The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Prisoner's Dilemma

by Trenton Lee Stewart

  “You haven’t been inside yet?” Kate asked.

  Milligan arched an eyebrow. “I’ve only just arrived, Kate. It may surprise you to learn that you were my top priority.”

  They entered the backyard, where the deep tracks of the Salamander’s treads ran right up to the back steps. Across the yard the demolished iron fence lay flat upon the crushed hedge, whose branches poked up through the fence palings, twitching and springing. The children had the disconcerting impression of a hapless creature pinned by a great weight, and as they told Milligan what they’d seen, the rustling sounds and jerky movements of the branches in the darkness kept causing them to jump and stare.

  “Noise cancellation for the Salamander?” Milligan frowned, bemused. “I hate to say it, but that was a brilliant stroke. In the darkness, with no lights and no sound—it was perfect for a sneak attack, perfect for getting away on the river.”

  “The river?” Kate said.

  “The Salamander is amphibious, after all, and Stonetown River is just blocks away. Dark alleys and lots were all that lay between them and escape. And a security fence or two, but the Salamander is no respecter of fences, as you can see.”

  A window opened above them, and Ms. Plugg called down that the chamber guards were all right—just frazzled from the shockwatches—but she hadn’t seen Mr. Bane.

  “What a surprise,” Sticky muttered.

  “There’s something else,” Ms. Plugg added, in a deeply troubled tone. “Oh, I can hardly bear to…” The poor woman’s face, framed by the window, was the very picture of shame. “That chair is destroyed! The special chair in the chamber! I’m so sorry, Milligan. What an utter failure we were…” She withdrew from the window, unwilling to hear any words of forgiveness or comfort Milligan might offer.

  Baffled, Milligan looked back at the children.

  “Destroyed? They destroyed the Whisperer?”

  The children were just as baffled as he was. They’d assumed that the Whisperer had been stolen—that even now the Salamander, laden with the Whisperer and its computers, was headed downriver to Stonetown Harbor, or else upriver to some unknown landing, to be delivered once again into the waiting hands of Mr. Curtain.

  “I’d love to believe it,” Reynie said, shaking his head. “I really would—but I don’t.”

  “Come with me,” Milligan said, and they followed him into the house and down the hidden stairway into the basement, where his flashlight beam illuminated a jumbled mess of blackened, mangled, half-melted computers.

  Kate whistled in amazement. “They burned them? That makes no sense! Why wouldn’t he just take them?”

  “He did,” Reynie said.

  “But the computers—”

  “These aren’t the Whisperer’s computers. If they were, we’d be coughing like crazy.”

  “Of course!” Kate cried, sniffing the air. “No smoke!”

  “So it’s some kind of setup,” Sticky said. “But why would Mr. Curtain do it this way?”

  Milligan grunted. “To convince the authorities that the Whisperer no longer exists—that it no longer poses a threat.”

  “No, I realize that,” Sticky said. “What I mean is, why did Mr. Curtain do such a bad job of it? If we can tell those computers weren’t destroyed here tonight, everyone else can, too.”

  Reynie groaned and put his hands to his head. “Who was the only person with regular access to the Whisperer? Who was the one about to lose control of it?”

  “Mr. Benedict,” Sticky whispered, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear.

  Reynie started to pace, found no room for it, and dropped onto the bottom stair. “So it was all arranged from the beginning,” he muttered angrily. “The only person who could say for sure that these aren’t the Whisperer’s computers is Mr. Benedict, but he’ll be suspected of sabotaging them—out of spite, I suppose, unless they come up with some other ludicrous reason. They won’t trust anything he says. The truth will disappear right along with the Whisperer.”

  “But the Ten Men!” Kate said.

  Milligan shook his head. “Thugs with a personal vendetta against Mr. Benedict and me. Not necessarily thieves. That’s how it will be portrayed. They’ll say Mr. Benedict seized upon this attack as an excuse, as a cover for something he did himself. They may even suggest he arranged it.” He knelt down and gathered the children close to him. “Listen, this is all about to get a great deal more complicated, and I’ll need you to do exactly as I say. Can you do that?” With a smile he added, “For once?”

  They nodded. Milligan pursed his lips and looked at them askance.

  “We will,” Kate insisted.

  “Thank you,” Milligan said. “All right. Mr. Benedict and the others will be getting back any minute now, and my sentries will arrive as a team, and no doubt Gaines and all his crew will come, too. This whole place will be bedlam, with listening ears all around you, and you must say nothing about any of this—not a word—unless you’re absolutely certain you’re alone with one of us.”

  “Won’t we be questioned?” Reynie asked.

  “You can say I ordered you not to speak to anyone. That will put them off for the time being,” said Milligan. As he spoke, they heard car doors slamming and familiar voices talking excitedly in the courtyard, and two sirens that had been keening in the distance began to grow louder. “You’ll need to be moved. There’s no help for it. My sentries and I have to track the Salamander if we can, so I can’t stay with you. Meanwhile Ten Men are still on the prowl for Constance, who may well lead them right back here—and I can’t leave enough sentries behind to protect you properly.”

  “Won’t moving us be risky, too?” asked Kate, who would rather be near the action than shut away somewhere with no idea what was happening.

  “Everything is risky now, I’m afraid, but the safest thing is to relocate you, and as soon as possible.”

  “My parents?—” Sticky began.

  “They’ll agree with me. Anyway, I’ll be moving them, too. But we’ll all want you out of harm’s way first. Meanwhile, Kate, here is the key to the security door in the cellar—if we get caught off guard again, this time you’ll have a safer place to go.”

  Milligan finished in a shout, for the sirens sounded from just outside now. And their stupendous blaring persisted for some time, which made the courtyard reunion between the children and the adults a frustrating ordeal of yelling and gesturing. Only Mrs. Perumal, who was hard of hearing, seemed unaffected by the clamor; she stood placidly by Reynie, patting him and nodding as everyone else plugged their ears and pulled their hair. Officers and agents gesticulated on all sides; neighborhood residents spilled into the street to gawk; and high overhead a much-agitated Madge wheeled and darted, her dreams of pigeon-hunting rudely disrupted.

  Then, abruptly, the sirens were cut off, and the roaring voice of Mr. Gaines broke over the scene: “And where were you, Benedict? Tell me that!”

  The shout came all the way from the backyard, where Mr. Benedict had gathered with several others to inspect the scene. His response was too quiet to hear, and the courtyard hubbub resumed, this time at a lower pitch. The Washingtons, the Perumals, and Moocho Brazos—who had not found Constance—were bombarding the children with expressions of concern and questions about what had happened. But the children, cleaving to Milligan’s instructions, fended the questions off until later, for the courtyard remained crowded with agents, officers, and dazed-looking house guards.

  Rhonda appeared in the front doorway with a lantern. “Quickly now, everyone,” she said, beckoning the families inside. “We have new arrangements to make.”

  The arrangements were discussed by lanternlight in the foyer, away from prying ears. In one hour, Rhonda said, an armored car would take Mr. Benedict and the children to the police station. The drivers could be trusted; they were top sentries, handpicked by Milligan. Once the children were safely deposited, the sentries would return for the adults.

  “Why the police station?” Miss Perumal as
ked.

  “Mr. Benedict has to go there anyway,” Rhonda said. “That much has been made clear to us. Resisting will only waste time, and we haven’t a second to spare. Nor can we spare more than two sentries to drive, or trust anyone but Milligan’s sentries to do it. The police station is reasonably secure and not very far. Even with the traffic jams we should have everyone there in a few hours.”

  “What about Constance?” Reynie asked.

  Rhonda rubbed her temples. “She wasn’t where he hoped to find her. Number Two and I will stay here in case she wanders back, and Milligan will organize a new search once he determines whether the Salamander can be tracked. He fears it can’t be done—not past the river—but he has to make an attempt while the trail is fresh. If there’s any chance at all…”

  Here Rhonda checked herself, but it was clear enough to Reynie that she thought the situation desperate. She mustered a resolute smile, however, as she distributed flashlights and sent everyone off to pack overnight bags. “Bring only essentials,” she said, already hurrying out, “and meet back here in one hour.”

  The children insisted they would be fine going upstairs alone, not least because they wanted to talk in private. As they mounted the dark staircase into the even deeper darkness above, they whispered about the dread they had heard in Rhonda’s voice. This wasn’t the best way to bolster one’s courage, it turned out, and before they were halfway up the stairs Reynie and Sticky were both longing to go back down. Even Kate felt a strange prickling at the back of her neck, as if she were being watched. She kept spinning to shine her flashlight into some black, empty corner, then frowning and pressing on as the boys clutched their hearts and gasped for breath.

  “I have an uneasy feeling,” said Kate at the top of the stairs. “I think we should stick together while we pack.”

  “If you insist,” Reynie said, wiping a sweaty palm against his shirt, and Sticky made a faint squeaking sound that was almost certainly a murmur of assent.

  “But first let’s have a look at the chamber,” Kate said, and she darted off before the boys could reply. Gathering themselves as best they could, they hurried after her bobbing flashlight.

  The hallway was in order, with no signs of a struggle (there hadn’t been much of one), but the unguarded, open chamber door was a strange sight—especially since they had expected to find it smashed in. A quick inspection revealed that the Ten Men had focused laser pointers on the door’s two locks. A turn of the knob and a hard shove had accomplished the rest. And in the chamber, beyond the overturned decorative screen, lay a pile of blackened components that certainly looked like they had belonged to the Whisperer.

  “If we didn’t know better,” Kate muttered, casting her flashlight beam over the pile, “I’d say that was really it.”

  Sticky sighed. “Don’t you wish it was? Then this whole nightmare would be over instead of just beginning.”

  The word “nightmare” reminded Reynie of Constance, somewhere in the city, no doubt staring fearfully into darkness even now, just as she had used to do upon waking from her terrible dreams.

  “Do you think she’s still confused?” asked Kate, evidently thinking about the same thing.

  “Maybe,” Reynie said. “Or maybe she’s snapped out of it and wishes she hadn’t.”

  “I wonder if she has any idea that Ten Men really are searching for her,” Sticky said.

  “I can hardly stand to think about it,” Reynie said, shaking his head. “Let’s get out of here.”

  In a solemn silence they made their way to the hallway where their bedrooms lay. They reached the boys’ room first, and Kate grabbed the doorknob only to leap back when a voice inside cried, “What? Who’s there?”

  “It’s Mr. Bane,” said Reynie in a choked voice, and realizing he was right Kate flung open the door and shone her flashlight in.

  Mr. Bane sat in the middle of the floor, squinting in the powerful flashlight beam, his face a mixture of confusion and alarm. He tried to shield his eyes with one hand. “Was that Reynie’s voice I heard? Is that you, Reynie?”

  “What are you doing in here?” Kate demanded, not lowering the light.

  “And Kate, too,” said Mr. Bane, still squinting, his head turned away from the light. He took his jacket from beside him and held it up to block the beam. “Would you lower that flashlight? My head’s killing me.”

  Kate shone the beam a few seconds longer—just to make a point—then lowered it and again demanded to know what Mr. Bane was doing in there.

  “I… I’m not sure. They must have dragged me in here,” said Mr. Bane, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “I… well, you saw me in the courtyard. I was completely taken aback, I’m sorry to say. I got mixed up and thought Ms. Plugg had run into the house. When I came inside, though, she wasn’t there. Then I heard the chamber guards shouting and ran up here to help. I followed noises down this hall. It was dark, and in my hurry I bumped right into a man with one eyebrow.”

  The children exchanged glances.

  “He was coming out of your room,” Mr. Bane said to Kate. “He pressed a handkerchief to my nose. It must have been dosed with something—I blacked out and only just woke up. When I heard you at the door I thought you might be one of them. But they’ve all gone, obviously, or you wouldn’t be poking around in the dark.” Mr. Bane climbed to his feet. “Now what’s happened? How are the others? How long have I been out?”

  “You’d better report downstairs,” Reynie said. “People have been looking for you.”

  “Well, you’re just full of answers, aren’t you?” Mr. Bane said coldly, and with a sniff he pressed past them and fumbled away down the hall without benefit of a flashlight. They shone theirs after him until they were sure he was gone, then went into the boys’ room.

  “He’s lying,” said Reynie, going straight to the window.

  “Of course he’s lying,” said Sticky. “He’s trying to cover for being a coward. I’ll bet he just ran up here and hid where he thought it was safe.”

  “I don’t know,” said Kate. “Why bother lying to us? He’s never taken two seconds to speak to us before, so why start now? Maybe Crawlings really did knock him out, and he’s too groggy to think straight.”

  “Or he’s hoping the more people he tells, the better his chances of being believed,” said Sticky.

  Reynie watched Mr. Bane skulk out of the house into the backyard, where Mr. Benedict, Mr. Gaines, and several others remained in hushed but heated conversation. Flashlights moved about the yard and the dark lane beyond like fireflies on a summer night. Mr. Bane began his animated explanations, his voice rising to the window in a plaintive, unintelligible murmur. He was anxiously fiddling with his zipper again, having put the jacket back on.

  “Tell me,” Reynie muttered, “when do you suppose is the best time to take off your jacket—right before you run inside to fight intruders, or right after you wake up in the dark, thinking they might be just outside the door?”

  “His jacket was off, wasn’t it?” Sticky said.

  “It’s hot up here,” Reynie said. “He was probably sweltering. And I think we surprised him. We were quiet coming down the hallway. Otherwise I’ll bet he’d have put it back on before we saw him.”

  “Well, what else is new?” said Kate. “We knew we couldn’t trust that guy.”

  Reynie felt he was missing something, but when he tried to concentrate he kept seeing that strange sequence of numbers and letters in his head. He decided to wait a bit and try again—sometimes answers came to him when he was thinking of other things—and in the meantime he and Sticky hurriedly packed their bags. Then they all went down to Kate’s room.

  The door was open as she’d left it—no surprises this time—and with a quick sweep of her flashlight Kate verified the room was empty. “He might have told the truth about Crawlings,” she said, crossing to the window, “even if he lied about everything else. I did see Crawlings come out of the house, after all, and we all heard h
im tell Garrotte which direction we ran. He could have seen us from this window.” She went to her bed and dragged an overnight bag from beneath it.

  “They were looking for us,” Sticky said. “We know that much already.”

  “Yes, but doesn’t it seem they knew which rooms to search first?” Kate said, smoothing the bedskirt, which she had only very slightly disturbed. “It was only a few seconds before they came out after us.” Out of habit she glanced around for other things to tidy. Even in the dark she managed to locate a wrinkle in the rug, an errant scrap of paper, and a floor lamp Sticky had accidentally knocked crooked with his bag.

  “Sorry,” Sticky said as she straightened the lamp (and put his bag in the hall). “So you think they ran directly up here? You think Mr. Bane told them?”

  “I don’t know who else—” Kate cut herself off. Reynie was staring at her. “What, am I missing something?”

  Reynie shone his flashlight at the scrap of paper in her hand. “What’s that, Kate?”

  Kate looked down in surprise. “This? Oh, just a scrap I saw on the rug. I was going to throw it away…” She looked up again suddenly, her eyes wide. “But, hey, didn’t I—”

  “Leave the rug spotless? Yes, you did. We stood right here and watched you.”

  “So someone—”

  “Crawlings!” Sticky said. “Remember how McCracken was always saying how careless he was?”

  Kate turned her flashlight onto the paper. “Only a number here. 2100. And looks like an h after that…”

  Reynie went to the wastepaper basket. There were more scraps of paper inside. “He tore something up and threw it away!”

  “And in the darkness he didn’t notice that he’d dropped a scrap,” Kate said.

  Reynie pieced the scraps together on the rug. Some came from an envelope that had been unsealed with a letter opener (“Remember those letter openers?” Sticky muttered with a shiver) and bore on the front the single letter C, which they thought probably stood for Crawlings. The rest formed a note: Rendezvous and search Abbot Edifice 2100 hrs.