Chapter Text
So, Cadel Piggott. Or perhaps, better known as Cadel English. The supposed heir of Phineas Darkkon up until the man’s death to cancer. Their only witness willing to testify against Prosper English as a former student of the Axis Institution.
Cadel had a bit of a reputation— having graduated high school with the highest scores across all subjects at thirteen. Saul really only had his file but the image was striking; a prodigy since young, scheming, cunning. An evil genius.
With that said, when Saul first met him, it was nothing less of an utter surprise.
Cadel wasn’t even looking at him, not really. The teenager was looking at Fiona with a neutral, contemplative expression— head tilted slightly and eyes roaming her blushed, freckled features curiously; questioningly.
He was really small. As opposed to the image Saul had in his mind, Cadel English didn’t even quite look like the fifteen year old he was. His stature was a bit too unimposing, and he was lean in a way that almost pointed at neglect; even with how impossible the notion of neglect was.
He didn’t really even look like Prosper English and the man’s sharp features. His features were softer, his face was rounded in a heart-shape. If not for how he held himself, Saul probably wouldn’t have glanced twice at the boy.
Cadel’s eyes held too sharp a glint to be so easily written off.
”This is Detective Inspector Greeniaus,” Fiona spoke up beside Saul, mildly exasperated from the brief verbal fight prior. “He wants to talk to you, Cadel. I’m.. sorry.”
Fiona Currey struck Saul as blunt and maybe a bit too passionate to her beliefs. She didn’t mind refuting and arguing with Saul at the door; never mind act gentle or caring about it. In spite of her demeanor, Saul found her apologetic display genuine; what made her so fond of Cadel then?
Cadel’s eyelashes fluttered innocuously as he turned to Saul. The look was analytical.
Saul held out his hand to the boy. Cadel gave the detective a once-over before hesitantly shaking it.
His grip was rather loose, as if willing the handshake over before it even begun; his fingers were nimble and curved in that distinctive way that pointed at many, many hours of tapping away at keyboards.
“I’m very happy to meet you,” Saul allowed, more out of social pleasantry than anything. “You can call me Saul, if you want.”
Fiona disregarded Saul much like Cadel did, instead cutting in with another apologetic question. “It’s your computer time now, isn’t it?”
(Computer time for a genius who specializes in computers?) Saul narrowed his eyes.
Cadel merely nodded; and Fiona winced in response. “I’m so sorry. I had a feeling it might be.”
Saul merely stated, “Then I’ll be as quick as I can.”
The boy regarded Saul with resignation and distant boredom. Then, he sat on his typist’s chair and left the bed for them to sit on.
The room wasn’t anything special. Cadel didn’t even look too familiar with the surroundings— aside from the typist’s chair; he had quite an odd look of nostalgia and wariness as he sat there idly.
“Oh! Have you bought a computer, Cadel?”
Saul’s gaze snapped up and he trailed Fiona’s eyes. True enough, there was a dusty monitor on the floor.
“No,” Cadel remarked easily, as if dismissing the outrageous notion entirely. “I’m going to make one, out of spare parts.”
The detective raised an eyebrow, gaze narrowing against the monitor. It seemed awfully pristine, if not a bit old. A defensive growl snapped him out of his thoughts; it was Cadel, opposite him.
”I didn’t steal it. You know. Someone left it on the street.”
Saul folded his arms. He tore his gaze away from the monitor and levelled Cadel with a neutral glance— he had no time for antagonizing the witness, if not only for Cadel’s cooperation. The boy’s inherent defensiveness against Saul wasn’t normal.
“I’m not accusing you of anything.” Saul decided to be honest with Cadel. “I just can’t get over it, is all. You look so young to be building your own computer.”
Cadel narrowed his brilliant blue eyes; it was a brutally cold look. Saul wondered what made a fifteen year old so.. off.
“I’m fifteen.”
Saul nodded easily and backed off. “Yes, I realize that.”
Fiona, by his side on the bed, interrupted the tense standoff. Her voice cut in, high-pitched but not grating. “Cadel’s seen a lot of police over the past few months..”
”—You’ll have to excuse him if he’s a little sick of it.”
Saul met Fiona’s glare head-on. As much as it was a directed attack, it was true. “Yes. We realize it’s been difficult.”
“Especially since there doesn’t seem to be much communication between all you people,” Fiona went on. Frustration seemed to color her complexion. “I mean, he keeps getting different guys from different units asking him the same questions!”
“I understand,” Saul replied. And, he did. “That’s why we’ve taken your complaints on board. I’ve been officially appointed as Cadel’s liaison officer. I’ll be asking all the questions from now on; even if the FBI or NSA want to know something.”
Cadel straightened in his chair. “Aren’t you from the FBI?”
“No.” Saul shook his head mildly in response; so, Cadel was paying attention then.
He furrowed his brows. “But you’re American, aren’t you?”
“I’m Canadian.” The detective hesitated internally before continuing, “I was with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police until I came to Australia. Then I joined the police force here.”
Cadel’s mouth fell agape as recognition sparked in his eyes. He looked far younger in his surprise. The boy swerved in his typist’s chair with a roll of the wheels against the floorboards. “You mean.. you were a Mountie?”
(The kid’s almost cute when he isn’t glaring at everyone.)
“I don’t ride, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Saul answered the unspoken question, amused. “The RCMP is a regular police force, driving regular cars and wearing regular uniforms. Except on parade.”
Cadel’s lips twitched up regardless. Saul found that he didn’t exactly hate that look on the kid.
______
“By the way, Mace pissed on my bed this morning.”
Saul was on his feet immediately— Fiona too. She gave Cadel a type of betrayed look that was equally incredulous.
“It’s all right, though.” Cadel didn’t laugh but Saul could tell it was a near thing. He’d gotten rather comfortable with the presence of Fiona buffering for Saul. “I changed the sheets, and he missed the bedspread.”
Fiona sat back down slowly, clicking her tongue in mild exasperation; but she couldn’t hide the way her eyes curved up in a repressed smile. “Oh, Cadel. I’m sorry. Did you tell Hazel?”
“ ‘Course.”
“What did she say?”
The detective gave the bed a look and didn’t quite settle down. He looked between Fiona and Cadel.
Cadel shrugged. “The usual.”
(The usual?)
Fiona muttered curses under her breath, irked on Cadel’s behalf. She really did seem awfully fond of the boy— loyal, even.
”I notice you don’t have a lock on this door,” Saul spoke up. He’d noticed it the second he walked in but now, it had significance.
“No.”
”So, this kid— Mace— can get in whenever he wants.”
It would explain the bare and impersonal room, for one; why Cadel didn’t even care for adults residing on his bed, of all things.
”Yes.”
Saul narrowed his eyes at Cadel’s figure. He had to remind himself the teenager was practically the next closest thing to a criminal— someone who had once resided with Prosper English of all people.
”Must be annoying. To have somebody poking around in your stuff.”
Cadel paused. The teen glanced up from his fixed look directed at his chair legs and searched the detective’s features for something. Saul knew he wasn’t able to hide it when Cadel suddenly flushed a light pink— whatever Cadel was looking for in his expression, he had found.
(I guess that wasn’t exactly too subtle, huh.)
“Hacking a system doesn’t mean you have to trash it.” Cadel’s gaze grew sharper; the type of look Saul had seen on Prosper. “I never did. Not even when I was seven years old.”
Fiona seemed to catch on and grew enraged very quickly. “I hope you’re not here to make accusations! Because if you are, I’ll have to call a halt and contact Cadel’s lawyer!”
Saul reluctantly backed down. He wasn’t close enough to Cadel or Fiona to win that argument. The kid was sharp, he’d admit. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. I’m just here to ask questions.”
”Then ask them! We haven’t got all day!”
“You’re right,” Saul conceded and turned on his cassette recorder.
_________