The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Riddle of Ages, page 13
Sticky grimaced. “Sorry. I mean, it just didn’t work.” He looked down at his plate (where, to his distress, his serving of squash casserole seemed only to have grown).
Kate sighed. “Just once I’d like to report something you didn’t already know.”
“We didn’t know about the ice-cream truck!” Tai said, waving his fork in the air and sending a glop of casserole onto the table near Reynie’s plate.
“Thanks, sport!” Kate said, ruffling Tai’s hair and grinning.
Reynie forked the glop onto his plate and covered it with a napkin. To Kate and Captain Plugg he said, “Constance has tried to guess where the Listener is now, but the Listener seems to have learned from Constance—she knows how to muddy the waters.”
“I think they’re in another warehouse,” Constance said. “But she might be pulling one over on me. If I concentrate right now, for instance, I can see—what? No! No!” Constance flung her fork onto the table and covered her eyes. “No!”
The others were instantly gathered around her as she rocked in her chair.
“What’s the matter, Connie girl?” Kate asked, touching her lightly on the arm. “What’s happening?”
“She’s not just with Crawlings anymore,” Constance said. “There are other Ten Men with them. Crawlings has told her what to do. They know where McCracken and the others are being transferred to.… They’re already there… and she’s… she’s just read the mind of a guard at the security gate.… She’s giving Crawlings the code! No! Stop it!”
Reynie leaped to the radio, intending to send out a warning, but it squawked just as he reached it. Everyone stared at the radio as it squawked again, followed by an agent’s voice: “Mayday! Transfer compromised! I repeat—”
But the agent did not repeat anything. The radio went silent. Everyone looked back at Constance, who was shaking her head furiously. She lowered her hands, her eyes shining with tears. “That man,” she said. “I hate… that man.”
“McCracken,” Tai whispered, and his own eyes filled with tears. He began to tremble. “He’s… he’s hurting people! He’s hurting lots of people!”
Even before Tai finished speaking, Kate had scooped him up. He buried his face in her neck and cried. “Shh,” she whispered. “Shh, it’s okay. They’re going to be okay.”
Constance was wiping her eyes, though she looked even more upset now. “Sorry! I’m so sorry, Tai! I was—I guess I was concentrating on it so much. Too much. Listen, he’s not hurting anyone anymore. He’s going away with Crawlings and the others. The agents… Kate’s right, they’re going to be okay.”
Sticky had put his hand on Constance’s shoulder. “It’s true, Tai. They’ll go to the hospital where Milligan is. They’ll get better there. They’ll… they’ll probably get lollipops, if you want to know the truth.”
His friends all winced. This seemed like much too obvious a ploy to make the little boy feel better.
And yet, after a moment, Tai straightened and wiped at his own eyes. “Will they, really?”
Sticky cleared his throat. “Well, certainly, if they ask for them. If they want lollipops, they will be given lollipops. No doubt about it.”
Tai nodded. Whether he actually believed this or simply wanted to believe it seemed to make no difference. His anxious eyes grew less troubled, and he rested his head on Kate’s shoulder.
“Speaking of treats,” Reynie said, “I believe it’s time for dessert. How would that be?”
Tai nodded again, and everyone sprang into action. Grave looks passed among them in the kitchen, but in the dining room with Tai, as bowls were set out and the ice cream was scooped, all minds focused very diligently on the ice cream.
“You call it the Blab?” Tai asked with a giggle.
“Well, Kate does,” Sticky replied as they descended the stairs. “And she calls the noise-cancellation device the Husher—get it? Because it hushes you.”
“I get it,” Tai said. “And you keep it in the Blab. That’s why we’re going down there first.”
“You catch on quick,” Sticky said.
The little boy had agreed to accompany Sticky to the rooftop patio for the last bit of cleanup. The idea of using the platform again would have been tempting enough, but promises of working in complete silence (“You won’t even be able to hear yourself”) had made the opportunity irresistible.
There was just enough daylight left for them to do the job. No need for lights, then, and the Husher would ensure that they couldn’t be heard from the street. Sticky poked his head into Reynie’s study on the way to the roof. Sticky nodded, the others nodded back, and he withdrew.
At first Reynie thought that Sticky and Tai had taken the stairs, for there was none of the platform’s telltale rattling and clanking down the hall. But then his mind registered several small details—a subtle change in air pressure, among other things—and he knew they had taken the platform with the Husher already engaged.
“We need to be ready,” Reynie said.
“I am ready,” Constance said, though what she really looked ready for was an exhausted collapse into bed.
Kate, holding Madge on one glove-protected hand and stroking her feathers soothingly, felt no need to say that she was always ready. Although she did think it.
Down in the courtyard, Captain Plugg was pretending to pull up weeds. Or rather, she actually was pulling up weeds, but not at any great pace. Pulling weeds was her excuse to be in the courtyard when the Ten Men arrived—the better to casually greet them at the gate and avoid their coming to the door.
And the Ten Men would arrive. Of this there could be no doubt. McCracken knew Kate was in town now, so of course he would send someone to check Mr. Benedict’s house. Perhaps he would even come again himself.
“He’s got to be nursing a whopping headache from the tranquilizer serum, though,” Kate said quietly, picking up the conversation where they’d left off a minute before, “and he probably thinks I wouldn’t risk coming here, anyway. I doubt he’ll waste his precious time. Though you’re right, Reynie—I’m sure he’ll send someone, just to be absolutely certain. And if he sends Crawlings with the Listener…”
This was their greatest concern, that the Listener would be dispatched to the premises. If that happened, their chances of avoiding detection would suddenly grow dismal.
“He doesn’t like moving her around the city, though,” Reynie pointed out. “He prefers to keep her hidden away. I don’t think he’ll risk sending her here, not when he thinks you probably aren’t here anyway.”
They all nodded, all hoping this was true, all fearing it wasn’t.
Their answer came soon enough. Twilight was settling in, the light growing dim and bluish, with the occasional firefly blinking here and there over the courtyard, when the radio squawked. A sentry informed them that a familiar luxury car was heading into the neighborhood. It wasn’t bright enough outside to determine who was in the vehicle, however. Reynie thanked the sentry and shut off the radio, whose squawks were so loud they might be heard from the courtyard. He also turned off the overhead light. His fingers were slippery on the switches, he discovered; his hands were damp with perspiration.
Reynie went to join Kate at the window. Constance, for her part, remained seated at the desk.
Captain Plugg had pulled the last of the weeds and was raking them into a basket when the car glided up to the curb. The car doors opened simultaneously. Out of them, to everyone’s relief, stepped the Scaredy Katz. Each man was holding his head in precisely the same way; each had precisely the same pained expression. They approached the gate.
Captain Plugg went to meet them. She carried the rake in such a way that suggested she would rake the both of them into oblivion if necessary.
Reynie whispered, “They drew the short straws, I guess.”
“No,” Kate whispered, “I’ll bet McCracken’s punishing them for getting taken down by little old me.”
“Shut,” Constance whispered, “up.”
She was scowling with concentration, her eyes closed, her fingertips pressed to her temples. She had told them that the Listener, her concentration noticeably deteriorated, was every bit as exhausted as Constance herself was. But Constance was still throwing as much mental garbage at her as she could possibly muster. For the Listener surely knew that the Katz brothers were coming here, and if she perceived that Constance was aware of their presence now, then the jig was up—the Listener would know that Constance was hiding out in Mr. Benedict’s house.
That was why Constance avoided looking out the window. She was concentrating on real and imagined scenes, anything other than what was happening right now. And yet at the same time she was reserving a fraction of her attention—a quiet corner—for the present moment. Just in case.
The Katz brothers were arguing with Captain Plugg, who had raised her voice. She was speaking so loudly, in fact, that the Ten Men were wincing—not from fear, but rather because the loud noise worsened their headaches. Nonetheless, they kept glancing at the house, methodically checking all the windows. One of the men, Reynie noticed, had placed his hand atop the fence near the gate, among the roses growing there. He leaned forward to snap angrily at Captain Plugg, who snapped back and rattled her rake at him, and then he jerked his hand away, evidently having pricked himself on a thorn. His brother, meanwhile, made as if to push through the gate, and as Captain Plugg shifted sideways to block his entry, the first man placed his hand on top of the fence again, more carefully this time. He seemed to have no more words for the guard, however, and at length he and his brother retreated with mocking bows, got into their car, and drove away.
“They’re gone,” Reynie told Constance.
Constance made no reply except to lower her head to the desk with a soft groan.
There was a tap at the door. Reynie opened it to find Sticky and Tai in the hallway. He gestured them into the study and turned on the light. Constance groaned again and did not look up. Kate told Sticky and Tai what had happened.
“The question is whether they actually believed Captain Plugg,” Kate said. “Maybe they just want her to think they believe her. Maybe they’re planning on coming back.”
“I think there’s a way we can find out,” Reynie said. “One of them kept putting his hand on top of the fence, even though he got pricked by a rose thorn. Why would he do that? My guess is he was hiding some kind of sensor there.”
“I’m on it,” Sticky said, heading for the computer station in his office. Presently his voice came over the intercom: “You were right, Reynie. I’ve found a signal from a camera. Getting a fix on what it’s transmitting.” There was a pause. “Okay, he’s good. The angle’s perfect. I can tell it’s tiny and probably impossible to see among the roses, but it has a clear shot of the front door. I’m actually looking at Captain Plugg right now. She’s coming inside.”
They could all hear the sound of the front door closing below.
“No surprise, there’s a second signal,” Sticky’s voice reported. “And… yep. They’ve placed one covering the back door, too.”
“Roger that!” Tai shouted. Kate and Reynie flinched, Constance groaned, and Tai looked around, beaming.
“Nice job,” Kate said.
“The good news,” Reynie said when Sticky rejoined them, “is that they clearly don’t think Kate’s here. They’ve hidden the cameras in case she shows up.”
Tai tugged on Reynie’s sleeve. “Is the bad news that they’ll know if we leave? Because they can see the doors?”
Reynie tapped his nose and pointed at Tai, who tapped his own nose and pointed back.
The sound of Captain Plugg’s heavy tread on the stairs announced her approach. She entered the study, looking cautiously pleased. “I wondered why it was so easy to persuade them to leave,” she said after they had told her about the cameras. “Honestly, they didn’t seem to be trying very hard. They just kept saying that they needed to come inside and talk with me in private, and I kept telling them to dream on. I could see that they were studying the house, of course, but more than anything they seemed preoccupied with their headaches. They looked like they just wanted to go to bed.”
“They did just want to go to bed,” Constance growled, at last looking up with her bloodshot eyes. “And they were preoccupied by their headaches. I made sure of that. And now I just want to go to bed, and I’m preoccupied with my headache.”
“Constance nudged them!” Tai cried in delight. “And it gave her a headache, too!”
Reynie squeezed Tai’s shoulder and said very softly, “You’re right. I guess we should use our quiet voices for her, shouldn’t we?”
Tai nodded, tapping his nose.
“The Listener fell asleep,” Constance muttered. “Right in the middle of everything, I could feel her just sort of vanish. I’m sure she couldn’t help it. Anyway, with her out of the picture, I decided not to take any chances. I immediately focused on the Scaredy Katz, and, yeah, I nudged them.”
“But you couldn’t even see them,” Kate said (using her quiet voice). “I know they were close by, but don’t you normally have to see people or hear them talking to do your thing?”
“I felt too exhausted to get up,” Constance said, “so I just sort of piggybacked on what you and Reynie were seeing. You were both concentrating very hard. I know that’s against the rules, but give me a break, will you?”
“Break granted,” Reynie affirmed. “And with thanks. Now you need to get yourself to bed, Constance. If the Listener’s asleep, this is your opportunity, right?”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Constance said, dragging herself to her feet. “And you should come with me, Tai. If you wake up in the night, you have to wake me up right away, understand? No being awake without me.”
“Roger that,” Tai said very quietly. He glanced around for approving looks. Everybody gave him one.
Everybody also yawned. The mere thought of sleep had reminded them how exhausted they were, and it was quickly agreed that they would all go to bed, too. With the Listener desperately needing her sleep, it seemed unlikely that the Baker’s Dozen would be making a move tonight. Nonetheless, Captain Plugg would monitor her radio until one of the Society members rose in the early morning, and then the guard would turn in.
“Let’s hope for good rest,” Reynie said. “Something tells me tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
“Aren’t all days the same length?” asked Tai.
“Not tomorrow, kid,” Kate said, giving him a wink. “Tomorrow we save the world. That always takes longer.”
The day, which would indeed be a long one—among the longest in Reynie’s life—began early, before the sun had risen. Reynie woke to a cacophony of bird noises outside, not the usual predawn birdsong but a clamor he recognized from years of sharing a residence with a peregrine falcon. Her Majesty the Queen had just stooped upon a bird she intended as breakfast, and all the other birds in the area were putting up a ruckus of protest and alarm. No doubt many were shocked to discover that such a thing could happen.
Reynie, for his part, sat up in bed with a strange awareness of misplaced anxiety. How many mornings had he awakened recently with a feeling of dread, worried that he might be about to make a bad decision, that something valuable was in the process of being broken, and that he was partly responsible for the breaking? That same feeling settled upon him this morning in his first groggy moments of consciousness. Then he remembered the more urgent threat, the extremely dangerous one, and came fully awake with a jolt. He climbed out of bed at once.
It is remarkable what a good night of sleep can do, however. Reynie had been too tired to realize how tired he truly was. In particular, he’d been unaware of how much his weariness had been affecting his thinking. He had gone to sleep trying, without luck, both to deduce the meaning of Mr. Benedict’s message and to identify something he felt he had overlooked, something that nagged at him in a way that important things always did. He had tugged at that mental knot for only a few minutes before succumbing to sleep. Now, though, as he hurriedly changed out of his pajamas, Reynie was struck by how clearheaded he felt.
He was nervous, and his mind was busy, but he felt ready. After checking in with the faithful Captain Plugg (who had nothing to report and went gratefully to bed still wearing her uniform), Reynie went upstairs to the kitchen. The house was quiet and mostly dark, and Reynie moved as silently as any person could do in an old building with so many creaking floorboards, for he had long since learned where all of them were, and he could avoid the worst ones. Although—he reminded himself as he walked into the dark kitchen—there was actually a new creaking board near the pantry, a recent discovery that had made a greater impression on him than one might expect.
Even houses change, Reynie had thought, and it had caused an odd flutter in his stomach. Weren’t houses supposed to represent stability? Sure, the Society had changed a lot of things about Mr. Benedict’s house on purpose, but some things, Reynie realized, they had changed simply by being there. A thousand footsteps on that particular board, and now it creaked.
Every member of the Society, too, bore a thousand hidden footsteps: effects of a different kind, many impossible to have predicted.
Reynie flipped on the kitchen light—and stifled a scream. Kate stood at the pantry, one leg raised behind her as if she were in the middle of a hopscotch game. She stood that way, Reynie realized, precisely to avoid stepping on that creaking board.
“Sorry to scare you,” said Kate, turning from the pantry with a canister of oatmeal. (She looked far more amused than sorry, Reynie noted without surprise.) “Sometimes I just prefer the darkness.”
“I know you do,” Reynie said, putting the kettle on for tea.
“Are you trying to suggest that you know me well, Reynard Muldoon?”
“It’s possible I’ve picked up a thing or two,” Reynie said.
They smiled at each other and set about making breakfast in the way they had done many times before. Reynie handled the tea and toast, and Kate—like a hummingbird zipping from flower to flower—moved about the kitchen handling everything else. They spoke little, only inquired about each other’s sleep (good on both counts) and confirmed that nothing terrible had happened in the night. Then the bread popped out of the toaster, and Reynie realized what he’d been trying to think of.
