One of Cadel's most treasured possessions was a mug that Sonja had given him for his fifteenth birthday. It was covered in mathematical equations and bore the legend YOU'RE NUMBER ONE!
Mace managed to drop this mug while he was transporting it to Saul's car. When Cadel arrived on the scene, he found the driveway scattered with delicate shards of porcelain. Mace was insisting that he had broken the mug by accident—that it had simply fallen out of the box he was carrying.
Cadel knew better.
"Who said you could touch my things?" he demanded, white with rage. "Who said you could set foot in my room?"
"I did," panted Hazel, who had also appeared. She was lugging a bin liner full of Cadel's clothes. "I told Thomas he could take some books. Thomas, why did you put that mug in there?"
"I was trying to help!" Mace whined. But Cadel wasn't fooled. He knew that Mace was determined to exact a fitting revenge for the lost bike magazines, before Cadel disappeared altogether.
"I don't want your help," Cadel said through his teeth. "Just put that box down and leave my stuff alone."
Mace scowled. Then he let go of the box in his arms, which hit the concrete driveway with a huge thump. Hazel squeaked. Cadel gasped.
From his car, Saul yelled, "What's going on?"
"Oh, Thomas!" For once, Hazel had no illusions. "How could you?"
"He told me not to touch his stuff," Mace replied, hands on hips. He was in a dangerous mood. While probably glad to see his foster brother leave, he must have resented the fact that Cadel seemed so happy about going. "It's only books, anyway."
"Thomas, I know you must be upset about saying good-bye."
"He's not upset. He's jealous," Cadel snapped, so angry that he didn't care how deep a wound he inflicted. "He's jealous because somebody actually wants me. And nobody wants him."
Mace grabbed Cadel just as Saul cried, "Hey!" Though Mace ignored this rebuke, he couldn't get a proper grip on Cadel before the two of them were being wrenched apart. Cadel then ducked behind Saul, already regretting his flash of temper.
Mace backed off. He wasn't stupid enough to start fighting with a policeman.
"What happened here?" asked Saul, gazing down at the shattered mug.
"It wasn't my fault," Mace began, just as Cadel exclaimed, "He did it on purpose!" Saul held up his hand, silencing them both.
He turned to Hazel.
"Too many cooks spoil the broth," he said. "We don't need another body—perhaps Thomas can go and do something else."
This wasn't a suggestion; it was an instruction. And Mace didn't argue with it. Instead he stomped back into the house, passing Fiona on his way.
She was lugging a sports bag heavily weighted with shoes.
"What's wrong?" she said, as Hazel surrendered her own plastic bag to Saul. He took it over to the trunk of his car, while Hazel made a hurried report to Fiona.
Cadel followed Saul. He stood watching the detective, who looked much thinner than usual in jeans and a shabby old shirt. Saul was trying to insert the overstuffed trash bag between boxes of books and compact discs.
"Sorry about the commotion," said Cadel. "It's just that he smashed Sonja's birthday present. Deliberately. And I had to say something, even if it did get him mad."
Saul slammed the trunk shut. He stood for a moment, contemplating his car's gleaming exterior.
"I don't like Clearview House," he replied. "But I can understand why you want to go there." And he glanced toward Hazel's front door, his expression bleak. "Anything's worth getting out from under that poisonous little prick."
Cadel couldn't have been more surprised. It was the first time he had ever heard Saul use such strong language. All at once Cadel realized that Saul disliked Mace just as much as he did.
This thought was very comforting and helped Cadel to endure the good-byes that took place after the packing was done. Hazel shed a few tears. Janan's bottom lip trembled (though he brightened up when Cadel promised to send him some chocolate-bar wrappers). Even Leslie looked sad. Cadel thanked the Donkins sincerely and gratefully for their kindness; he knew that he was in their debt, and wished that he could have been an easier charge. The fact that Hazel cried at their parting, however, encouraged him. It meant that he hadn't been too much of a burden.
Happily, there were no more encounters with Mace—who stayed holed up in his room until after Cadel had left. But Cadel did glimpse his tormentor through the rear window of Fiona's hatchback. As the car pulled out of the Donkins' driveway, Cadel turned to wave at his foster parents and saw Mace behind them, hovering at the window of Cadel's old bedroom.
No doubt Mace was setting up some kind of booby trap for the room's next occupant.
"Now, sweetie," said Fiona, who had insisted that Cadel ride with her, rather than with Saul, "if there is anything that worries you about Clearview House, then give me a ring. Not that I'm expecting any problems. Mr. Greeniaus is paid to be suspicious, and I don't want him getting you all paranoid. Because I'm sure there's no need to be."
"Oh, I'm not," said Cadel.
"You've got to understand that policemen have a very one-sided view of the world. It's not their fault. You just have to remember they can be a bit overcautious."
"Mr. Greeniaus is all right, though, don't you think?" Cadel was moved by a vague desire to defend Saul. "I mean, he's pretty smart."
Fiona blushed. Cadel saw this and wondered why her cheeks had grown pink. But all she said was, "Well, you should know about being smart, I guess."
The drive to Clearview House was a long one, ending in a quiet suburban area full of tree-lined streets and high, ivy-clad fences. When Fiona and Cadel finally arrived at their destination, they found Saul already unloading his car in the fading light. Cadel rushed to help him. Though Saul refused to let Cadel lift any heavy boxes, both Fiona and Cadel were allowed to carry clothes. Fiona picked up some jeans and jackets. Cadel shouldered a pillowcase full of socks, pajamas, and underwear.
He could sense that he was being watched from various upstairs windows. No one came out to greet him, however, until he had almost reached the front door—which was suddenly flung open by a man whose face he didn't recognize. This man was short and stocky, with a gray crew cut, a broken nose, and a gruff voice. Everything about him was square: his jaw, his build, his hands, his outfit.
"Ah," he said. "You must be Cadel. I'm Cliff Wylie. How are you?" He stuck out his hand, which Cadel politely shook. "I comanage Clearview House with Trader Lynch," Cliff explained. "My background is ... Well, let's just say it's in logistics," he said, rather obliquely. "Trader looks after the staff, and I look after the premises. Repairs. Maintenance. Supplies. That sort of thing." Then he introduced himself to Fiona, who had followed Cadel to the door.
Saul was still heaving boxes around nearby.
"That looks like a job for two lazy young punks I happen to know," Cliff rumbled, peering at the detective. Turning to Cadel, he said, "Can you find your own bedroom?" And upon receiving an affirmative reply, Cliff excused himself. "I need to find Hamish and Devin," he explained. "That pair always manage to disappear when there's hard work to be done."
He promptly plunged back inside, leaving Cadel and Fiona to make their own way upstairs. It wasn't quite the greeting that Cadel had expected. But no sooner had he ventured over the threshold—with Fiona in close pursuit—than Lexi appeared at one of the doorways that opened off the entrance hall.
And her enthusiasm more than made up for Cliff's abruptness.
"There he is!" she cried. "He's back! Hurray!" She zoomed up to Cadel. "Is this your stuff? Can I carry it?"
"Uh ... no," he muttered. "I'm fine."
"Trader's in the office," Lexi continued. "Is this all you've got? It's not much, is it?"
"There's more," he said, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Saul Greeniaus had finally joined them. He was toting a heavy box of books and made very slow progress up the stairs, behind Fiona—who could hardly see over the pile of clothes in her arms.
Lexi surged ahead, two steps at a time, jabbering on about meal rosters and allergies and downloading television programs. As he passed her bedroom door, Cadel noticed that the knob was missing and that there were new scratches in the paintwork. He decided that the twins must have been fighting since his last visit.
Trader was waiting for them on the top-floor landing.
"Hello!" he said, with a breathtaking smile. "I thought I heard a car." He squinted at Saul's box. "Is anything else down there?"
"Yes," Saul grunted.
"Then I'll go and get it."
Moving to the left so that Trader could squeeze by, Cadel wondered if Com's sister was around. He even glanced into the office on his way past, but it was empty. No one was occupying his bedroom, either—not until Lexi burst into it, just ahead of him.
"Did you bring any posters?" she demanded. "Or stickers, or anything? You'll need to brighten up these walls." Then she caught sight of the garments that Fiona was dumping onto Cadel's bed and gave a little shriek. "Oh my god! Are these your clothes? Let me see, let me see!"
Saul staggered into the room just in time to witness Lexi pouncing on Cadel's collection of anoraks like a cheetah on an antelope. The detective deposited his load very carefully beside the bed, while Lexi began tossing aside jacket after jacket, sweatshirt after sweatshirt.
"Oh, gross!" she exclaimed, screwing up her nose at the sight of an old school blazer. "No way can you wear that; it's got to go. And this! What's this? You don't seriously want to be seen in this?" She clicked her tongue over a pair of brown corduroy pants. "Uh-uh. Not possible. You need a totally new look."
Cadel was speechless. Even Fiona was at a loss.
Only Saul seemed utterly unfazed.
"Hey," he rasped, "this is Cadel's room, not yours. Why don't you give the guy some privacy here?"
"Why don't you?" Lexi retorted. "You're not his dad!"
"It's all right, Mr. Greeniaus," Cadel said quickly. He didn't want Saul changing his mind about Clearview House, just because Lexi had lost her temper. "I don't care, really I don't."
The detective fixed him with a level, speculative gaze as the clomp-clomp-clomp of heavy footsteps became audible. Cadel remembered a certain pair of enormous biker's boots, and identified the newcomer before Hamish had even lurched through the door.
Hamish was red-faced and sweating. His glasses had steamed up, and his bandana was slipping over one eye. He was carrying another box of books.
"Woof!" he grunted. "Where do I put this?"
Saul pointed silently at a spot on the floor, then went to fetch more luggage from the car. Fiona left, too. But Cadel stayed, because he wanted to ask an important question.
When he was sure that Saul and Fiona were out of earshot, he said, "Is Com's sister here?"
"Com's sister?" Hamish was sprawled on the bed, recovering from his climb. "You mean Dot?"
"Dot?" Cadel echoed. "Is that her name?"
"She's not here now," said Lexi, who was dividing Cadel's clothes into little heaps. "Do you like what I did with Hamish? That whole outfit was my idea. So was the buzz cut. What he really needs is a couple of tats, but he won't have them."
"No, I won't!" Hamish whined. "Tattoos hurt!"
"But you're such a geek, Hamish—you won't convince anyone, without tats." Lexi sighed before turning to Cadel. "It doesn't totally work with him," she conceded, "but it'll work with you. You'll look so hard when I'm done."
"That is such crap." Devin had suddenly appeared, bearing Cadel's sports bag. He dropped this bag as if it were on fire, then squatted down to examine the box of books. "How are you gunna make him look hard? He looks like a fluffy bunny."
"A fluffy bunny with a bomb in it," said Hamish, and sat up to address Cadel. "Did you really wipe out the Axis Institute? Dot says you did. She says you killed half the faculty."
Stunned, Cadel stared at Hamish. There was a long silence.
"I never killed anyone," Cadel croaked at last. Then, to change the subject, he added, "Why do I have to look hard, anyway? I mean, what for?"
"Because this is a youth refuge," Lexi explained. "Because we're all supposed to be difficult. Problem kids. You know." With obvious relish, she described the type of kid she meant. "The sort you'd be scared to sit next to on a bus. The sort that never pays for anything."
"But aren't we trying to infiltrate GenoME?" Cadel couldn't believe how stupid Lexi was sounding. It worried him. "If that's our goal, we have to look harmless. We have to blend in. I was always taught that the worst thing you can do is draw attention to yourself, especially if you're up to no good." Realizing that it was Prosper English who had told him this, he had to clear his throat before continuing. "There was a teacher at the Axis Institute who got clean away. His name was Alias, and he managed to escape because he never stood out in a crowd. Unless he wanted to. But we don't want to. Do we?"
Hamish goggled. Lexi frowned. Devin rolled his eyes.
"Jeez," he said. "Another Cliff Wylie. Cliff's always going on and on about keeping a low profile. He never shuts up about it."
"That's because it's his job, knobhead," Hamish pointed out. "That's because he spends all his time spying on people."
"Does he?" Cadel pressed, eager for information, and Devin sighed before answering.
"Yeah. Lucky sod. I wish I could do some of that gumshoe stuff, but he won't let me. He won't even let me sit in a surveillance car, let alone follow people around."
"Well, I'm not surprised, the way your feet stink," Lexi retorted. "You can smell 'em a mile away."
At that moment a bell clanged somewhere below them. Hamish and the twins immediately ran for the door, though Lexi was kind enough to fling the word "Dinner!" at Cadel, over her shoulder. Cadel didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure if there would be a place at the table for him. So he hesitated, and only followed the others when they were well out of sight. The thunder of their feet announced that they were already a couple of floors down, heading for the kitchen.
Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he found himself face-to-face with Saul. The detective carried two well-packed trash bags under his arms and looked slightly disheveled—as if he had just emerged from a scrum of famished teenagers. He asked if he could have a quick word with Cadel in private. And Cadel nodded.
They returned to the bedroom, where Saul dropped his load.
"That's the last of it," he declared. "Are you going to be all right here?"
"Oh yes," Cadel replied.
"Because if you're worried about anything, you should call me. Day or night."
"Fiona told me to call her," Cadel objected, and Saul frowned.
"Ms. Currey is a good person to have on your side," the detective allowed. "But she doesn't carry a licensed firearm." Seeing Cadel blink, Saul dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand. "You're not stupid. You'll know the right person to call, when the time comes. And remember there'll always be a team watching this house."
"Yes. I know."
"Don't let your guard down. Not yet. You can't afford to." Saul inclined his head, listening hard. "I think that's Ms. Currey now," he concluded.
It was. She had come upstairs to join them, though not because she was carrying more of Cadel's belongings. Instead, she had brought news of dinner.
"You're to go and join everyone," she said, a little breathless from her climb. "If you want, I can start unpacking while you eat. Would you like that?"
"No, thanks," said Cadel. He didn't want Fiona wandering around by herself upstairs, in case she stumbled on any suspiciously expensive bits of technology. "I'll do it myself."
"All right, then. I'll leave you to settle in. But I'll pop by soon, just to see how you are." Stepping forward, she gave Cadel a quick hug. "I hope it works out for you, sweetie. I'm sure it will."
"So am I," he muttered, his cheeks burning. Fiona had never hugged him before. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had hugged him; he stood awkwardly, at a loss. He almost resented her goodwill, because it implied that she trusted him, and he was currently in the process of betraying that trust. It was a huge relief when she and Saul finally agreed to make their way downstairs.
Cadel accompanied them as far as the front hallway, where Trader had stationed himself, all shining teeth and sparkling eyes. Trader thanked his two visitors for helping with the move.
"And of course you're welcome to visit anytime," he insisted, as he ushered Fiona out into the dusk. (Cadel noticed that Saul followed her with obvious reluctance.) Trader stood smiling and waving cheerily until both Saul and Fiona were safely in their cars. Only when the cars themselves were rolling down the driveway, headlights on, did Trader relinquish his post.
He stepped back inside and shut the door firmly, engaging several locks.
"I thought they'd never go," he said. Then he turned to Cadel, sporting a mischievous grin. "So. Cadel. I think it's about time you met everybody for real, don't you?"