Take the Reason Prisoner Page 7
guards, or the people behind the counter, and then startedscrambling across the counter. In a moment they were so mixed up withour kitchen personnel that the guards didn't dare do any moreshooting. And just as suddenly as it had started, they were gone.Except for me and two guards, everyone else in the mess hall waseither dead or dying, or one of the drugged men."
* * * * *
Bennington lit a cigarette and wished that he had one of Ferguson'sstout 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 thekitchen 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 didseem to have a purpose, a definite sense of direction in the way theyleft 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, butwe can't do it from here, dammit."
"Tell me who he is and we'll get him for you," a voice whispered fromthe floor.
Though educated in different professions, both Bennington andThornberry had been well trained in the value of not showingastonishment. Out of the corner of his eyes, the general could see auniformed State trooper lying flat on the floor. The head lifted,Bennington recognized Trooper Forester.
"This is your party," the corporal continued. "How does theentertainment shape up?"
"We've got to keep the customers happy," the general said, "by makingthem think that the main show is just about to start."
"While you figure out some way to take them before they start throwingrocks at your supporting cast. Right? Well, Life Can Be Beautiful andI wish it would start right now. What can I do?"
"Get in touch with the governors. All of them. New York andPennsylvania and the rest. Tell them that when they talk to me, theyhave to pull a good legitimate stall. Maybe they can refer to the lawsthey operate under. They might have to get an opinion from theirattorneys 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 thebreak."
From the floor, a low laugh. "I had a year at the Fort Benning Schoolfor Infantry Boys, sir. Oh, how about this Judkins?"
Thornberry took over with an exceedingly accurate description of thewanted Judkins and his probable habits.
The corporal gave a low appreciative whistle. "With that we'll havehim in a couple of hours, sir."
"I'll let a man outside this door on his belly like I am. By the way,we _are_ in touch with the army. We're set to guide them in. Goodluck, sir."
Bennington and Thornberry looked at each other.
We'll need more than luck, Bennington thought.
* * * * *
In the middle of his next cigarette, Bennington heard a familiar voicespeaking outside the office door.
"When can I start shooting, Jim?"
"Mossback!"
"In person." A low laugh. "Wish the men you taught cover andconcealment could take a look at you now.
"Here's the situation, Jim. I'm deployed in a looping L around theAdministration Building. Your prisoners in One and Two have beenmoved out under guard into the open space beside Number Four where mycopters dropped.
"The short end of my L touches the moat near your house. And by theway, Ferguson is all right. We relieved him. He says three prisonerstried to get out, but he thinks he got one of the three.
"The long end of my L goes just far enough toward Barracks One so thatwe won't be shooting each other."
"For a change, I didn't hear your copters come in, Mossback."
Another laugh, touched with pride. "Jim, for once, the Army is aheadof the civilian population. Our new jobs are even quieter than thenight mail delivery for the suburbs. I put a squad on the roof of thebuilding."
"_You did?_"
"No hopes, Jim. Doesn't mean a thing. I've had the report. But listen,I've got a civilian here who may be able to help."
With Mosby's words Bennington had felt his hopes rise, fall, and riseagain. "Tell him to start talking."
"Slater, sir."
Bennington choked down his first words.
"I know what you were going to say, sir, and I deserve it, but thistime I think I can help."
"How did you find out about this?"
"I was in a squad car on a drunk and disorderly charge. The story cameover their radio. They brought me here."
"All right, go ahead."
"General Mosby was smart, sir. He brought along some sleep gas."
"So? Not surprising." Bennington knew sleep gas was standardprecaution for riot control.
"The mess hall is the center of the compound. Because of that, in itscellar are the furnaces which heat the other buildings."
"What does that mean?"
"You have a forced-draft, hot-air system here, sir--"
The telephone rang, the intercom spoke. "Warden, those governors areon the line."
"Our only chance," Bennington said, "and now is the time. They'll allbe listening to this phone call over there."
He hoped the man with the rifle trained on him was very susceptible tosleep gas.
* * * * *
"Jim, you haven't lost your touch with a pistol." General Mosbypointed to his meaning with the toe of his boot. "But you'll need anew carpet in your office here."
Bennington glanced at the three dead men, the broken window, and addedthem to his mental list of things to be done. But he put them amongthe minor problems; he had enough major ones already.
The news services were besieging The Cage. A couple of ambitiousphotographers had been caught attempting to cross the moat. Thecivilian dead in the mess hall had to be identified and the next ofkin notified. His entire staff was disorganized: imprisoned ashostages, knocked out along with the rioters by sleep-gas, brusquelyrevived by Mosby's aid-men--Well, he might be able to get some workout of them tomorrow.
The rioters still slept, but what to do about those supposedlyconditioned men when the gas wore off ... a new hypno-tech, fromsomewhere, by tomorrow morning.
_Add six governors who think I have nothing to do but tell them everydetail_, he thought grimly.
"You had better eat, sir."
Ferguson, with a gigantic sandwich and a mug of coffee.
Bennington abruptly realized that he had not eaten since noon. Then,in the middle of his second bite, he was aware of still anotherproblem.
He swallowed hastily. "Mossback, did you bring the entire battalion?Are you completely set up for independent battalion operation?"
"Yes, of course. Why?"
"I've got a compound full of prisoners and a staff to feed."
Mosby turned to his aide, but the captain has already started for thedoor. Mosby swung back to Bennington, rubbed his hands togethergleefully. "Better and better. Just as if we had captured and had touse an enemy installation. Prisoners to guard, dead men and a coupleof wounded to take care of.... Jim, I can't thank you enough."
"You're welcome, but how long can I keep you?"
Mosby sobered. Like all good general officers, he was acutelysensitive to the political significance of his actions.
"We can get away with what we did tonight, Jim," he answered slowly."But well, you know how the states have become the past couple ofyears, since they started forming regional groups.
"Wait a minute! You got prisoners from six states, don't you?"
"Yes."
"You can have the whole command. And if the AG's office can't dig upat least six good precedents for my decision, we can always let slipthe story of the hula girl and the hot cigarette butt. I may do that,anyhow. I always did think he went too far to get good pictures."
"I may need more," Bennington said soberly.
> "What you need, you get, Jim, but why?"
"Two of them got away."
"Yes?" Mosby was interested, but not especially so.
"One was a very good escape artist--guy call Dalton. _Harry Dalton._"
"Um, yes," Mosby interrupted, "I recall that name. If I were hiscommanding officer, I would call him 'Always AWOL'."
"The other was a fairly young man named Clarens."
* * * * *
A silence grew. At last Mosby spoke, "I've heard of him, too. How didthey get through the road blocks?"
"We