Cadel Piggott has a genius IQ and a fascination with systems of all kinds. At seven, he was illegally hacking into computers. Now he’s fourteen and studying for his World Domination degree, taking classes like embezzlement, forgery, and infiltration at the institute founded by criminal mastermind Dr. Phineas Darkkon. Although Cadel may be advanced beyond his years, at heart he’s a lonely kid. When he falls for the mysterious and brilliant Kay-Lee, he begins to question the moral implications of his studies. But is it too late to stop Dr. Darkkon from carrying out his evil plot? An engrossing thriller with darkness and humor, freaks and geeks, Evil Genius explores the fine line between good and evil in a strange world of manipulations and subterfuge where nothing is as it seems. * "As the complex deceptions that have shaped Cadel's life come to light, his emotional unraveling and awakening will likely engross readers."-- Publishers Weekly, starred review * "Jinks fills out the cast with brilliantly conceived friends and adversaries . . . Cadel rides right up there with Artemis Fowl as a sympathetic anti-villain."-- Kirkus Reviews, starred review * "Whiplash-inducing suspense writing will gratify fans of Anthony Horowitz's high-tech spy scenarios."-- Booklist, starred review Catherine Jinks  grew up in Papua New Guinea and now resides in New South Wales, Australia. She is a three-time winner of the Children's Book Council of Australia Book of the Year award and has received the Centenary Medal for her contribution to Australian children's literature. Her popular works for young readers include the Evil Genius series, The Reformed Vampire Support Group, and the trilogy that began with  How to Catch a Bogle . Visit her website at www.catherinejinks.com. One Cadel Piggott was just seven years old when he first met Thaddeus Roth. Dr. Roth worked in a row house near Sydney Harbor. The house was three stories high, its garden shrouded by a great many damp, dark trees. There was moss growing on its sandstone window ledges. Curtains drawn across all its windows gave it a secretive air. Its front fence was made of iron, with a spike on top of each post; beside the creaking gate was a brass sign bearing Dr. Roth's name and qualifications. 'that's it," said Mrs. Piggott. "Number twenty-nine." "Well, we can't stop here," her husband replied. "No parking." "I told you to park back there." "It doesn't matter. We'll try down this street." 'stuart, that's a one-way street." "Dammit!" "I knew we'd never find a space. Not around this area." "Just shut up for a minute, will you?" Mr. and Mrs. Piggott were not Cadel's real parents. They had adopted him when he was not quite two years old. Mrs. Piggott was thin and blond, Mr. Piggott fat and gray. They almost never agreed about anything, but that didn't matter because they almost never met. Their busy schedules kept them away from home, and one another, a good deal of the time. At the suggestion of the police, however, they had both agreed to attend this interview. "We're going to be late," Mrs. Piggott warned her husband after they had circled the block four times in Mr. Piggott's big, gleaming Mercedes Benz. "Just let us out, for god's sake." "I'll park here." 'stuart, you'll never fit in there!" "Watch me." Cadel said nothing. He sat on the backseat, dressed in his good brown cords and a lamb's-wool sweater, staring out the window at Dr. Roth's house. He didn't like the look of it. He thought it had a murky, ominous appearance. "I don't want to go," he said flatly when Mrs. Piggott got out and opened the door beside him. "I know, honey, but we have to." "No we don't," Cadel retorted. "Yes we do." 'there were no formal charges," Cadel pointed out, in his high, clear voice. "It was just a suggestion." 'that's right," said Mr. Piggott, yanking Cadel out of the back of the car. "And when the police make a suggestion, you always follow it. Rule number one." "Be careful, Stuart, you'll wreck his clothes." Cadel was so small'even for a seven-year-old'that he didn't stand a chance against Mr. Piggott. Though he dragged his feet and hung off his adoptive parents' hands like a sack of melons, he was forced across the street and through the front gate of number twenty-nine. The path beyond the gate was mushy with wet leaves. There was a rich smell of decay. The door knocker was a ring in the mouth of a snarling lion's head, painted black, like the rest of the ironwork. Cadel noted with interest the switchboard near the door. It was obviously ancient, full of porcelain fuses and dial meters. The Piggotts' own house was only three years old, with a state-of-the-art electrical system, so Cadel was fascinated by this dusty old relic. But he was not permitted to gaze at it for long. "Come on," Mr. Piggott barked. 'the door's open.' And he pushed against it, causing it to swing back and reveal a long, dark hallway carpeted with dingy Persian rugs. About halfway down this hallway