Take the Reason Prisoner Page 5

was sound-conditioned, Bennington did not know thatthe riot had started until the door slammed open and three men jammedthe doorway, all three trying to get in at once.

  Acting by reflex, Bennington shot the man in the center. The othertwo, entangled with the dead man, also tumbled to the floor.

  The general promptly shot twice more.

  Then he paused to think.

  One glance told him his instinctive action had been correct. The manin the center had been Pietro Musto, carrying a carving knife. Theother two ... yes, they had been in the group that had arrived thisafternoon.

  But what was wrong? He had watched these men being conditioned....

  A burst from a submachine gun echoed through the open door.

  First thought: _They've got the armory!_

  Second thought: _This is no place for me!_

  He picked up his desk chair and smashed the picture window looking outover the moat on the west side. Then he smashed with the chair againto remove the fragments that stuck up like jagged knives.

  A quick leap over the sill into the darkness, a twenty-foot sprint,and he was able to throw himself down on the steep slope that fivefeet farther on became the moat.

  Just in time, he discovered. When he peered through the sparse grass,he could see two men in his office. One had a shotgun, the other arifle. The man with the rifle lifted it to his shoulder and fired intothe ceiling.

  Most of the staff, all but six of the guards up there, Benningtonthought.

  Resting his right hand against his left arm, he took careful aim andfired. The man with the rifle staggered and fell. The one with theshotgun dropped completely out of sight.

  Bennington heard someone shouting hoarsely about the lights.

  The first floor blacked out.

  He took a deep breath, held it, slowly released it. Then he was ableto think.

  How this had started was for the moment unimportant. First came theproblem of regaining control.

  To regain control, he needed help. To get help he had to reach thenearest visiphone.

  Glass tinkled to his right. Almost too late Bennington remembered howhis white hair could reflect the lights from the second-story windows.He rolled rapidly to his left and a little more down the slope.

  The dew-wet grass chilled his face and hands. His long legs felt thewater of the moat creep up past his knees.

  A semiautomatic rifle with carefully timed shots searched the areawhere he had been. "Good man," he noted professionally and repliedwith a pistol shot. He rolled again back to where he had been, butstill further down the slope.

  The rifle spoke copper-coated syllables once more, with a sequence ofshots that started where he had fired from. But this time the sequencehunted further to both right and left.

  This could go on all night.

  He _had_ to get to a visiphone. Yet he couldn't leave here. The momenthe did, the convicts has a wide-open road to freedom.

  The man with the rifle was good, Bennington noted again. His shotswere grass-clippers that could have substituted for a lawn mower.

  Then a submachine gun chuckled crisply from Bennington's left. Therewas a howl of pain. The rifle stopped looking for the general.

  Bennington began crawling along the edge of the moat. That submachinegun had spoken for his side of the argument and he had a big need forthe author who had used its words so well. He stopped crawling.Someone was coming toward him.

  "General?"

  "Ferguson!"

  "Yes, sir. You all right?"

  "Yes. And you?"

  "Fine, sir, but it was close for a minute."

  "Tell me."

  "I was coming in the door to Message Center, going to put my gun backin the armory, then get your supper from the kitchen. I heard someonescreeching down the hall and then a couple of shots. The clerk on dutygot up and started toward the hall door. But it banged open in hisface and someone emptied a pistol into him. I let loose a burst andjumped back. The guy with the pistol came through the door, stillhollering. I gave him a belly-full, then waited a moment to see ifanyone was behind him. Nobody was. I remembered hearing a windowsmash, so I looked around this way for you."

  "You've got how much ammo?"

  "About half a clip, sir."

  "We need help. I know they've got Message Centre, but--"

  "The private line from the house, sir?"

  "Right. And you'll stay here."

  Ferguson understood. "No one will get out this way, sir, but I'll gowith you part way so I can cover the door out of Message Center, too."

  No more words. Not even a handshake.

  These two had worked together, fought together, before. Speechesweren't needed.

  * * * * *

  Bennington's house was dark and, because it was still new to him, hebarked his shins twice before he found the visiphone. To save time andavoid any lights, he first cut out the visual circuit and then hesimply dialed "0".

  "Operator," a lilting voice replied.

  "Connect me with the nearest State Police Barracks, please. Warden ofDuncannon Prison speaking."

  "One moment, please." Not a change in the lilt.

  Silence; then, "State Police Barracks, Private Endrews speaking."

  "Warden Bennington, Duncannon Prison. We're having trouble here and Ineed help. About thirty prisoners have seized control of ourAdministration Building, which includes the armory."

  "Riot? Duncannon? Impossible! Those men are con--"

  "It may be impossible, but it's happening. Now, how much help can yougive me?"

  "Let me check, sir." The phone was silent, except for heavy breathingfrom Private Endrews. "Here it is, sir. In less than fifteen minutes,three cars--that's six men and they've got full equipment in thosecars--will be at The Cage."

  "That all?"

  "No, sir. In twenty minutes I'll have the riot-control copter over theprison. It's got floodlights on its belly and the pilot knows theprison."

  "Good. What else?"

  "For at least two hours, that's all, sir. Standard Operating Procedurecalls for the immediate establishment of a cordon at fixed points,roving patrols on the countryside west of you and blocks on allrailroads, bus and air terminals--"

  "Someone will be in the parking lot. Give me what you have and get itmoving!"

  It wouldn't be enough. Half of the permanent staff as hostages, enoughweapons and ammo in the armory to fight a war....

  He dialed again. "Operator? I want the Commanding General atIndiantown Gap. Now!"

  "One moment; sir." The lilt was gone from the voice.

  She had been listening in, the general decided.

  "Duty Officer, Indiantown Gap. Major Smith speaking."

  "Smith? Connect me immediately with General Mosby!"

  "I'm sorry, but the general is--"

  "Major, get off the line and get Mossback on before--"

  There was a click, another telephone rang three times, then a calmvoice, "General Mosby".

  "Bennington here!"

  "Jim! You old--"

  "No time, Mossback, I need help. I'm down at Duncannon Prison. Got ariot on my hands, two gateguards plus myself and Ferguson to handleit. The State police can give me only another six men, in the nexttwo hours."

  "One moment, Jim. Duty Officer! The First Battalion, riot-armed, onthe field and in their copters in twenty minutes!"

  "Second and Third Battalions fully-armed, with all support sections,ready to roll in forty minutes!"

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Give me the whole picture, Jim. And by the way, I've visited theprison."

  Bennington gave the details in less than a minute, then added,"Thanks, Mossback."

  While he had been talking, Bennington had also been listening. FromMosby's end of the line came clearly that most reassuring sound, thegreat bull-speakers thundering out of orders that meant for a fewmoments rapid running and confusion, then in a few moments more theresolution of the confusion into disciplined movement.

 
Knowing Mosby, Bennington also knew that the copters would be loadedin twenty minutes.

  "Thanks again," he said.

  "Thank you, Jim. I've been moaning for a chance to check our training.See you in half an hour."

  "You'll see me--"

  "Sure. Don't think I'd miss a real shootin' match, do you? Hang ontill then." The line was dead.

  _Hang on till then._

  Easier said than done.

  * * * * *

  Well, step number one, survey the situation and the terrain.

  A glance at his watch startled him. Though his combat experience hadtaught him how time could compress and stretch, the fact that onlyseven minutes ago he had been considering supper in his office came asa shock.

  He took no chances but left his