Evil Genius

by Catherine Jinks

  He rose, and parked himself on the couch next to Cadel, crossing his legs.

  ‘I suppose the first thing I’d better do is apologise,’ he went on. ‘If I’d been a little quicker, this wouldn’t have happened. I was caught up at Yarramundi. Well, I don’t have to tell you about that.’

  A pause. Thaddeus seemed to expect a comment from Cadel, but Cadel just stared, mutely.

  ‘As far as I can make out,’ Thaddeus finally said, ‘it all happened because Adolf lost his cool. Had this idea in his head that there was a dangerous conspiracy brewing. He put a tail on Luther and of course Luther spotted it. Made him antsy. And then after the business with Tracey, the police questioned Terry, and he got a bit nervous. Decided to clear out a lot of the stuff in the labs. Called Luther about it, naturally. Wanted to dump some of the stuff on him. Well, it’s Luther’s area of expertise, isn’t it? Disposing of bodies.’ Thaddeus surveyed Cadel with hooded eyes, waiting. Cadel, however, had nothing to say. ‘Poor Terry wasn’t security conscious,’ Thaddeus continued. ‘Didn’t realise that he was being watched. When the Grunts saw what he was doing, they jumped him. I don’t know exactly what Adolf thought Terry was up to. Something suspicious, at any rate. So he hauled the poor fellow off to Yarramundi to be interrogated, and used his car as a decoy. Drove it to Luther’s house, got Luther to come down, and ambushed him. Am I right so far?’

  ‘I – I don’t know,’ Cadel stammered.

  ‘Don’t you? I find that hard to believe. Personally, I’ve put it together from some of the security tapes, and what I’ve been told by one or two of the Grunts who’ve surfaced. Oh yes – they haven’t fared well. The ones who captured Luther didn’t make it far. He escaped, and left them in pieces. Then he got into the armoury, and there was an all-out battle between Luther and Adolf. I don’t know who escaped and who’s left in the rubble. Not yet. Adolf, Terry, Luther: they’ve all vanished. A really elegant solution.’ Thaddeus leaned forward. ‘How did you do it, Cadel?’ he asked.

  Cadel caught his breath. ‘I – I didn’t,’ he gasped.

  ‘My dear boy, you don’t have to lie to me. I’ve been keeping very close tabs on you. I know you’ve been surfing the Axis network. I know you planted Max’s account details in Brendan’s computer files. And Brendan – that was masterly. What did you do to him, Cadel?’

  Cadel’s lips began to tremble. His eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t know,’ he squeaked.

  ‘Of course you do. And you know all about that recording of Terry’s phone call. Not to mention Alias.’ Thaddeus shook his head. ‘The way you arranged it so that Art would buy a gun using one of Alias’s aliases – because he didn’t want anyone to trace him – and then leave the same gun at the scene of the shooting, meaning that Max would think Alias had killed one of his hired thugs and go after both of them – Alias and Art. I’m speechless. Really. You’re a genius, Cadel.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with that,’ Cadel croaked. ‘Honestly.’ He was overwhelmed by the sheer size of what he’d done. By accident. Not that it had all been an accident, but he had never intended to kill anybody. Didn’t Thaddeus understand that?

  It seemed not. The psychologist reached out and laid a hand on Cadel’s arm.

  ‘Cadel,’ he said softly, ‘do you think I care? I’m not angry with you. I’m proud of you. You wiped out the institute, Cadel. It’s astonishing.’ His smile grew until it was a wolfish grin. ‘Not that I wasn’t expecting it. I had a feeling, somehow. And when you found out about the Piggotts – well, it was inevitable. A very natural reaction.’

  ‘How – how – ?’

  ‘How did I know you’d found out? Oh, you said something to James, at one point. He asked you how you’d spent your day, and you answered – what was it? Something along the lines of “as if you didn’t know”? Of course, it was bound to happen. I warned Phineas, over and over again. I said to him: “The penny’s going to drop one day. And when it does, you’d better watch out, because he’s going to feel betrayed, Phineas. After so many years living with those monsters.” It was never my idea, Cadel. I wanted you with me. But Phineas had this idea in his head – he didn’t want you getting too attached to me. He didn’t want you getting too attached to anyone. I told him it would backfire in the end. Needless to say, though, our friend didn’t listen. He very rarely does.’ Thaddeus’s smiled faded, to be replaced by a grim look. ‘Which is why he’s where he is now.’

  Cadel blinked.

  ‘It was the same with the Axis Institute.’ Thaddeus spoke quietly. He was staring at the stone wall, his long fingers coiled around Cadel’s arm, his tone distracted. ‘All along, I’ve thought it an absurd proposition. Destined for disaster. Though it did occur to me, early on, that you might find it a challenge. So I sat back and waited for you to bring it down. Which you did, in a matter of months. You passed the test with flying colours.’ His gaze returned to Cadel, bright and black and piercing. ‘You are greater than Phineas ever was, or ever will be,’ he said. ‘You’re a miracle. I was afraid that, in the Piggotts’ care, you wouldn’t reach your full potential. But I have to admit, I underestimated you. I don’t believe you would have done any better even if I had taken you in.’

  Cadel was completely lost. It was all too much to absorb. Besides, he was very tired. And his foot was hurting.

  ‘So – so Dad won’t be mad at me?’ he mumbled, snatching at the most important detail.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think we’ll be telling Phineas, Cadel. After all, the institute was his baby. He won’t be too pleased when he discovers what happened. And if he was to find out that you were responsible – no, I think it will be our little secret.’ Though utterly still, Thaddeus gave an impression of tautness, as if he was poised to spring. ‘What do you say? Hmmm? Do you want to tell Phineas?’

  Cadel stared into the psychologist’s narrowed eyes. He sensed that something important was being decided, but was too tired to work out what it might be.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I guess not.’

  Thaddeus looked away. At that moment, the rap of knuckles against wood announced Vadi’s return. He stood in the doorway, a towel draped over one arm.

  ‘Ah,’ said Thaddeus. ‘You’ve run the bath?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good, good.’ Thaddeus turned back to Cadel. ‘Can you manage the climb by yourself, dear boy? Or would you like Vadi to carry you?’

  Cadel didn’t like the look of Vadi. Apart from the eyelids (what was it about those eyelids that bugged him so much?), there was also Vadi’s skin. It seemed to have an almost silvery sheen to it, under the glow of the electric lights.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Cadel said. ‘I can walk.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I can do it! Really!’

  ‘Very well.’ Thaddeus turned back to the silent Vadi. ‘You might go and make a cup of cocoa,’ he drawled. ‘And tell Wil-freda I want to see her. As soon as Cadel’s settled.’

  Vadi bowed. Then he left. When he had gone, Thaddeus asked: ‘What do you think of him?’

  ‘Think of who?’ Cadel was still in a daze.

  ‘Vadi. What do you think of him?’ As Cadel stared, in utter confusion, Thaddeus dipped his head apologetically. ‘Of course, you’re not in a fit state to realise,’ he conceded.

  ‘Realise what?’

  ‘Vadi’s aquagenic. One of your father’s more interesting finds.’ Thaddeus rose, and stooped to help Cadel up. ‘In one way, he’s an evolutionary throwback. Human beings are descended from amphibians, of course, and there’s still a lot of the amphibian in us. Vadi’s genes are simply more amphibian than most.’ He frowned at Cadel, who had wriggled away from his supporting hand. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I don’t need any help!’ Cadel just wanted to get away – away from Vadi. Away from Thaddeus. ‘I can walk by myself! I know what I’m capable of!’

  Thaddeus smiled.

  ‘Do you think so, Cadel?’ he murmured. ‘Personally, I doubt that you really understan
d the scope of your powers.’

  And he watched Cadel go with an intensity that was more frightening than any spoken threat.

  FIFTY

  Cadel’s bath was waiting at the top of the staircase, in the most luxurious bathroom that he had ever seen. It was all made of marble; there was a gilt-framed mirror, and a headless Greek statue in an alcove, and about twenty towels of every imaginable size. The sunken bath itself was so big that two steps led down into it.

  ‘Is there anything else you need, sir?’ Vadi inquired, hovering on the threshold. Cadel eyed him nervously. He looked almost normal, and yet . . . why was he wearing such a high collar?

  Surely he didn’t have gills?

  ‘No,’ Cadel replied, in a shaky voice.

  ‘If you think of anything, just call,’ said Vadi, gesturing at an intercom panel with a phone attached. ‘Your bedroom is next door.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘It’s a very great honour to meet you at last,’ Vadi added gravely; and before Cadel could recover from his surprise, the young man withdrew, closing the door gently behind him.

  Cadel hesitated. He was feeling so groggy that he actually had to think about what to do next. Clothes off, of course. Into the bath. The water was scented, and just the right temperature; Cadel sighed as the warm, fragrant liquid engulfed his bruised body. He almost fell asleep in it. Afterwards, he dried himself on the largest towel that he had ever seen, which he removed from a heated towel rail. Even the mirror over the vanity was heated, to prevent it from steaming up.

  A pair of men’s summer pyjamas had been laid out for him. (They were far too big.) He made use of the toothbrush and toothpaste that had also been provided. When he finally, cautiously, pushed open the door, Vadi was waiting for him in the corridor outside.

  ‘This way, sir,’ he said.

  After the bathroom, Cadel was expecting something even more luxurious in the bedroom: a four-poster bed, perhaps? An alabaster fireplace? A gilded ceiling? To his surprise, the bedroom was furnished quite simply. It had creamy walls, creamy curtains and a creamy bed. The lamps were made entirely of blown glass. The only painting was a strange, dreamlike landscape which, on closer inspection, wasn’t really a landscape at all, but an abstract collection of colours.

  The clock on the bedside table said two-fifteen a.m.

  ‘Would you like a hot drink, sir?’ Vadi queried. ‘I’ve heated up some cocoa.’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Anything to eat, or to read?’

  Cadel shook his head. He simply wanted Vadi out of his room. This was unfair, he realised, but the whole aquagenic thing made him uneasy. He didn’t know what to say, or where to look. He had a horrible feeling that the guy might smell sort of fishy.

  One whiff of fish, and Cadel would vomit. He knew that. Besides, he had seen something else on the bedside table, standing between the lamp and the clock. It was a photograph in a silver frame.

  He snatched it up, and was staring at it, mesmerised, when Vadi left the room.

  The woman in the photograph was Cadel’s mother. She had to be – there was no other explanation. Her eyes were exactly the same as his. She was smiling, and even her teeth were the same. She wore a pale yellow top, and the wind was blowing her hair back. She looked young, and happy, and pretty, and . . . and nice. Really nice.

  Not like a junkie at all.

  Cadel lowered himself onto the bed, still gazing at the photograph. Suddenly, it was all too much: the chloroform, Max, the fire, the foot, the long drive through the night, and now this. On top of everything else. His mother, laughing up at him from a silver frame.

  Tears spilled down his cheeks.

  Oh, Mum, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. What am I going to do?Why aren’t you here to help me?

  ‘Cadel?’

  It was Thaddeus. He had entered the room as silently as mist.

  Cadel looked up.

  ‘Why did you do this?’ he asked in a hard, accusing tone.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Put this here! This is my mother!’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She looks just like me!’

  ‘Thank God,’ said Thaddeus. ‘Or Darkkon might have suspected that you weren’t his child.’

  For several seconds, Cadel didn’t understand what Thaddeus had just said. It was the psychologist’s taut expression that caused him to backtrack – to review the words that he had, at first, ignored.

  Darkkon might have suspected that you weren’t his child.

  What was that supposed to mean?

  ‘Huh?’ he said, gaping like a fish.

  ‘It’s time you knew,’ Thaddeus explained quietly, his dark eyes glittering in the soft light. ‘You’re my son, Cadel.’

  Cadel’s mind went blank. He just sat there, slack-jawed. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak.

  No one said anything for a long, long time.

  Finally, Cadel bleated: ‘Wh-what?’

  ‘You’re my son.’ Thaddeus’s pale face was flushed. ‘I’m you’re real father.’

  ‘No you’re not.’

  ‘Yes, I am. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Your mother and I . . .’ For the first time, Thaddeus faltered. He scratched his nose and looked away. ‘She was so sweet. So young. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. He treated her like a pet parakeet, and she turned to me for help . . .’

  ‘No!’ Cadel cawed.

  ‘Listen –’

  ‘You’re lying!’ Cadel felt hot. He felt ill. It was as if the whole world had turned upside down.

  When Thaddeus approached him, he pulled back. So Thaddeus sat down on an upholstered armchair nearby.

  ‘Phineas didn’t trust her, you see,’ the psychologist continued quietly. ‘Even in the beginning, when she loved him, he used to lock her up. Put things in her food to make her sick, so she couldn’t leave the house. He was paranoid. He thought she was bound to betray him, because she was so young and beautiful, and he was so old and ugly.’ Thaddeus cracked a mirthless half-smile. ‘Well, he got his wish. He was proven right. In the end, she was so miserable that she turned to me. And then she had you. And when that happened, Phineas got tests done. DNA tests. Because he still didn’t trust her.’ The smile died. ‘You’re my son, Cadel. There’s no doubt about it.’

  Cadel shook his head. ‘No,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Phineas never found out, of course.’

  ‘No!’ Cadel covered his ears. But Thaddeus leaned forward, and gently unclamped one of Cadel’s hands.

  Cadel pulled away from him.

  ‘The irony is, while he didn’t trust her, he trusted me wholeheartedly,’ the psychologist explained. ‘He asked me to arrange the tests. Naturally, I faked the results. He was convinced that you were his child. In the end, though, it didn’t help your mother. He still destroyed her.’

  ‘This isn’t true,’ Cadel gasped.

  ‘I’m afraid it is. He became obsessed with the idea that she was going to leave him, so he had her killed.’ Thaddeus took off his glasses, and wearily rubbed his eyes. ‘If I’d known what he was planning, I would have stopped it, of course. But he arranged it himself. Pretended that she’d left him. I think he was ashamed to admit what he’d done, even to me.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘I know what I told you,’ Thaddeus interrupted, replacing his glasses in order to peer intently into Cadel’s face. ‘I told you I’d caught up with the culprits. Well, I did. And I had my revenge. What Darkkon doesn’t realise is that I traced your mother’s killers back to him. He doesn’t know that I know.’

  Cadel swallowed. His hands dropped slowly from his ears to his knees. He couldn’t have been more dazed if Thaddeus had hit him around the head with a truncheon. Nothing made sense any more. Everything was a lie.

  What if Thaddeus was lying to him even now?

  ‘You might be asking yourself: why didn’t I revenge myself on Darkkon as well?’ Thaddeus went on, still watching Cadel intently. ‘The answer is that I d
id. I was the source of the anonymous tip that landed him in gaol. If I’d had him killed, the whole empire would have broken up, because at that stage he was in control – not me. Without him, everyone would have been at each other’s throats, fighting over the spoils. I wouldn’t have been able to stop it, because I didn’t know who everyone was, or what they were doing. That can’t happen any more. Even if Darkkon dies, it won’t matter, because I have it all in hand, now. I’m running this operation, Cadel. He thinks I’m doing it for him. But I’m doing it for you.’

  Cadel found that he was staring at Thaddeus. He couldn’t help himself. The psychologist’s voice, always smooth and reassuring, had a hypnotic effect.

  ‘You’re his heir, Cadel, and he’s dying.’ Thaddeus placed a hand on Cadel’s. ‘He has cancer. He hasn’t told you – he hasn’t told me – because he thinks he’ll beat it, but he won’t. He’s an old man. A very old man. When he dies, you’ll get everything. Which won’t mean much, unless you have me to help you. I know every tax shelter and shell company and payoff recipient in this whole empire. Without me, it would fall apart. You’d never keep it together by yourself – not yet. If we pool our resources, we can go further than Darkkon ever did.’

  The crispness of Thaddeus’s tone dispersed the fog in Cadel’s head. He began to think again. He realised that he was in a very, very dangerous position. One wrong move, one wrong word, and he might cause offence.

  Thaddeus seemed to be offering him . . . what? The keys to the kingdom? Cadel didn’t want the kingdom. It would mean more skulking around. More endless surveillance. More Thaddeus, watching his every move.

  He just wanted to be free.

  Thaddeus misread his hesitation.