room, the kitchenette, the lab, the bathrooms, and all the numerous offices. He even knew which offices belonged to which staff members.

Cadel wondered how.

"And then there's the warehouse," Cliff said, tapping the screen with a blunt, squared-off finger. "What's interesting about it is that GenoME's put a demountable shed in there. We know they did because the building is leased, and GenoME had to get permission from the owner to install a shed. We also know that the shed is being used for secret meetings."

Cadel blinked. "How?" he demanded. "I mean, how do you know about the meetings if they're secret? And how did you find out about the owner's permission?"

Trader and Cliff exchanged glances. Wide grins blossomed all around the table. Finally Trader reached across and gave Cliff a playful jab on the shoulder. "We can thank Cliff for his work in the real estate agency," Trader said. "He's good at getting hold of confidential files."

"And we can thank Trader's spyware for everything else," Cliff rejoined. "Laser eavesdropping is a marvelous thing."

Seeing Cadel's amazement, Trader expanded on the subject. "We trained our lasers on some of GenoME's windows when people were talking inside. And we measured the vibrations of their voices on the glass." He wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. "Believe me, it's not foolproof. I would have preferred an old-fashioned bug. Trouble is, GenoME's security is so tight that I didn't want to risk arousing their suspicions."

Trader described how his eavesdropping device had been set up in a series of different cars, and the cars parked in various locations near the GenoME building. From information collected during these "probes," it had been established that Carolina never seemed to discuss anything even mildly controversial with her staff in any of the offices. Occasionally, however, she would ask her second-in-command, information technology manager Jerry Reinhard, to "step out the back for a quick word."

Jerry and Carolina were the only Americans working in the branch.

"The potentializers all trained in the U.S. for years, but they were born in Australia and New Zealand," Cliff said. He was about to elaborate when Zac spoke up for the first time. Pushing aside his empty plate, Zac remarked in his gentle, breathy voice, "From what I've heard, they're true believers."

All eyes swiveled in his direction. Conscious of this, Zac presented his argument slowly and carefully.

"You've read the transcripts, haven't you?" he said. "I think everyone here would have to agree that most of the staff in that place are being conned. They all sound as if they're buying into the GenoME propaganda."

But Cliff shook his head.

"Doesn't mean a thing," he countered gruffly. "You know how security conscious they are. For all we know, there's a policy about keeping their talk squeaky clean in any room with windows." Bridling at Lexi's derisive snort, he added, "Hey—it's possible. There's a policy about everything in GenoME."

"So what?" said Lexi, and Judith patted Zac's arm.

"I'm with Zac," said Judith. "I reckon Jerry and Carolina are the only ones in that place who really know what's going on. Because they're the only ones who have secret confabs in the shed."

"Boy, I wish we could get into that shed," mumbled Devin. And Trader said, "We have to get into the building first."

There was a brief pause. Most of the diners had finished eating, though Dot hadn't even started. She was standing behind Cliff, attentive but expressionless, her hands clasped in front of her. It occurred to Cadel that she possessed the same slightly robotic air as her brother. Certainly she was no more talkative than Com had been. And her face didn't move much. Tony Cheung, who had also been very quiet, didn't seem nearly as detached as Dot, because he kept responding to what was being said, frowning or nodding or pursing his lips.

"Any questions?" Cliff inquired. All movement ceased as Cadel found himself the object of general scrutiny. Even Judith had stopped eating.

He gazed around, suddenly aware that he was the smallest person in sight.

"I—uh—yes," he said, and turned to Trader. "Can I check out that laser eavesdropping machine?"

Trader laughed. He pushed back his chair and jumped to his feet. Then he slapped Cadel's shoulder.

"I think it's time you checked out everything in the War Room," he said. "I mean, who needs dessert when you can sink your teeth into the stuff we've got downstairs?"

Then he conducted Cadel to the elevator, ignoring Lexi's protests about washing-up duty.