Take The Reason Prisoner Part 9

"This is Musto," came from the intercom. "I'm boss over here. You've got guts, Bennington, I've read about you. But don't forget, two of my boys have you and the other guy on line down the sights of their rifles. Any sign of something screwy, and you two get it first."

"There has to be mutual trust for any kind of bargaining," Bennington replied. "This is mine, right out where you can see it."

"O.K. Now, first, get that copter off the top of this building."

Musto spoke with the a.s.surance that his order would be obeyed.

"Go to h.e.l.l," said Bennington easily.

"WHAT!"

"That copter above you, and the Army battalion that will be here in a few minutes, are for me what those rifles you have aimed are for you.

You can knock me off, sure. But how long are you going to live to enjoy the thrill?"

"Well, I'll be--" and Musto described his relations.h.i.+p to a female dog.

"I can't confirm or deny your opinion of yourself," Bennington said, and forced himself to chuckle. "Now, let's get down to business. What do you want?"

"Pardons. For all of us. For all crimes."

Bennington whistled. "That's a big order. And in return?"

"Your staff stays alive."

Flatly. There was no question Musto meant what he said.

"That means I'll have to talk with the governors of six states,"

Bennington temporized.

"That's your worry."

The general sighed. "All right, you've got Message Center. Connect this phone with the outside. Remember, this is going to take a while."

"That don't worry us, general. Add up how much time we've got coming due over here. It's all you need and then some."

Bennington lifted the phone on the desk and waited. He could see an irregular flickering, like a cigarette lighter, in the Message Center Room. Then the familiar buzzing sounded in his ears.

Once more he dialed "0". "Operator? This is Warden Bennington of Duncannon Prison. Please arrange, with top priority, a person-to-person conference line with this prison and the governors of Pennsylvania, Delaware, New York, Maryland, New Jersey and Connecticut. Yes, call me, when the connection is completed."

"And don't forget, we'll be listening," came simultaneously from the intercom and the telephone.

"I expect you to," Bennington said promptly and hung up. At the same time, he switched off the intercom.

He leaned back in his chair and, for the first time in years, found himself aware of a long-forgotten feeling. The center of his forehead tingled as if it were being brushed by a silky feather.

He knew the sensation, had felt it before. Someone had a gun on him.

And that someone was a mere thirty yards away.

The general turned his chair toward Thornberry, felt that feather tingle along the nerves of his scalp. The psychologist was sitting stiffly erect, his hands firmly clenched together in his lap.

"Tell me what happened after I left you," Bennington said. He kept a wary eye on his a.s.sistant warden. The man seemed in the civilian equivalent of battle shock.

Thornberry sat at attention, as if he were delivering a formal report.

"The guards lined up the prisoners in columns of twos and marched them to the mess hall. There they split the column. The left half went to the south door, the right half went to the north door. I followed the line to the north door. They seemed to be piled in fast. When most of them were in on my side, I squeezed by the rest and went to the back of the hall. Rayburne and Householder, of course, stayed outside."

Thornberry's hands were slowly unclenching. Telling what happened seemed to relieve his tension.

"Both lines moved quickly, except for the last man in the south line.

I thought he seemed to be dragging deliberately so. And for some reason or the other, all the prisoners--even those at the tables, except the drugged ones, hadn't started eating--watched him. But I could see no reason for alarm.

"I was at the back and the two guards, with their guns, were at each door. There was a counter between the prisoners and the kitchen, and, most important, these men had been conditioned or drugged. Then the one who was dragging got to the coffee urn with his tray."

Thornberry s.h.i.+vered and then slumped in his chair. "It was the most shocking thing I have ever experienced because what happened was against everything that I have ever learned. Those conditioned men in the mess hall went mad. Before the guards could fire more than a couple of shots, all the conditioned ones had thrown their trays at me, at the guards, or the people behind the counter, and then started scrambling across the counter. In a moment they were so mixed up with our kitchen personnel that the guards didn't dare do any more shooting. And just as suddenly as it had started, they were gone.

Except for me and two guards, everyone else in the mess hall was either dead or dying, or one of the drugged men."

Bennington lit a cigarette and wished that he had one of Ferguson's stout drinks.

"Let me get this straight. They threw trays at you and the guards, right? But nothing more. That is, they didn't run toward you?"

"No, first the trays and then directly over the counter into the kitchen and out its two back doors."

"In other words, they knew where they were going."

Thornberry's face showed sharp surprise. "Why, yes, they did. They did seem to have a purpose, a definite sense of direction in the way they left the mess hall."

"For once I must completely agree with one of your statements, Thornberry. As soon as we can, we've got to get hold of Judkins, but we can't do it from here, dammit."

"Tell me who he is and we'll get him for you," a voice whispered from the floor.

Though educated in different professions, both Bennington and Thornberry had been well trained in the value of not showing astonishment. Out of the corner of his eyes, the general could see a uniformed State trooper lying flat on the floor. The head lifted, Bennington recognized Trooper Forester.

"This is your party," the corporal continued. "How does the entertainment shape up?"

"We've got to keep the customers happy," the general said, "by making them think that the main show is just about to start."

"While you figure out some way to take them before they start throwing rocks at your supporting cast. Right? Well, Life Can Be Beautiful and I wish it would start right now. What can I do?"

"Get in touch with the governors. All of them. New York and Pennsylvania and the rest. Tell them that when they talk to me, they have to pull a good legitimate stall. Maybe they can refer to the laws they operate under. They might have to get an opinion from their attorneys general. Anything, as long as it sounds good."

"Can do. Will do. And after that?"

"A good question, Corporal Forester. We'll discuss that after the break."

From the floor, a low laugh. "I had a year at the Fort Benning School for Infantry Boys, sir. Oh, how about this Judkins?"