The Prisoner's Dilemma (24 page)

“Like Kate did,” Sticky said, his voice thin with strain. He hitched Constance higher on his back. “And we did.”

“The first time we just got lucky,” Reynie said. “We could use the secret passage. This time we just have to hope we have enough of a head start.”

However badly they needed that head start, it was hard work running on crowded sidewalks and trying to keep together, and they were soon forced to stop to catch their breath. Hands on his knees, Reynie looked up at the street signs. They were only four blocks from the square.

Beside him, Sticky was just about to set Constance down when she cried, “I see Crawlings and Garrotte!”

Reynie straightened abruptly, and the blood rushed to his head. Desperately trying to blink away stars, he followed Constance’s gaze. In a moment he spotted the Ten Men on the opposite corner, just about to step off the curb into the crush of pedestrians. They were laughing and talking, swinging their briefcases as if headed out to do something fun after a productive day at work. He glanced quickly around.

“This way!” he said, making for a subway station entrance a dozen paces away, and Sticky, fairly stumbling, followed close behind.

“Did they see us?” Reynie said as he hurried down the steps.

“I don’t think so,” said Constance, who had been looking over her shoulder.

It was very dark, and Reynie stopped at the first landing, unsure of his footing. His eyes were still adjusting to the gloom. Sticky dropped Constance beside him and fell gasping to his knees. Below them, far away from the shifting glare of a thousand headlights, the steps descended into even deeper darkness. Together they stared fearfully up at the open entrance. Seven or eight people filed past, jostling and bumping one another—and then Crawlings and Garrotte appeared.

Reynie knew they would be almost impossible to see down here, yet he suddenly felt so sure of being spotted he could almost hear the Ten Men’s voices echoing down to the landing, “Oh, chickies! Here chickies!” But the men didn’t even glance in their direction, and an instant later had passed out of view.

Reynie fell back against the wall. Sticky lowered his head to the floor. For a few moments the only sound they made was heavy breathing, and their only feeling was one of intense relief.

Then Constance said, “Well, what do we do now? They’re ahead of us!”

“Oh no,” Sticky groaned, hauling himself to his feet again. “I hadn’t got that far yet. What
do
we do?”

“The next subway stop is the square,” Reynie said. He peered down the steps into the blackness. “And there’s no crowd down there. We might even move faster than we could on the streets.”

“You mean run through a pitch-black subway tunnel?” Constance said. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m starting to feel that way,” said Reynie. He had perceived a faint blue glow at the bottom of the steps, and without waiting for more objections he hurried down toward it. The tunnel was their only hope, but only if they moved now—and as fast as they could.

“Come on,” Sticky said, grabbing Constance’s hand.

The blue light turned out to be a subway system employee carrying an emergency glow stick. He was a pale, skinny man in a white uniform, and in the weird light he looked ghastly and strange, an apparition drifting up from the abyss.

“Subway’s closed, kids,” he said as they approached. “I’m the last one out. What do you want down here anyway? Don’t you realize there’s a blackout? Subways don’t run in blackouts, you know.”

“Can we have your glow stick?” asked Reynie quickly. “We’re scared and we don’t have flashlights.”

The man seemed torn. He turned and looked back into the blackness out of which he had just emerged. “There’s a whole box of them on the platform. I was giving them out to the passengers. But to tell you the truth, it gives me the willies down there in the dark, and if you don’t mind—”

“Thanks!” Reynie said, and to the man’s astonishment he snatched the glow stick and hurried down into the darkness with Sticky and Constance at his heels.

“What? Oh, okay, uh, I’ll—I’ll wait for you here!” the man called after them. “Or actually—just, I’ll just be up there at the top of the steps. Where it isn’t so dark…”

They paid him no attention. In moments they had ducked under the turnstiles and reached the station platform, where they found the box of glow sticks and helped themselves. Sticky lowered himself onto the tracks, and Reynie lowered Constance down to him, his arms trembling so much he almost dropped her.

“I
really
don’t want to be doing this,” said Constance, staring into the blackness.

“Just keep talking,” said Sticky. “Maybe that’ll scare the rats away.”

Their passage through the black tunnel was frightening indeed, with their glow sticks casting faint, strange shadows, and noises of unknown origin sounding in the dark. And when, not far along the tracks, they came suddenly upon the abandoned train—like some monstrous creature lurking in the dark—they all cried out at once. They collected themselves and dashed past it, past car after empty car, expecting at any moment for someone or something to peer out at them through a window—or worse, to leap out at them. But they got beyond it, and indeed all the way to Ferund Square station, without incident.

“We made good time,” Reynie puffed as they mounted the station steps. “We might just have a chance.”

They had wheezed out their plan as they ran, and when they reached the street entrance they lost no time. Reynie knelt down, and Sticky helped Constance onto his shoulders. He stood up shakily, with Sticky supporting him, until Constance had a fairly decent view of the square. “See anything?” he gasped. “Or, you know, sense anything?”

Constance was looking all around. “I don’t. But it’s so crowded…”

“We’ll have to chance it,” said Reynie, already letting her down again.

Into the square they plunged, weaving through people on the sidewalks, constantly looking over their shoulders, laboriously making their way through the crush to the Pittfall Building. The observation deck, three stories up, could be seen but dimly, a wide, windowed outcropping whose outline was barely evident against the starry sky. It had been designed to offer the best view of the historic square—high enough to position the observer above street-level obstacles, low enough to eliminate the need for coin-operated telescopes. But it might as well have been specifically designed as a trap. Because it was enclosed, there could be no shouted warnings to Kate. Nor would any cries for help be heard from inside it.

At last, their hearts pounding, their lungs and legs burning, Reynie, Constance, and Sticky reached the front door of the Pittfall Building. It was the sort of door that could be locked only electronically, and since it had not been locked when the power went out (the building usually remained open until late) it was conveniently unlocked now.

Conveniently, Reynie thought, if you were setting a trap for a certain headstrong girl. Upon passing through this door, in the weak glow of emergency lighting, Kate would have seen what they saw now: a hand-printed sign at the security desk that said “Observation Deck Closed Until Further Notice” and another that said “Gone For Batteries—Back In 15 Minutes.” Kate would have been thrilled, Reynie realized—no need to sneak past the security guard or concoct some false explanation for needing access to the deck. She could just bolt up the stairs and get situated with her spyglass.

Reynie headed for the stairs, propelled by urgency yet trembling with fatigue and a terrible mounting dread. They were exhausted, there was no time to rest, and the instant they reached Kate they must turn right around and run out again. Could they possibly make it? Would it be better to try to hide somewhere in the building? No, that would be faster, but then the Ten Men could simply block the exits and make a thorough floor-by-floor search. They had to get out.

“I… can’t… keep… up,” Constance huffed from several steps below. She was struggling valiantly, using both her hands and feet to climb, but was hardly moving at all.

“I’ll stay with her,” Sticky said, waving Reynie on. “We’ll wait for you here. Hurry!”

Reynie didn’t waste breath answering—he had none to spare—but pressed on as quickly as he could. He had reached the second-floor landing now, only twenty more steps to go. It felt like a hundred, but at last he stood on the third-floor landing, staring at the door to the observation deck, its sign illuminated by a buzzing emergency bulb. He gathered himself—pushing away the frightening thought that he might be too late—and flung the door open. Instantly a flashlight shone into his eyes.

“Reynie!” whispered Kate’s voice. “What are you doing here?”

“A trap,” Reynie gasped. “We have to—”

He was interrupted by the sound of shouting in the stairwell. A scream, a scuffling sound, a man’s voice crying, “She bit me! The naughty little duck bit me!” And another man laughing and saying, “Proper caution, Crawlings! Will you never learn? Come, Sharpe, give me a hand with Mr. Spectacles. Garrotte, you take this…”

Kate had lowered her flashlight. Reynie could see her round eyes. There was no further explanation necessary. He shook his head helplessly, his heart in his throat. They had been so close.

“Hide this!” Kate hissed, reaching into her bucket. She handed him her rope, still neatly coiled, and as he hurriedly tucked it under his shirt she slipped something else into his front pocket. Her Swiss Army knife. Then she leaped back, shouting, “What’s going on, Reynie? Who’s out there?”

An enormous figure appeared in the doorway. The floor groaned beneath his weight.

“Oh dear,” said McCracken. “Oh dear, oh dear. Were you not expecting us?”

“Tell me,” said McCracken, setting down his briefcase, “did you leave a note telling your mommies and daddies where you were going? I assume you didn’t have permission to come here alone.”

“What do
you
think?” said Kate, irritated that she couldn’t think of a more cutting reply.

McCracken tapped two fingers together. “What do I think? I think we had better leave soon. But first let us get reacquainted.”

The other Ten Men sauntered in with their captives. Constance was still struggling, her teeth clicking audibly as she tried to bite Sharpe and Garrotte, each of whom had a hand under one of her arms. Her feet, several inches off the floor, kicked futilely this way and that as if she were dancing. Sticky, for his part, walked sullenly along under his own power. Behind him came Crawlings with a furious expression and sucking his thumb (which Constance had bitten), so that he looked like a giant toddler on the verge of a tantrum. The smell of expensive cologne hung heavy in the air.

“Constance, my dear,” said McCracken, “if you don’t stop trying to bite my associates I’m afraid we’ll have to start your nap time.” Constance glowered at him and stopped struggling. McCracken broke into a toothy grin. “Ah, much better!”

“I see you’ve had some dental work done,” said Kate pointedly, for she remembered (with no small satisfaction) that McCracken had lost teeth in his last encounter with Milligan.

“Ever the cheeky one,” said McCracken, still grinning. He flicked one of his front teeth with his tongue; it popped out and fell neatly into his hand. Squeezing it between two fingers, McCracken stepped close to show Kate the tiny sharp serrations now protruding from its edges. He held it close to her face, but Kate did not shy away. She lifted an eyebrow, doing her best to appear unimpressed.

McCracken nodded and stopped squeezing the tooth. “Black-market dentistry,” he intoned as the sharp points retracted. “You’d be surprised. Now, my dear, I need you to set down your bucket, turn out your pockets, and hand over your shoes. You mustn’t think I’ve forgotten what a clever girl you are.”

To resist would be pointless—not to mention painful—and Kate did as she was told. McCracken inspected her shoes and tossed them back to her. “Better give us that belt, too,” he said, warily eyeing the buckle. Finally satisfied, he handed Kate’s bucket and belt to Crawlings and said, “Very well, darlings, let’s move along.”

“Where are we going?” Reynie demanded. He was trying to formulate a plan. If he could goad McCracken into giving him some information…

McCracken looked at him intently. “Goodness, you seem frightened, Reynie! Are you worried about what terrible things we’ll do?” He bent forward and spoke in a hushed, singsong tone, as if offering instructions to a much younger child. “What you need to worry about, Reynie, is not
what
terrible things we’ll do, but
when
we’ll
do
them. And the answer, if you’re very good, is ‘perhaps never.’ But if you’re the least bit naughty, then the answer is ‘right now.’ Do you understand?”

Reynie swallowed and nodded. The other Ten Men laughed.

“Mr. Curtain prefers that you be awake, alert, and of reasonably sound mind when we deliver you,” McCracken said. “But we have permission to wipe your little noses with our handkerchiefs should circumstances require it.”

Reynie was at a loss for what to do then, and the Ten Men were so brisk and efficient (not to mention intimidating) that the children had been hustled downstairs, out a backdoor, and into a waiting van before anyone could think of a productive way to resist. Then the doors were slammed shut, and it was too late.