someone knocked on the bedroom door. It creaked open a few centimetres.
‘Excuse me,’ said Hazel, without attempting to cross the threshold. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt – ’
‘Come in, Hazel, it’s your house,’ Fiona urged. But Hazel shook her head.
‘No, no, that’s all right. I just wanted to say – I have to go and pick up Janan from school. So if there’s anything you want before I leave . . .’
‘No, we’re fine,’ said Fiona. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Because I’ve put fresh Anzac biscuits on the kitchen table, if you’d like some. Just help yourself.’
‘Hazel, the last thing I want is for you to fret about us,’ Fiona replied. ‘You go and do what you have to do.’
‘Okay. Well – I’ll be back soon.’
‘Thanks, Hazel.’
The door closed gently. Cadel said to Fiona, ‘If you want some biscuits, you’d better get them now. Before Mace comes home and scoffs the lot.’
Fiona glanced at her watch, sighing. ‘How long before he gets here?’ she asked. ‘About an hour?’
‘A bit less.’
‘Oh, Lord.’ Fiona turned to Mr Greeniaus. ‘Once the other kids come home, we won’t have a second’s peace,’ she pointed out, as the detective plucked a small cassette recorder from inside his grey jacket.
Moved by a sudden mischievous impulse, Cadel said, ‘By the way, Mace pissed on my bed this morning.’ With some satisfaction he then watched the two adults jump to their feet. ‘It’s all right, though,’ he assured them. ‘I changed the sheets, and he missed the doona.’
Fiona clicked her tongue. ‘Oh, Cadel,’ she said, gingerly settling back onto the bed. ‘I am sorry. Did you tell Hazel?’
‘’Course.’
‘What did she say?’
Cadel shrugged. ‘The usual,’ he rejoined. ‘Mace reckoned it was a joke.’
Fiona muttered under her breath. Cadel had always liked Fiona, because she tended to say what she thought instead of hiding behind a sweet and gentle façade. Though she tried to stay pleasant, she couldn’t always keep her temper in check. Mr Greeniaus, on the other hand, didn’t look like a person who lost his cool easily. He was still on his feet, regarding Cadel with a speculative expression in his dark eyes.
‘I notice you don’t have a lock on this door,’ he said.
‘No.’
‘So this kid – Mace – he can get in here whenever he wants?’
‘Yes.’
‘Must be annoying. To have someone poking around in your stuff.’
Cadel was about to nod when something about Saul’s tone caught his attention. Peering up into the detective’s face, he flushed suddenly.
Saul was having a dig at him.
‘Hacking a system doesn’t mean that you have to trash it,’ he spluttered. ‘ I never did. Not even when I was seven years old.’
‘And I hope you’re not here to make accusations!’ Fiona cried, as she realised what was going on. ‘Because if you are, I’ll have to call a halt and contact Cadel’s lawyer!’
Mr Greeniaus took a step back, raising one hand. ‘I’m not accusing anyone of anything,’ he said softly. ‘I’m just here to ask questions.’
‘Then ask them!’ snapped Fiona. ‘We haven’t got all day.’
‘You’re right,’ said the detective. And he turned on his cassette recorder.
FOUR
For his eleventh birthday, Cadel had received a very special mobile phone from Dr Darkkon. It had been a fully functioning computer, with wireless capacity, photo function, hard-drive and DNA wiring (courtesy of Dr Darkkon’s secret nanotechnology lab). The phone had worked well for a number of years, but had abruptly stopped functioning after it was confiscated by the police.
Cadel had never expected to see it again. One day, however, he had found himself sitting across a table from two representatives of the US National Security Agency, who had bombarded him with questions about his computer phone. Apparently something had gone wrong with the biological portion of its wiring. Some kind of short-circuit had fused most of the
‘Excuse me,’ said Hazel, without attempting to cross the threshold. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt – ’
‘Come in, Hazel, it’s your house,’ Fiona urged. But Hazel shook her head.
‘No, no, that’s all right. I just wanted to say – I have to go and pick up Janan from school. So if there’s anything you want before I leave . . .’
‘No, we’re fine,’ said Fiona. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Because I’ve put fresh Anzac biscuits on the kitchen table, if you’d like some. Just help yourself.’
‘Hazel, the last thing I want is for you to fret about us,’ Fiona replied. ‘You go and do what you have to do.’
‘Okay. Well – I’ll be back soon.’
‘Thanks, Hazel.’
The door closed gently. Cadel said to Fiona, ‘If you want some biscuits, you’d better get them now. Before Mace comes home and scoffs the lot.’
Fiona glanced at her watch, sighing. ‘How long before he gets here?’ she asked. ‘About an hour?’
‘A bit less.’
‘Oh, Lord.’ Fiona turned to Mr Greeniaus. ‘Once the other kids come home, we won’t have a second’s peace,’ she pointed out, as the detective plucked a small cassette recorder from inside his grey jacket.
Moved by a sudden mischievous impulse, Cadel said, ‘By the way, Mace pissed on my bed this morning.’ With some satisfaction he then watched the two adults jump to their feet. ‘It’s all right, though,’ he assured them. ‘I changed the sheets, and he missed the doona.’
Fiona clicked her tongue. ‘Oh, Cadel,’ she said, gingerly settling back onto the bed. ‘I am sorry. Did you tell Hazel?’
‘’Course.’
‘What did she say?’
Cadel shrugged. ‘The usual,’ he rejoined. ‘Mace reckoned it was a joke.’
Fiona muttered under her breath. Cadel had always liked Fiona, because she tended to say what she thought instead of hiding behind a sweet and gentle façade. Though she tried to stay pleasant, she couldn’t always keep her temper in check. Mr Greeniaus, on the other hand, didn’t look like a person who lost his cool easily. He was still on his feet, regarding Cadel with a speculative expression in his dark eyes.
‘I notice you don’t have a lock on this door,’ he said.
‘No.’
‘So this kid – Mace – he can get in here whenever he wants?’
‘Yes.’
‘Must be annoying. To have someone poking around in your stuff.’
Cadel was about to nod when something about Saul’s tone caught his attention. Peering up into the detective’s face, he flushed suddenly.
Saul was having a dig at him.
‘Hacking a system doesn’t mean that you have to trash it,’ he spluttered. ‘ I never did. Not even when I was seven years old.’
‘And I hope you’re not here to make accusations!’ Fiona cried, as she realised what was going on. ‘Because if you are, I’ll have to call a halt and contact Cadel’s lawyer!’
Mr Greeniaus took a step back, raising one hand. ‘I’m not accusing anyone of anything,’ he said softly. ‘I’m just here to ask questions.’
‘Then ask them!’ snapped Fiona. ‘We haven’t got all day.’
‘You’re right,’ said the detective. And he turned on his cassette recorder.
FOUR
For his eleventh birthday, Cadel had received a very special mobile phone from Dr Darkkon. It had been a fully functioning computer, with wireless capacity, photo function, hard-drive and DNA wiring (courtesy of Dr Darkkon’s secret nanotechnology lab). The phone had worked well for a number of years, but had abruptly stopped functioning after it was confiscated by the police.
Cadel had never expected to see it again. One day, however, he had found himself sitting across a table from two representatives of the US National Security Agency, who had bombarded him with questions about his computer phone. Apparently something had gone wrong with the biological portion of its wiring. Some kind of short-circuit had fused most of the
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