The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Riddle of Ages, page 19
Reynie looked over at Kate. “How are you holding up, champ?”
“Great,” Kate replied, flashing him a strained smile. “This is great. Beautiful day for a drive.”
Reynie noted her clenched jaw, the white-knuckled grip she had on the steering wheel. No one in the world suffered so much as Kate Wetherall from not moving as fast as humanly possible whenever the occasion allowed. Driving at this moderate speed was requiring a heroic effort on her part.
In the back seat, Sticky had taken out a couple of newspapers and was flipping through them, page after page. He had to keep apologizing to Tai for bumping him with his elbow, and Tai kept giggling and saying, “That’s okay, just don’t do it again!” Then giggling harder every time Sticky “accidentally” did it again.
“Here’s an interesting news item,” Sticky announced. “Tai, did Constance tell you about the Salamander?”
“She didn’t have to,” Tai said. “I already know what a salamander is. It’s an insect!”
“Well, no. If you’re thinking of the animal, a salamander is actually a lizard-like amphibian.”
“Okay!” Tai said agreeably. “Now I know that!”
“Right. Good. But the Salamander I was referring to is an armored amphibious vehicle—sort of a big metal boat with tank treads, so that it can go on both water and land. I know,” Sticky said, noting Tai’s delighted expression, “it’s fun to think about. Except this particular one belonged to Mr. Curtain and the Ten Men. It wasn’t so great when they had it.”
Tai frowned and shook his head.
“What’s the news item, George?” Reynie called from the front seat. “I mean, I have a feeling.”
“Me too,” said Kate.
“It’s pretty obvious,” Constance said from behind her hair. Those were the first words she’d spoken in the car.
Sticky informed Tai that after Mr. Curtain and the Ten Men had been captured, the government had decided to install the Salamander in the playground area of Stonetown’s largest park. Every day children climbed into it, pretended to drive it, hid beneath it during games of hide-and-seek, and attacked it with sticks.
“That sounds so fun!” Tai cried.
“Unfortunately,” Sticky said, pointing at the newspaper article, “according to this, the Salamander was stolen from the playground yesterday by a couple of men in business suits. No one was hurt in the process, although a number of children were seen to be crying.”
“Ten Men! They’re so mean!”
There was a general murmur of agreement in the car.
“They must have had an extra set of keys and some spare parts in that vault Mr. Curtain mentioned,” Kate mused.
“The Ten Men probably stole the Salamander,” Sticky explained to Tai, “in order to get to the island if they try to break Mr. Curtain out. The shoals in the bay are treacherous, and the currents are tricky, but with the Salamander they could manage the crossing fairly easily.”
“Roger that,” Tai said. He scratched his head. “What island do you mean?”
Sticky raised his eyebrows. “Wait… you don’t know?”
Tai shrugged. “How should I know?”
“Well, because—I guess I was thinking, since Constance told you about when we went to the Institute…”
“I didn’t tell him about the prison part,” Constance said with an exasperated sigh. “Why would I tell him that part, George?”
“Which part?” asked Tai, squirming in his seat. “Which part!”
“Should I not have mentioned…?” Sticky wondered aloud.
“Probably too late now,” Kate said.
Tai began chanting, “Which part? Which part? Which part?”
“The part about where Mr. Curtain is imprisoned now,” Reynie called back to him. “Where he and Mr. Benedict are. The place we’re going to have to go to.”
“Go back to,” Constance muttered.
Tai gasped, for now he understood.
The Society was returning to Nomansan Island.
Much had happened in the years since the members of the Society made their fateful trip to Nomansan Island, where they had enrolled as students at the Learning Institute for the Very Enlightened (LIVE, for short) and, as secret agents for Mr. Benedict, foiled Mr. Curtain’s plot to “improve” the world with the help of his horrifying mind-control invention, the Whisperer. In the aftermath of that desperate adventure, the island had been evacuated. Bewildered students were reunited with their families, and those without families—there were many of these—were found good homes. Mr. Benedict, of course, had devoted himself to helping the brainswept Helpers, while several of Mr. Curtain’s former employees—those Executives and Recruiters who hadn’t manage to escape with him—faced varying degrees of justice and therapy.
Nomansan, for its part, became the subject of governmental squabbles. The rocky, hilly, unapproachable island in Stonetown Harbor had belonged to Mr. Curtain, as had the massive stone buildings of the Institute. Thanks to Mr. Benedict and his associates, the Institute’s tidal turbines—yet another of Curtain’s inventions—had eventually been repurposed to provide much of Stonetown with inexpensive electricity. But for a long time the island had remained abandoned, for no one with any government authority could agree on what to do with it.
That is, until Mr. Benedict had begun to apply his considerable powers of persuasion. For many reasons, he argued, his genius brother should not be held in the Citadel along with the Ten Men. The Citadel in Brig City was the most secure facility in the region, and all extremely dangerous criminals were sentenced to incarceration there. Although a breakout had been deemed impossible by the authorities, Mr. Benedict nonetheless convinced them that to keep both the brains and the brawn of Mr. Curtain’s wicked syndicate in the same location—to afford any chance of collaboration and plotting—would be to court disaster.
As it so happened, Mr. Benedict had a perfect solution to offer. Surrounded by water and treacherous shoals, connected to the mainland only by a single narrow bridge, Nomansan Island was already notoriously inaccessible. With certain renovations and additional layers of security—all designed and overseen by Mr. Benedict himself—the Institute could become the most high-security of high-security facilities, and at very little cost. The solution was accepted; the arrangements were made; the work was begun. The Institute was reborn as the Key Enclosure for Enemies of the Public—the KEEP, for short—and although one day it would house a significant number of criminals, its first inmate (and at present its only inmate) was Mr. Ledroptha Curtain.
So it was that Mr. Curtain had become, quite literally, a prisoner in a prison of his own making.
Renovations of the facility were ongoing, but Mr. Curtain’s security suite had been completed right away, for Mr. Benedict had insisted that his brother be removed from the vicinity of the Ten Men as soon as possible. Thus for over a year now, Mr. Benedict’s weekly routine had included many hours overseeing and directing the modifications being implemented at the KEEP—and, during breaks and at the end of his workdays there, visiting his surly twin, often in the agreeable company of S.Q. Pedalian.
“So Mr. Benedict was right!” Tai declared when all this had been explained. “If Mr. Curtain had still been at the Citadel when the Ten Men escaped, they could have taken him with them right then!”
“Fortunately, Mr. Benedict has a gift for predicting problems,” Sticky said. “He may not have been able to prevent all of this mess we’re in, but it certainly could have been worse.”
Tai frowned. “But if the KEEP is so insuccess-able—”
“Inaccessible.”
“—inaccessible,” Tai continued, “then how are we going to give Mr. Benedict the serum he needs? Is he just going to let us in?”
“As for that,” said Reynie from the front, “Mr. Benedict’s security contracts prevented him from telling us much about the facility, but we know he wouldn’t be allowed to just wander around the place right now, not when the Baker’s Dozen are threatening an assault. And Mr. Curtain’s letter confirms that. To remain behind with Mr. Curtain, Mr. Benedict had to be locked into the security suite with his brother; there’s a small protected visitors area with a sofa and a little pantry for Mr. Benedict, and a bathroom and such. Mr. Benedict can’t get out of there unless someone lets him out. So, no, he can’t just open the front door for us. Besides, McCracken will have men posted on the lookout. If we showed up at the bridge gate, we’d be snatched away before we could even announce ourselves.”
“Then, how are we—?”
“And that’s enough questions for right now, Tai!” Kate said cheerfully. “It’s better you don’t know just yet.”
“Well,” said Tai with a shrug, “Constance knows, but she’s trying to keep it from me.”
“I’m trying not to think about it at all,” Constance growled from behind her hair. “For a hundred reasons, but not least because I’m trying to keep her from getting a whiff of it. So stop trying to figure it out, Tai.”
“I’m not trying. It’s like your thoughts are pushing mine down. It makes me notice!”
“How about we give you something else to think about?” Reynie suggested.
Tai brightened. “Okay! Will you tell me stories about your adventures?”
Thus began a long stretch of storytelling, with Reynie, Kate, and Sticky taking turns, freely interrupting each other whenever the occasion suited. They spoke of their travels across the ocean, of their many narrow escapes, of all the clues, puzzles, and riddles they’d solved together. They spoke of their encounters with the Ten Men (downplaying the more frightening aspects and emphasizing their successes). And they spoke of the many projects they’d worked on together in less dangerous times—with special attention paid to the comical mishaps.
“I thought we’d never get the orangutan out of the kitchen!” Reynie was saying, when Tai, who had been giggling nonstop, abruptly lowered his head and fell asleep.
“That’s my cue,” said Constance, who had been silent for the last hour. She leaned her head against the door. “Wake me up when he wakes up. Feel free to keep enjoying story time,” she muttered, and in a moment was fast asleep herself.
Kate, Sticky, and Reynie looked around at one another, all with the same wistful expressions. It had been great fun reminiscing about their times together, and they would have gone on quite a while longer if Tai had stayed awake. But now no one wished to wake him, and in silence they returned to their individual thoughts as the station wagon rolled on.
They drove past a number of small towns, as well as a few large towns that used to be small. In between the towns was endless farm country, field after field of young crops that would grow and grow, eventually be harvested, and finally be replaced with different crops the following season.
Reynie, without meaning to, kept thinking the same things. A town is still a town even if it’s a bigger town. A field is still a field even if the crop is different. Friends are still friends even if their circumstances change. All of those things seemed true, yet at the same time all seemed mysterious. No matter how much you know, he thought, there’s always more that you don’t.
“We’re almost there,” Kate said. She pointed to a sign ahead, unreadable to Reynie until they had drawn a good deal closer: WELCOME TO PEBBLETON.
In the back seat, Tai had awakened and nudged Constance in time for her to read the sign.
“Where is this?” he whispered.
“My dad grew up here,” Constance murmured. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Well, he moved here when he was around my age.”
The day had turned breezy, and on either side of the road young green cornstalks shuddered and swayed. Cloud shadows raced across the fields. Kate drove slowly into the quiet town, turned right at the old train station, and drove slowly out of town again. They went down a winding country road, rounded some wooded hills, and at last came to a handsome old farmhouse. A few vehicles were parked in front of the house, but it was the vehicle behind the house, the one sitting in a cornfield (several rows of which appeared to have been plowed under to accommodate its presence there), that drew everyone’s attention. For it isn’t every day that one sees an airplane in a cornfield, even a modest single-engine airplane like this one. Even rarer, perhaps, is to know that one will soon be boarding that plane and flying off on a dangerous mission.
“Why here?” Constance asked as Kate parked the station wagon. “Why not an airport?”
“Too much communication between airports,” Reynie said. “Too many records of the flights coming and going. Rhonda suggested that this would be the best place.”
Tai squeaked. “Rhonda Kazembe’s here?”
“And Number Two,” said Constance, peering with narrowed eyes at the farmhouse.
Sure enough, just then the front door opened wide and out strode Rhonda and Number Two. They were a sight for sore eyes, and what a sight they were: The slim, tall figure of Number Two, with her yellowish complexion, yellow flight suit, and rusty-red hair, presented a striking contrast with Rhonda’s coal-black skin, and her long, lustrous braids, and—to everyone’s surprise—her bright blue blouse looking as if she’d hidden a cantaloupe beneath it. She laughed and nodded as they all swarmed out of the car and rushed upon her, full of exclamations.
“It’s true, it’s true,” Rhonda said, hugging everyone in turn. “There’s another little scientist on the way. I told you I was going to start a family, didn’t I? Why are you so surprised?”
It was a wonderful discovery on a very trying day, and for a brief spell everyone felt almost as if this were simply a happy reunion and nothing more. Even Number Two, usually so brusque and nervous, kept glancing at Rhonda’s belly, grinning, and kissing Rhonda on the cheek. She had quick hugs and kisses for everyone else, too, of course, except for Tai Li, to whom she cordially extended her hand.
“May I have a hug and a kiss?” Tai asked, looking sadly at her hand.
Number Two looked ready to cry at this. “Of course!” she declared, pulling the little boy close and kissing him on the head.
“I was going to surprise you all with a visit next week, if you can believe it,” Rhonda told them. “Talk about timing! This isn’t exactly the way I was expecting to tell you that I was, well, expecting. Oh, I so wish the circumstances were different.”
“But how is it that you’re here?” Constance asked Number Two. “You were on the ship with everyone else.”
“Oh, well, I thought you might need me, of course,” Number Two said matter-of-factly. “And Milligan had radioed to let me know at which airport he’d landed the plane. So it was only a matter of Captain Noland arranging a rendezvous with a cargo ship, then having myself smuggled into Stonetown in a shipment of bananas (I blended in rather well, as it happened, although the big spiders were a nuisance) and, finally, proceeding in disguise to the airport, where I hot-wired Milligan’s plane—having first engaged the noise-cancellation mechanism—and took off unnoticed in the darkness before dawn. I flew directly to Littleview to refuel, after which I simply sat and awaited word—which I received from Reynie within the hour—and now here I am!”
“That’s all?” Constance said.
Number Two blushed. “Well, I didn’t mean to make a big fuss about it.”
“She’s teasing you,” Rhonda said, squeezing Number Two’s arm.
The farmhouse door opened again, and this time a man emerged. He was advanced in years, probably Mr. Benedict’s age or older, and walked a bit stiffly. It was easy to tell he was a farmer from his jeans and work shirt, tanned arms and face, and baseball cap that bore the words “I’M A FARMER.” Most of his face was obscured by a thick gray beard, but he had kind and intelligent eyes, and a voice to match them.
“John Cole,” he said, introducing himself with handshakes for everyone. “I’m an old friend of Nicholas’s.”
“Your hat says you’re a farmer!” Tai declared.
“Does it now?” said Mr. Cole, whipping the cap off his head to look at it. “Why, so it does!” He scratched his head bemusedly—his hair was a short tangle of gray—then laughed a great, booming laugh and tugged the cap back on. “I actually almost never wear this, but this seemed the right occasion. It was a gift from Nicholas, years ago. His idea of a joke. Requires about three long stories and a leap of the imagination to find it as funny as he does. We’ll save those for another time.”
“Mr. Cole,” said Reynie, “did you really have to destroy part of your crop to help us?”
“Now, listen to me, son,” said Mr. Cole in a serious tone. “You needed an airstrip far away from prying eyes, and now you have one, and that’s all you need to think about. I happen to know all about you, and it’s an honor for me to stand here with young people such as yourselves. Just as it’s going to be an honor to have you at my table—I’m sure you need some food in your bellies as soon as possible. As for Nicholas Benedict, well, what can I say? I would plow my entire crop under and sell the farm, too, if that’s what it took to help him. And that would be an honor, too.”
Mr. Cole was right—they were all hungry—and soon they were gathered at a long table, making a meal of fresh bread, cheese, and garden vegetables. The food was plentiful and delicious, but still Mr. Cole apologized for its simplicity. His wife was the superior cook, he informed them, but she had taken their old border collie to the veterinarian and wouldn’t be back until evening.
“Time is a riddle, is it not?” the farmer mused, returning from the refrigerator with a jar of homemade raspberry jam. “The last time I saw Nicholas, that ancient dog of ours was a puppy. And you know what? I remember that the two of us felt old then! So, what does that make us now?” He laughed and shook his head. “And yet at the same time we both agreed that part of us still felt like the boys we once were—like we hadn’t changed a bit.
“And do you know what Nicholas said? I remember it plainly. He said that he doesn’t believe we become different people as we age. No, he says he believes that we become more people. We’re still the kids we were, but we’re also the people who’ve lived all the different ages since that time. A whole bunch of different people rolled up into one—that’s how Nicholas sees it. And I can’t say that I disagree. How else to explain that sometimes I want to run and jump the way I used to—but can’t anymore—yet at the same time enjoy sitting with a cup of coffee and a newspaper in a way you couldn’t have paid me to do as a boy? Well, it’s a wonder.”
