Authors: Catherine Jinks
‘Where are we going?’ asked Saul, eliciting a snort of amusement from Prosper.
‘You don’t honestly expect an answer to that, do you? If so, you’re even dumber than I thought.’
Without another word, Saul spun the wheel, and they jolted off the sealed road onto an unsealed one. Clouds of dust billowed up behind them as they rattled over its corrugated surface, which was lined on each side by posts bearing red reflector patches. Bits of gravel occasionally bounced off the doors and the undercarriage.
‘Good thing you chose a four-wheel drive,’ said Prosper, addressing Saul in a companionable kind of way. ‘This looks as if it’s going to get rough.’
‘Did you see that we caught your two friends?’ Saul replied, working hard to control the shuddering wheel. ‘They’ll end up talking, you know. They might even feel let down, because of the way you ran off and left them.’
Prosper chuckled. ‘My dear fellow,’ he said airily, ‘if I’d done anything else, I think they would have died of pure shock. Isn’t that right, Cadel?’
Cadel said nothing. He kept stroking Sonja’s hair, his head bowed, his lips pressed tightly together.
He wasn’t about to agree with Prosper on any subject.
‘My son can tell you that I loathe violence,’ Prosper continued. ‘It’s the last resort of the idiot – and it’s inherently risky. If I’d started a shooting match, what good would have come of it? The odds weren’t exactly in my favour, after you’d handcuffed Vadi. Whereas now, of course, I’m in a position to campaign more efficiently on his behalf.’
‘No, you’re not.’ Saul displayed a momentary flash of feeling. ‘Not by a long shot. I wouldn’t call this free and clear, would you?’
‘No,’ Prosper allowed, ‘You’re right. I still have a way to go yet. But
you
don’t, Mr Greeniaus.’ He leaned forward suddenly, his ribcage pressing against Cadel’s scalp, and levelled his gun at the detective. ‘Stop the car,’ he ordered. ‘
Now
.’
Saul braked. Looking around, Cadel saw that they had stopped halfway up a hill, near a bend in the road. On all sides lay semi-cleared land studded with fallen logs, lichen-encrusted boulders, and outcrops of eucalypts that seemed to be huddling together for protection. Glimpses of a distant valley were visible through the treetops.
A collapsing wire fence, and a faraway scattering of sheep on golden pasture, suggested that somebody, somewhere, must have been interested in this obscure corner of the world. But the complete absence of roadside litter told Cadel that the route wasn’t a popular one.
No doubt Prosper had chosen it for that very reason.
‘Please,’ Cadel implored, ‘don’t hurt anybody. I won’t make trouble, I promise.’
‘Turn off the engine,’ Prosper said, ignoring Cadel’s plea. And when Saul obeyed, Prosper added, ‘Now pass the keys back here. Slowly. Don’t do anything stupid.’
The keys were delivered into Prosper’s custody, after which he ordered Cadel to get out of the car.
Cadel hesitated.
‘What about Sonja?’ he asked.
‘Just get out.’
‘Get out, Cadel, please!’ Saul said sharply. ‘Do as you’re told!’
So Cadel pushed open the door next to him and climbed awkwardly onto the road, leaving Sonja sprawled across the back seat. She didn’t, however, remain there for long.
‘Right,’ said Prosper. ‘
Now
you can take her. And don’t get smart, or I’ll shoot Mr Greeniaus.’
‘You – you mean . . . pull her out?’ Cadel stammered, causing Prosper to roll his eyes.
‘Can you think of any other options?’
‘No – ’
‘Then do it.’
Hastily Cadel slid his hands beneath Sonja’s armpits. With a single heave, he jerked her halfway out of the car, staggering slightly as she bucked against his grasp.
Though his retreat was as careful as he could make it, he couldn’t prevent her feet from flopping heavily onto the ground once she was clear of the vehicle.
‘Sorry,’ he whispered, and dragged her to the side of the road.
‘Okay, stop. Stop there. Where I can see you,’ said Prosper. He was climbing into the back seat, his gun still aimed at Saul. ‘And don’t even
think
about stuffing your socks into the exhaust pipe.’
Such a thought had never crossed Cadel’s mind; he was much too concerned about the gun to attempt anything so rash. Instead he remained where he was, crouching in a shallow ditch full of dead leaves and bull-ants. Sonja’s head was lolling against his ribcage. Her pyjamas were rucked up around her knees.
Please don’t
, Cadel prayed, his pulse hammering high in his throat.
Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t kill him.
‘All right,’ Prosper said to the detective. ‘Keep your hands on the wheel. Where I can see them. That’s it.’ He was now directly behind Saul; his chin was almost resting on Saul’s shoulder, while the barrel of his gun was rammed against the detective’s skull. ‘As you’ve probably realised, Mr Greeniaus, I don’t like you very much. I don’t like the way you’ve wormed your way into my son’s life. Into his
affections
, one might almost say – like some flea-bitten stray cat. You’ve taken advantage of his unfortunate predilection for losers and cripples and social rejects.’
Prosper’s glance slipped sideways at this point, suggesting that his last remark had been designed more for Cadel’s benefit than for Saul’s. Cadel, however, didn’t comment. So Prosper went on.
‘Nevertheless,’ he acknowledged, ‘the fact that you’ve been so hard to shake off indicates that you have at least one redeeming feature: namely, a personal interest in my son’s welfare.’ Prosper inclined his head, as if trying to scrutinise Saul’s expression. ‘Am I right, Mr Greeniaus?’
‘I wouldn’t lock him in a stowage hold or threaten him with a gun, if that’s what you mean,’ Saul retorted. Then he moved his own head slightly, until his gaze met Prosper’s. ‘I wouldn’t have to.’
It was hard to see if Prosper had coloured. The car’s interior was too dark. But he drew back, and was silent for a few seconds.
When he finally spoke, his voice had lost its smooth finish.
‘My point, Mr Greeniaus, is this,’ he growled. ‘Owing to your really woeful performance, there’s every chance you’ll be taken off this case. And if you are, I want to know whether you would promptly abandon my son, or continue to exert yourself on his behalf.’ Before the detective could do more than inhale quickly, Prosper continued. ‘Not that you’ve done a very good job of looking after him so far, but my real concern is that Cadel should be properly housed and cared for until I can do it myself. I didn’t like that Donkin arrangement. And I gather that you didn’t like it either – that you were, in fact, trying to remedy the situation. Is that correct?’
Saul didn’t reply immediately. He seemed to be thinking. At last he cleared his throat and said, ‘Cadel is a very special kid. He deserves more than you can offer.’ A pause. ‘If you really cared about him, you’d realise that.’
‘If I didn’t care about him, I wouldn’t be here,’ Prosper pointed out. But he failed to convince the detective.
‘You’re only here because you think he’s your son,’ Saul declared, with unusual vehemence. ‘And I have my doubts about that. He doesn’t look like you. He doesn’t act like you . . .’
‘Wishful thinking, Mr Greeniaus.’
‘Then why not agree to a DNA test? Give me your authorisation. That way we’ll know for sure.’
‘I already know for sure.’
‘Not necessarily.’
Cadel frowned. He couldn’t understand what Saul was up to; why raise such a thorny subject? Prosper must have wondered the same thing, because his whole demeanour changed. It became more focused. Less sportive.
‘What are you implying?’ he asked Saul, his eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you and your colleagues were determined to
prove
my paternity, not disprove it.’
‘That was before I met you,’ Saul admitted. ‘Now I can’t help thinking you’re mistaken.’
Prosper smiled. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,’ he said (sounding not in the least bit sorry), ‘but if you want to establish that Cadel isn’t my son, you’re wasting your time. A DNA test was carried out the day he was born. It proved conclusively that I’m his father.’
‘You can’t be certain of that,’ Saul stubbornly insisted. ‘You’re not a scientist. What if there was a mistake?’
‘There was no mistake. I used a very highly qualified geneticist – ’
‘Who might have lied.’
Prosper made a disdainful noise. ‘Why on earth would he have lied?’
The detective shrugged.
‘It would have given him a lot of leverage. You would have been ripe for blackmail, if he managed to convince you that Cadel was your son.’
‘Mr Greeniaus, the gentleman whose services I engaged didn’t
need
leverage.’ To Cadel’s surprise, Prosper obviously felt compelled to argue the point. ‘He already had a great deal of power and influence – and he certainly never attempted to acquire any more at my expense. In fact he never mentioned the subject to me again.’
‘Because you killed him?’ Saul queried.
‘Of course not!’ Prosper’s tone was impatient – even waspish. ‘For your information, he’s alive and well.’
‘Then you must have paid him off. So he’d keep your secret from Phineas Darkkon.’
Opening his mouth, Prosper was about to answer when he was suddenly struck dumb – as if paralysed by doubt, or by a flash of understanding. He stiffened, and swallowed. Then, very slowly and cautiously, he said, ‘You’re assuming that the geneticist in question was acquainted with Dr Darkkon. Which wasn’t the case. He worked for an independent laboratory.’
‘Really? The way you were talking, I figured he must have been one of Darkkon’s crew. I figured you would have gone to someone at NanTex, to keep the whole thing in-house.’ The detective waited for a moment, before adding, rather delicately, ‘Someone like Chester Cramp, say.’
All at once, Cadel understood what was happening. By needling Prosper on the controversial subject of Cadel’s parentage, Saul had been trying to collect information that would implicate Chester Cramp. What Saul wanted was a slip of the tongue, directly linking Chester with Dr Darkkon’s evil empire.
Prosper must have realised this, because he abruptly ended the conversation.
‘Mr Greeniaus,’ he said, with an alarming degree of menace, ‘let me make one thing clear. I’d shoot you right now if I wasn’t worried about leaving Cadel all alone.’ He then ground the end of his gun-barrel into Saul’s head, as if wielding an electric drill. ‘Now get out of the car.’
‘There’s water in the glove-box.’ Saul spoke breathlessly, wincing at the pressure on his scalp. His jaw was almost pushed against the steering wheel. ‘Can I take that with me?’
‘No.’
‘But – ’
‘Get out. I won’t ask again. And shut the door behind you.’
Saul obeyed. It was only after he had retreated ten steps, as ordered, that Prosper finally scrambled into the driver’s seat. This manoeuvre was accomplished so quickly and efficiently that Saul didn’t have time to take advantage of it.
He couldn’t have reached the car, let alone wrestled Prosper out of it, before receiving a bullet in some portion of his body.
‘Good,’ said Prosper, starting the engine. After a rapid juggling act with his keys and gun, he was once again holding the weapon in his right hand – and aiming it out the window at Saul. ‘If I were you, I’d sit tight,’ was Prosper’s recommendation. ‘There’s bound to be passing traffic some time in the next couple of hours, and if you try to carry that girl, you’ll injure yourself. Or she’ll injure you.’ He adjusted the gearstick and released the handbrake without once taking his eyes off Saul. ‘Needless to say, I’d rather you didn’t go away and leave these kids. It wouldn’t be safe.’
‘I don’t make a habit of endangering children,’ the detective replied, unable to suppress his anger.
Prosper ignored this remark. Instead he addressed Cadel, his gaze still fixed firmly on the detective.
‘I’m sorry I can’t take you with me, dear boy. But it’s going to be hard enough without a problematic teenager tagging along. If only you were a little more cooperative, it would make things
so
much easier. Never mind. The next time I come for you, things will be different, I’m sure. After you’ve had to endure another long spell with another set of foster-parents.’ At last he risked cutting a quick glance at Cadel. ‘In the meantime,’ he finished, ‘I want you to have a serious think about your current situation. Because I’m the only one who can improve it, remember. Without me you’ll be back in limbo, floating around. And that’s no way to be. Not for someone like you.’
Suddenly the car surged forward. Gravel flew and dust rose as Prosper executed a hasty U-turn, hauling at the wheel with fierce concentration. But before he could roar off down the road, Cadel waved at him, shouting, ‘Dad!
Dad!
’
The car screeched to a halt.
‘What is it?’ Prosper sounded wary – even anxious. He looked back at Saul, who hadn’t moved. ‘I can’t take you with me, Cadel. I can’t trust you to behave yourself.’
‘Cadel,’ the detective warned, ‘please don’t do anything you’ll regret. He’s still armed. Just let him go.’
But Cadel had something to say. Though he was unutterably tired, and hungry, and frightened, he’d nevertheless been alert enough to identify a hint of genuine sympathy in Prosper’s final directive. And it had unlocked a great tide of memories, dating back many, many years: memories of Prosper’s generous birthday gifts; of Prosper’s lavish praise; of Prosper’s crooked smile, as he’d lowered his silver gun and allowed Cadel to walk out of his life into the arms of the police.
These recollections had forced Cadel to reconsider Prosper’s motives. All at once, he’d realised that things might not be as simple as they looked. Perhaps Prosper wasn’t
entirely
influenced by warped notions of entitlement, ownership and personal gratification.
Perhaps he was also moved by a vague desire to shoulder his paternal responsibilities.
‘I can’t hate you,’ Cadel reluctantly confessed. ‘Not even after the way you’ve treated Sonja. I guess you’ve worked that out.’
Prosper waited, his eyes bright and black and hyper-alert. They kept flitting from Cadel to Saul, and back again.