The Mysterious Benedict Society Page 29

  Sticky took a breath. “He’s right. Sorry about that.”

  “That’s okay,” said Constance, though everyone noticed she didn’t apologize herself.

  Kate was still watching the Recruiter. Exasperated, she said, “Why won’t that man leave? Doesn’t he know we have a secret message to receive?”

  “Maybe he does,” Reynie said with misgiving, “and is waiting to see it.”

  Sticky rubbed his head in agitation. “Do you really think so? You think we’ve been found out? They’re spying on us now?”

  “I don’t know, but something seems extremely fishy about him standing in the shadows all alone. Recruiters are never alone — they’re always in pairs. And he obviously doesn’t want to be spotted. In fact, from this angle, we’re about the only ones who could see him down. . . . Wait a minute.”

  “You think he wants us to see him, don’t you?” Kate said, raising her spyglass again. “He really is looking this way! Just standing there not moving. And here’s something weird I didn’t notice before — his hair is wet, but his clothes are dry. What do you think he’s up to?”

  Reynie thought he knew. “Does he remind you of anybody, Kate?”

  “Does he remind me . . . ? Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t see it!” She rapped her forehead with her knuckles. “It’s Milligan!”

  “Milligan’s here?” Sticky cried, unable to contain his excitement.

  Reynie grinned. “That’s what they meant by ‘Know Thine Enemy.’ And that’s why they didn’t respond to our second message — they had to make sure we looked for him. Sticky, let’s send a message that says, ‘Enemy Known.’”

  Sticky sent the message.

  No sooner had he done so than the light in the woods began flashing a message with extreme rapidity: Go at once. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

  The children leaped to their feat, their hearts racing. What in the world? Had they been found out? The boys threw on their shoes, Kate retrieved her rope from the ceiling, and Constance climbed onto her back. Sticky took one last glance out the window — “It’s still flashing ‘Hurry!’” — and the children flew from the room, down the darkened corridor, and out into the night.

  They had stared out their window at night enough to know where the darkest shadows lay, and it was to the darkest shadows they kept. Avoiding the plaza, where they would be terribly exposed, they bolted quick as cats along the bottom of the hill by the dormitory, dashed across a stretch of crumbling shale, then made straight for the water. With a final scramble down a rocky incline, they came to the island shore. If they kept low they would not be easily seen; the incline would shield them from view of the Institute. Keeping low, then, and stepping carefully on the rocky shore, the children made their way toward the bridge.

  It had stopped raining, but the night remained cold and windy. Before the children had gone half the distance to the bridge, the wind began to carry a strong, spicy scent to their noses. The odor of a familiar cologne. They stopped and looked around, seeing nothing. Then a shadow detached itself from the rocky incline and took on the general form — if not the exact appearance — of Milligan. He certainly smelled like a Recruiter, Reynie thought, but for some reason he seemed un-Recruiter-like. He was dressed in a fine suit; he wore watches on both wrists; and his hair, though quite wet as Kate had mentioned, was perfectly combed. So what was it?

  It was the smile, Reynie realized, or rather the lack of one. He’d never been near a Recruiter who wasn’t smiling, and certainly not one who looked inconsolably sad.

  “I’m sorry not to have fetched you myself,” Milligan said, “but this was the safer course. A Recruiter on the shore alone may or may not draw suspicion, but a Recruiter in the student dormitory most certainly would.”

  “What’s going on, Milligan?” Kate asked.

  “I’m to take you away,” Milligan said.

  The children were stunned.

  “Away?” Reynie repeated. “You mean off the island?”

  Milligan produced four black cloaks — no one saw from where — and held them out. “Put these on and draw them tight. They’ll help conceal you. If we run into trouble, stay close and don’t worry. I’ll die before I let harm come to any of you.”

  “Don’t worry?” Sticky said. “Don’t worry? You’re talking about dying and we’re not to worry? What’s happening, Milligan?”

  “There’s little time for explanation, Sticky. I can get you to the mainland, but we must make our way to the other side of the island, and it will be slow going.”

  “But why are we going?” Kate said.

  “Your mission is completed.”

  Reynie felt an enormous pressure lift from his shoulders. Completed! That meant he wouldn’t be tested anymore! No more worrying about failing everyone. He could leave the island without ever facing the Whisperer again. Yes, it was time to go: Just thinking of the Whisperer filled him with longing, even made him want to stay. . . .

  “Completed?” Kate said. She seemed suspicious. “Does that mean Mr. Benedict has a plan now? He thinks he can stop Mr. Curtain?”

  “You mustn’t worry about that, Kate,” said Milligan. “Please put the cloak on.”

  Kate tossed the cloak onto the ground. “You didn’t answer my question. Does Mr. Benedict think he can stop Mr. Curtain or not?”

  Milligan frowned. “It doesn’t concern you anymore, Kate. The Improvement is much too close. Mr. Benedict wants you away from here, where you can be safe.”

  “I’m not budging until I get an answer,” Kate said firmly. “Can Mr. Benedict stop the Improvement or not? Tell us the truth!”

  The other children were holding the cloaks in their hands, glancing back and forth from Kate to Milligan.

  Milligan looked away over the water. He seemed extremely reluctant to answer. Finally he sighed. “No, children. We have no way to stop it. You’ll have to go into hiding — we all will. We’ll need to keep moving, keep ahead of the Recruiters . . . but Mr. Benedict believes he can keep you safe, and you have my word that I’ll do all I can to protect you. Please, try not to worry. Mr. Benedict will never give up. That much I can assure you. He will work tirelessly, and perhaps in time he can find a way to counteract Mr. Curtain’s messages — to clear all of our minds.”

  Kate was having none of it. “What about Constance?” she demanded. “What happens to her when Mr. Curtain boosts the power all the way? She’s already hearing voices, you know!”

  Milligan looked sadly at Constance. “I don’t know, child. Nobody does. I’m so sorry — you’re in danger no matter where you go.”

  At this, Constance sat down on a rock and covered her face. She seemed smaller than ever now — so small the harbor breeze might catch her up like a scrap of paper and carry her away, carry her into nowhere.

  It was then Reynie knew they couldn’t leave.

  He shouldn’t have needed Kate to show him, he thought. His desire to save himself had kept him from seeing it at first, but at least he saw it now. He felt it in his bones, and it felt perfectly awful, but there it was: They couldn’t leave. Not just for poor Constance’s sake, but for Mr. Bloomburg, and Milligan, and the Helpers, and all the future people Mr. Curtain intended to brainsweep, not least of whom was dear Miss Perumal herself. Mr. Benedict would never ask it of him, but he must ask it of himself.

  “Milligan, please tell Mr. Benedict thank you,” Reynie said. “But I’m staying.”

  Kate threw her arms around him. “Oh, I hoped you would say that, Reynie! Because I’m staying, too. We have to, don’t we?”

  Sticky seemed ready to cry. “You’re staying? But . . . but . . .” He turned and gazed longingly toward the mainland. He had known they would say this. And he knew they were right.

  “Sticky?” said Kate.

  “I suppose we don’t have much choice,” Sticky said. “We don’t have much chance, either. But we’re the only one Mr. Benedict has got.”

  Milligan tried again, and then again, but the more he pressed the ch
ildren, the more determined they became. Finally he gave up. “In that case, I’m to give you a message from Mr. Benedict.”

  “A message?” Constance said. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

  “Mr. Benedict had a feeling you would choose to stay. ‘That is exactly the kind of children they are,’ he said. He hoped to discourage such a decision and carry you to safety. But if you adamantly refused — and only then — I was to give you the message.”

  “So what is it?” Kate asked.

  “He said to remind you that every single one of you is essential to the success of the team — that now more than ever, you must rely upon one another in all things.” Milligan took the cloaks back from the children. “What’s more,” he said, tucking the cloaks down the legs of his suit pants, “you must also rely upon me. Whatever develops, I’m here to help you. I’m staying on the island. When the time comes, this is the place to contact me.”

  “How do we do that?” Reynie asked.

  Milligan pointed back the way they had come. “Not far from here an old drainage culvert empties into the channel. It’s a good marker. To leave me a message, hide it in a dry spot within twenty paces of the culvert, and stack two stones upon it. I’ll check the place often, and meanwhile I’ll keep an eye on you as best I can.” With that, Milligan turned to go.

  “Wait a minute,” Kate said. “Aren’t you going to wish us luck?”

  “Luck?” Milligan said, without turning around. “I’ve been wishing you luck from the moment I met you. What I wish for you now is a miracle.”

  He disappeared into the darkness. The children stared after him.

  “He thinks we need a miracle,” Sticky said in a bleak voice.

  “Well, optimism has never been his strong suit,” said Kate. “Or haven’t you noticed?”

  A Chess Lesson

  Reynie woke before dawn, shivering and drenched in sweat. For the second night in a row he had dreamed an awful thing. This time, while his friends cried for help from somewhere far away — so far away they sounded like whining mosquitoes — Reynie had been sitting in the Whisperer, incredibly happy and content, grinning in triumph. Why triumph? He tried to remember. He was grinning because . . . Reynie shuddered, remembering: He had decided to join Mr. Curtain.

  Reynie rubbed his temples. Just a dream, he told himself, though reality wasn’t much better.

  Nor did reality improve as the day unfolded. Classes, meals, studytime — all passed in an unpleasant blur as Reynie struggled to come up with a plan. For the first time since he’d set foot on Nomansan Island, he was dreading the meeting of the Mysterious Benedict Society that night. He had no idea what to do. The others were looking to him as a leader, and he could only look back at them as a failure. When the lights finally went out and the girls joined them, Reynie was cringing even before Kate asked her question.

  “Okay, Reynie, what’s the plan?”

  Reynie shook his head. “I . . . don’t have one. I’m sorry. I’ve tried, but my brain just goes round and round. All I can think is that we need to disable the Whisperer, but —”

  “That’s a great plan!” Kate said, excited. “How do we do it?”

  “That’s what I mean,” Reynie said with a shrug. “I don’t see how we can. The computers are below the Whispering Gallery, tucked away beneath two feet of metal and stone. There’s no way. . . .”

  “Mr. Curtain told you that,” Kate pointed out. “Are you sure he was telling the truth? You were blindfolded, remember. How do you know the computers aren’t sitting out in the open and you just couldn’t see them?”

  Reynie was surprised this hadn’t occurred to him. “It’s a good question.” He considered a moment. “But no, as much as he emphasized security, I’m inclined to think he’s telling the truth. Wouldn’t you say, Sticky?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Sticky said.

  “But Mr. Curtain needs some way to get to those computers,” Kate pressed. “To work on them and modify them and all that. Don’t you think?”

  Reynie went from being surprised to being mortified. Shouldn’t he have thought of this? “You’re . . . you’re right, Kate. He must have some way of getting to them. Which means we might be able to get to them, too. After all, we know the door codes now!”

  “It couldn’t hurt to take a peek,” said Kate, standing up. “And the sooner the better. I’ll go by myself — if I get caught, you three might still have a chance to figure something out. Now just tell me how to get there. I know I need to go through the secret entrance behind the Institute Control Building, but then what? Sticky?”

  Sticky felt a powerful urge to make up a lie — to protect the Whisperer. Unbelievable, he thought. He tried again, but again he felt the urge. Only by clenching his fists and speaking through gritted teeth did he manage to tell Kate the truth. “It’s just down a short passage and then up the tower steps.”

  “We need to go with you, though,” Reynie said. “It’s too dangerous alone.”

  Kate waved him off. “I’ll be fine. It’s really a one-girl operation, anyway.”

  You shouldn’t let her go alone, Reynie thought. She ought to have help. But when he opened his mouth to argue, he found nothing would come out. A fog seemed to have rolled into his mind, and on top of that he felt bone-weary. He was tired, very tired, of always trying to do the right thing.

  Kate set her flashlight on the television. “You’ll need this in case I get caught.”

  “If you get caught —,” Constance began.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t give up my friends,” Kate snapped. “Good grief, Constance, it’s the last thing I’d do!”

  In a vexed tone Constance said, “I was going to say, ‘If you get caught, don’t worry. We’ll find some way to save you.’”

  They were all moved by this — especially Constance, who’d said it herself — and Kate patted Constance’s shoulder. “Sorry, Connie girl. Sometimes I forget you’re not always a crab. Now let me take you back to the room. Reynie, Sticky — I’ll let you know what I find out. Wish me luck!”

  They wished her luck, and moments later the girls were gone.

  With hardly a word between them, hardly even a glance, the boys slipped into their beds. They often chatted a minute or two before dropping off to sleep, but now both were afraid of betraying how strongly the Whisperer was affecting them.

  Betray, Reynie thought. It was an ugly word, an awful thought. But as often happens with awful thoughts, he could not stop thinking it. Why hadn’t he argued with Kate? He should have insisted he accompany her. Why hadn’t he? Was it the broadcasts fogging his mind? Or was it that part of him didn’t want to stop Mr. Curtain?

  Reynie pressed his fists into his eyes. In his mind he began composing a letter.

  Miss Perumal,

  Would you ever have thought I might choose a lie for the sake of my own happiness? The Whisperer’s version of happiness is an illusion — it doesn’t take away your fears, it only lies to you about them, makes you temporarily believe you don’t have them. And I know it’s a lie, but what a powerful one! Maybe I’m not who I always thought myself to be. Maybe I’m the sort of person who will do anything to hear what I want to believe. . . .

  Reynie was crumbling, on the brink of despair. Mr. Benedict had expected him to be a leader to his friends, to be smart enough to devise a plan, to be brave. But he was no kind of leader at all, he knew that now, certainly not brave, and Mr. Benedict felt very far away indeed. More and more, Mr. Curtain seemed like the real man, and Mr. Benedict like a memory from a dream. And Miss Perumal, the only person who always treated him kindly, had become an imaginary reader to whom he wrote imaginary letters.

  What has happened to you? he thought. He’d never expected doing the right thing to be so hard. But it was. Too hard for him, anyway. He was the wrong person for this task, the wrong person in the wrong place.

  Reynie squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry. But that only made him see the Whisperer all the more clearly. How was h
e supposed to resist the Whisperer when it was the one thing that offered relief? What he needed was help — some encouragement, some guidance, anything to bolster his resolve. The others all looked to him. Who was he supposed to look to?

  It had to be Mr. Benedict, Reynie thought. If Mr. Benedict couldn’t help him, then he was beyond help.

  Reynie climbed down and went to the window. He gazed out into the dark night. Kate was off somewhere risking her neck. Sticky was murmuring in his sleep, having troubled dreams. And Constance’s dreams could be no less troubled — she had more to worry about than anyone.

  Reynie would send one message, one message only. He had never been superstitious, but he decided now that if he received no response to help him, he would give up. Just give up and take an easier path. He wouldn’t have to try to be some kind of hero, wouldn’t have to fail — and soon it would be too late to matter. There would be nothing he could do, no point in trying. It would be out of his hands.

  Just thinking about it was so enticing Reynie almost didn’t send the message. But then, squeezing his lips tight in determination, he signaled the words before he could change his mind: Whisperer too strong. Please advise. — RM

  Reynie waited at the window, his heart hammering. He felt his entire future, indeed his entire character, depended upon the next few moments. Send me something, he thought. Please just send me . . . just send me anything.

  He waited. Minutes crawled by. Why must they take so long? Perhaps they had nothing to offer him. Perhaps they were racking their brains for anything to say other than “good luck.” Or perhaps they weren’t even watching — perhaps the Recruiters had found them. Reynie couldn’t know the reason, but the reason hardly mattered. What mattered was the empty night.

  “I can’t believe this is it,” Reynie thought, with the strangest mixture of despair and relief.

  But this was it. It was all over.

  He was just turning from the window when he saw a distant flash, a pinprick of light among the trees on the mainland shore. Someone, at last, was signaling a response. Reynie heard his pulse pounding in his ears. He held his breath until the message was completed.