The Prisoner's Dilemma (38 page)

“Very well. The beginning is this: My brother’s spies deceived your top advisers—the group of experts you conveniently summoned to Stonetown, Mr. Gaines—and were taking them to meet my brother at the prison, where he intended to use his Whisperer to extract top-secret information from them. When we learned of this, my associates and I intercepted their vehicle, and Milligan and two of his sentries apprehended the spies, all of which I believe you know already. And when I informed your advisers of my brother’s plot, they agreed it would be preferable for them to exit the vehicle and seek shelter beneath a highway overpass.

“Extreme haste was necessary in order to save the children, for if the van did not arrive on time, I believed my brother would grow suspicious and move to another secret location. Therefore, although Milligan sent instructions for several more agents to follow after us, we could not wait for them to organize their team. Our plan was for Milligan and his sentries to infiltrate the prison and bring the children back to the van. The rest of us were to wait at the van in our disguises (I’ve ne-glected to mention our disguises, but I assure you we looked quite dashing) pretending to be sentries ourselves—and thus, we hoped, staving off any reckless attacks on the part of the Ten Men.

“Unfortunately things went awry, and when Milligan did not communicate with us (his radio had been broken), Moocho and Ms. Plugg decided to go in after him. They managed to get to the roof with the intention of scouting the area, but McCracken arrived at the same time, and a struggle ensued. Eventually Milligan intervened and secured them inside the elevator for their own protection, but his conflict with McCracken culminated in a fall from the roof into the courtyard. I believe this explains the broken bones.”

Ms. Argent nodded without looking up from her clipboard. She was frantically taking notes. Mr. Gaines was studying Mr. Benedict with narrowed eyes, as if he suspected trickery and was intent upon discovering it.

“Now then,” Mr. Benedict continued, “during this time Milligan’s sentries were engaged with another Ten Man, but they, too, were defeated—shocked unconscious—at which point Rhonda and Number Two thought it necessary to enter the fray. I was still asleep at this time, but I believe it was Number Two who hit the Ten Man with the fake ambulance, am I right, Number Two?”

“It would be more precise to say that he hit
me,
” said Number Two in a satisfied tone. “He was pursuing me at full tilt when I applied the brakes. Rhonda took advantage of his discomposure by securing him with a chain from his briefcase.”

“He was terribly annoyed,” Rhonda put in.

“What of the other Ten Men?” Mr. Gaines pressed. “Your report stated that Milligan’s agents rounded up a ‘baker’s half-dozen,’ which we took to mean seven, since that number corresponds to our own information. I must admonish you, Benedict—it’s highly irregular and inappropriate language for an official report.”

“So you did receive my report!” Mr. Benedict said, then scratching his head with a puzzled expression he asked, “Why, then, have you asked all these questions? I’m certain I’ve already addressed them.”

“You’ve addressed almost nothing!” said Mr. Gaines indignantly. “For one thing, you hardly mention the children in the report, and in your so-called ‘narrative’ just now, you’ve omitted their role entirely.”

Mr. Benedict raised an eyebrow. “The children were kidnapped and held hostage, Mr. Gaines. That was their role in this affair. There is little to discuss. Indeed, now that I know you’ve received my report, I see no point in continuing this conversation.”

“The point,” Mr. Gaines cried, “is that you’ve left out important facts!
How
did you know about Curtain’s plot, Benedict? How did you know about his spies? How did you know he was at the prison? And, for the last time,
what happened to the Whisperer?
”

“You seem to have something in mind already,” said Mr. Benedict. “Tell me, Mr. Gaines, what do
you
think happened to the Whisperer?”

Mr. Gaines leaped to his feet. “I’ll tell you what I think! I think you sabotaged it, Benedict! It didn’t simply ‘malfunction,’ as your report states—you purposely sabotaged it!”

“But Mr. Gaines, if I had sabotaged the Whisperer, wouldn’t I have done so while it was still in my possession? Yet it was obviously functioning when my brother stole it. Otherwise he wouldn’t have arranged to bring your advisers to the prison. He couldn’t possibly hope to get away with his plan without using the Whisperer, now could he?”

Mr. Gaines stomped his foot. “You’re playing tricks, Benedict! You keep evading my questions! Did you or did you not?—”

“Excuse me,” said Mr. Benedict, for just then a telephone rang. The ring was muffled, but it clearly came from somewhere in the study. Mr. Benedict lifted a stack of papers and looked beneath it, then opened the top drawer of his desk. He frowned.

“I think it’s in the bottom drawer,” Rhonda murmured.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Benedict, retrieving the telephone. (He lifted a finger to indicate he would be with Mr. Gaines in a moment.) “Hello, this is Nicholas Benedict. Yes… certainly… oh no, not at all… yes, he’s here with me now.” Mr. Benedict held out the telephone. “For you, Mr. Gaines. It seems you’re being removed from your post.”

Mr. Gaines blanched, opened and closed his mouth a few times, then reluctantly took the telephone. After listening a moment, he sat down again. And for some time he continued to listen, occasionally muttering dejected replies.

Meanwhile Mr. Benedict laced his fingers together and turned to address Ms. Argent, who seemed uncertain what to do. “Never fear, Ms. Argent. The official reason for Mr. Gaines’s dismissal is his filing of an erroneous report, the one concerning the smoldering wreckage my brother’s men deposited in this house. That report wrongly suggested, as you know, that the Whisperer had been destroyed, and that I was somehow responsible. The evidence has since repudiated this suggestion, and supports your own report, in which you expressed a conviction that I was telling the truth. Thank you for that confidence, by the way. Also, allow me to offer you my congratulations—you’re about to be promoted.”

Ms. Argent’s eyebrows shot up. “Promoted?”

“Indeed. Apparently you’re being given full responsibility for this case.”

By the time Mr. Gaines finished his telephone conversation, Ms. Argent was sitting up straight in her seat, her shoulders squared with new confidence and a determined, eager look in her eyes. Mr. Gaines handed her the telephone without quite looking at her.

“I’ve been told to leave at once,” Mr. Gaines mumbled, staring at his feet.

“Well, if you must,” Mr. Benedict said. “Rhonda will see you out. Would you like an aspirin or glass of water first? You look unwell.”

“No… thank you,” muttered Mr. Gaines with a faint nod, and with Rhonda gripping his elbow he shuffled out the door.

“Dismissal seems to suit him,” Number Two observed. “He’s milder and more polite, at any rate.”

Ms. Argent spoke on the telephone only for a minute, and was in Mr. Benedict’s study only a few minutes more. She was closing the case immediately, she said; any relevant paperwork would be delivered to Mr. Benedict to sign at his convenience. “I’ll draw the papers up myself,” she concluded. “I don’t believe you’ll find anything objectionable in them.”

“Thank you, Ms. Argent,” said Mr. Benedict, shaking her hand. “And now for more joyful matters. Our friend Moocho has prepared tea and cookies for a small celebration, if you’d care to join us.”

“I’d be delighted!” Ms. Argent exclaimed, and for the first time anyone could remember, she smiled. “What is the celebration for?”

Mr. Benedict pursed his lips. “That’s a reasonable question, Ms. Argent, but I’m afraid… Now, which is it today, Number Two? We’ve had so many lately, I forget. Last week we celebrated the Whisperer’s demise, and yesterday we celebrated Milligan’s retirement from secret agent work—he means to spend more time with his daughter, Ms. Argent, and to do so in one piece. But what is the occasion
today,
Number Two, do you remember?”

“For shame, Mr. Benedict!” scolded Number Two in a shocked tone. “We’re celebrating the discovery of the papers!”

“I was only joking,” said Mr. Benedict, laughing. (Number Two blinked at him, obviously baffled.) “You see, Ms. Argent, we’ve finally located the documents that will allow me to officially adopt Constance. It’s truly a wonderful occasion!”

“Why, that’s marvelous, Mr. Benedict! Allow
me
to congratulate
you
!”

“Thank you, thank you,” said Mr. Benedict warmly, once again shaking her hand. “You know your way to the dining room, don’t you? Number Two and I will be along in a moment.”

As soon as Ms. Argent had gone out, Mr. Benedict turned toward the wall behind him and said, “I thought we agreed there would be no more eavesdropping, children.”

Number Two gasped indignantly and rapped on the wall with her knuckles. “Honestly, children! How rude!”

After a brief silence, three muffled, contrite voices said they were sorry.

“I never agreed to any such thing!” protested a fourth. “Also, Mr. Benedict, I know perfectly well you made that joke just to get my goat.”

“Well,” said Mr. Benedict with a chuckle. “Perhaps I did.”

Some weeks after the incidents at Third Island Prison, and some days after the eavesdropping incident in Mr. Benedict’s house, the young members of the Mysterious Benedict Society paid their first visit to Ledroptha Curtain. They were accompanied by Mr. Benedict, Rhonda Kazembe, and Number Two, but even so they went reluctantly and with no small amount of misgivings. Only afterward, as they were riding away from the special high-security prison in which Mr. Curtain now resided, did they began to feel good at all about the trip.

“You were right, Mr. Benedict,” Kate said from the back seat of the station wagon. “Things are much more pleasant when you stop being angry. I wonder if Mr. Curtain will ever figure that out.”

Mr. Benedict turned to smile at her. “I’m curious myself, Kate. I do hope to find out eventually. Perhaps after ten or fifteen years of weekly visits, Ledroptha will turn the corner. Who knows? He may even be persuaded to use his talents for good. It would be far more rewarding than using them for nothing.”

“I hope you aren’t expecting
me
to go along on those visits,” Constance grumbled. “He didn’t even accept the cookies! He threw them on the floor! And they were perfectly good cookies!”

“You can decide for yourself whether to accompany me,” Mr. Benedict said. “You certainly needn’t feel obligated. He isn’t
your
brother, after all—though it’s true he’ll soon be your uncle. In any case, you’ll be welcome to join me whenever you wish. That’s true for all of you, I should add.”

“Well, it
was
good to see S.Q. again,” Reynie said. “And I suppose he’ll be there often. Did you hear him say he’s been visiting every day, and that yesterday Mr. Curtain looked at him once without growling?”

“That’s progress, I guess,” said Sticky, blinking exaggeratedly. He had just been prescribed contact lenses and was still getting used to them. His eyes constantly felt as if they had something in them (which, of course, they did) and without his glasses, his face felt as bald as his head.

For a while they talked about the Ten Men, Mr. Pressius, and Mr. Bane, and all the other figures involved with Mr. Curtain who had been taken into custody at last. And then, as they skirted Stonetown Harbor, they discussed Mr. Benedict’s new project—he was studying his brother’s tidal turbines with the aim of replicating them for the benefit of other cities. It was one of many projects he had planned now that Mr. Curtain and the Whisperer no longer occupied all his time and energy.

“Speaking of time and energy,” Constance said. “I’ve been wondering something, Mr. Benedict. Why didn’t you just disable the Whisperer right away? I mean, once you learned it was going to be taken from you, why did you spend all that time in the basement programming it to go kaput
later
?”

Mr. Benedict hesitated a split second before saying, “To protect myself, Constance. Mr. Bane had private orders to check up on me—and on the Whisperer in particular—every day until the hour appointed for its removal. If he discovered it was no longer functioning… well, the situation at that time was delicate, and I might have been arrested for destroying government property.”

These remarks were followed by an uncomfortable silence. At least, it was uncomfortable for Reynie, who sensed that some things had gone unspoken, and that the adults were in secret conflict over it. He detected Number Two’s look of disapproval (though she tried to conceal it) as well as Rhonda’s impulse, barely checked, to add to what Mr. Benedict had said.

“You did it for
me
!” Constance cried suddenly. “But why would you try to hide that?”

“Oh, there was no reason to go into it,” Mr. Benedict said breezily. “It’s true I didn’t wish to disable the Whisperer until we’d had a chance to recover your memories. And then again, if I had been arrested, all the questions surrounding your adoption would only have grown more complicated. But Constance, my dear,” he went on quickly when she began to ask another question, “you really must stop reading our minds without permission. Not only is it impolite, it is unwise. Think of all the surprise parties you’ll ruin.”