The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Prisoner's Dilemma

by Trenton Lee Stewart

  “I decide what is fair and what isn’t,” Mr. Curtain said coolly. “You will all do well to remember that. Especially you, Miss Wetherall. The next time my work is interrupted, I shall extend the punishment to everyone.” He leaped into his wheelchair again and spun it about. “McCracken, have S.Q. come see me in my work space. Apparently I must remind him how to lock a door.”

  “Funny,” said McCracken, his brow wrinkling, “it was locked when we came in just now.” He looked at Kate askance. “Were you really so clever as to lock it behind you to throw off suspicion?”

  “A monkey would have thought of that, McCracken,” said Mr. Curtain irritably. “Perhaps in the future I shall hire monkeys—they certainly couldn’t do a worse job. In the meantime you will post a guard in the corridor as an added precaution.” With that Mr. Curtain shot from the room, and McCracken, wagging his finger at the children in amused disapproval, followed after him and locked the door.

  It took some time for Kate to calm down. She kept apologizing to Reynie, then railing against Mr. Curtain as her friends tried to shush her. Finally, when Reynie managed a weak smile and laid a finger to his lips, she got control of herself. “Right,” she said, wiping away her tears. “Sorry. I’ll be quiet. I’ve already done enough.”

  “Not you,” said Sticky through clenched teeth. “Them.”

  “He’s right,” Reynie said. “It isn’t your fault. We all wanted you to go, didn’t we? So stop beating yourself up. Anyway, I’m already feeling better. You know it doesn’t last that long.”

  Kate remembered all too well how long it lasted—Mr. Curtain had used those gloves on her before, too—and if memory served her, Reynie probably still felt queasy and shaken but was putting on a brave face. She nodded and said nothing more, busying herself instead with retying her ponytail. It was no help dwelling on what was already done. But she still felt terrible, all the same.

  “What happened out there?” Constance asked her.

  “We’re in some sort of complex,” Kate muttered. “There are high walls all around it, and they’ve put razor wire on top of the walls. Sharpe spotted me before I could find a way out.”

  Kate didn’t much feel like talking, but naturally the others kept asking questions, and soon she had told them everything. She had sneaked through several corridors of the building without encountering a soul, then gone out an exterior door and found herself in what looked to be an abandoned construction site. There were great mounds of rubble and debris everywhere, and scattered heavy equipment, all surrounded by those high walls. She’d been spotted right away, unfortunately, and was too busy running for her life to investigate properly, but it was clear the complex was in the process of being demolished or renovated. Or had been, at any rate—there were no workers anywhere, and everything was as still as a graveyard.

  “It’s like a fortress or a military base or something,” Kate said. “I don’t know. I was pretty focused on finding a gap in that wall. One part at the back of the complex looked ready to topple—I think there was an accident; there’s a huge crane nearby—but there wasn’t a single hole big enough for even a rabbit to squeeze through. And there’s a gate at the front, as high as the walls and topped with the same kind of wire, and it was guarded by Ten Men, but I got an idea that I could maybe smash through it with the Salamander, except that I worried about that wire coming down on top of me—”

  “Wait a minute,” Reynie said. “Back up. You were driving the Salamander?”

  “I was going to. On my first time running around I saw it parked in a sort of big temporary shed, so I doubled back to it after I got the idea about the gate. I wasn’t sure I would go through with that, but I figured I would have time to decide that after I stole the Salamander, provided I could get to it. That part turned out to be easy. The Ten Men weren’t really running, they were just kind of closing in on me, strolling along all casual and relaxed—you know how they do—about seven or eight of them by the end. But they’d left open a clear path to that shed, and I made a beeline for it…” Kate made a disgusted face. “I’ll bet you can guess who was sitting inside it, waiting for me.”

  “McCracken,” the others said.

  Kate nodded. “He was kneeling down so I couldn’t see him over the sides. I basically jumped into his arms. The only bright side is they didn’t think to search me again. I still have my rope and knife.”

  “There’s more bright side to it than that,” Reynie said. “At least now we can figure out where we are.”

  “We can?”

  “Well, Sticky probably can, right?” Reynie said.

  “Sure, we can at least narrow it down,” Sticky said, though he seemed uncertain why it should matter. “Only a few places in the Stonetown area fit Kate’s description—complexes of one kind or another that were being renovated when the funding ran out. It’s a big deal when work gets suspended on projects like that. It’s always in the papers.”

  “Of course!” Kate said, her aspect brightening considerably.

  “And from the sound of it,” Sticky continued, “I’d say we’re in a prison. Did you happen to see any guard towers?”

  “Yes! Sharpe was up in one when he spotted me and called out to the others! Oh, how is it I didn’t realize it was a prison? An actual prison!” Kate rolled her eyes and snorted good-naturedly. Now that they were figuring something out, her miserable, guilty feeling was rapidly draining away. (Some people might have felt guilty for cheering up so quickly, but as it was in Kate’s nature to be cheerful, and to look excitedly forward instead of glumly backward, the thought didn’t even occur to her.)

  “My guess is you were distracted by the Ten Men trying to capture you,” Reynie said with a smile. “Anyway, there can’t be many abandoned prisons within an hour’s drive of Stonetown, right? Sticky, is it Solipse Prison? I’m sure I remember reading about that one.”

  Sticky shook his head. “I wish it were that easy. Solipse Prison and Third Island Prison were both slated for major renovation. Their prisoners were temporarily transferred elsewhere—at least it was supposed to be temporary—while the work was being done. The cell blocks and outbuildings were all to be demolished and rebuilt.”

  “So quit beating around the bush,” Constance said. “Which one are we in? Haven’t you seen pictures of them somewhere? Surely both of them didn’t have a weird square building like this, with four sides going around a pathetic little courtyard.”

  “Actually, that’s exactly the problem,” Sticky said. “Both prisons were built according to the same plan, and they were being renovated according to the same new plan. The administration buildings were to be left intact while everything else was torn down and rebuilt. I think it’s safe to say we’re in the administration building of one of those prisons—but I have no idea which one.”

  “Good grief,” Kate said. “And we were so close!”

  “We aren’t finished yet,” said Reynie. “Solipse Prison is due north of Stonetown, isn’t it, Sticky? And Third Island is due west?”

  “That’s right,” Sticky said.

  “Then I know where we are,” Reynie said. “And what’s more—I have a plan!”

  Constance had her doubts about Reynie’s plan, but then Constance had doubts about everything. Everyone else was optimistic. Hadn’t Constance shown that she could transmit thoughts when she was sufficiently motivated? And when could she possibly be more motivated than now, when she was trapped in a prison and just waiting for Mr. Curtain to do his worst?

  “Yes, but it’s an awful lot of information to communicate,” she said in a low, worried tone, “and I’ve had hardly any practice.”

  “Come on, Constance!” Kate said, grinning. “It’s going to be great! Just like Reynie said, it’ll be perfect! We can let Mr. Benedict know where we are, but Mr. Curtain will have no clue that we did! Mr. Benedict will have the advantage again—he’ll have the element of surprise!”

  Reynie chose not to point out that with the four of them being held hostage Mr
. Benedict would still have a very tricky situation to deal with. The best thing now was to boost Constance’s confidence. In fact, that was why he had called for an “official meeting” of the Society. Outwardly it might seem that sitting in a circle on the floor was hardly different from what they had been doing before. But Reynie hoped it would remind Constance of the success they’d had in the past, and that the familiar arrangement and tone would have a calming effect on her.

  “Well, okay, but I can’t really picture it,” Constance said doubtfully. “When I was in the library I just stared at the call number on the spine of that book. Mr. Benedict said images probably get through more easily, so that’s what I tried. But there’s not much to look at here…”

  “We’ll help you decide what to think,” Reynie said, and the others agreed.

  And so the Society began to brainstorm about the best way for Constance to communicate their situation to Mr. Benedict. It wouldn’t do for him to plan a rescue attempt at the wrong prison, after all. He needed to know that they were being held in Third Island Prison, something they wouldn’t have known themselves had Reynie not remembered the too-bright morning sun glaring through the van’s rear windows. The sun, of course, rose in the east; therefore they had been heading west.

  They were in Third Island, no doubt about it. And between Sticky and Kate, they had a fairly good idea about the place. For Constance’s benefit Kate laid out in greater detail what she had seen outside, and Sticky explained that the prison was situated on an island (the third one upstream from the bay, hence its name) along the widest stretch of Stonetown River.

  “What is it with this guy and islands?” said Constance, rolling her eyes.

  “It makes good strategic sense,” Reynie said. “The prison’s a defensible position, and if things go awry he can shut down the power again and use the Salamander to escape on the river.”

  “Do you really think he could shut it down again?” Kate said.

  “I don’t see why not. He still has his spies in place, and soon he’ll have the Whisperer up and running again. I assume that’s what he’s working so busily on.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Sticky said. “He’d want to run through all the computer programs first to see the things Mr. Benedict changed, and make sure—”

  “Stop, stop!” Constance growled. “You’re cluttering my head up. I just need to concentrate on where we are and what we know for sure, right?”

  “Yes,” Reynie said. “I think it’s best to keep this simple. You should try to tell him what we know—focusing on the most important details—and to be safe you should probably conjure up as many images as you can. Like a neon sign flashing the words ‘Third Island,’ maybe—”

  “And maybe the three of us looking out from behind prison bars,” Kate suggested.

  “But that might be confusing,” Sticky said. “I’m sure he knows that the prison cells here were demolished.”

  “Yes, but it’s symbolic,” Kate argued.

  “I know it’s symbolic,” Sticky said. “My point is for the sake of clarity we should—”

  Constance frowned and shushed them, looking at the door. “Here’s S.Q.!”

  Sure enough, the lock turned, the door swung open, and S.Q. Pedalian entered the room with a large plastic bowl of popcorn. He closed the door behind him. “Before you say anything, you should know that speaking to me will get you punished. Mr. Curtain made that very clear to me—very clear—and it will be my duty to report you if you do. So please don’t. No funny business, either. Garrotte is posted in the hallway and will come running if I call out.”

  S.Q. set the large bowl on the floor and stared at it apologetically. “I’m afraid it’s a bit stale, and there’s no butter. But Mr. Curtain says that nutrition is not our main concern at the moment. He just wants to prevent your whining about your empty stomachs.” For the first time, S.Q. looked up and made eye contact with the children. “Just so you know, I don’t hold a grudge against you for what happened back on that island. I’ve given it a lot of thought since then, and I realize you were just scared. If I were you I might have tricked myself, too. Not that I could trick myself, of course—I mean, not without… never mind. All I mean to say is I have no hard feelings. Okay? Don’t answer that!”

  From S.Q.’s anxious expression they could all tell that he’d meant what he said, that he would report them if they said even one word to him. Still, he seemed reluctant to leave, and lingered there by the popcorn bowl, nudging it with his tattered boot as if to encourage them to eat. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he turned to go out.

  “Kate,” Reynie said quickly, “I hope S.Q. realizes that we don’t have any hard feelings toward him, either. I mean, I hope he knows that we understand he’s just trying to do what’s right.”

  “Surely he does, Reynie,” said Kate, instantly catching on. “We’ve always gotten along with him, haven’t we?” And Sticky and Constance (in rather awkward, self-conscious voices) hastened to agree.

  S.Q., listening intently, turned back to them with a grateful smile. “Thanks,” he said. “That’s pretty clever of you, incidentally.”

  “Sticky,” Reynie said (though he was looking imploringly at S.Q.), “I wonder if S.Q. would be willing to tell us what’s going on. I’ll bet he can imagine how frustrating it is to be held captive and not even know why. Like he said himself, we’re just scared.”

  S.Q. looked troubled. “I don’t know… I mean, my orders don’t specifically state…”

  “You’re right, Reynie,” Sticky said, “it would be very kind of him.”

  S.Q. pressed a knuckle against his lips and glanced at the door. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt just to—well, it’s all very simple, really. As you’d know if you hadn’t been deceived by malicious false reports, Mr. Curtain only wants to stabilize the country. He wants to protect it! But there are powerful people in the government who don’t listen to reason—they only want to hold on to their power, no matter how bad it is for everyone else.”

  “You think Mr. Curtain is just trying to help?” Constance said incredulously. Then seeing her friends’ horrified looks, she quickly added, “I’m asking Reynie!” and somewhat desperately she went on, “Well, Reynie? Is that what you think, Reynie? Is it, Reynie?”

  “I don’t know, Constance,” said Reynie. “Maybe he is.”

  Plainly relieved, S.Q. said, “I assure you he is. And he has several friends in government who understand this. That’s why they’ve arranged to bring the very best government advisers to have a secret meeting with Mr. Curtain later this afternoon. Together they’re going to work out a way to ensure all the major cities have a safe and steady power supply. Thanks to Mr. Curtain’s expertise, new tidal turbines can be built, power grids updated and vastly improved, new systems put in place—trust me, it’s all going to be much, much better for everyone. And once the higher-ups see what Mr. Curtain really means to do—what he’s been trying to do all along—well, they’ll change their minds and support him. He’ll no longer be considered a criminal.” S.Q. paused, then added with feeling, “And neither will I.”

  The children looked gravely at one another. They had no doubt that these “friends” S.Q. spoke of were actually spies—and that this very afternoon Mr. Curtain would be using his Whisperer to extract valuable secrets from the advisers that his spies were bringing to him. And afterward he could simply sweep away their memories of that unpleasant experience, and no one would be the wiser.

  “Reynie,” said Kate, “I still don’t understand why Mr. Curtain needs us.”

  “Oh! That part is more complicated,” S.Q. said. “Even I have trouble understanding it. But it comes down to other people—foolish, wicked people—trying to ruin Mr. Curtain’s chances. He’s been forced to use some unusual methods to clear up this situation. He only has one weakness, really, and Mr. Benedict has information that would help him get rid of it—but Mr. Benedict has been corrupted and is unwilling to help—so Mr. Curtain has had to involve you. I’m
not sure why, but the important thing is that it will all work out fine if you just do as he says.”

  “Constance,” said Reynie. “I wonder if S.Q. really, truly believes that.”

  S.Q.’s face clouded at this. For a moment he stood frozen, his eyes darting quickly this way and that as if seeking answers—or comfort—in the corners of the room. “I have to go,” he said abruptly, and hurried to the door. “Garrotte will wonder what’s taking me so long.”

  Reynie, forgetting himself, almost called out after him. And then S.Q. was out the door, and they all heard the turning of the lock.

  Time was growing short. By this afternoon, Mr. Curtain might be too powerful for anyone to have any chance of stopping him. Everything now seemed to depend on Constance’s ability to send her thoughts, clearly and accurately, across an unknown number of miles, into the mind of Mr. Benedict. It was no surprise that she was feeling the pressure. She had once thwarted the Whisperer itself, but that fight had called for her straightforward, stubborn resistance; her courage and obstinance had saved the day. This time was different, the task far more complex.

  Never had Constance worked so hard or for so long. Minutes passed, and then an hour, and still she worked. And all it seemed she was doing was lying on the floor with her eyes squeezed tightly closed. In reality, her friends knew, she was sending out her thoughts again and again, then “listening” carefully for any kind of response. Reynie, Kate, and Sticky maintained perfect silence, breathing as softly as they could and trying hard (in Sticky’s case, extremely hard) not even to scratch their itches or stretch their legs. They knew that Constance’s ability to concentrate was of the utmost importance, that their fate, and indeed the fate of everyone they held dear, depended on Constance’s success.

  Thus it was not a little disconcerting when Constance began to snore.

  “Constance!” they cried, alarmed. “Constance! Wake up!”

  Constance sat up with a start, then scowled and rubbed her eyes. “What? What is it, what’s wrong?” Lowering her fists, she noticed their stricken looks and said, “Oh. I guess I fell asleep…”