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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30972-h.zip b/30972-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4cdc846 --- /dev/null +++ b/30972-h.zip diff --git a/30972-h/30972-h.htm b/30972-h/30972-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..41aab50 --- /dev/null +++ b/30972-h/30972-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3544 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Take the Reason Prisoner, by John J. Mcguire + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; background-color: #FFFFFF; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 30%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.img1 {border:solid 1px; } + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-right: 0.25em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Take the Reason Prisoner, by John Joseph McGuire + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Take the Reason Prisoner + +Author: John Joseph McGuire + +Illustrator: George Schelling + +Release Date: January 15, 2010 [EBook #30972] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TAKE THE REASON PRISONER *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction November 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 369px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/cover.jpg" width="369" height="491" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="400" height="130" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<h1>TAKE THE REASON PRISONER</h1> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="blockquot"> +No process is perfect ...<br /> +but some men always feel unalterably convinced<br /> +that their system is the Be all and End all. Psychology now,<br /> +should make prisons absolutely escape-proof,<br /> +and cure all aberrations....<br /> +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h2>JOHN J. McGUIRE</h2> + +<p> </p> + +<h3>Illustrated by George Schelling</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p>Major general (Ret.) James J. Bennington had both professional +admiration and personal distaste for the way the politicians +maneuvered him.</p> + +<p>The party celebrating his arrival as the new warden of Duncannon +Processing Prison had begun to mellow. As in any group of men with a +common interest, the conversation and jokes centered on that interest. The +representatives and senators of the six states which sent criminals to +Duncannon, holding glasses more suited to Martini-drinking elephants than +human beings, naturally turned their attention to the vagaries in the +business of being and remaining elected.</p> + +<p>Senator Giles from Pennsylvania and Representative Culpepper of +Connecticut accomplished the maneuver. Together they smoothly cut the +general out of the group comparing the present tax structure to rape, +past the group lamenting the heavy penalties in the latest +conflict-of-interest law, into a comparatively quiet corner.</p> + +<p>"Well general, no need to tell you that we are all as happy to have +you here as Dr. Thornberry seemed to be," Senator Giles said.</p> + +<p>Bennington nodded politely, though he had not been much impressed by +the lean, high-voiced man who had greeted him with such open delight. +Dr. Thornberry had expressed too much burbling joy when he had been +relieved of his administrative job as Acting Warden, had been +overly-happy about resuming his normal duties as Assistant Warden and +Chief Psychologist.</p> + +<p>"I'm very much interested in some of your ideas on reducing the +overhead here, general," Culpepper said, "although I'm also wondering +if they may not cost my good friend, the senator, some votes in his +district."</p> + +<p>"That will be no real worry," Giles said thoughtfully, "if I can show +the changes are real economies. Today that's the way to gain votes and +I'd come up with more than I'd lose."</p> + +<p>"But your turnover," Culpepper said. "I can see that in a regular +prison, where they have the men a long time, it's easy to train them +in kitchen work and supply. But here.... How long do you plan to keep +them, general?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try to get back to the original purpose in setting up Duncannon +as quickly as possible," Bennington said. "Dr. Thornberry agreed that +five days is the maximum time his sections need to complete the +analysis of a prisoner and decide what prison he should go to. After +that, we will have sound reason to start charging the individual +states for each day we have to keep their consignment."</p> + +<p>"Complicated," Giles said. "I mean, the bookkeeping."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I'll either hold the next top-sergeant that comes through +here or borrow one from Carlisle or Indiantown Gap. He can set up a +sort of morning-report system, and when the states learn they will +have to pay us to handle the men <i>they</i> should be feeding, we will +soon see ... well, there won't be six hundred and fifty men, women and +children stuffed into barracks designed to hold three hundred and +fifty."</p> + +<p>Bennington had spoken calmly and he lifted his glass casually. But +over the rim of his drink he caught the eye of another old soldier.</p> + +<p>Ferguson, who had been a private when Bennington had been only a +captain in Korea, eased himself to within earshot.</p> + +<p>The two had risen in rank and grade together. Thirty-three years had +taught them the value of an unobtrusive witness to the general's +conversations.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"But with personnel changing so rapidly—frankly, I didn't understand +your reference to a replo-depot," Culpepper confessed.</p> + +<p>"A replo-depot," Bennington said, calling deep on his reserve of +patience, "is the place to which all persons called up for military +service must go first. There, they go through a process similar to the +one we use here: a complete physical, a complete mental, a complete +skill-testing, all used to decide where the man himself can best be +used—or imprisoned. Then they are forwarded to that assignment."</p> + +<p>Culpepper nodded, but he still seemed puzzled.</p> + +<p>"You could waste an awful lot of men on just handling the food and +equipment that such a command needs, unless you used the men passing +through," Bennington went on. "But, if you have a small permanent +cadre who know what to do and how to do it, they can handle large +groups of untrained men.</p> + +<p>"And you'll not only save money, you'll give these men something to do +while they are here," he added.</p> + +<p>When Giles and Culpepper exchanged glances, Bennington was +immediately and almost totally certain that his explanation had not +been needed.</p> + +<p>"Seems to me you could economize even more if a part of that permanent +cadre were trusties," Giles said.</p> + +<p>"I would think so," Culpepper said, "but of course you would have to +pick the men very carefully."</p> + +<p>Giles approved of that idea. "Responsible men, not hardened criminals. +Men who once held a prominent position in their communities, but made +a mistake and now would sincerely like a chance to redeem themselves."</p> + +<p>"Take the example of Mike Rooney," Culpepper said. "A tragic case, +that. He's lost a good government job and with it all his pension and +retirement rights. And how? By simply having an accident with a +government helicopter when he was using it on a combination of +government and personal business.</p> + +<p>"Rooney—" Giles said thoughtfully. "Yes, I know him very well. +Wonderful chap, nice family of growing boys. Now there is the sort of +man who would make you a good trusty, general. I would recommend him +very highly."</p> + +<p>"I feel the same way," Culpepper said.</p> + +<p>Bennington signaled to Ferguson, used the excuse of freshening his +drink to cover his thoughts. Rooney ... Rooney ... oh, yes, the +Internal Revenue official with the odd ideas about whose tax should be +collected and whose should be neglected ... and coming here for +processing on a minor charge.</p> + +<p>The old run-around, Bennington decided: Put the man in jail on a minor +charge until the hullabaloo over his major crime no longer made big +headlines.</p> + +<p>If word had gotten down to the State level that Rooney was to be taken +care of, the former tax collector must be sitting on a lot of hot +stuff.</p> + +<p>The right phrase here will buy a lot of co-operation, Bennington told +himself, remembering the overcrowded barracks, among the long list of +things needing a change before this place operated properly.</p> + +<p>On a short-term basis, the answer was clear....</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, I have no doubt that anyone you recommend for special +consideration would, in some way, deserve that consideration," he +said. "I am further aware that one hand washes another and that if I +expect some favors from you, I should expect to do some for you."</p> + +<p>He held down his temper while the politicians exchanged glances of +mutual congratulation.</p> + +<p>"But," he said, "if I establish a trusty system, it will be an +honorable one. I would be seen in hell first before I would allow any +man to use the setup as a place to hide in comfort during a short rap +when he should be sweating out a long one.</p> + +<p>"Your friend Rooney will get exactly what he deserves. And not a thing +more."</p> + +<p>Giles had slowly turned a turkey purple, but his voice remained calm +and even. "I think you stated the proposition fairly, general. You +will get from us the same amount of consideration that you give us."</p> + +<p>The party had been over for an hour, but Ferguson was still at work on +the debris. And his old sergeant had, Bennington estimated out of long +experience with cleaning up after stag parties, at least another +hour's work ahead of him.</p> + +<p>The general returned to staring out the big picture window overlooking +the prison compound.</p> + +<p><i>Something was wrong....</i></p> + +<p>It wasn't Giles and Culpepper. A call to a friend in the Bureau of +Internal Revenue, a few words to each of the six governors who had +concurred in his appointment, either or both of these would take care +of those gentlemen, very thoroughly.</p> + +<p><i>Something else was wrong....</i></p> + +<p>He knew the basis of his feeling. He had led troops too many years not +to have learned how rapidly a commander can establish a feeling of +empathy, even on the first day of a new command.</p> + +<p>He knew the basis for the feeling, but he couldn't pinpoint an exact +reason.</p> + +<p>Or could he?</p> + +<p><i>Why were there absolutely no lights at all in the prison compound?</i></p> + +<p>He spoke over his shoulder to Ferguson, "I'm going for a little walk."</p> + +<p>"Want me with you, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think I'll need you. Keep going and finish up in here."</p> + +<p>"Right, sir. You've got your pistol."</p> + +<p>The old master sergeant was stating a fact, not asking a question.</p> + +<p>"Ha!"</p> + +<p>Bennington's barked reply arose from memory of his first argument with +Thornberry. The assistant warden-chief psychologist had been astounded +to learn that the general did not trust the conditioning process as a +solid basis for prison security. Beginning there, the opening +engagement in the battle of ideas, their contrasting philosophies had +deployed and made the entire prison a battleground.</p> + +<p>But Bennington dismissed his chief assistant from his thoughts as soon +as he stood in the darkness on the little knoll outside his house. He +concentrated on orienting himself.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The camp had not been changed much when it had been made over from a +ground-to-air missile station, protecting the freight yards of +Harrisburg, into the processing prison for six states.</p> + +<p>They had tapped the Juniata a few hundred yards northwest of where it +joined the Susquehanna, for the water that filled the moat encircling +three sides of the prison. The union of the two rivers formed the +water barrier on the east.</p> + +<p><i>What was it Thornberry had said about the moat? Oh, yes, not to keep +the poor misguided inmates imprisoned, but to keep unwanted people +out....</i></p> + +<p>When his eyes were accustomed to the darkness, Bennington walked east +and came to the first of the two new additions to the camp. A long +building, used by psychological and medical men to determine the total +amount of usefulness to society left in a man convicted of a crime.</p> + +<p>Beyond it, the second addition, a barbed-wire-enclosed building called +The Cage, where prisoners where first received and conditioned.</p> + +<p>He turned and began retracing his steps, at the same time mentally +following what happened to a prisoner in each of the two buildings. +When the official party accompanying him to his new post had arrived +late yesterday, for the second time he had followed a man through the +procedure.</p> + +<p>The quick frisking and the slow interview with two purposes, by +visual, oral and written tests determining the amount of +suggestibility to hypnotic conditioning plus the quicker giving of a +card to denote a temporary classification.</p> + +<p>Light gray for minor offenses; yellow for major crimes; pink for +lifers, psychos and killers; blues for juvenile delinquents; green for +all females, with a colored clip-tab denoting the weight of the +offense.</p> + +<p>A temporary classification it had to be, Bennington decided, for the +weight of the offense in itself never measured the man. How many +repeaters, men inevitable to a life of crime, had come here to be +handed a light gray card in The Cage, while other, different men, +once-upon-a-timers, had come out carrying the yellow or pink?</p> + +<p>Could and did happen, the general knew, could and did happen even in +his former military life, where consideration of a man's record was a +prerequisite to deciding the sentence, with review and review and +review automatic not a matter of initiated appeal.</p> + +<p>However, here, in the psycho-med building, was what might be called +re-judgment, for here, assisted by the latest advances that could +trickle down through the long bureaucracy above—and aided by ideas +that yeasted up, not down—Dr. Thornberry's staff went back to basics +with the question, what is re-claimable, for the man and for us, in +this man?</p> + +<p>But not the first day ... that was routine.</p> + +<p>Strip and change to prison clothes.</p> + +<p><i>Mental memo: What happened to the civilian clothes that the prisoners +surrendered? Was there the smell of a small but lucrative racket +here?</i></p> + +<p>Then, on the basis of that preliminary in The Cage, through one of two +doors. A few went into the room where a massive injection of sedatives +made them virtually vegetables. Most of them, however, were sent into +the room where Judkins, the new technician who had also arrived only +yesterday, would fit the "tank," the big helmet, down over the +prisoner's head and conditioned the man with mechanical and oral +hypnosis.</p> + +<p>The results, from drugging or hypnosis, were the same. From either +room the prisoner came with his face a blank.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_002.jpg" width="600" height="394" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Mud-faces, or in a new use of the words from the Original World War, +"doughboys".</p> + +<p>Those two rooms were harder to get into than to leave. The security +precautions of The Cage extended to the moment the prisoner was led to +the door and started out of those rooms. But from there on....</p> + +<p>No, Bennington decided, let's drop security for a moment. Something +had happened in the rest of the processing he and the committee had +watched and the meaning of that something had emerged only tonight at +the party.</p> + +<p>Not in the physical ... and that had been good, as complete as the +most expensive clinic Bennington had ever seen, a thorough probing for +a structural reason behind the crime or crimes....</p> + +<p>But the second mental, that quick recheck of the completeness of the +drugging or the hypnosis.... It had been there that both Giles and +Culpepper had been very, very interested to learn if anything a +prisoner said at this point was admissible in a court of law.</p> + +<p>The general now understood their relief at Thornberry's explanation: +Anything a man said while under the influence of psychological +conditioning was considered as obtained under duress.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bennington was still meditating on what Rooney could reveal as he +walked around the mess hall in the center of the compound. Then he +turned to consider again his prison's routine.</p> + +<p>He leaned against the south wall of the mess hall and looked across at +the four barrack buildings bulking against the darkness. They were the +two-story type the Army erects for temporary purposes and uses +permanently.</p> + +<p>The smell from the overcrowded buildings hit his nose again as +strongly as it had in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>And sounds hit his ears, soft sounds that had been muffled by the long +mess hall between him and their source, low sounds further kept from +him by the light wind from the north.</p> + +<p>The lights in the barracks had been off since 2100, except, of course, +for the eerie-blue night lights, and the prisoners should be in their +bunks, asleep or at least silent, immobile.</p> + +<p><i>But why were all the lights off in the compound</i>, and Bennington +damned himself for not seeking the answer to the question before.</p> + +<p><i>Thornberry would tell me there is no need for light; that the +prisoners can't escape because their drugging has made them unable, or +their conditioning has made them afraid, to leave the prison.</i></p> + +<p>The sounds, the flickering like fireflies or carefully thumbed +flashlights, didn't come from his near right, Number One, minor +crimes, or Number Two, major crimes exclusive of murder.</p> + +<p>They came from between Three and Four.</p> + +<p>Number Three. Psychos, sex deviates and murderers, with a couple of +padded cells and barred windows needed upstairs, even though the +inmates were conditioned.</p> + +<p>Number Four changed by the addition of an extra latrine for the second +floor. Females on the first, juvenile delinquents on the second.</p> + +<p>Bennington had learned to move like a ghost, move quietly or die, on +the almost forgotten battlefields of a police action in Korea. He had +had a post-graduate course in the South-East Asian jungles. On the +Chilean desert he had added to his skills.</p> + +<p>He moved now as he had then.</p> + +<p>But there was little reason for caution. The guards were too busy +collecting their fees, the juvenile delinquents were too busy acting +as ushers, with even the sex deviates from Number Three busy.</p> + +<p>The customers, of course, were far too interested in what they were +buying.</p> + +<p>And there was nothing to be done tonight. Bennington snarled to +himself, as he carefully made his way back to the house.</p> + +<p>But tomorrow morning....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A good breakfast inside of him, the early morning sun brightening the +scene before him, not even combined could they dispel any of +Bennington's bitter anger at the memory of last night's saturnalia.</p> + +<p>He marched across the twenty-five feet separating his house from the +Administration Building, a long, two-story structure on the western +end of the compound.</p> + +<p>The entire end nearest his house was taken up by Message Center, the +one room which had had Bennington's full approval on his tour of +inspection both times he had seen the prison. Internally, the separate +parts of the prison were linked together by telephone, a P.A. system, +and intercom. The outside world could be reached or could come to them +by 'phone, radio, teletype, and facsimile reproduction.</p> + +<p>Bennington opened the door, glanced up to check his wristwatch with +the big clock on the wall.</p> + +<p>0800.</p> + +<p>He stepped inside, closed the door, looked around.</p> + +<p>The man on night duty was sound asleep.</p> + +<p>Bennington coughed once, loudly. The man raised his head and looked +sleepily around.</p> + +<p>"Are you the only one here?"</p> + +<p>"The others come in around nine," the clerk said, yawning, +bleary-eyed.</p> + +<p>"I see. Did anything come in last night?"</p> + +<p>"That stuff." A wave toward a roll of yellow teletype paper.</p> + +<p>Bennington stared at the man, continued to stare until the clerk +flushed a deep red. Finally the night man straightened in his chair, +then stood up. He picked up the roll of paper and came around his +desk.</p> + +<p>"Sir," he said "this report came in last night. It is a list of the +prisoners we can expect to receive today and the probable time of +their arrival."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Bennington said, accepting the roll. "I will be in my +office if anyone is looking for me."</p> + +<p>"Sir...." The clerk gulped, hesitated, forced out the words. "That's +the only copy."</p> + +<p>Bennington looked the man directly in the eyes. "You must have been +very busy last night." He returned the roll of paper. "I'll be in my +office."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!"</p> + +<p>Bennington started to walk away, but before he reached the door, the +clerk, a man Bennington remembered as being on day duty on his first +visit, began to sputter, "Sir, the quickest way to your office—"</p> + +<p>The general glanced over his shoulder, then continued on his way.</p> + +<p>Before he could get to the door he had chosen, he heard behind him the +electrotyper chattering away like an automatic weapon with a weak sear +spring.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bennington could have left by a door leading into Dr. Thornberry's +office and gone on through another door into his own big office. But +he wanted to check on the availability of the rest of the staff.</p> + +<p>The door he opened led into a long hallway. On the left was the long +room where Thornberry's psych-med staff had their personal desks and +permanent records. On the right, a door leading to Thornberry's +office, but none into his own. His room was reached only through the +office of a clerk-receptionist or Thornberry's.</p> + +<p>Down the hall, past the wide main entrance with its glimpse of the +flagpole outside and inside the stairs leading to the second floor, +where a large part of the permanent staff were given rent-free +quarters.</p> + +<p>The armory, on his left just beyond the entrance, a room as long as +the med-staff's, but unlike the other—and who had the brains to do +this—locked.</p> + +<p>Across from the armory, a big room for the rest of the administrative +staff, but no one on duty.</p> + +<p>The supply room, corresponding in size and location to the Message +Center on the other end, unlocked and no one in it; with everything +the prison received on open shelves, available to any reaching hand.</p> + +<p>Bennington went back the hall, through his secretary's room into his +own office.</p> + +<p>One sleepy clerk and himself on duty—he looked at his watch—0815.</p> + +<p><i>... There were going to be some changes made....</i></p> + +<p>He spun his chair around and looked out the big window directly behind +his desk. He noted the fact that about twenty feet away the land +dropped into a very deep slant to the western arm of the moat, but the +fact recorded itself only because he always made subconscious notes of +the military aspects of terrain.</p> + +<p>Consciously, he was wondering why the vast expanse of good, rich +earth, north, west and south of the prison, acres of fine land that +had been and still were a part of this former military post, had never +been put to productive use.</p> + +<p>How easily Duncannon could become more self-supporting—and even +though Giles and Culpepper wanted to make a racket of the idea, there +was much to be said for a trusty system.</p> + +<p><i>Hold it</i>, he told himself, <i>those ideas and where we'll set up a +laundry—it's utterly ridiculous that we have to send everything into +Harrisburg!—can come later. Right now let's think about an +appointment list ... and the first name is my good assistant warden's, +Dr. Thornberry.</i></p> + +<p>Still looking out the window, he leaned back in his chair and felt +again the slow boil of anger.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A gentle rap on his office door, the one opening from his secretary's +office.</p> + +<p>Bennington swung around to face his desk again. "Come in."</p> + +<p>The Message Center clerk, with a neat stack of papers. "Sir, this is +your copy of the report received last night. The original is on file +in Message Center and other copies are on the desks of the people who +will need them."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Bennington said. "I am sure that this procedure will be +followed in the future."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!"</p> + +<p>It will be in your case, Bennington decided, then turned his attention +to the report.</p> + +<p>The distribution list in the upper righthand corner was—h-m-m-m, +good. Himself, Chief Psychologist, Chief Guard, Kitchen, Supply. +Probably set up by the same man who had designed Message Center +itself.</p> + +<p>The report was not good.</p> + +<p>The first paragraph was a summary and it was almost all bad news. +Total: 35. No women, no juveniles, the only good reading. But they +were coming from all six states and all but one of them Barracks Two +and Three cases. Assembled at Philadelphia, by train to Harrisburg, by +truck to here, but not arriving until 1530.</p> + +<p>Two and Three were overcrowded now. With their communications so good, +why couldn't they move the processed men out faster?</p> + +<p>And this new group would arrive so late. Couldn't even begin +processing them. Or could they?</p> + +<p>Might have to.</p> + +<p>Let's look at the details.</p> + +<p>Connecticut: Musto, John, and his brothers, Ralph and Pietro. Murders. +Following those names, five others of the gang that had terrorized the +banks in that area for two years. Capturing all of them at once by +putting a sleep-gas bomb in a basket of groceries delivered to their +hideout, that had been a neat bit of police work. But till those boys +were conditioned or drugged, they would need special guards.</p> + +<p>Delaware: Clarens, Walter. Murders. The name was familiar—Oh yes, +three killings, one of them a little girl with whose blood Clarens had +written at the scene. "For God's sake, catch me before I kill again." +Well, Thornberry would be happy.</p> + +<p>Maryland: Major crimes, but no killers.</p> + +<p>New Jersey: The usual list from the waterfronts and the usual wide +variety of manslaughter and homicide.</p> + +<p>New York: Dalton, Harry. Let's see, haven't I ... yes. "The Man No +Jail Can Hold." Another special guard.</p> + +<p>Pennsylvania:...</p> + +<p>The name jumped out. <i>Rooney, Michael</i>.</p> + +<p>The intercom on his desk buzzed and he flipped the switch. "Go ahead, +Bennington here," he said, and realized only after he had spoken how +the thought of Rooney had made his voice a growl.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Thornberry, sir. May I see you?"</p> + +<p>"By all means," Bennington said. "The sooner, the better."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Thornberry started talking as soon as he opened the door between the +two offices.</p> + +<p>"General, did you see the list of new arrivals? Of all people, Dalton! +And arriving too late to be conditioned!"</p> + +<p>Bennington said nothing until the psychologist had seated himself. He +simply watched his chief assistant and tried to find some reason to +like the man.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean," he finally said, "too late to be conditioned?"</p> + +<p>Having just considered this problem, Bennington's question was a +testing of Thornberry, not a request for information.</p> + +<p>Thornberry was looking aggrieved, as if the fact was so obvious even +the general could understand it. "Processing takes all day, sir, and +this group does not arrive until late afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Does the processing have to be continuous?" Bennington hoped his +chief assistant would show a little flexibility.</p> + +<p>But the question threw the bureaucratic psychologist into mental +dishevelment. "I beg your pardon?"</p> + +<p>"All we have to worry about is keeping them quiet tonight, then you +can slip them back to normal in the morning and run them through as if +they had arrived tomorrow."</p> + +<p>Thornberry pursed his lips. "But that would mean—"</p> + +<p>"A little extra work on the part of very few men," Bennington snapped. +"We'll keep them away from the rest tonight by sleeping them in The +Cage. A couple of men in Supply can move cots and blankets over there +now. Feed them coffee and sandwiches. Call the Mess Hall and get them +made up. At the same time I know you'll find three or four men who +want the overtime for dishing it out.</p> + +<p>"How long do you need to know if you can use hypnosis or if you need +drugs, and wouldn't it be simpler to drug the whole lot?"</p> + +<p>"No, definitely not the last," and for the first time Thornberry was +being positive, "because we have to use a massive dose and they can't +shake it till—day after tomorrow, at the best tomorrow afternoon."</p> + +<p>"The Army can decide to hypno in two minutes with a spin-dizzy wheel +and some lights. How long for you?"</p> + +<p>Thornberry bridled. "The same, especially if <i>I</i> do it."</p> + +<p>"Good. So now you need a doctor to drug the ones who need it, a +psychologist to decide who gets what, one machine moved and one +technician." Bennington snapped on his intercom, said to his +secretary, "Get Judkins in here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>sir</i>!"</p> + +<p><i>The word seems to be getting around</i>, Bennington decided, <i>but this +will take a moment</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He started on his next problem. "Have you ever inspected the prison +grounds at night?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir! That is Slater's duty!"</p> + +<p>Thornberry was again the proper bureaucrat, horrified at the thought +of invading another's domain.</p> + +<p>"Judkins here," came from the intercom.</p> + +<p>"Bennington speaking. You know the corridor between the reception and +interview rooms in The Cage?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Get your equipment over close to there. We have a group of prisoners +arriving around 1530, too late for complete processing. But at least +you can condition them against escape."</p> + +<p>The intercom was silent a moment, then, "But how will I know who I'm +working on?"</p> + +<p>Bennington questioned Thornberry with a raised eyebrow.</p> + +<p>The psych-expert shook his head, no.</p> + +<p>"This time you don't need to know," Bennington said. "Get your +equipment set up and report to me when it's ready."</p> + +<p>Another long silence, then, "Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"He should know who he has under the hood," Thornberry said +thoughtfully, after Bennington had silenced the intercom, "especially +since the group includes a man like Dalton—"</p> + +<p>"We have something more important to discuss," Bennington cut in, +dismissing the subject. "Last night I inspected the prison compound."</p> + +<p>He described what he had found, then leaned back to hear Thornberry's +reaction.</p> + +<p>"That's not in the least what I told him he could do," the +psychologist said.</p> + +<p>"<i>What! This is your idea?</i>"</p> + +<p>Thornberry was equally astounded at Bennington's reaction. "Yes, of +course. As soon as I took over as Acting Warden, I told Slater that +social visits between the prisoners were entirely permissible until +Lights Out. But this—"</p> + +<p>The psychologist shook his head, then appeared to reconsider and his +face brightened. "But it's a step in the right direction. Naturally, I +prefer the Mexican system where the wife is permitted regular, very +private, visits to her husband—"</p> + +<p>"Let me get this straight," Bennington felt like a man lost in a maze. +"You told the Chief Guard that the prisoners could visit each other—"</p> + +<p>"No, not all of them," Thornberry interrupted. "I never meant that +some of the problem cases, like a few of those in Number Three, +should have complete social relationships."</p> + +<p>"Just exactly what were you thinking of when you gave that order?"</p> + +<p>"Thinking of? Why, sir, I was thinking of our poor patients here. +Society has ordered them confined, yes, but need we necessarily +deprive them of <i>all</i> human rights?"</p> + +<p>Thornberry seemed ready to orate for an hour, but Bennington stopped +him with a gesture. "All right, I've handled POW camps, maybe in one +way I can see your point. But we can take up the philosophy of this +later.</p> + +<p>"Right now, this is the essential fact, that Slater has taken your +order and twisted it into a racket.</p> + +<p>"So let's talk to Slater."</p> + +<p>But the intercom said, "He hasn't come on duty yet."</p> + +<p>"He has the room at the head of the stairs," Thornberry said.</p> + +<p>The door was locked, but the psychologist produced a set of master +keys.</p> + +<p>"I want a set of those, too," Bennington said.</p> + +<p>The room was heavy with the smells of cheap whiskey, stale cigarette +smoke and human sweat. Two figures were sprawled on the bed. A hairy, +bearlike man, Slater; a big well-built brunette.</p> + +<p>Thornberry squinted through the gloom, then turned on the lights. +"That's Mona Sitwell," he said, "and I'm sure she was supposed to be +on orders to leave here two weeks ago."</p> + +<p>Bennington remembered the case, the spinster who had found her parents +a hindrance to her extensive enjoyment of male companionship. She had +literally chopped up their objections.</p> + +<p>"Follow through on the orders you give sometime," Bennington said +dryly. "You may meet a few more surprises."</p> + +<p>The man on the bed stirred, threw his arm up over his eyes. "What do +you want?" he mumbled sleepily.</p> + +<p>Bennington mentally cursed the Civil Service regulations which tied +his hands, and left him only one thing to say: "Your immediate +resignation."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Message Center, sir."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead." The general looked at the desk clock. 1515. He could guess +what they wanted to tell him.</p> + +<p>"Sir, the new consignment will be here in about ten minutes."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. Pass the word along to Dr. Thornberry and add, I'll meet him +at the flagpole in five minutes."</p> + +<p>Bennington pushed back his chair, slowly stood up. This had already +been a full day's work.</p> + +<p>Slater had been worse sober than he had been sleepy and half-drunk. +His covering barrage of threats on leaving the prison had been equally +divided between the general's personal health and the entire prison +setup.</p> + +<p>Thornberry had screened the other guards. And, after sitting in on +only two sessions, Bennington had at last found one small reason to +like his chief assistant. The psych-expert could spot a liar almost +before the man opened his mouth.</p> + +<p>But right now, and, at the wages offered, probably for a long time, +Duncannon was very short of guards.</p> + +<p>Judkins was ready in The Cage. An efficient man, but he had been a +little resentful at the extra work involved in moving his equipment.</p> + +<p>The prisoners would remain in The Cage overnight, except for their +trips to the Mess Hall. A reorganized supply room had disgorged more +than enough cots and blankets to convert The Cage into a temporary +dormitory.</p> + +<p>Bennington riffled the papers on his desk showing when the prisoners +on hand had been received and how long they had been ready to go to +their assigned prison. This matter took top priority. Some of the +people had been here over a month. If he could push through the plan +to charge the states for every day Duncannon kept a prisoner after the +criminal was ready for shipment, then the various states should each +pay, as a rough estimate showed....</p> + +<p>But the clock on the desk showed 1520, time to meet Thornberry. With +longer than usual steps, Bennington strode out of his office and out +the main door of the Administration Building.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Thornberry was pacing around the flagpole directly opposite the main +entrance.</p> + +<p>"This man, Dalton," the psychologist said, falling in step with the +general, "you know he escaped from us twice."</p> + +<p>"Make him the first through," and Bennington dismissed the subject. +"I'm more interested in this. Are there any ex-service men among the +group?"</p> + +<p>Thornberry sniffed, "Still worried about our conditioning and our +security, general? I repeat, even though we do not use the lobotomies +and other techniques of our cold-war competitors, we can nevertheless +condition anyone sent to us so that he will not make any trouble."</p> + +<p>Bennington shrugged, "I'd like to see you work on a para-commando. Or +one of the General Staff."</p> + +<p>Thornberry, now leading the way through the Processing Building, +called back over his shoulder. "How many of them end up in prison? I +mean, from the General Staff? The para-coms do, of course, they just +can't adjust to civilian life and I think the Army should do something +about that before they discharge them. But they never come here +without an accompanying court order allowing us to use the eyeball +technique."</p> + +<p>Along the short path, enclosed by barbed wire, from Processing into +The Cage. Swiftly along the corridor behind the one-way vision +mirrors, down the walk to the gate in the barbed wire.</p> + +<p>Bennington looked around and nodded approval: his reception committee +for the new arrivals was waiting.</p> + +<p>He looked across the river toward Harrisburg. Yes, just turning into +the bridge approach, two tractor-trailer combos, preceded and followed +by white cars.</p> + +<p>Bennington glanced around again. From the roof of The Cage, Ferguson, +drafted as a guard for this emergency, waved and lovingly patted the +butt of his submachine gun.</p> + +<p>One of the regular guards gave the general a sound-powered megaphone. +He nodded thanks, lifted it.</p> + +<p>"Give me your attention!"</p> + +<p>"The procedure is as usual except that, when the prisoners go into The +Cage, they are going to get an overnight conditioning treatment.</p> + +<p>"But until they've had that treatment, you must be alert! These are +all dangerous men."</p> + +<p>Beside the general, Thornberry whispered hearty agreement. "Yes, yes! +Except for Rooney, everyone on that list is here for armed robbery or +murder and usually both."</p> + +<p>Bennington lowered his megaphone. "I almost forgot to tell you. I +added a complete physical search to your metal-detectors, we're doing +it right inside the door to the corridor.</p> + +<p>"And we're keeping all their personal effects. That was bad, Dr. +Thornberry, letting them have their money. As long as a prisoner has +cash, you can't trust any guard."</p> + +<p>Thornberry froze. "As prison psychologist, I protest. I consider those +procedures an unwarranted invasion of physical privacy and a forcing +of a man into dependency with traumatic effects—"</p> + +<p>"I would much rather make a prisoner dependent on my good will than +have him bribe my guards, doctor. And I would much rather invade his +privacy than have him invade my stomach with a knife made out of bone.</p> + +<p>"A metal-spotter is, perhaps, good, but too many killing tools can get +by them."</p> + +<p>Thornberry seemed more than willing to continue the discussion, but +the tractor-trailers were pulling off the bridge. After a moment's +jockeying, they turned so that the back of the trailers pointed toward +The Cage.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_003.jpg" width="300" height="701" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<p>A corporal eased out of the white car that had led the convoy. He +shifted his shotgun to his left arm, saluted, said, "General +Bennington? Corporal Forester, with thirty-four prisoners."</p> + +<p>"Thirty-four? We expected thirty-five."</p> + +<p>"Ralph Musto tried to get another idea in the Harrisburg terminal. +He'll be in the hospital about ten days."</p> + +<p>"Musto?" For a moment, the name meant nothing to Bennington.</p> + +<p>"Connecticut, sir, one of the murder and bank cases. Are you prepared +to accept delivery of the others?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, we are. But we are unfortunately a little short-handed +today...."</p> + +<p>"We always stay around till the boys are in The Cage, sir," the +corporal said.</p> + +<p>"Thanks. Start unloading."</p> + +<p>Corporal Forester saluted again and turned to face the vans. He waved +his arm and another trooper unlocked the door of the trailer to the +general's left. A group of men slowly jumped out and stood blinking in +the sun.</p> + +<p>A trooper opened a large compartment beneath the van and yanked out +several large bags, all locked, all bulging, all the type Bennington +had known too well since the Second War.</p> + +<p>The prisoners' personal effects, Bennington decided, and lifted his +megaphone.</p> + +<p>"Form a single line facing the gate," he commanded.</p> + +<p>There was an excess of shuffling movement, but at last a line was +formed.</p> + +<p>Corporal Forester waved his hand again. The doors of the trailer were +locked and it started across the bridge.</p> + +<p>Then the second trailer was unloaded and sent away. When its cargo had +added themselves to the line, the corporal again approached +Bennington.</p> + +<p>"Want a roll call, sir?"</p> + +<p>"The count is correct, but a roll call will help get them in order, in +the right frame of mind." Bennington raised his megaphone to his lips. +"Now get this! When your name is called, sound out HERE and run for +that gate. Then walk up the path and through the open door.</p> + +<p>"John Musto."</p> + +<p>A stockily-built, dark-faced man stepped from the line and with an +exaggerated slowness dawdled toward the gate. His pose lasted only a +moment. One of the Duncannon guards stepped forward and smacked his +rifle barrel across Musto's kidneys. The bank robber and murderer +pitched headlong to his knees, got up slowly with a snarl. But when +the guard gestured again with his rifle, Musto broke into a shambling +run.</p> + +<p>Bennington waited until the first of the brothers stood panting at the +gate, then called, "Pietro Musto."</p> + +<p>One example had been enough. Pietro took off on the double. In five +minutes the last man had vanished into The Cage.</p> + +<p>"You get these, too, sir." Corporal Forester, with a bundle of papers.</p> + +<p>"Right. And thanks for staying, corporal. By the way, isn't there +something I sign?"</p> + +<p>The trooper produced a form and a pen. Bennington signed and they +saluted each other. The corporal grinned, then his expression sobered. +"That's a real bunch there, sir."</p> + +<p>"We're conditioning them immediately, corporal."</p> + +<p>"Good idea, sir. The sooner, the better!"</p> + +<p>With another salute, the corporal turned to his car and Bennington +started toward The Cage.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p>Inside The Cage, Bennington went into the corridor that led behind the +mirrors. He wanted to watch the weapons-check and the conditioning; he +found Thornberry waiting for him.</p> + +<p>Bennington looked through the mirrors at the men standing as he and +his party had stood yesterday. Room One of The Cage was marked off +into numbered squares. Each man stood on a number, separated from his +brother cons by about ten square feet. They knew they were being +watched, although the men behind the mirrors were invisible to the +prisoners. They stirred restlessly, standing first on one foot, then +on the other, looking uneasily in all directions and seeing nothing +but their own reflections.</p> + +<p>"Dalton is on Ten," Thornberry said.</p> + +<p>Bennington looked and saw an exceedingly average-looking man. Wouldn't +notice him in a crowd, the general thought and realized that he had +learned one reason for Dalton's success.</p> + +<p>"Start the random sequence with him," he said. The system was set up +so that no prisoner knew when he would be summoned.</p> + +<p>"I told them to do that," Thornberry said.</p> + +<p>"Number Ten", the loud-speaker boomed.</p> + +<p>The general moved down the corridor until he was looking into the +hallway between Room One and Room Two. Until yesterday, the prisoners +had simply walked down the corridor while detectors checked them for +the presence of metals. They had then been held at the end of the +hallway until they had stripped themselves of everything that had +registered on the screens.</p> + +<p>Today was different. Inside the door Dalton was being thoroughly and +completely searched. Nothing was found, but Bennington could sense +Thornberry's grim disapproval of the procedure.</p> + +<p>Dalton was then shoved around the first of the hastily-erected screens +and ordered into a chair. A doctor beside the chair was ready with an +injection so smoothly and quickly that Dalton was under mild sedation +almost before he was aware of the needle's sting.</p> + +<p>Across from Dalton, seated at a small table behind a spin-dizzy wheel +of flickering lights and ever-centering spiral, one of Thornberry's +psych-staff waited for a nod from the doctor. Then he started the +wheel spinning and Bennington could see his lips move.</p> + +<p>After a moment, the psychologist turned his head to the doctor and +Bennington lip-read the word, "hypno." The doctor slowly put down one +of the biggest hypodermic needles Bennington had ever seen.</p> + +<p>Less roughly, the guard led Dalton around the second screen.</p> + +<p>At the end of the corridor Judkins was ready. He adjusted the big hood +over Dalton's head.</p> + +<p>And Bennington turned away.</p> + +<p>He had seen too much of the conditioning process, beginning in its +early days when the Army had realized its value in reducing the +manpower needed to watch the refuse of the cold war.</p> + +<p>The POWS from the battle of the little undeclared wars; the refugee +camps, with their possible and probable subversives; the Army +disciplinary stations....</p> + +<p>He waited farther down the corridor where he could look into Room Two. +In a few minutes Dalton entered. His face was subtly changed. A guard +gestured toward the piles of cots and blankets.</p> + +<p>Dalton took one of the cots and two of the blankets, moved to Square +Number Ten on this side of the building and began making up his bed. +When the job was completed he sat down.</p> + +<p>His back was toward the general and Bennington found himself wishing +he could see the prisoner's face. In the other room, Dalton had been +carefully, thoughtfully staring around.</p> + +<p>His posture now spoke of a total lack of interest in his present +surroundings.</p> + +<p>Bennington glanced at his watch and estimated the time needed on +Dalton. Hm-m-m, little better than five minutes. Of course, if a +prisoner was given that second shot.... Well, the average would still +be about five minutes.</p> + +<p>Might as well go back to the office and work out how much each state +owed the prison.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Thornberry's call came at 1915. "We've finished, general, and we're +ready to feed them. Of course, we still have some things to put away +over here—"</p> + +<p>"Skip it," Bennington said. "We can have that done tomorrow morning."</p> + +<p>"Judkins has asked permission to go to Harrisburg tonight. He wants to +see his sister about an apartment there. Several of the permanent +personnel do that. It's easy to get back and forth, and there's more +to do—"</p> + +<p>"Tell him to take off. And let's see, we'll need him in the morning, +but maybe we can give him the afternoon off in return for his overtime +work tonight."</p> + +<p>"I like that, general, and I'll do it. Now, I'm going to see that the +prisoners are fed, then I'd like to see you in your office."</p> + +<p>"I want to see you, too, Dr. Thornberry. Tell Ferguson to arrange +supper for two over here—I haven't eaten either."</p> + +<p>"I'll be with you in about fifteen minutes."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Because the office was sound-conditioned, Bennington did not know that +the riot had started until the door slammed open and three men jammed +the doorway, all three trying to get in at once.</p> + +<p>Acting by reflex, Bennington shot the man in the center. The other +two, entangled with the dead man, also tumbled to the floor.</p> + +<p>The general promptly shot twice more.</p> + +<p>Then he paused to think.</p> + +<p>One glance told him his instinctive action had been correct. The man +in the center had been Pietro Musto, carrying a carving knife. The +other two ... yes, they had been in the group that had arrived this +afternoon.</p> + +<p>But what was wrong? He had watched these men being conditioned....</p> + +<p>A burst from a submachine gun echoed through the open door.</p> + +<p>First thought: <i>They've got the armory!</i></p> + +<p>Second thought: <i>This is no place for me!</i></p> + +<p>He picked up his desk chair and smashed the picture window looking out +over the moat on the west side. Then he smashed with the chair again +to remove the fragments that stuck up like jagged knives.</p> + +<p>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 five +feet farther on became the moat.</p> + +<p>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 a +rifle. The man with the rifle lifted it to his shoulder and fired into +the ceiling.</p> + +<p>Most of the staff, all but six of the guards up there, Bennington +thought.</p> + +<p>Resting his right hand against his left arm, he took careful aim and +fired. The man with the rifle staggered and fell. The one with the +shotgun dropped completely out of sight.</p> + +<p>Bennington heard someone shouting hoarsely about the lights.</p> + +<p>The first floor blacked out.</p> + +<p>He took a deep breath, held it, slowly released it. Then he was able +to think.</p> + +<p>How this had started was for the moment unimportant. First came the +problem of regaining control.</p> + +<p>To regain control, he needed help. To get help he had to reach the +nearest visiphone.</p> + +<p>Glass tinkled to his right. Almost too late Bennington remembered how +his white hair could reflect the lights from the second-story windows. +He rolled rapidly to his left and a little more down the slope.</p> + +<p>The dew-wet grass chilled his face and hands. His long legs felt the +water of the moat creep up past his knees.</p> + +<p>A semiautomatic rifle with carefully timed shots searched the area +where he had been. "Good man," he noted professionally and replied +with a pistol shot. He rolled again back to where he had been, but +still further down the slope.</p> + +<p>The rifle spoke copper-coated syllables once more, with a sequence of +shots that started where he had fired from. But this time the sequence +hunted further to both right and left.</p> + +<p>This could go on all night.</p> + +<p>He <i>had</i> to get to a visiphone. Yet he couldn't leave here. The moment +he did, the convicts has a wide-open road to freedom.</p> + +<p>The man with the rifle was good, Bennington noted again. His shots +were grass-clippers that could have substituted for a lawn mower.</p> + +<p>Then a submachine gun chuckled crisply from Bennington's left. There +was a howl of pain. The rifle stopped looking for the general.</p> + +<p>Bennington began crawling along the edge of the moat. That submachine +gun had spoken for his side of the argument and he had a big need for +the author who had used its words so well. He stopped crawling. +Someone was coming toward him.</p> + +<p>"General?"</p> + +<p>"Ferguson!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. You all right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And you?"</p> + +<p>"Fine, sir, but it was close for a minute."</p> + +<p>"Tell me."</p> + +<p>"I was coming in the door to Message Center, going to put my gun back +in the armory, then get your supper from the kitchen. I heard someone +screeching down the hall and then a couple of shots. The clerk on duty +got up and started toward the hall door. But it banged open in his +face and someone emptied a pistol into him. I let loose a burst and +jumped back. The guy with the pistol came through the door, still +hollering. I gave him a belly-full, then waited a moment to see if +anyone was behind him. Nobody was. I remembered hearing a window +smash, so I looked around this way for you."</p> + +<p>"You've got how much ammo?"</p> + +<p>"About half a clip, sir."</p> + +<p>"We need help. I know they've got Message Centre, but—"</p> + +<p>"The private line from the house, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Right. And you'll stay here."</p> + +<p>Ferguson understood. "No one will get out this way, sir, but I'll go +with you part way so I can cover the door out of Message Center, too."</p> + +<p>No more words. Not even a handshake.</p> + +<p>These two had worked together, fought together, before. Speeches +weren't needed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bennington's house was dark and, because it was still new to him, he +barked his shins twice before he found the visiphone. To save time and +avoid any lights, he first cut out the visual circuit and then he +simply dialed "0".</p> + +<p>"Operator," a lilting voice replied.</p> + +<p>"Connect me with the nearest State Police Barracks, please. Warden of +Duncannon Prison speaking."</p> + +<p>"One moment, please." Not a change in the lilt.</p> + +<p>Silence; then, "State Police Barracks, Private Endrews speaking."</p> + +<p>"Warden Bennington, Duncannon Prison. We're having trouble here and I +need help. About thirty prisoners have seized control of our +Administration Building, which includes the armory."</p> + +<p>"Riot? Duncannon? Impossible! Those men are con—"</p> + +<p>"It may be impossible, but it's happening. Now, how much help can you +give me?"</p> + +<p>"Let me check, sir." The phone was silent, except for heavy breathing +from Private Endrews. "Here it is, sir. In less than fifteen minutes, +three cars—that's six men and they've got full equipment in those +cars—will be at The Cage."</p> + +<p>"That all?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. In twenty minutes I'll have the riot-control copter over the +prison. It's got floodlights on its belly and the pilot knows the +prison."</p> + +<p>"Good. What else?"</p> + +<p>"For at least two hours, that's all, sir. Standard Operating Procedure +calls for the immediate establishment of a cordon at fixed points, +roving patrols on the countryside west of you and blocks on all +railroads, bus and air terminals—"</p> + +<p>"Someone will be in the parking lot. Give me what you have and get it +moving!"</p> + +<p>It wouldn't be enough. Half of the permanent staff as hostages, enough +weapons and ammo in the armory to fight a war....</p> + +<p>He dialed again. "Operator? I want the Commanding General at +Indiantown Gap. Now!"</p> + +<p>"One moment; sir." The lilt was gone from the voice.</p> + +<p>She had been listening in, the general decided.</p> + +<p>"Duty Officer, Indiantown Gap. Major Smith speaking."</p> + +<p>"Smith? Connect me immediately with General Mosby!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, but the general is—"</p> + +<p>"Major, get off the line and get Mossback on before—"</p> + +<p>There was a click, another telephone rang three times, then a calm +voice, "General Mosby".</p> + +<p>"Bennington here!"</p> + +<p>"Jim! You old—"</p> + +<p>"No time, Mossback, I need help. I'm down at Duncannon Prison. Got a +riot on my hands, two gateguards plus myself and Ferguson to handle +it. The State police can give me only another six men, in the next +two hours."</p> + +<p>"One moment, Jim. Duty Officer! The First Battalion, riot-armed, on +the field and in their copters in twenty minutes!"</p> + +<p>"Second and Third Battalions fully-armed, with all support sections, +ready to roll in forty minutes!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Give me the whole picture, Jim. And by the way, I've visited the +prison."</p> + +<p>Bennington gave the details in less than a minute, then added, +"Thanks, Mossback."</p> + +<p>While he had been talking, Bennington had also been listening. From +Mosby's end of the line came clearly that most reassuring sound, the +great bull-speakers thundering out of orders that meant for a few +moments rapid running and confusion, then in a few moments more the +resolution of the confusion into disciplined movement.</p> + +<p>Knowing Mosby, Bennington also knew that the copters would be loaded +in twenty minutes.</p> + +<p>"Thanks again," he said.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Jim. I've been moaning for a chance to check our training. +See you in half an hour."</p> + +<p>"You'll see me—"</p> + +<p>"Sure. Don't think I'd miss a real shootin' match, do you? Hang on +till then." The line was dead.</p> + +<p><i>Hang on till then.</i></p> + +<p>Easier said than done.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Well, step number one, survey the situation and the terrain.</p> + +<p>A glance at his watch startled him. Though his combat experience had +taught him how time could compress and stretch, the fact that only +seven minutes ago he had been considering supper in his office came as +a shock.</p> + +<p>He took no chances but left his house as he had come, by the back +door. Then stepping quietly but quickly, he went to the south side of +the Processing Building at the corner nearest the Administration +Building. All the offices were dark. Only scratches of light—probably +matches to cigarette tips—flickered briefly out of the windows of the +second-story where the staff was housed.</p> + +<p>The mess hall was also dark but as Bennington watched, a short burst +of submachine gun fire tracered across the darkness from the kitchen +toward the armory.</p> + +<p>"Listen, you screws, listen to this!"</p> + +<p>The gigantic voice thundered through every corner of the compound. For +a second Bennington was startled, then he remembered. The rioters +controlled Message Center and the PA system.</p> + +<p>"Stop shooting at us. Don't forget that half your staff is in here. +Every time you shoot one of us, we are shooting one of them."</p> + +<p>The words came through on only part of Bennington's attention. They +registered, but he was also studying the seventy feet of open ground +between him and the nearest door into the mess hall.</p> + +<p>The big voice again filled the compound.</p> + +<p>"We want to talk to the warden if he's still alive. Or whoever can +take his place if he ain't. You got five minutes to call us on the +intercom."</p> + +<p>I can talk to them from the kitchen if I can get there, Bennington +thought.</p> + +<p>He glanced back over his shoulder. The moon, thought full, was only +part-way up.</p> + +<p><i>I'm sixty-five, but maybe I've got one fast run still left.</i></p> + +<p>He did. He made it without a shot being fired.</p> + +<p>But he stayed on his belly just outside the door, remembering the +submachine gun. From the shadow of the step into the mess hall, he +used his command voice to get safe passage.</p> + +<p>"Thornberry!"</p> + +<p>"General Bennington!"</p> + +<p>The psychologist almost twisted Bennington's hand off before he could +speak. Then his first words puzzled the general. "We've got to find +Judkins."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I want to know what went wrong—"</p> + +<p>"That can wait. Let's put the fire out first, then learn how it +started. Who's here with you?"</p> + +<p>"The two guards. Rayburne! Householder! Come here!"</p> + +<p>"Only those two? Where's the kitchen staff?"</p> + +<p>"Dead," said Thornberry soberly.</p> + +<p>There was a roaring in the skies and through a window Bennington could +see the compound was almost as brightly lit up as it was by day.</p> + +<p>"The riot-copter, and before I expected it," the general said, "I've +been in touch with the State police. And the Army."</p> + +<p>There was another short burst of submachine fire. Bennington mentally +placed it as behind the Administration Building. <i>Someone trying to +sneak out the back way....</i></p> + +<p>"Stop that shooting!" The PA confirmed his thoughts. "No one else is +going to try to leave here. Warden, get on that intercom!"</p> + +<p><i>Got to hurry</i>, Bennington thought, <i>I've got to get them talking and +keep them talking</i>.</p> + +<p>"Householder and Rayburne, get over to the parking lot. The State +police are coming there. Bring five of the six over here. Keep the +other man by his car radio. If he can switch to the Army frequency, or +can get in touch with the Army copters thorough his Headquarters, +guide their planes to land behind Barracks Four. Tell General Mosby +where I am. Tell him before he lands, so that he can plan his +deployment.</p> + +<p>"Take off. Thornberry, come with me."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The two of them clambered over the counter and carefully, to avoid +stepping on the dead, made their way to the kitchen office in the +southwest corner of the mess hall. Thorough one of its windows, the +Administration Building could be clearly seen.</p> + +<p>The intercom was directly in front of the window.</p> + +<p>Bennington seated himself and turned the intercom switch to Message +Center.</p> + +<p>"This is General Bennington, the warden of this prison," he said +clearly. "I am in the kitchen office. To show my confidence in the +fact that we can arrange a bargain, I am turning on the light in this +room. You will be able to see me clearly."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_004.jpg" width="600" height="333" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"No!" broke out Thornberry, staring at Bennington.</p> + +<p>"Turn them on," said Bennington.</p> + +<p>Thornberry hesitated for a heartbeat, obeyed the order. Then, moving +with deliberation, he seated himself beside the general.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"There has to be mutual trust for any kind of bargaining," Bennington +replied. "This is mine, right out where you can see it."</p> + +<p>"O.K. Now, first, get that copter off the top of this building."</p> + +<p>Musto spoke with the assurance that his order would be obeyed.</p> + +<p>"Go to hell," said Bennington easily.</p> + +<p>"WHAT!"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be—" and Musto described his relationship to a female +dog.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Pardons. For all of us. For all crimes."</p> + +<p>Bennington whistled. "That's a big order. And in return?"</p> + +<p>"Your staff stays alive."</p> + +<p>Flatly. There was no question Musto meant what he said.</p> + +<p>"That means I'll have to talk with the governors of six states," +Bennington temporized.</p> + +<p>"That's your worry."</p> + +<p>The general sighed. "All right, you've got Message Center. Connect +this phone with the outside. Remember, this is going to take a while."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"And don't forget, we'll be listening," came simultaneously from the +intercom and the telephone.</p> + +<p>"I expect you to," Bennington said promptly and hung up. At the same +time, he switched off the intercom.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>He knew the sensation, had felt it before. Someone had a gun on him. +And that someone was a mere thirty yards away.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what happened after I left you," Bennington said. He kept a +wary eye on his assistant warden. The man seemed in the civilian +equivalent of battle shock.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>Thornberry's hands were slowly unclenching. Telling what happened +seemed to relieve his tension.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Thornberry shivered 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."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bennington lit a cigarette and wished that he had one of Ferguson's +stout drinks.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"No, first the trays and then directly over the counter into the +kitchen and out its two back doors."</p> + +<p>"In other words, they knew where they were going."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Tell me who he is and we'll get him for you," a voice whispered from +the floor.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"This is your party," the corporal continued. "How does the +entertainment shape up?"</p> + +<p>"We've got to keep the customers happy," the general said, "by making +them think that the main show is just about to start."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Can do. Will do. And after that?"</p> + +<p>"A good question, Corporal Forester. We'll discuss that after the +break."</p> + +<p>From the floor, a low laugh. "I had a year at the Fort Benning School +for Infantry Boys, sir. Oh, how about this Judkins?"</p> + +<p>Thornberry took over with an exceedingly accurate description of the +wanted Judkins and his probable habits.</p> + +<p>The corporal gave a low appreciative whistle. "With that we'll have +him in a couple of hours, sir."</p> + +<p>"I'll let a man outside this door on his belly like I am. By the way, +we <i>are</i> in touch with the army. We're set to guide them in. Good +luck, sir."</p> + +<p>Bennington and Thornberry looked at each other.</p> + +<p>We'll need more than luck, Bennington thought.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the middle of his next cigarette, Bennington heard a familiar voice +speaking outside the office door.</p> + +<p>"When can I start shooting, Jim?"</p> + +<p>"Mossback!"</p> + +<p>"In person." A low laugh. "Wish the men you taught cover and +concealment could take a look at you now.</p> + +<p>"Here's the situation, Jim. I'm deployed in a looping L around the +Administration Building. Your prisoners in One and Two have been +moved out under guard into the open space beside Number Four where my +copters dropped.</p> + +<p>"The short end of my L touches the moat near your house. And by the +way, Ferguson is all right. We relieved him. He says three prisoners +tried to get out, but he thinks he got one of the three.</p> + +<p>"The long end of my L goes just far enough toward Barracks One so that +we won't be shooting each other."</p> + +<p>"For a change, I didn't hear your copters come in, Mossback."</p> + +<p>Another laugh, touched with pride. "Jim, for once, the Army is ahead +of the civilian population. Our new jobs are even quieter than the +night mail delivery for the suburbs. I put a squad on the roof of the +building."</p> + +<p>"<i>You did?</i>"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>With Mosby's words Bennington had felt his hopes rise, fall, and rise +again. "Tell him to start talking."</p> + +<p>"Slater, sir."</p> + +<p>Bennington choked down his first words.</p> + +<p>"I know what you were going to say, sir, and I deserve it, but this +time I think I can help."</p> + +<p>"How did you find out about this?"</p> + +<p>"I was in a squad car on a drunk and disorderly charge. The story came +over their radio. They brought me here."</p> + +<p>"All right, go ahead."</p> + +<p>"General Mosby was smart, sir. He brought along some sleep gas."</p> + +<p>"So? Not surprising." Bennington knew sleep gas was standard +precaution for riot control.</p> + +<p>"The mess hall is the center of the compound. Because of that, in its +cellar are the furnaces which heat the other buildings."</p> + +<p>"What does that mean?"</p> + +<p>"You have a forced-draft, hot-air system here, sir—"</p> + +<p>The telephone rang, the intercom spoke. "Warden, those governors are +on the line."</p> + +<p>"Our only chance," Bennington said, "and now is the time. They'll all +be listening to this phone call over there."</p> + +<p>He hoped the man with the rifle trained on him was very susceptible to +sleep gas.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Jim, you haven't lost your touch with a pistol." General Mosby +pointed to his meaning with the toe of his boot. "But you'll need a +new carpet in your office here."</p> + +<p>Bennington glanced at the three dead men, the broken window, and added +them to his mental list of things to be done. But he put them among +the minor problems; he had enough major ones already.</p> + +<p>The news services were besieging The Cage. A couple of ambitious +photographers had been caught attempting to cross the moat. The +civilian dead in the mess hall had to be identified and the next of +kin notified. His entire staff was disorganized: imprisoned as +hostages, knocked out along with the rioters by sleep-gas, brusquely +revived by Mosby's aid-men—Well, he might be able to get some work +out of them tomorrow.</p> + +<p>The rioters still slept, but what to do about those supposedly +conditioned men when the gas wore off ... a new hypno-tech, from +somewhere, by tomorrow morning.</p> + +<p><i>Add six governors who think I have nothing to do but tell them every +detail</i>, he thought grimly.</p> + +<p>"You had better eat, sir."</p> + +<p>Ferguson, with a gigantic sandwich and a mug of coffee.</p> + +<p>Bennington abruptly realized that he had not eaten since noon. Then, +in the middle of his second bite, he was aware of still another +problem.</p> + +<p>He swallowed hastily. "Mossback, did you bring the entire battalion? +Are you completely set up for independent battalion operation?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course. Why?"</p> + +<p>"I've got a compound full of prisoners and a staff to feed."</p> + +<p>Mosby turned to his aide, but the captain has already started for the +door. Mosby swung back to Bennington, rubbed his hands together +gleefully. "Better and better. Just as if we had captured and had to +use an enemy installation. Prisoners to guard, dead men and a couple +of wounded to take care of.... Jim, I can't thank you enough."</p> + +<p>"You're welcome, but how long can I keep you?"</p> + +<p>Mosby sobered. Like all good general officers, he was acutely +sensitive to the political significance of his actions.</p> + +<p>"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 of +years, since they started forming regional groups.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute! You got prisoners from six states, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You can have the whole command. And if the AG's office can't dig up +at least six good precedents for my decision, we can always let slip +the 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."</p> + +<p>"I may need more," Bennington said soberly.</p> + +<p>"What you need, you get, Jim, but why?"</p> + +<p>"Two of them got away."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Mosby was interested, but not especially so.</p> + +<p>"One was a very good escape artist—guy call Dalton. <i>Harry Dalton.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Um, yes," Mosby interrupted, "I recall that name. If I were his +commanding officer, I would call him 'Always AWOL'."</p> + +<p>"The other was a fairly young man named Clarens."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A silence grew. At last Mosby spoke, "I've heard of him, too. How did +they get through the road blocks?"</p> + +<p>"We had to use everything." The tired man standing at the door was +Corporal Forester. "We used even trainees from the Academy, and those +two must have gotten out of here as soon as the riot started.</p> + +<p>"There was only one checkpoint between here and Harrisburg and the +truck looked legitimate, full of clothes picked up around the +countryside. There seemed to be only one man in it and he was a sort +of everyday-looking fellow."</p> + +<p>Bennington remembered his own impression of Dalton.</p> + +<p>"I can't blame the trainees. Dalton's gotten by better men than they +are yet," the corporal continued. "And they were looking for desperate +criminals, not for someone in a cleaning company's uniform who asked, +when they stopped him, if they wanted some work done."</p> + +<p>"Anybody been killed yet?" Thornberry asked.</p> + +<p>Forester was a long time answering. "Not yet, doctor. But a man +answering Clarens' description bought six steak knives near the +railroad station tonight."</p> + +<p>"Six steak knifes?" Mosby asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Forester answered. "Clarens and Dalton split the money the +cleaning man was carrying."</p> + +<p>"How do you know this?" Bennington asked.</p> + +<p>"Dalton gave himself up," Forester answered. "He wanted nothing to do +with Clarens when the boy started eying the knives."</p> + +<p>"We've got to get to Harrisburg," Bennington said, "and the first +thing we've got to do is to find Judkins."</p> + +<p>"If only our files had not been shot up when the cons took over +Message Center," Thornberry worried, "we could have gotten in touch +with his sister-in-law."</p> + +<p>"No," said Bennington and Forester together.</p> + +<p>"No," agreed General Mosby.</p> + +<p>The two generals looked at each other, then at the corporal.</p> + +<p>Forester took the cue. "I think it's a planned job. The riot, that is. +Someone wanted to disgrace you the first day you took over, general. +Or, listen! This may be it: they wanted to be sure that someone here +in prison didn't talk. I mean—" The trooper rubbed his hand across +his forehead. "Thought I had something there."</p> + +<p>"I think you do," Bennington said, "but first things first. Let's find +Judkins. Then Clarens."</p> + +<p>"We'll fly down," Mosby decided. "And let's do something I always +wanted to do. We'll land on the Capitol grounds. Give me your phone, +Jim. We will need more than the battalion I brought with me."</p> + +<p>"And it's upstairs, ready and waiting."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Considering Harrisburg from above, Bennington decided the town, as a +tactical problem in setting up patrols, offered unique difficulties. +The way those railroad yards stretched up and down each side of the +river....</p> + +<p>The riot-control copter had moved ahead of them and was their guide to +a relatively clear spot among the trees dotting the Capitol grounds.</p> + +<p>Three dignitaries awaited their arrival, Governor Willoughby, Mayor +Jordan and Chief of Police Scott.</p> + +<p>"This way, sir," said Scott, elbowing aside the other two. +"Formalities can wait, we've got work to do."</p> + +<p>Introductions were performed on the way to another grove lanced with +searchlights. A photographer was busy over the body of a middle-aged +man.</p> + +<p>"Some folks you can't tell anything," Scott said, "and especially when +they're in heat. We never had any complaints about this guy, but we +knew what he was. I myself told him that someday he would pick up the +wrong man.</p> + +<p>"And he sure did this time," he added unnecessarily.</p> + +<p>Corporal Forester squatted beside the body. "He was kneeling, grabbed +by his long hair, head pulled back, one good slash did the rest."</p> + +<p>"Real nice slash," General Mosby agreed professionally. "I'd like to +show that to some of my men." He pushed the head back so that the cut +across the throat was more clearly visible. "Just one swipe."</p> + +<p>"Clarens was a pre-med student," Thornberry stated.</p> + +<p>Bennington noticed that his psych-expert had kept his gaze fixed on +the trees after a glance at the body.</p> + +<p>"No idea where he went from here, of course?" Mosby asked.</p> + +<p>"None," Scott admitted, "but I've got patrols out."</p> + +<p>"I've got another battalion upstairs," Mosby remarked, jabbing toward +the stars with his thumb, "and the rest of the regiment on the way.</p> + +<p>"You know this town. Tell me how you want them distributed."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to." Scott meditated a moment. "But, I can't. I can't even +swear them in. They're Federal troops."</p> + +<p>"I've just declared martial law," Governor Willoughby emerged from the +shadows.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, sir." Scott looked like a man with a weight taken from his +shoulders. "We'll need cars, of course."</p> + +<p>"But we can stop them on the streets. Then have our men drive them +home. With your help, General Mosby, we can cover this town like a +blanket."</p> + +<p>But the blanket was too late to stop the second murder.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The report came in after they had talked to Dalton.</p> + +<p>"That's why I gave myself up," the convict said. "I wanted no part of +that guy, so I figured my best alibi was a nice, quiet cell."</p> + +<p>"How is Clarens dressed?" Scott demanded.</p> + +<p>"He picked a double-breasted blue suit from the racks in the truck. +Fitted him good, too."</p> + +<p>Scott strode into the next room and through the open door Bennington +saw the Chief of Police pick up a mike.</p> + +<p>"This is important." Thornberry, intent, looking like a lean hound on +a hot trail. "<i>What were you told when you were conditioned?</i>"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember." Dalton was plainly baffled. "I just don't +remember. Something about when a guy threw his tray.... You got me, I +don't know."</p> + +<p>"All right." The psychologist tried another tack. "What made you leave +the others and take Clarens with you?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't take him with me." Dalton's voice was weary, edged with +anger. "I remember sitting down under the hypno-hood in The Cage. +From there on, things are mixed up. I think there was running and +yelling and that I ran and yelled, too.</p> + +<p>"Then I came to and I was in a building with a lot of guys grabbing +guns."</p> + +<p>"I should have predicted it," the psychologist said, "that he would be +commanded to forget what he had been told while under the hood."</p> + +<p>"Can't you remove the block?" Chief Scott had returned in time to hear +the last words.</p> + +<p>Thornberry pursed his lips, then said, "It would take a very long +time. Remember, I know Judkins, I interviewed him and watched him work +before we hired him. He is a very, very good hypno-tech. And there's +no machine anywhere near except at the prison.</p> + +<p>"Let's hear the rest of his story. Go on, Dalton."</p> + +<p>"You know my record, guns aren't for me. So I looked around and saw a +busted window. This Clarens and another guy—a big fat one—had sort +of stuck with me. I guess they didn't like guns either. When I went +out the window, they were right behind. Clarens and I ran real fast. +The fat guy behind us tried to run as fast, but he wheezed too much.</p> + +<p>"Somebody lying on the edge of the moat cut loose with a subgun and +Big Belly went down. Then Clarens and I were in the water. The other +cons back in the building started shooting at the guy with the subgun. +I guess he got too busy ducking to give us any more attention. Anyhow, +he didn't swing any tracers after us.</p> + +<p>"We ran across a couple of fields, toward Duncannon, and spotted a guy +pulling a delivery truck into a farm lane. We sneaked in, found a +wrench. When the driver came back, I gave him a gentle tap. Clarens +and I stripped the fellow, tied him up and shoved him in one of the +big baskets in the truck.</p> + +<p>"In the uniform, it was a cinch to fool the troopers. They stopped us +only once on the way into town. When we got there, I switched again +from the driver's uniform into one of the suits from the racks. We had +it made, hands down."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you turn Clarens in when you gave yourself up?" Scott +demanded angrily.</p> + +<p>"I tried to. Remember, I didn't know who the guy was until after we +had looked in the railroad station and seen it full of cops. But when +he started admiring the steak knives in the window, his name clicked +with me. I said to him, 'I've got to go to the little boy's room—I'll +be back in a minute'. I found the nearest cop and turned myself in, +but I couldn't make that thickhead believe there was a worse one than +me down the street. At least, not until Clarens had got the knives and +taken off."</p> + +<p>Bennington wondered if he had ever heard anyone speak with such deep +disgust.</p> + +<p>The call which took them to the Camp Hill area justified Dalton's +condemnation.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The hysterical mother had been led away by a couple of consoling +neighbors. Bennington, Scott and Thornberry stood looking down at the +neatly dismembered body. Behind them General Mosby spoke to three of +his soldiers.</p> + +<p>"Good work, men. Keep it up and get back on your beats. You know now +what you're hunting for. I'm sure you'll hunt even harder."</p> + +<p>The slapping sounds of rifles saluting, the clicks of heels, the +scrape of boots in an about-face and a scrap of conversation floated +to Bennington. "Any mother who lets a kid out as late as this...."</p> + +<p>Mosby joined them and picked up where the soldier had left off. "How +did it happen, Scott?"</p> + +<p>"It's hard to get anything out of the mother right now," Scott +replied, "but I got this. They were waiting up for the father—he's on +the swing shift—and the kid wanted ice cream. The store's just around +the corner and the mother was busy ironing, so she gave the kid a +quarter."</p> + +<p>The chief of police turned away from the body, turned away from the +lines written in blood on the wall—"PLEASE CATCH ME QUICK". He went +to his car and switched its radio to one of the local stations.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/image_005.jpg" width="250" height="664" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"<i>Stay off the streets. If you are in your car, do not stop for +anything except—and listen carefully—at least three men in army or +police uniforms. Do not stop for any man standing alone. Do not leave +your home except on the most essential business. If you must leave do +not go alone. Repeat: Do not leave the house alone....</i>"</p> + +<p>Scott switched back to the police band. "What we just heard is on +every radio and TV station covering Harrisburg."</p> + +<p>Another police car drifted into the alley, emptied men and equipment.</p> + +<p>"We can go," Scott said. "My men will take care of the routine."</p> + +<p>All of them were silent as they crossed the Market Street Bridge into +the central section of town, deserted except for police and army +patrols.</p> + +<p>"Belton Hotel," the radio squawked. "<i>Judkins has been picked up at +the Belton.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Now I'll find out what he has told them," Thornberry exulted, "and +then we'll have no trouble finding Clarens."</p> + +<p> </p> +<p>"You know my name, you know my present address, and I'm not saying any +more until I see my lawyer." Judkins had been saying that for half an +hour and his words had not changed.</p> + +<p>Mosby tugged at Bennington's sleeve. Together they moved to a corner +of the hotel room, and at Mosby's nod, Scott and Thornberry joined +them.</p> + +<p>"Get out of here for five minutes. When you come back, he'll be glad +to talk."</p> + +<p>Mosby wasn't joking.</p> + +<p>"I want to do the same thing," Scott said bitterly, "but I can't do +it."</p> + +<p>"You're under civil law," Mosby stated. "This town is under martial +law. I might be able to get away with it."</p> + +<p>"Not a chance," Governor Willoughby had joined them. "It would mean +your career, general. Even the President couldn't protect you."</p> + +<p>"Clarens is out there," Mosby argued, pointing out the window +overlooking the city. "Did you see that little girl?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I heard about it. And I saw the man," the governor answered.</p> + +<p>"I was there," said Thornberry abruptly. "Will you gentlemen let me, +<i>just</i> me, alone with Judkins for five minutes?"</p> + +<p>All four of them, the two generals, the police chief, the governor, +stared at the psychologist.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Bennington decided for the group. "We will."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><i>Doughboy....</i></p> + +<p>Bennington stopped after his first step back into the room, was +jostled by Mosby following closely behind. He moved forward to where +he could see both Judkins and Thornberry.</p> + +<p>The hypno-tech sat bolt upright, his face like that of a +newly-conditioned prisoner, completely blank.</p> + +<p>Thornberry's face radiated pride.</p> + +<p>"These technicians are all alike," the psychologist sniffed. "Their +work makes them especially sensitive to hypnosis."</p> + +<p>Bennington looked at Judkins, then back to Thornberry. "You mean...."</p> + +<p>"I mean that I can ask Judkins anything we want to know and he'll give +a truthful answer." Another sniff. "I've forgotten more about hypnosis +than he'll ever know."</p> + +<p>"This won't hold in a court," Chief Scott warned.</p> + +<p>"But it may save a life, maybe more than one," Bennington answered. +"Thornberry, you did a good job of those guards. You question +Judkins."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," General Mosby said. "How fast can we get a tape +recorder?"</p> + +<p>"Why waste time?" asked Bennington. "You can't use this in court."</p> + +<p>"Hell, Jim, stop thinking about courts-martial; there's more than +<i>one</i> court. Let's fry these boys in the court of public opinion. The +news services aren't bound by the rules of evidence. We can worry +about other courts later."</p> + +<p>"I can get you a tape recorder in two minutes," Scott stated. "Our +patrol boys always carry them to take statements at accidents, before +the victims get over their shock enough to start lying. And we keep +one in the office, too."</p> + +<p>Thornberry looked at Judkins and a self-satisfied smirk crept over his +face. "No need to worry about lies from this one."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Judkins spoke in a low monotone not much louder than the soft hiss of +the machine recording his words. Question by question—in Judkins' +condition, each query had to be specific, Thornberry said—the pattern +emerged.</p> + +<p>Basing his request on his position as a member of the prison +commission, Senator Giles had invited Judkins to lunch with him. The +senator, however, despite his statement that he wanted only to be sure +that Duncannon was getting the best personnel, had not confined his +questions to Judkins' background.</p> + +<p>Was the hypno-tech alone when he conditioned the men? Any set +statement to be made? Could Judkins add to the instructions given each +convict without the knowledge of the prison authorities?</p> + +<p>The following day, both Senator Giles and Representative Culpepper had +called upon Judkins at his sister-in-law's home. Bluntly, they offered +ten thousand dollars if the technician could guarantee that Rooney +would never be able to talk about the income tax racket.</p> + +<p>When Judkins had explained that any conditioning he could give would +be as easily removed by another tech, the two men had gone into a +corner and consulted in whispers.</p> + +<p>They had emerged from the corner with this offer: First, they would +bargain with the new warden to get Rooney a job as a trusty. If that +failed they offered Judkins twenty thousand dollars and a hideout in +New York—until they could set him up outside the country—if he would +condition a group of prisoners to riot and discredit Bennington +immediately.</p> + +<p>"What Rooney must be sitting on!" Mosby murmured in Bennington's ear.</p> + +<p>"Was sitting on," Bennington said bitterly. "He was the fat belly with +Dalton and Clarens, the one who didn't make it."</p> + +<p>The story flowed on under Thornberry's skillful questioning.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>At noon yesterday, a frightened and angry Giles had called Judkins, +had boosted the bribe to thirty thousand and demanded immediate +action.</p> + +<p>"What did you tell the prisoners?" Thornberry's voice was as even as +Judkins'.</p> + +<p>"I was their friend and their only friend; every one else was their +enemy. I told them they must be quiet and obey all orders until the +last man received his coffee in the mess hall. They were then to throw +their trays at the people around them. I told them where to go for +guns. I told them that then they would forget all that I had said, +that they would know how to take care of their enemies."</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, do you realize what this means, in terms of the +constitutional psychopathic inferior? I refer to Clarens, not Dalton. +Dalton reacted as Judkins directed, including to forget that he had +been told everyone was his enemy. Dalton, we know from his record, +actually disliked to use weapons even as a threat.</p> + +<p>"But we can be sure that Clarens has not forgotten."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Mosby demanded.</p> + +<p>"Because the instructions he received only intensified what he himself +believed before Judkins worked on him. As soon as he had a chance he +looked for his kind of weapons. How he got her there, we won't know +until we catch him, but note that he killed the little girl in the +equivalent of a cavern.</p> + +<p>"And the man in the park, that, too, took place in what was +necessarily an almost secret spot.</p> + +<p>"Those orders Judkins gave, we <i>know</i> Clarens is still responding to +them...."</p> + +<p>Thornberry hesitated a moment, then completed his thought. "And so we +must intensify our patrols on the darker streets. With this poor boy +believing that every man's hand is turned against him, he is now +looking for some dark place in which to feel safe. He is in essence +retreating to the foetus—"</p> + +<p>"Sounds good, but tell me the rest later, Doc."</p> + +<p>"General Mosby, you and I want to call our roving patrols," and Scott +headed for the door, Mosby right behind him.</p> + +<p>"By the way, Doc," the chief called back over his shoulder, "when +you're done with that guy, just tell one of my men. We've got a +special, reserved, very solitary cell for him."</p> + +<p>More slowly, Bennington followed Scott and Mosby.</p> + +<p>The area of the hunt had perhaps been narrowed. Their quarry—the +beast with steel knives for talons—would be found in a dark, deserted +place.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bennington noted that Thornberry stayed with Judkins for about ten +minutes before he joined the group around the map of Harrisburg in the +Operations Office.</p> + +<p>Personally, the warden was glad that his assistant was not present; +the discussion would almost certainly have produced and explosion from +the psychologist.</p> + +<p>Scott began his gloomy analysis after both he and General Mosby had +redirected their patrols to heavier concentrations in Harrisburg's +dim-lit and winding side streets.</p> + +<p>"I hate to hunt this kind," the chief said gloomily. "You just never +know, never know anything, except that they're going to kill again.</p> + +<p>"I just hope he has cooled off and that he wants to sleep a while."</p> + +<p>Bennington noted with amused interest the startled glance General +Mosby gave the Chief of Police. Mosby's greatest strength and greatest +weakness, both in the field and garrison, was his complete refusal to +accept or excuse aberration.</p> + +<p>Scott had caught the glance, too, and continued. "I got a good lab, +general, smart boys willing to pull extra duty. They've already told +me that Clarens reached—after he killed the guy in the park—an +emotional climax."</p> + +<p>Bennington watched his former Division Commander's face harden as +expected.</p> + +<p>Scott continued: "That's why I said, I hope he's crawled off, wants to +sleep a while. Every place he can get a bed in my town, I'll know the +minute he wants to lie down.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll take him, like this"—the big hand crushed upon +itself—"dead or alive, and I hope I have to take him dead."</p> + +<p>"Why <i>dead</i>?"</p> + +<p>"General, sorry, <i>warden</i>—no, I'll go back to the way I know you +best—General Bennington, Clarens simply isn't the business of any +kind of normal living.</p> + +<p>"You take a guy who cracked a safe, knocked off a payroll, robbed a +bank, he's like any good business man taking a risk; he has insurance, +he's got an out.</p> + +<p>"He can buy me, he can talk to the D.A., he can get the court to go +along if he's caught. He just says, I'll tell you where the stuff is +if I get the minimum.</p> + +<p>"O.K., we're wrong, we should go black-and-white, we should say no to +any kind of deal, I shouldn't let a little guy go just because I'd +rather grab the big one. Only, unconditional surrender doesn't work +any better in my job than it does in yours on a battlefield."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"We've learned it doesn't work too well," Bennington agreed, "but what +has this to do with Clarens?"</p> + +<p>"General, you did the right thing up at Duncannon when you decided to +talk to Musto. He was a man in business, with something to buy and +something to sell. He could be dealt with.</p> + +<p>"Now think this through: Suppose everybody in that Administration +Building had been a Clarens. And I heard that you said this, General +Bennington, that there has to be some sort of mutual trust for +bargaining. You could deal with Musto because he is, and I'll make the +point again, a sort of business man even though his business isn't +legal.</p> + +<p>"But Clarens...."</p> + +<p>Chief Scott let the silence build while he lit a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"But Clarens wants to be caught," Mosby said.</p> + +<p>"He does?" Chief Scott pointed to the map. "General Mosby, you and I +both know that all he has to do is sit down on the curb underneath any +street light.</p> + +<p>"Let me change that. We would have him ten minutes faster if he sat +down on the curb of any dark street.</p> + +<p>"No, he doesn't want caught, except maybe those first couple of +minutes when he's almost human, those first couple of minutes after +he's killed somebody. And if you have to kill someone to have human +feelings yourself—that's not for most of us and that's why I hope he +fights back and I have to take him—dead."</p> + +<p>Chief Scott turned back to the map of Harrisburg. His forefinger ran +down the river, pausing at each of the many bridges. Then he turned to +the generals.</p> + +<p>"Maybe we've got him pinned. We've had the bridges sealed tight and if +Dr. Thornberry is right, he won't chase west because Pennsylvania +land, especially around here, is selling real high and that's still +very open country.</p> + +<p>"And that's not for Clarens, he wants back into our little city, back +where things feel close and he feels <i>inside</i>."</p> + +<p>Bennington found himself looking at Mosby, with the glance returned.</p> + +<p>Mosby spoke, reluctantly. "He could be through us, Chief Scott."</p> + +<p>"<i>How?</i>"</p> + +<p>"The same way my men come back to camp and it's a natural way that's +rarely stopped."</p> + +<p>"Clarens had no military experience!" Scott said.</p> + +<p>"No, but he's read a lot—that came out at the trial—and he's under +pressure, so he'll remember what he read," Bennington said.</p> + +<p>"Tell me this way you can walk invisible across a lighted bridge," and +Scott was still unconvinced.</p> + +<p>"You don't walk over, you ride over," Mosby said. "I would work it +this way.</p> + +<p>"I would stop in a bar and buy a drink that made me smell five feet +away. I would order and get rid of a couple more of them, very +quickly, then I would tip the bartender to call me a cab.</p> + +<p>"And by the way, of course I wouldn't be drinking any after the first +one.</p> + +<p>"But when the cabbie came, I'd offer him a drink, wave a big bill or +two that meant a good tip, and give him a good address—for instance, +the hotel that takes up the biggest space in the yellow pages of the +telephone book.</p> + +<p>"I would get into the back seat of the cab still holding on to the +biggest bill or two out of those we took from the cleaning truck and I +would pretend to fall asleep.</p> + +<p>"With that cab driver convinced that he's hauling a drunk just aching +to give away a big tip—and any normal human being perfectly sure that +a wanted killer would never walk into a bar, get loaded and order a +cab to take him to the biggest hotel in town—what are my chances, +Chief Scott?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The chief did not answer directly. Instead, "And I'll bet he wins that +appeal he's got going, too."</p> + +<p>"What did you say, Chief Scott?" Bennington asked.</p> + +<p>"We got the word a while ago from Delaware by teletype. Clarens has +three good lawyers fighting an appeal from the conviction on every +grounds you can think of, including that the confession was beaten out +of him.</p> + +<p>"That's why I hope he wants to fight when I catch up with him, and +that's what Delaware hopes, too.</p> + +<p>"But here comes Dr. Thornberry, General Mosby. Let's ask him why +Clarens hides so well when he says he wants to be caught."</p> + +<p>Thornberry pursed his lips so tightly that his face became a skull's +head, then he answered.</p> + +<p>"In some areas of human behavior...." he began.</p> + +<p>"Dalton," Bennington interrupted, "does he make a game out of getting +away when he's caught?"</p> + +<p>Thornberry's face became almost human with a big smile. "Oh, yes, +obviously."</p> + +<p>"Could that energy he puts into escaping be channeled, led, +educated—in some way—to constructive thinking? Put it this way: +could Dalton be led to thinking about making a jail escape-proof?"</p> + +<p>"A most excellent therapy," and Thornberry was actually beaming. +"General Bennington, I am beginning to have great hopes for our work +together as we start to see more and more eye to eye."</p> + +<p>"Let's go back to Clarens," Bennington said. "Son of wealthy parents, +a good education, the only child in a family who seemed to have +everything, including parents who loved both each other and the +child—why does he kill, ask to be caught, and then hide so well?</p> + +<p>"What therapy does your science have for him, Dr. Thornberry?"</p> + +<p>Thornberry's lip-pursing again made his face a skeleton's.</p> + +<p>"There are areas of human behavior—"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bennington observed that Scott and Mosby had turned away from the +conversation to the immediacies of patrol distribution. Scott was +being eloquent on how lighting cut down crime and Mosby was analyzing +the idea in terms of house-to-house combat at night under +slow-dropping flares.</p> + +<p>For further insurance of privacy, Bennington pulled Thornberry into +the corner of the room most removed from the others.</p> + +<p>"Doctor, let's forget about Clarens for a moment. I want to talk about +Judkins."</p> + +<p>"Yes, general."</p> + +<p>"How did you hypnotize him? And don't hand me any of that stuff about +him being sensitive because of his job."</p> + +<p>Thornberry smiled. "You've seen too many conditioned men, and in a way +I'm surprised that I got past Chief Scott with my ... General Mosby +should have been more alert, too.</p> + +<p>"You're right, it was his skin, not his job."</p> + +<p>"I'm still puzzled."</p> + +<p>"I won't go into the physical structure of the man, his character as +revealed by his choice of profession, and so on. Briefly, he is +hyper-sensitive to the thought of physical pain, that's all. So I gave +him a simple choice. Talk to us in such a way that what he said could +never be used against him, or go for a ride with you, Chief Scott, and +General Mosby.</p> + +<p>"This is very odd, a fact I must further check into, that your name +frightened him most."</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> threatened someone with violence!"</p> + +<p>Thornberry sniffed. "It was no threat. I knew the man and simply +appealed to him in the proper way. Then with the spray of cannabis +indica that I carry, I speeded his willingness—"</p> + +<p>"Marihuana!"</p> + +<p>"Please don't be so shocked!" and Thornberry was horrified that +Bennington should be shocked. "The prescription I use is a carefully +compounded medical dosage specifically prepared to promote +suggestibility...."</p> + +<p>"Doctor, I am not in the least suggesting that you would use any +method or drug not thoroughly commended by your profession.</p> + +<p>"In addition, I am delighted beyond expression that you found some way +to learn what we needed from Judkins.</p> + +<p>"But, just as I was surprised that your profession did find a use for +a drug previously condemned, I now want to be surprised in another +way:</p> + +<p>"<i>What can you do for someone like Clarens?</i>"</p> + +<p>Thornberry's lips came together and his cheeks began to pull in. +Bennington resigned himself to hearing again the phrase, "There are +some areas of human behavior—"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"<i>Car 17, at M dash 9, Code Two Zero, times two. Standing by for +instructions.</i>"</p> + +<p>Bennington turned to watch Chief Scott's big fore-fingers travel a +line from the side and a line from the top that brought them together +on the big map. "Signs of breaking and entering, down on Hickory, +where it's all big warehouses."</p> + +<p>Thornberry leaped to the chief's side. "Lonely at this time of night? +Dark? Not too many people?"</p> + +<p>"Right on every count," Scott said. "Only a few night watchmen."</p> + +<p>"This should be carefully checked," and Thornberry started for the +door.</p> + +<p>Scott turned to the dispatcher. "Tell them just to keep the place +under observation until I get there."</p> + +<p>There was an odd eagerness about the chief, odd until Bennington +remembered Scott's grim analysis of Clarens' behavior, the chief's +hope that Clarens would resist arrest.</p> + +<p><i>And why do I now recall that time in Burma when I followed the +wounded tiger into the cave?</i></p> + +<p><i>What was I thinking of at the time?</i></p> + +<p>Thornberry had disappeared into the corridor, but for once even the +prospect of immediate action was not enough to get the impetuous Mosby +out the door ahead of Scott.</p> + +<p><i>Was I thinking of mercy, that I could not let a wounded beast which +could not destroy itself live with continual pain? Thornberry would +never agree, but Clarens is certainly both wounded and incapable of +self-destruction.</i></p> + +<p>Thornberry was already seated in the back of the car. Mosby was ready +to seat himself in the front, Scott was opening the door to slide in +behind the driver's wheel, but Bennington did not change his steady +pace.</p> + +<p><i>Retribution and punishment, because the tiger had killed human +beings? No, no and never no, for these are worthless without +understanding by the person upon whom they are visited. A baby +understands not the reason why, but only the whack across its buttocks +when its fingers or its life are in danger, and that action is thence +forward "reject"; but Clarens is not a baby and a baby is not a tiger, +with all three having only this in common, that 'don't do this' is a +mystery....</i></p> + +<p>Bennington seated himself beside Thornberry in the rear of Scott's +sedan, more aware of his thoughts than his movements.</p> + +<p>For a moment the whine of the turbine was high, the gleam of the +headlights low, then they were on their way.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hickory Street was a fast three-minute run from the police station.</p> + +<p>"Nothing but warehouses," Scott said. "We're a big trans-shipment +center."</p> + +<p>The narrow, one-way streets and the broad-shouldered bulk of the big +buildings emphasized what the chief had said. The railroads and the +rivers were still the most economical way to ship the space-taking +stuff, coal, steel, grain. Harrisburg was a crossroads where the +east-west and north-south main lines met, with a natural growth of the +long warehouses at the intersection.</p> + +<p>Scott spun the driver's wheel to the left and cut the car lights. +"Hickory Street."</p> + +<p>It is a lonely place at night, Bennington decided.</p> + +<p>Thornberry leaned forward from the back seat of the car, leaned +forward so far between Scott and Mosby that his thin nose almost +touched the front window.</p> + +<p>"Ideal, ideal, just the way Clarens would be thinking."</p> + +<p>"Thank God we found Judkins," Mosby said, "but say, that reminds me. +Why didn't he take the first plane or train out of town? He had plenty +of time before we knew we wanted him."</p> + +<p>Thornberry pulled himself back, re-condensed his lean frame in the +left corner of the back seat. "He was waiting for Senator Giles to pay +him off and tell him where to hide out."</p> + +<p>Chief Scott idled his car to a halt beside another dark-blue sedan +almost invisible in the shadowed street.</p> + +<p>A figure loomed large in the shadows, came forward and identified +itself.</p> + +<p>"Patrolman Whelton, sir, and Sergeant Kerr is in the back."</p> + +<p>Somehow Scott managed to return the salute while at the same time +disentangling himself from his seat-belt and from behind the driver's +wheel.</p> + +<p>"What did you spot?"</p> + +<p>"According to orders, we were riding the alleys and we saw that the +window had been broken since our last inspection."</p> + +<p>They were in a tight group around the young patrolman because Whelton +had spoken in a soft, church-going whisper. Now Mosby walked away from +the group, thoughtfully fingering the ivory-handled butts of his +revolvers, but returning to the group when Scott began speaking.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, General Mosby. They couldn't have checked the alleys as often +as they did without your men helping out on the streets. This way, we +caught it fast."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_006.jpg" width="300" height="343" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Sir, we can't find the watchman for this area," and Patrolman Whelton +was very worried.</p> + +<p>"Watchman?" Mosby asked.</p> + +<p>"Fire-warden would be more accurate," Scott said. "He isn't here to +prevent theft. The stuff in these buildings is too big to steal +without a convoy of trucks that would awaken the whole town. But he +does have a definite route, with fixed posts where he clocks in."</p> + +<p>Two more cars drifted to a halt, disgorged men armed with shotguns and +submachine guns.</p> + +<p>Scott rubbed his chin thoughtfully, gave his orders carefully, +obviously aware that he had two renowned tacticians with him.</p> + +<p>His car and one of the newly-arrived ones were to remain in front of +the warehouse. The other patrol car would pull around the block and +join Sergeant Kerr in the alley. At Scott's signal, they would flood +the building with light.</p> + +<p>And not until much later did Bennington remember to laugh at the way +they had all followed the elephantine Whelton's example and gone on +tiptoe down the walk between the two concrete-walled warehouses, into +the alley behind.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The broken window was in a small door, part of the large door which +let trucks in and out.</p> + +<p>"Nice eye," Scott said to Whelton.</p> + +<p>Bennington agreed.</p> + +<p>The break in the window was just big enough to allow a hand through +the door, a small hand through the pane to the lock on the inside of +the door.</p> + +<p>Scott stretched out his arm to try to slide his big, freckled hand +through the break in the window, but abruptly Thornberry stepped +forward, catching the chief's hand in mid-gesture.</p> + +<p>"One moment, Chief Scott!"</p> + +<p>The chief was startled. "What's up?"</p> + +<p>"This isn't your job, it's mine. If that poor boy <i>is</i> in there, he +needs a doctor, not a bullet."</p> + +<p>"Whatthehell—" Scott sputtered, the phrase emerging as a single word.</p> + +<p>"Thornberry's right, Chief Scott, though he's right for the wrong +reason. Clarens is our job."</p> + +<p><i>Following the tiger had been a simple act of necessity in two ways. +To rid the tiger of the pain it could not remove from itself and to +rid society of the menace the beast had been and would continue to be +until it was destroyed.</i></p> + +<p>With his words to Scott, with that last thought, Bennington shook the +lethargy, the stillness of deep thought that had contained and +enveloped him since the report of this breaking and entering.</p> + +<p>Now, as in that dash to the mess hall, he was ready for the fast +sprint, the decisive action.</p> + +<p>Before Scott could answer and possibly object, Thornberry had taken +the flashlight from the chief's hand, was fumbling through the open +pane for the lock inside.</p> + +<p>"Give me a flashlight, too," Bennington said.</p> + +<p>Patrolman Whelton responded.</p> + +<p>At the same time, Mosby reversed the grip on the pistol in his right +hand and offered the ivory butt to Bennington.</p> + +<p>"What do you think I am, a psychologist?"</p> + +<p>Bennington had kept his voice to a whisper, but he had made that +whisper a snarl. He further emphasized that snap in his tone by +pulling out his own pistol, throwing the beam of the flashlight on his +hand, making both the sight and sound of the safety going off clear to +the eyes and ears of those around him.</p> + +<p>Then he followed Thornberry into the black cave of the warehouse.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Before them stretched a long aisle formed by big boxes piled fifteen +feet high. Side aisles branched at ten-foot intervals.</p> + +<p>They moved slowly, used their lights carefully, in quick flickers on +and off. Each branching from the main corridor had to be approached +cautiously. Each, when checked by a rapid finger of light, showed only +the sides of boxes marked by stenciled words and the blank walls of +the warehouse.</p> + +<p>A flash of light, a few steps forward, another flash, a few more +steps ... until they were halfway down the warehouse.</p> + +<p>Bennington saw it first and halted Thornberry with a touch on the arm: +the last row of boxes on the left was outlined by a faint glow of +light.</p> + +<p>Together they walked rapidly, quietly, toward the glow. When they +reached the end of the aisle, Bennington tried to take the lead. But +Thornberry deliberately shoved himself ahead of the general and turned +the corner first.</p> + +<p>The space from the last row of boxes to the front doors of the +warehouse was big enough for a truck and trailer to maneuver in. The +feeble glow of light came from an electric lantern on a small desk. +Beside the desk, leaning his chair against the warehouse wall, a +palefaced young man sat looking down at his hands. His long fingers +played with a knife.</p> + +<p>The shadow of the desk spread across the floor and in that shadow +bulked a large, unmoving blackness. Bennington flicked the beam of his +light on and off quickly. One glimpse was enough. The unmoving +blackness was a middle-aged man in work clothes and boots, lying on +his back, with the slash across the throat standing out clearly.</p> + +<p>"Walter."</p> + +<p>Thornberry spoke softly, moved slowly, easily toward the young man.</p> + +<p>At the sound of his name, Clarens looked up, his face calm and +composed, his posture expressing complete disinterest in the fact that +someone was approaching him.</p> + +<p>"Walter: I am Dr. Thornberry. I am a friend of yours. I am here to +help you. You need help. I am here to help you."</p> + +<p>As Thornberry spoke, he continued to move forward slowly.</p> + +<p>Bennington followed, two strides behind and one to the left of the +psychologist. He kept his point of aim fixed on Walter's face.</p> + +<p>"I am your friend. I am here to help you."</p> + +<p>"You are my friend?" Walter asked, and there was doubt in his tone.</p> + +<p>"You can be sure of that, Walter. I want to help you. I am here to +help you, Walter."</p> + +<p>Thornberry, who had stopped when Clarens had spoken, now moved forward +again.</p> + +<p>"Put down the knife, Walter. You don't need the knife any more. Put +the knife down and come for a little walk with me. Come out of this +dark place with me. Out of the darkness into the world where you +belong. Let us take a walk together, out of the darkness into the +world where you belong."</p> + +<p>Bennington felt his own tense watchfulness relaxing in the smooth flow +of Thornberry's words. Before them, Clarens' disinterest had gradually +become absorbed attention. His hands no longer played with the knife, +but simply held it loosely.</p> + +<p>In another minute, he'll put down the knife and come with us, +Bennington decided. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thornberry +take a plastic squeeze-bottle from his pocket.</p> + +<p>Without any gathering of facial or body muscle to signal his +intention, Clarens launched himself from his chair. As he jumped, he +shrilled hoarsely, "Not into the light again!"</p> + +<p>Only Thornberry's height saved him; Clarens' leap could not quite +reach the psych-expert's scrawny throat. But the doctor did stumble +backwards, did fall on his back with Clarens on top of him.</p> + +<p>The killer's right arm swung back. The edge of the knife blade danced +brightly in the dim light.</p> + +<p>Bennington took no chances with fancy shooting. He dropped his point +of aim and his first shot smashed into Clarens' chest, driving the +young man back onto his haunches. The general's second and third shots +were also into the body.</p> + +<p>Then before Bennington's inner eye two scenes flashed fleetingly, one +of a darkened garage, the other of an almost-as-dark jungle trail. In +both the figure was a weeping mother above a child's still form. +Deliberately, with three carefully-aimed shots through Clarens' head, +Bennington killed the wounded tiger again.</p> + +<p>Out of ingrained habit, he reloaded his pistol before moving forward +to help Thornberry to his feet.</p> + +<p>But the psychologist was already standing, was turning toward +Bennington, wild anger on his face, in his voice.</p> + +<p>"What did you shoot him for? Why did you kill this poor, misguided +boy?"</p> + +<p>Bennington looked at his assistant warden and saw that the man was +deadly serious. Then the general looked at Clarens sprawled +grotesquely on his back, with his shattered head resting against the +dead night watchman's feet, with his right hand still gripping the +knife.</p> + +<p>I know seven languages, Bennington thought, with maybe knowing some of +them only well enough to swear in, but right now I don't know the +words to answer this man.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bennington looked at the face reflected in the mirror in Chief Scott's +private bathroom. The face was gray and lined with fatigue, needed a +shave and the bristle of the beard was more white than brown.</p> + +<p>His throat was raw from too much smoking, from answering too many +questions, and a long, long day was still ahead.</p> + +<p>Judkins was in jail, and glad to be in a solitary cell because he was +handwriting a full confession. The knowledge of what Clarens had done +during his few hours of freedom had scared the hypno-tech into almost +incoherent co-operation.</p> + +<p>The chief of Harrisburg's police was showing less signs of wear than +anyone else. Scott was exulting in his position as supervisor of the +city search for Giles, glorying in his position as relayer of the +details of the state search for the errant politician.</p> + +<p>Bennington opened the door into Scott's office, meditating gratefully +on one blessing, that the six governors who had agreed on his +appointment had also finally agreed to sleep.</p> + +<p>Of course they had all assured him of complete concurrence with his +suggested reforms for Duncannon Prison ... but what else could they +have done?</p> + +<p>Mosby was just outside the bathroom door, standing big enough to +insure a half-circle of privacy between the general and the reporters.</p> + +<p>"Had a call from Washington, Jim. That Rooney tax mess is getting top +priority."</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>"The AG called, too."</p> + +<p>Bennington found himself companioning Mosby's faint smile. "You had a +cigarette in your ashtray?"</p> + +<p>"I did, and he's got six good precedents to back us up, Jim. But the +next time he wants us to call him first: my men aren't the only ones +who need practical training."</p> + +<p>Bennington did not hold back his laugh and he stretched out his hand. +"Thanks, Mossback."</p> + +<p>"Hell, Jim, I owe you the thanks. That was the best training problem +my men ever had, taught 'em more in one night that they can ever learn +until the real stuff starts whistling around."</p> + +<p>Bennington glanced over Mosby's shoulder at the place he was heading +for: the hot seat, Chief Scott's desk chair, bright under the TV +spotlights, the center of every camera focus.</p> + +<p>"You've got work to do, I know, so where's that Thornberry?" Mosby +growled. "He should be with you."</p> + +<p>"Upstairs, asleep. He said that he was only the assistant warden, then +asked Chief Scott for an empty cell and left me."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"It's very simple: he's still not convinced that I had to shoot +Clarens."</p> + +<p>Mosby grunted deep disgust, looked over his shoulder toward the hot +seat, looked again at Bennington. "You should have shaved.</p> + +<p>"No, wait a minute, I guess not. Just go the way you are and give 'em +hell."</p> + +<p>Bennington rubbed his chin and the bristle of his late-night, +early-morning beard crackled crisply.</p> + +<p>The problem he had anticipated was now here, as he had known it would +be. And the answer was nowhere, which equally had been a matter of +foreknowledge.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"What will I say, General Mosby?" Bennington murmured. "Cue me in. You +were always the best public relations officer either of us ever had."</p> + +<p>"Jim, from anyone else—" Mosby started, stopped, grinned. "The +trouble is, you're right.</p> + +<p>"But this time we don't need any style, this time all we need is the +truth.</p> + +<p>"Tell them why the prison wasn't running right, how the riot happened +and why you are where you are tonight, and what the prisons need to +make them run better...."</p> + +<p>Mosby stopped again, and this time was very slow in re-starting.</p> + +<p>"When you get there, I don't know, Jim. What <i>are</i> you going to tell +them?"</p> + +<p><i>I wish I could be sure, Mossback.</i></p> + +<p><i>I know I can make that hot seat hotter by stating no one else knows +either, because we've never decided what a prison is for ... society's +protection, a place to put people like Clarens, where they won't +affect the lives of normal folk? A deterrent, a threat, a place to +point to as a warning not to break the law? Or, as Thornberry would +have it, the first step to returning people to normal lives as +functioning members of society again?</i></p> + +<p><i>Dare I say that the only thing certain about prisons is that so far they +haven't worked ... that stone walls, iron bars, conditioning and drugs +that take the reason prisoner, none of these have kept men in ... that +they would always try to escape as long as there was hope, hope of +something better on the outside.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>As Mosby stepped aside, Bennington considered the reverse of that last +thought.</p> + +<p><i>Was there an answer here, to ask his fellow-countrymen to face the +immediately, perhaps the forever, impossible, that the only way to +keep a man from hoping and trying to get out, was to build a society +where they never got in?</i></p> + +<p>Then Bennington remembered Clarens.</p> + +<p><i>No, let's face facts, that till man is superman, there will always be +people like Clarens, people who will never be redeemed. People, who no +matter how carefully caged or watched, will ever be a potential +threat, if only to their keepers. By what weird accident they came to +life, well, list that among other facts as yet unknown, and consider +only the end result, that there were people whose only pleasure lay in +perpetual destruction.</i></p> + +<p><i>Automatically, such people themselves must be destroyed.</i></p> + +<p>He was only vaguely aware of the flash-bulbs popping as he walked to +the chair behind Chief Scott's desk.</p> + +<p><i>That could be an answer, a new addition to the Decalogue, a new +Commandment specific to the judge giving sentence to a man like +Clarens, an injunction not to jail but to destroy. Simply phrased for +the judge, thou shalt not commit!</i></p> + +<p>He seated himself and blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the +glare.</p> + +<p><i>But, beginning with Thornberry, there would be many people who +wouldn't agree, who would never accept such an amendment to the Sacred +Ten, people who never seemed to see that phrase in their newspapers +every time a child was assaulted, "Police are questioning all known +sex offenders."</i></p> + +<p>Bennington looked thoughtfully around at the men ready to question +him.</p> + +<p>He, too, was ready, ready to tell them....</p> + +<p><i>... Some people are a damn sight better off dead.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Take the Reason Prisoner, by John Joseph McGuire + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TAKE THE REASON PRISONER *** + +***** This file should be named 30972-h.htm or 30972-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/9/7/30972/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Take the Reason Prisoner + +Author: John Joseph McGuire + +Illustrator: George Schelling + +Release Date: January 15, 2010 [EBook #30972] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TAKE THE REASON PRISONER *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction November 1963. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright + on this publication was renewed. + + + TAKE THE REASON PRISONER + + + No process is perfect ... + but some men always feel unalterably convinced + that their system is the Be all and End all. Psychology now, + should make prisons absolutely escape-proof, + and cure all aberrations.... + + + JOHN J. McGUIRE + + Illustrated by George Schelling + + * * * * * + + + + +Major general (Ret.) James J. Bennington had both professional +admiration and personal distaste for the way the politicians +maneuvered him. + +The party celebrating his arrival as the new warden of Duncannon +Processing Prison had begun to mellow. As in any group of men with a +common interest, the conversation and jokes centered on that interest. The +representatives and senators of the six states which sent criminals to +Duncannon, holding glasses more suited to Martini-drinking elephants than +human beings, naturally turned their attention to the vagaries in the +business of being and remaining elected. + +Senator Giles from Pennsylvania and Representative Culpepper of +Connecticut accomplished the maneuver. Together they smoothly cut the +general out of the group comparing the present tax structure to rape, +past the group lamenting the heavy penalties in the latest +conflict-of-interest law, into a comparatively quiet corner. + +"Well general, no need to tell you that we are all as happy to have +you here as Dr. Thornberry seemed to be," Senator Giles said. + +Bennington nodded politely, though he had not been much impressed by +the lean, high-voiced man who had greeted him with such open delight. +Dr. Thornberry had expressed too much burbling joy when he had been +relieved of his administrative job as Acting Warden, had been +overly-happy about resuming his normal duties as Assistant Warden and +Chief Psychologist. + +"I'm very much interested in some of your ideas on reducing the +overhead here, general," Culpepper said, "although I'm also wondering +if they may not cost my good friend, the senator, some votes in his +district." + +"That will be no real worry," Giles said thoughtfully, "if I can show +the changes are real economies. Today that's the way to gain votes and +I'd come up with more than I'd lose." + +"But your turnover," Culpepper said. "I can see that in a regular +prison, where they have the men a long time, it's easy to train them +in kitchen work and supply. But here.... How long do you plan to keep +them, general?" + +"I'll try to get back to the original purpose in setting up Duncannon +as quickly as possible," Bennington said. "Dr. Thornberry agreed that +five days is the maximum time his sections need to complete the +analysis of a prisoner and decide what prison he should go to. After +that, we will have sound reason to start charging the individual +states for each day we have to keep their consignment." + +"Complicated," Giles said. "I mean, the bookkeeping." + +"Not at all. I'll either hold the next top-sergeant that comes through +here or borrow one from Carlisle or Indiantown Gap. He can set up a +sort of morning-report system, and when the states learn they will +have to pay us to handle the men _they_ should be feeding, we will +soon see ... well, there won't be six hundred and fifty men, women and +children stuffed into barracks designed to hold three hundred and +fifty." + +Bennington had spoken calmly and he lifted his glass casually. But +over the rim of his drink he caught the eye of another old soldier. + +Ferguson, who had been a private when Bennington had been only a +captain in Korea, eased himself to within earshot. + +The two had risen in rank and grade together. Thirty-three years had +taught them the value of an unobtrusive witness to the general's +conversations. + + * * * * * + +"But with personnel changing so rapidly--frankly, I didn't understand +your reference to a replo-depot," Culpepper confessed. + +"A replo-depot," Bennington said, calling deep on his reserve of +patience, "is the place to which all persons called up for military +service must go first. There, they go through a process similar to the +one we use here: a complete physical, a complete mental, a complete +skill-testing, all used to decide where the man himself can best be +used--or imprisoned. Then they are forwarded to that assignment." + +Culpepper nodded, but he still seemed puzzled. + +"You could waste an awful lot of men on just handling the food and +equipment that such a command needs, unless you used the men passing +through," Bennington went on. "But, if you have a small permanent +cadre who know what to do and how to do it, they can handle large +groups of untrained men. + +"And you'll not only save money, you'll give these men something to do +while they are here," he added. + +When Giles and Culpepper exchanged glances, Bennington was +immediately and almost totally certain that his explanation had not +been needed. + +"Seems to me you could economize even more if a part of that permanent +cadre were trusties," Giles said. + +"I would think so," Culpepper said, "but of course you would have to +pick the men very carefully." + +Giles approved of that idea. "Responsible men, not hardened criminals. +Men who once held a prominent position in their communities, but made +a mistake and now would sincerely like a chance to redeem themselves." + +"Take the example of Mike Rooney," Culpepper said. "A tragic case, +that. He's lost a good government job and with it all his pension and +retirement rights. And how? By simply having an accident with a +government helicopter when he was using it on a combination of +government and personal business. + +"Rooney--" Giles said thoughtfully. "Yes, I know him very well. +Wonderful chap, nice family of growing boys. Now there is the sort of +man who would make you a good trusty, general. I would recommend him +very highly." + +"I feel the same way," Culpepper said. + +Bennington signaled to Ferguson, used the excuse of freshening his +drink to cover his thoughts. Rooney ... Rooney ... oh, yes, the +Internal Revenue official with the odd ideas about whose tax should be +collected and whose should be neglected ... and coming here for +processing on a minor charge. + +The old run-around, Bennington decided: Put the man in jail on a minor +charge until the hullabaloo over his major crime no longer made big +headlines. + +If word had gotten down to the State level that Rooney was to be taken +care of, the former tax collector must be sitting on a lot of hot +stuff. + +The right phrase here will buy a lot of co-operation, Bennington told +himself, remembering the overcrowded barracks, among the long list of +things needing a change before this place operated properly. + +On a short-term basis, the answer was clear.... + +"Gentlemen, I have no doubt that anyone you recommend for special +consideration would, in some way, deserve that consideration," he +said. "I am further aware that one hand washes another and that if I +expect some favors from you, I should expect to do some for you." + +He held down his temper while the politicians exchanged glances of +mutual congratulation. + +"But," he said, "if I establish a trusty system, it will be an +honorable one. I would be seen in hell first before I would allow any +man to use the setup as a place to hide in comfort during a short rap +when he should be sweating out a long one. + +"Your friend Rooney will get exactly what he deserves. And not a thing +more." + +Giles had slowly turned a turkey purple, but his voice remained calm +and even. "I think you stated the proposition fairly, general. You +will get from us the same amount of consideration that you give us." + +The party had been over for an hour, but Ferguson was still at work on +the debris. And his old sergeant had, Bennington estimated out of long +experience with cleaning up after stag parties, at least another +hour's work ahead of him. + +The general returned to staring out the big picture window overlooking +the prison compound. + +_Something was wrong...._ + +It wasn't Giles and Culpepper. A call to a friend in the Bureau of +Internal Revenue, a few words to each of the six governors who had +concurred in his appointment, either or both of these would take care +of those gentlemen, very thoroughly. + +_Something else was wrong...._ + +He knew the basis of his feeling. He had led troops too many years not +to have learned how rapidly a commander can establish a feeling of +empathy, even on the first day of a new command. + +He knew the basis for the feeling, but he couldn't pinpoint an exact +reason. + +Or could he? + +_Why were there absolutely no lights at all in the prison compound?_ + +He spoke over his shoulder to Ferguson, "I'm going for a little walk." + +"Want me with you, sir?" + +"No, I don't think I'll need you. Keep going and finish up in here." + +"Right, sir. You've got your pistol." + +The old master sergeant was stating a fact, not asking a question. + +"Ha!" + +Bennington's barked reply arose from memory of his first argument with +Thornberry. The assistant warden-chief psychologist had been astounded +to learn that the general did not trust the conditioning process as a +solid basis for prison security. Beginning there, the opening +engagement in the battle of ideas, their contrasting philosophies had +deployed and made the entire prison a battleground. + +But Bennington dismissed his chief assistant from his thoughts as soon +as he stood in the darkness on the little knoll outside his house. He +concentrated on orienting himself. + + * * * * * + +The camp had not been changed much when it had been made over from a +ground-to-air missile station, protecting the freight yards of +Harrisburg, into the processing prison for six states. + +They had tapped the Juniata a few hundred yards northwest of where it +joined the Susquehanna, for the water that filled the moat encircling +three sides of the prison. The union of the two rivers formed the +water barrier on the east. + +_What was it Thornberry had said about the moat? Oh, yes, not to keep +the poor misguided inmates imprisoned, but to keep unwanted people +out...._ + +When his eyes were accustomed to the darkness, Bennington walked east +and came to the first of the two new additions to the camp. A long +building, used by psychological and medical men to determine the total +amount of usefulness to society left in a man convicted of a crime. + +Beyond it, the second addition, a barbed-wire-enclosed building called +The Cage, where prisoners where first received and conditioned. + +He turned and began retracing his steps, at the same time mentally +following what happened to a prisoner in each of the two buildings. +When the official party accompanying him to his new post had arrived +late yesterday, for the second time he had followed a man through the +procedure. + +The quick frisking and the slow interview with two purposes, by +visual, oral and written tests determining the amount of +suggestibility to hypnotic conditioning plus the quicker giving of a +card to denote a temporary classification. + +Light gray for minor offenses; yellow for major crimes; pink for +lifers, psychos and killers; blues for juvenile delinquents; green for +all females, with a colored clip-tab denoting the weight of the +offense. + +A temporary classification it had to be, Bennington decided, for the +weight of the offense in itself never measured the man. How many +repeaters, men inevitable to a life of crime, had come here to be +handed a light gray card in The Cage, while other, different men, +once-upon-a-timers, had come out carrying the yellow or pink? + +Could and did happen, the general knew, could and did happen even in +his former military life, where consideration of a man's record was a +prerequisite to deciding the sentence, with review and review and +review automatic not a matter of initiated appeal. + +However, here, in the psycho-med building, was what might be called +re-judgment, for here, assisted by the latest advances that could +trickle down through the long bureaucracy above--and aided by ideas +that yeasted up, not down--Dr. Thornberry's staff went back to basics +with the question, what is re-claimable, for the man and for us, in +this man? + +But not the first day ... that was routine. + +Strip and change to prison clothes. + +_Mental memo: What happened to the civilian clothes that the prisoners +surrendered? Was there the smell of a small but lucrative racket +here?_ + +Then, on the basis of that preliminary in The Cage, through one of two +doors. A few went into the room where a massive injection of sedatives +made them virtually vegetables. Most of them, however, were sent into +the room where Judkins, the new technician who had also arrived only +yesterday, would fit the "tank," the big helmet, down over the +prisoner's head and conditioned the man with mechanical and oral +hypnosis. + +The results, from drugging or hypnosis, were the same. From either +room the prisoner came with his face a blank. + +[Illustration] + +Mud-faces, or in a new use of the words from the Original World War, +"doughboys". + +Those two rooms were harder to get into than to leave. The security +precautions of The Cage extended to the moment the prisoner was led to +the door and started out of those rooms. But from there on.... + +No, Bennington decided, let's drop security for a moment. Something +had happened in the rest of the processing he and the committee had +watched and the meaning of that something had emerged only tonight at +the party. + +Not in the physical ... and that had been good, as complete as the +most expensive clinic Bennington had ever seen, a thorough probing for +a structural reason behind the crime or crimes.... + +But the second mental, that quick recheck of the completeness of the +drugging or the hypnosis.... It had been there that both Giles and +Culpepper had been very, very interested to learn if anything a +prisoner said at this point was admissible in a court of law. + +The general now understood their relief at Thornberry's explanation: +Anything a man said while under the influence of psychological +conditioning was considered as obtained under duress. + + * * * * * + +Bennington was still meditating on what Rooney could reveal as he +walked around the mess hall in the center of the compound. Then he +turned to consider again his prison's routine. + +He leaned against the south wall of the mess hall and looked across at +the four barrack buildings bulking against the darkness. They were the +two-story type the Army erects for temporary purposes and uses +permanently. + +The smell from the overcrowded buildings hit his nose again as +strongly as it had in the afternoon. + +And sounds hit his ears, soft sounds that had been muffled by the long +mess hall between him and their source, low sounds further kept from +him by the light wind from the north. + +The lights in the barracks had been off since 2100, except, of course, +for the eerie-blue night lights, and the prisoners should be in their +bunks, asleep or at least silent, immobile. + +_But why were all the lights off in the compound_, and Bennington +damned himself for not seeking the answer to the question before. + +_Thornberry would tell me there is no need for light; that the +prisoners can't escape because their drugging has made them unable, or +their conditioning has made them afraid, to leave the prison._ + +The sounds, the flickering like fireflies or carefully thumbed +flashlights, didn't come from his near right, Number One, minor +crimes, or Number Two, major crimes exclusive of murder. + +They came from between Three and Four. + +Number Three. Psychos, sex deviates and murderers, with a couple of +padded cells and barred windows needed upstairs, even though the +inmates were conditioned. + +Number Four changed by the addition of an extra latrine for the second +floor. Females on the first, juvenile delinquents on the second. + +Bennington had learned to move like a ghost, move quietly or die, on +the almost forgotten battlefields of a police action in Korea. He had +had a post-graduate course in the South-East Asian jungles. On the +Chilean desert he had added to his skills. + +He moved now as he had then. + +But there was little reason for caution. The guards were too busy +collecting their fees, the juvenile delinquents were too busy acting +as ushers, with even the sex deviates from Number Three busy. + +The customers, of course, were far too interested in what they were +buying. + +And there was nothing to be done tonight. Bennington snarled to +himself, as he carefully made his way back to the house. + +But tomorrow morning.... + + * * * * * + +A good breakfast inside of him, the early morning sun brightening the +scene before him, not even combined could they dispel any of +Bennington's bitter anger at the memory of last night's saturnalia. + +He marched across the twenty-five feet separating his house from the +Administration Building, a long, two-story structure on the western +end of the compound. + +The entire end nearest his house was taken up by Message Center, the +one room which had had Bennington's full approval on his tour of +inspection both times he had seen the prison. Internally, the separate +parts of the prison were linked together by telephone, a P.A. system, +and intercom. The outside world could be reached or could come to them +by 'phone, radio, teletype, and facsimile reproduction. + +Bennington opened the door, glanced up to check his wristwatch with +the big clock on the wall. + +0800. + +He stepped inside, closed the door, looked around. + +The man on night duty was sound asleep. + +Bennington coughed once, loudly. The man raised his head and looked +sleepily around. + +"Are you the only one here?" + +"The others come in around nine," the clerk said, yawning, +bleary-eyed. + +"I see. Did anything come in last night?" + +"That stuff." A wave toward a roll of yellow teletype paper. + +Bennington stared at the man, continued to stare until the clerk +flushed a deep red. Finally the night man straightened in his chair, +then stood up. He picked up the roll of paper and came around his +desk. + +"Sir," he said "this report came in last night. It is a list of the +prisoners we can expect to receive today and the probable time of +their arrival." + +"Thank you," Bennington said, accepting the roll. "I will be in my +office if anyone is looking for me." + +"Sir...." The clerk gulped, hesitated, forced out the words. "That's +the only copy." + +Bennington looked the man directly in the eyes. "You must have been +very busy last night." He returned the roll of paper. "I'll be in my +office." + +"Yes, sir!" + +Bennington started to walk away, but before he reached the door, the +clerk, a man Bennington remembered as being on day duty on his first +visit, began to sputter, "Sir, the quickest way to your office--" + +The general glanced over his shoulder, then continued on his way. + +Before he could get to the door he had chosen, he heard behind him the +electrotyper chattering away like an automatic weapon with a weak sear +spring. + + * * * * * + +Bennington could have left by a door leading into Dr. Thornberry's +office and gone on through another door into his own big office. But +he wanted to check on the availability of the rest of the staff. + +The door he opened led into a long hallway. On the left was the long +room where Thornberry's psych-med staff had their personal desks and +permanent records. On the right, a door leading to Thornberry's +office, but none into his own. His room was reached only through the +office of a clerk-receptionist or Thornberry's. + +Down the hall, past the wide main entrance with its glimpse of the +flagpole outside and inside the stairs leading to the second floor, +where a large part of the permanent staff were given rent-free +quarters. + +The armory, on his left just beyond the entrance, a room as long as +the med-staff's, but unlike the other--and who had the brains to do +this--locked. + +Across from the armory, a big room for the rest of the administrative +staff, but no one on duty. + +The supply room, corresponding in size and location to the Message +Center on the other end, unlocked and no one in it; with everything +the prison received on open shelves, available to any reaching hand. + +Bennington went back the hall, through his secretary's room into his +own office. + +One sleepy clerk and himself on duty--he looked at his watch--0815. + +_... There were going to be some changes made...._ + +He spun his chair around and looked out the big window directly behind +his desk. He noted the fact that about twenty feet away the land +dropped into a very deep slant to the western arm of the moat, but the +fact recorded itself only because he always made subconscious notes of +the military aspects of terrain. + +Consciously, he was wondering why the vast expanse of good, rich +earth, north, west and south of the prison, acres of fine land that +had been and still were a part of this former military post, had never +been put to productive use. + +How easily Duncannon could become more self-supporting--and even +though Giles and Culpepper wanted to make a racket of the idea, there +was much to be said for a trusty system. + +_Hold it_, he told himself, _those ideas and where we'll set up a +laundry--it's utterly ridiculous that we have to send everything into +Harrisburg!--can come later. Right now let's think about an +appointment list ... and the first name is my good assistant warden's, +Dr. Thornberry._ + +Still looking out the window, he leaned back in his chair and felt +again the slow boil of anger. + + * * * * * + +A gentle rap on his office door, the one opening from his secretary's +office. + +Bennington swung around to face his desk again. "Come in." + +The Message Center clerk, with a neat stack of papers. "Sir, this is +your copy of the report received last night. The original is on file +in Message Center and other copies are on the desks of the people who +will need them." + +"Thank you," Bennington said. "I am sure that this procedure will be +followed in the future." + +"Yes, sir!" + +It will be in your case, Bennington decided, then turned his attention +to the report. + +The distribution list in the upper righthand corner was--h-m-m-m, +good. Himself, Chief Psychologist, Chief Guard, Kitchen, Supply. +Probably set up by the same man who had designed Message Center +itself. + +The report was not good. + +The first paragraph was a summary and it was almost all bad news. +Total: 35. No women, no juveniles, the only good reading. But they +were coming from all six states and all but one of them Barracks Two +and Three cases. Assembled at Philadelphia, by train to Harrisburg, by +truck to here, but not arriving until 1530. + +Two and Three were overcrowded now. With their communications so good, +why couldn't they move the processed men out faster? + +And this new group would arrive so late. Couldn't even begin +processing them. Or could they? + +Might have to. + +Let's look at the details. + +Connecticut: Musto, John, and his brothers, Ralph and Pietro. Murders. +Following those names, five others of the gang that had terrorized the +banks in that area for two years. Capturing all of them at once by +putting a sleep-gas bomb in a basket of groceries delivered to their +hideout, that had been a neat bit of police work. But till those boys +were conditioned or drugged, they would need special guards. + +Delaware: Clarens, Walter. Murders. The name was familiar--Oh yes, +three killings, one of them a little girl with whose blood Clarens had +written at the scene. "For God's sake, catch me before I kill again." +Well, Thornberry would be happy. + +Maryland: Major crimes, but no killers. + +New Jersey: The usual list from the waterfronts and the usual wide +variety of manslaughter and homicide. + +New York: Dalton, Harry. Let's see, haven't I ... yes. "The Man No +Jail Can Hold." Another special guard. + +Pennsylvania:... + +The name jumped out. _Rooney, Michael_. + +The intercom on his desk buzzed and he flipped the switch. "Go ahead, +Bennington here," he said, and realized only after he had spoken how +the thought of Rooney had made his voice a growl. + +"Dr. Thornberry, sir. May I see you?" + +"By all means," Bennington said. "The sooner, the better." + + * * * * * + +Thornberry started talking as soon as he opened the door between the +two offices. + +"General, did you see the list of new arrivals? Of all people, Dalton! +And arriving too late to be conditioned!" + +Bennington said nothing until the psychologist had seated himself. He +simply watched his chief assistant and tried to find some reason to +like the man. + +"What do you mean," he finally said, "too late to be conditioned?" + +Having just considered this problem, Bennington's question was a +testing of Thornberry, not a request for information. + +Thornberry was looking aggrieved, as if the fact was so obvious even +the general could understand it. "Processing takes all day, sir, and +this group does not arrive until late afternoon." + +"Does the processing have to be continuous?" Bennington hoped his +chief assistant would show a little flexibility. + +But the question threw the bureaucratic psychologist into mental +dishevelment. "I beg your pardon?" + +"All we have to worry about is keeping them quiet tonight, then you +can slip them back to normal in the morning and run them through as if +they had arrived tomorrow." + +Thornberry pursed his lips. "But that would mean--" + +"A little extra work on the part of very few men," Bennington snapped. +"We'll keep them away from the rest tonight by sleeping them in The +Cage. A couple of men in Supply can move cots and blankets over there +now. Feed them coffee and sandwiches. Call the Mess Hall and get them +made up. At the same time I know you'll find three or four men who +want the overtime for dishing it out. + +"How long do you need to know if you can use hypnosis or if you need +drugs, and wouldn't it be simpler to drug the whole lot?" + +"No, definitely not the last," and for the first time Thornberry was +being positive, "because we have to use a massive dose and they can't +shake it till--day after tomorrow, at the best tomorrow afternoon." + +"The Army can decide to hypno in two minutes with a spin-dizzy wheel +and some lights. How long for you?" + +Thornberry bridled. "The same, especially if _I_ do it." + +"Good. So now you need a doctor to drug the ones who need it, a +psychologist to decide who gets what, one machine moved and one +technician." Bennington snapped on his intercom, said to his +secretary, "Get Judkins in here." + +"Yes, _sir_!" + +_The word seems to be getting around_, Bennington decided, _but this +will take a moment_. + + * * * * * + +He started on his next problem. "Have you ever inspected the prison +grounds at night?" + +"No, sir! That is Slater's duty!" + +Thornberry was again the proper bureaucrat, horrified at the thought +of invading another's domain. + +"Judkins here," came from the intercom. + +"Bennington speaking. You know the corridor between the reception and +interview rooms in The Cage?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Get your equipment over close to there. We have a group of prisoners +arriving around 1530, too late for complete processing. But at least +you can condition them against escape." + +The intercom was silent a moment, then, "But how will I know who I'm +working on?" + +Bennington questioned Thornberry with a raised eyebrow. + +The psych-expert shook his head, no. + +"This time you don't need to know," Bennington said. "Get your +equipment set up and report to me when it's ready." + +Another long silence, then, "Yes, sir." + +"He should know who he has under the hood," Thornberry said +thoughtfully, after Bennington had silenced the intercom, "especially +since the group includes a man like Dalton--" + +"We have something more important to discuss," Bennington cut in, +dismissing the subject. "Last night I inspected the prison compound." + +He described what he had found, then leaned back to hear Thornberry's +reaction. + +"That's not in the least what I told him he could do," the +psychologist said. + +"_What! This is your idea?_" + +Thornberry was equally astounded at Bennington's reaction. "Yes, of +course. As soon as I took over as Acting Warden, I told Slater that +social visits between the prisoners were entirely permissible until +Lights Out. But this--" + +The psychologist shook his head, then appeared to reconsider and his +face brightened. "But it's a step in the right direction. Naturally, I +prefer the Mexican system where the wife is permitted regular, very +private, visits to her husband--" + +"Let me get this straight," Bennington felt like a man lost in a maze. +"You told the Chief Guard that the prisoners could visit each other--" + +"No, not all of them," Thornberry interrupted. "I never meant that +some of the problem cases, like a few of those in Number Three, +should have complete social relationships." + +"Just exactly what were you thinking of when you gave that order?" + +"Thinking of? Why, sir, I was thinking of our poor patients here. +Society has ordered them confined, yes, but need we necessarily +deprive them of _all_ human rights?" + +Thornberry seemed ready to orate for an hour, but Bennington stopped +him with a gesture. "All right, I've handled POW camps, maybe in one +way I can see your point. But we can take up the philosophy of this +later. + +"Right now, this is the essential fact, that Slater has taken your +order and twisted it into a racket. + +"So let's talk to Slater." + +But the intercom said, "He hasn't come on duty yet." + +"He has the room at the head of the stairs," Thornberry said. + +The door was locked, but the psychologist produced a set of master +keys. + +"I want a set of those, too," Bennington said. + +The room was heavy with the smells of cheap whiskey, stale cigarette +smoke and human sweat. Two figures were sprawled on the bed. A hairy, +bearlike man, Slater; a big well-built brunette. + +Thornberry squinted through the gloom, then turned on the lights. +"That's Mona Sitwell," he said, "and I'm sure she was supposed to be +on orders to leave here two weeks ago." + +Bennington remembered the case, the spinster who had found her parents +a hindrance to her extensive enjoyment of male companionship. She had +literally chopped up their objections. + +"Follow through on the orders you give sometime," Bennington said +dryly. "You may meet a few more surprises." + +The man on the bed stirred, threw his arm up over his eyes. "What do +you want?" he mumbled sleepily. + +Bennington mentally cursed the Civil Service regulations which tied +his hands, and left him only one thing to say: "Your immediate +resignation." + + * * * * * + +"Message Center, sir." + +"Go ahead." The general looked at the desk clock. 1515. He could guess +what they wanted to tell him. + +"Sir, the new consignment will be here in about ten minutes." + +"Thanks. Pass the word along to Dr. Thornberry and add, I'll meet him +at the flagpole in five minutes." + +Bennington pushed back his chair, slowly stood up. This had already +been a full day's work. + +Slater had been worse sober than he had been sleepy and half-drunk. +His covering barrage of threats on leaving the prison had been equally +divided between the general's personal health and the entire prison +setup. + +Thornberry had screened the other guards. And, after sitting in on +only two sessions, Bennington had at last found one small reason to +like his chief assistant. The psych-expert could spot a liar almost +before the man opened his mouth. + +But right now, and, at the wages offered, probably for a long time, +Duncannon was very short of guards. + +Judkins was ready in The Cage. An efficient man, but he had been a +little resentful at the extra work involved in moving his equipment. + +The prisoners would remain in The Cage overnight, except for their +trips to the Mess Hall. A reorganized supply room had disgorged more +than enough cots and blankets to convert The Cage into a temporary +dormitory. + +Bennington riffled the papers on his desk showing when the prisoners +on hand had been received and how long they had been ready to go to +their assigned prison. This matter took top priority. Some of the +people had been here over a month. If he could push through the plan +to charge the states for every day Duncannon kept a prisoner after the +criminal was ready for shipment, then the various states should each +pay, as a rough estimate showed.... + +But the clock on the desk showed 1520, time to meet Thornberry. With +longer than usual steps, Bennington strode out of his office and out +the main door of the Administration Building. + + * * * * * + +Thornberry was pacing around the flagpole directly opposite the main +entrance. + +"This man, Dalton," the psychologist said, falling in step with the +general, "you know he escaped from us twice." + +"Make him the first through," and Bennington dismissed the subject. +"I'm more interested in this. Are there any ex-service men among the +group?" + +Thornberry sniffed, "Still worried about our conditioning and our +security, general? I repeat, even though we do not use the lobotomies +and other techniques of our cold-war competitors, we can nevertheless +condition anyone sent to us so that he will not make any trouble." + +Bennington shrugged, "I'd like to see you work on a para-commando. Or +one of the General Staff." + +Thornberry, now leading the way through the Processing Building, +called back over his shoulder. "How many of them end up in prison? I +mean, from the General Staff? The para-coms do, of course, they just +can't adjust to civilian life and I think the Army should do something +about that before they discharge them. But they never come here +without an accompanying court order allowing us to use the eyeball +technique." + +Along the short path, enclosed by barbed wire, from Processing into +The Cage. Swiftly along the corridor behind the one-way vision +mirrors, down the walk to the gate in the barbed wire. + +Bennington looked around and nodded approval: his reception committee +for the new arrivals was waiting. + +He looked across the river toward Harrisburg. Yes, just turning into +the bridge approach, two tractor-trailer combos, preceded and followed +by white cars. + +Bennington glanced around again. From the roof of The Cage, Ferguson, +drafted as a guard for this emergency, waved and lovingly patted the +butt of his submachine gun. + +One of the regular guards gave the general a sound-powered megaphone. +He nodded thanks, lifted it. + +"Give me your attention!" + +"The procedure is as usual except that, when the prisoners go into The +Cage, they are going to get an overnight conditioning treatment. + +"But until they've had that treatment, you must be alert! These are +all dangerous men." + +Beside the general, Thornberry whispered hearty agreement. "Yes, yes! +Except for Rooney, everyone on that list is here for armed robbery or +murder and usually both." + +Bennington lowered his megaphone. "I almost forgot to tell you. I +added a complete physical search to your metal-detectors, we're doing +it right inside the door to the corridor. + +"And we're keeping all their personal effects. That was bad, Dr. +Thornberry, letting them have their money. As long as a prisoner has +cash, you can't trust any guard." + +Thornberry froze. "As prison psychologist, I protest. I consider those +procedures an unwarranted invasion of physical privacy and a forcing +of a man into dependency with traumatic effects--" + +"I would much rather make a prisoner dependent on my good will than +have him bribe my guards, doctor. And I would much rather invade his +privacy than have him invade my stomach with a knife made out of bone. + +"A metal-spotter is, perhaps, good, but too many killing tools can get +by them." + +Thornberry seemed more than willing to continue the discussion, but +the tractor-trailers were pulling off the bridge. After a moment's +jockeying, they turned so that the back of the trailers pointed toward +The Cage. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +A corporal eased out of the white car that had led the convoy. He +shifted his shotgun to his left arm, saluted, said, "General +Bennington? Corporal Forester, with thirty-four prisoners." + +"Thirty-four? We expected thirty-five." + +"Ralph Musto tried to get another idea in the Harrisburg terminal. +He'll be in the hospital about ten days." + +"Musto?" For a moment, the name meant nothing to Bennington. + +"Connecticut, sir, one of the murder and bank cases. Are you prepared +to accept delivery of the others?" + +"Yes, we are. But we are unfortunately a little short-handed +today...." + +"We always stay around till the boys are in The Cage, sir," the +corporal said. + +"Thanks. Start unloading." + +Corporal Forester saluted again and turned to face the vans. He waved +his arm and another trooper unlocked the door of the trailer to the +general's left. A group of men slowly jumped out and stood blinking in +the sun. + +A trooper opened a large compartment beneath the van and yanked out +several large bags, all locked, all bulging, all the type Bennington +had known too well since the Second War. + +The prisoners' personal effects, Bennington decided, and lifted his +megaphone. + +"Form a single line facing the gate," he commanded. + +There was an excess of shuffling movement, but at last a line was +formed. + +Corporal Forester waved his hand again. The doors of the trailer were +locked and it started across the bridge. + +Then the second trailer was unloaded and sent away. When its cargo had +added themselves to the line, the corporal again approached +Bennington. + +"Want a roll call, sir?" + +"The count is correct, but a roll call will help get them in order, in +the right frame of mind." Bennington raised his megaphone to his lips. +"Now get this! When your name is called, sound out HERE and run for +that gate. Then walk up the path and through the open door. + +"John Musto." + +A stockily-built, dark-faced man stepped from the line and with an +exaggerated slowness dawdled toward the gate. His pose lasted only a +moment. One of the Duncannon guards stepped forward and smacked his +rifle barrel across Musto's kidneys. The bank robber and murderer +pitched headlong to his knees, got up slowly with a snarl. But when +the guard gestured again with his rifle, Musto broke into a shambling +run. + +Bennington waited until the first of the brothers stood panting at the +gate, then called, "Pietro Musto." + +One example had been enough. Pietro took off on the double. In five +minutes the last man had vanished into The Cage. + +"You get these, too, sir." Corporal Forester, with a bundle of papers. + +"Right. And thanks for staying, corporal. By the way, isn't there +something I sign?" + +The trooper produced a form and a pen. Bennington signed and they +saluted each other. The corporal grinned, then his expression sobered. +"That's a real bunch there, sir." + +"We're conditioning them immediately, corporal." + +"Good idea, sir. The sooner, the better!" + +With another salute, the corporal turned to his car and Bennington +started toward The Cage. + + * * * * * + +Inside The Cage, Bennington went into the corridor that led behind the +mirrors. He wanted to watch the weapons-check and the conditioning; he +found Thornberry waiting for him. + +Bennington looked through the mirrors at the men standing as he and +his party had stood yesterday. Room One of The Cage was marked off +into numbered squares. Each man stood on a number, separated from his +brother cons by about ten square feet. They knew they were being +watched, although the men behind the mirrors were invisible to the +prisoners. They stirred restlessly, standing first on one foot, then +on the other, looking uneasily in all directions and seeing nothing +but their own reflections. + +"Dalton is on Ten," Thornberry said. + +Bennington looked and saw an exceedingly average-looking man. Wouldn't +notice him in a crowd, the general thought and realized that he had +learned one reason for Dalton's success. + +"Start the random sequence with him," he said. The system was set up +so that no prisoner knew when he would be summoned. + +"I told them to do that," Thornberry said. + +"Number Ten", the loud-speaker boomed. + +The general moved down the corridor until he was looking into the +hallway between Room One and Room Two. Until yesterday, the prisoners +had simply walked down the corridor while detectors checked them for +the presence of metals. They had then been held at the end of the +hallway until they had stripped themselves of everything that had +registered on the screens. + +Today was different. Inside the door Dalton was being thoroughly and +completely searched. Nothing was found, but Bennington could sense +Thornberry's grim disapproval of the procedure. + +Dalton was then shoved around the first of the hastily-erected screens +and ordered into a chair. A doctor beside the chair was ready with an +injection so smoothly and quickly that Dalton was under mild sedation +almost before he was aware of the needle's sting. + +Across from Dalton, seated at a small table behind a spin-dizzy wheel +of flickering lights and ever-centering spiral, one of Thornberry's +psych-staff waited for a nod from the doctor. Then he started the +wheel spinning and Bennington could see his lips move. + +After a moment, the psychologist turned his head to the doctor and +Bennington lip-read the word, "hypno." The doctor slowly put down one +of the biggest hypodermic needles Bennington had ever seen. + +Less roughly, the guard led Dalton around the second screen. + +At the end of the corridor Judkins was ready. He adjusted the big hood +over Dalton's head. + +And Bennington turned away. + +He had seen too much of the conditioning process, beginning in its +early days when the Army had realized its value in reducing the +manpower needed to watch the refuse of the cold war. + +The POWS from the battle of the little undeclared wars; the refugee +camps, with their possible and probable subversives; the Army +disciplinary stations.... + +He waited farther down the corridor where he could look into Room Two. +In a few minutes Dalton entered. His face was subtly changed. A guard +gestured toward the piles of cots and blankets. + +Dalton took one of the cots and two of the blankets, moved to Square +Number Ten on this side of the building and began making up his bed. +When the job was completed he sat down. + +His back was toward the general and Bennington found himself wishing +he could see the prisoner's face. In the other room, Dalton had been +carefully, thoughtfully staring around. + +His posture now spoke of a total lack of interest in his present +surroundings. + +Bennington glanced at his watch and estimated the time needed on +Dalton. Hm-m-m, little better than five minutes. Of course, if a +prisoner was given that second shot.... Well, the average would still +be about five minutes. + +Might as well go back to the office and work out how much each state +owed the prison. + + * * * * * + +Thornberry's call came at 1915. "We've finished, general, and we're +ready to feed them. Of course, we still have some things to put away +over here--" + +"Skip it," Bennington said. "We can have that done tomorrow morning." + +"Judkins has asked permission to go to Harrisburg tonight. He wants to +see his sister about an apartment there. Several of the permanent +personnel do that. It's easy to get back and forth, and there's more +to do--" + +"Tell him to take off. And let's see, we'll need him in the morning, +but maybe we can give him the afternoon off in return for his overtime +work tonight." + +"I like that, general, and I'll do it. Now, I'm going to see that the +prisoners are fed, then I'd like to see you in your office." + +"I want to see you, too, Dr. Thornberry. Tell Ferguson to arrange +supper for two over here--I haven't eaten either." + +"I'll be with you in about fifteen minutes." + + * * * * * + +Because the office was sound-conditioned, Bennington did not know that +the riot had started until the door slammed open and three men jammed +the doorway, all three trying to get in at once. + +Acting by reflex, Bennington shot the man in the center. The other +two, 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 man +in the center had been Pietro Musto, carrying a carving knife. The +other two ... yes, they had been in the group that had arrived this +afternoon. + +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 out +over the moat on the west side. Then he smashed with the chair again +to 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 five +feet 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 a +rifle. The man with the rifle lifted it to his shoulder and fired into +the ceiling. + +Most of the staff, all but six of the guards up there, Bennington +thought. + +Resting his right hand against his left arm, he took careful aim and +fired. The man with the rifle staggered and fell. The one with the +shotgun 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 able +to think. + +How this had started was for the moment unimportant. First came the +problem of regaining control. + +To regain control, he needed help. To get help he had to reach the +nearest visiphone. + +Glass tinkled to his right. Almost too late Bennington remembered how +his 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 the +water of the moat creep up past his knees. + +A semiautomatic rifle with carefully timed shots searched the area +where he had been. "Good man," he noted professionally and replied +with a pistol shot. He rolled again back to where he had been, but +still further down the slope. + +The rifle spoke copper-coated syllables once more, with a sequence of +shots that started where he had fired from. But this time the sequence +hunted 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 moment +he did, the convicts has a wide-open road to freedom. + +The man with the rifle was good, Bennington noted again. His shots +were grass-clippers that could have substituted for a lawn mower. + +Then a submachine gun chuckled crisply from Bennington's left. There +was a howl of pain. The rifle stopped looking for the general. + +Bennington began crawling along the edge of the moat. That submachine +gun had spoken for his side of the argument and he had a big need for +the 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 back +in the armory, then get your supper from the kitchen. I heard someone +screeching down the hall and then a couple of shots. The clerk on duty +got up and started toward the hall door. But it banged open in his +face and someone emptied a pistol into him. I let loose a burst and +jumped back. The guy with the pistol came through the door, still +hollering. I gave him a belly-full, then waited a moment to see if +anyone was behind him. Nobody was. I remembered hearing a window +smash, 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 go +with 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. Speeches +weren't needed. + + * * * * * + +Bennington's house was dark and, because it was still new to him, he +barked his shins twice before he found the visiphone. To save time and +avoid any lights, he first cut out the visual circuit and then he +simply dialed "0". + +"Operator," a lilting voice replied. + +"Connect me with the nearest State Police Barracks, please. Warden of +Duncannon 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 I +need help. About thirty prisoners have seized control of our +Administration 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 you +give me?" + +"Let me check, sir." The phone was silent, except for heavy breathing +from Private Endrews. "Here it is, sir. In less than fifteen minutes, +three cars--that's six men and they've got full equipment in those +cars--will be at The Cage." + +"That all?" + +"No, sir. In twenty minutes I'll have the riot-control copter over the +prison. It's got floodlights on its belly and the pilot knows the +prison." + +"Good. What else?" + +"For at least two hours, that's all, sir. Standard Operating Procedure +calls for the immediate establishment of a cordon at fixed points, +roving patrols on the countryside west of you and blocks on all +railroads, bus and air terminals--" + +"Someone will be in the parking lot. Give me what you have and get it +moving!" + +It wouldn't be enough. Half of the permanent staff as hostages, enough +weapons and ammo in the armory to fight a war.... + +He dialed again. "Operator? I want the Commanding General at +Indiantown 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 calm +voice, "General Mosby". + +"Bennington here!" + +"Jim! You old--" + +"No time, Mossback, I need help. I'm down at Duncannon Prison. Got a +riot on my hands, two gateguards plus myself and Ferguson to handle +it. The State police can give me only another six men, in the next +two hours." + +"One moment, Jim. Duty Officer! The First Battalion, riot-armed, on +the 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 the +prison." + +Bennington gave the details in less than a minute, then added, +"Thanks, Mossback." + +While he had been talking, Bennington had also been listening. From +Mosby's end of the line came clearly that most reassuring sound, the +great bull-speakers thundering out of orders that meant for a few +moments rapid running and confusion, then in a few moments more the +resolution of the confusion into disciplined movement. + +Knowing Mosby, Bennington also knew that the copters would be loaded +in 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 on +till 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 had +taught him how time could compress and stretch, the fact that only +seven minutes ago he had been considering supper in his office came as +a shock. + +He took no chances but left his house as he had come, by the back +door. Then stepping quietly but quickly, he went to the south side of +the Processing Building at the corner nearest the Administration +Building. All the offices were dark. Only scratches of light--probably +matches to cigarette tips--flickered briefly out of the windows of the +second-story where the staff was housed. + +The mess hall was also dark but as Bennington watched, a short burst +of submachine gun fire tracered across the darkness from the kitchen +toward the armory. + +"Listen, you screws, listen to this!" + +The gigantic voice thundered through every corner of the compound. For +a second Bennington was startled, then he remembered. The rioters +controlled Message Center and the PA system. + +"Stop shooting at us. Don't forget that half your staff is in here. +Every time you shoot one of us, we are shooting one of them." + +The words came through on only part of Bennington's attention. They +registered, but he was also studying the seventy feet of open ground +between him and the nearest door into the mess hall. + +The big voice again filled the compound. + +"We want to talk to the warden if he's still alive. Or whoever can +take his place if he ain't. You got five minutes to call us on the +intercom." + +I can talk to them from the kitchen if I can get there, Bennington +thought. + +He glanced back over his shoulder. The moon, thought full, was only +part-way up. + +_I'm sixty-five, but maybe I've got one fast run still left._ + +He did. He made it without a shot being fired. + +But he stayed on his belly just outside the door, remembering the +submachine gun. From the shadow of the step into the mess hall, he +used his command voice to get safe passage. + +"Thornberry!" + +"General Bennington!" + +The psychologist almost twisted Bennington's hand off before he could +speak. Then his first words puzzled the general. "We've got to find +Judkins." + +"Why?" + +"I want to know what went wrong--" + +"That can wait. Let's put the fire out first, then learn how it +started. Who's here with you?" + +"The two guards. Rayburne! Householder! Come here!" + +"Only those two? Where's the kitchen staff?" + +"Dead," said Thornberry soberly. + +There was a roaring in the skies and through a window Bennington could +see the compound was almost as brightly lit up as it was by day. + +"The riot-copter, and before I expected it," the general said, "I've +been in touch with the State police. And the Army." + +There was another short burst of submachine fire. Bennington mentally +placed it as behind the Administration Building. _Someone trying to +sneak out the back way...._ + +"Stop that shooting!" The PA confirmed his thoughts. "No one else is +going to try to leave here. Warden, get on that intercom!" + +_Got to hurry_, Bennington thought, _I've got to get them talking and +keep them talking_. + +"Householder and Rayburne, get over to the parking lot. The State +police are coming there. Bring five of the six over here. Keep the +other man by his car radio. If he can switch to the Army frequency, or +can get in touch with the Army copters thorough his Headquarters, +guide their planes to land behind Barracks Four. Tell General Mosby +where I am. Tell him before he lands, so that he can plan his +deployment. + +"Take off. Thornberry, come with me." + + * * * * * + +The two of them clambered over the counter and carefully, to avoid +stepping on the dead, made their way to the kitchen office in the +southwest corner of the mess hall. Thorough one of its windows, the +Administration Building could be clearly seen. + +The intercom was directly in front of the window. + +Bennington seated himself and turned the intercom switch to Message +Center. + +"This is General Bennington, the warden of this prison," he said +clearly. "I am in the kitchen office. To show my confidence in the +fact that we can arrange a bargain, I am turning on the light in this +room. You will be able to see me clearly." + +[Illustration] + +"No!" broke out Thornberry, staring at Bennington. + +"Turn them on," said Bennington. + +Thornberry hesitated for a heartbeat, obeyed the order. Then, moving +with deliberation, he seated himself beside the general. + +"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 assurance that his order would be obeyed. + +"Go to hell," 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 relationship 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 assistant 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 shivered 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?" + +Thornberry took over with an exceedingly accurate description of the +wanted Judkins and his probable habits. + +The corporal gave a low appreciative whistle. "With that we'll have +him 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. Good +luck, 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 voice +speaking outside the office door. + +"When can I start shooting, Jim?" + +"Mossback!" + +"In person." A low laugh. "Wish the men you taught cover and +concealment could take a look at you now. + +"Here's the situation, Jim. I'm deployed in a looping L around the +Administration Building. Your prisoners in One and Two have been +moved out under guard into the open space beside Number Four where my +copters dropped. + +"The short end of my L touches the moat near your house. And by the +way, Ferguson is all right. We relieved him. He says three prisoners +tried 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 that +we 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 ahead +of the civilian population. Our new jobs are even quieter than the +night mail delivery for the suburbs. I put a squad on the roof of the +building." + +"_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 rise +again. "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 this +time 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 came +over 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 standard +precaution for riot control. + +"The mess hall is the center of the compound. Because of that, in its +cellar 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 are +on the line." + +"Our only chance," Bennington said, "and now is the time. They'll all +be listening to this phone call over there." + +He hoped the man with the rifle trained on him was very susceptible to +sleep gas. + + * * * * * + +"Jim, you haven't lost your touch with a pistol." General Mosby +pointed to his meaning with the toe of his boot. "But you'll need a +new carpet in your office here." + +Bennington glanced at the three dead men, the broken window, and added +them to his mental list of things to be done. But he put them among +the minor problems; he had enough major ones already. + +The news services were besieging The Cage. A couple of ambitious +photographers had been caught attempting to cross the moat. The +civilian dead in the mess hall had to be identified and the next of +kin notified. His entire staff was disorganized: imprisoned as +hostages, knocked out along with the rioters by sleep-gas, brusquely +revived by Mosby's aid-men--Well, he might be able to get some work +out of them tomorrow. + +The rioters still slept, but what to do about those supposedly +conditioned men when the gas wore off ... a new hypno-tech, from +somewhere, by tomorrow morning. + +_Add six governors who think I have nothing to do but tell them every +detail_, 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 another +problem. + +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 the +door. Mosby swung back to Bennington, rubbed his hands together +gleefully. "Better and better. Just as if we had captured and had to +use an enemy installation. Prisoners to guard, dead men and a couple +of 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 acutely +sensitive 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 of +years, 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 up +at least six good precedents for my decision, we can always let slip +the 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 his +commanding 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 did +they get through the road blocks?" + +"We had to use everything." The tired man standing at the door was +Corporal Forester. "We used even trainees from the Academy, and those +two must have gotten out of here as soon as the riot started. + +"There was only one checkpoint between here and Harrisburg and the +truck looked legitimate, full of clothes picked up around the +countryside. There seemed to be only one man in it and he was a sort +of everyday-looking fellow." + +Bennington remembered his own impression of Dalton. + +"I can't blame the trainees. Dalton's gotten by better men than they +are yet," the corporal continued. "And they were looking for desperate +criminals, not for someone in a cleaning company's uniform who asked, +when they stopped him, if they wanted some work done." + +"Anybody been killed yet?" Thornberry asked. + +Forester was a long time answering. "Not yet, doctor. But a man +answering Clarens' description bought six steak knives near the +railroad station tonight." + +"Six steak knifes?" Mosby asked. + +"Yes," Forester answered. "Clarens and Dalton split the money the +cleaning man was carrying." + +"How do you know this?" Bennington asked. + +"Dalton gave himself up," Forester answered. "He wanted nothing to do +with Clarens when the boy started eying the knives." + +"We've got to get to Harrisburg," Bennington said, "and the first +thing we've got to do is to find Judkins." + +"If only our files had not been shot up when the cons took over +Message Center," Thornberry worried, "we could have gotten in touch +with his sister-in-law." + +"No," said Bennington and Forester together. + +"No," agreed General Mosby. + +The two generals looked at each other, then at the corporal. + +Forester took the cue. "I think it's a planned job. The riot, that is. +Someone wanted to disgrace you the first day you took over, general. +Or, listen! This may be it: they wanted to be sure that someone here +in prison didn't talk. I mean--" The trooper rubbed his hand across +his forehead. "Thought I had something there." + +"I think you do," Bennington said, "but first things first. Let's find +Judkins. Then Clarens." + +"We'll fly down," Mosby decided. "And let's do something I always +wanted to do. We'll land on the Capitol grounds. Give me your phone, +Jim. We will need more than the battalion I brought with me." + +"And it's upstairs, ready and waiting." + + * * * * * + +Considering Harrisburg from above, Bennington decided the town, as a +tactical problem in setting up patrols, offered unique difficulties. +The way those railroad yards stretched up and down each side of the +river.... + +The riot-control copter had moved ahead of them and was their guide to +a relatively clear spot among the trees dotting the Capitol grounds. + +Three dignitaries awaited their arrival, Governor Willoughby, Mayor +Jordan and Chief of Police Scott. + +"This way, sir," said Scott, elbowing aside the other two. +"Formalities can wait, we've got work to do." + +Introductions were performed on the way to another grove lanced with +searchlights. A photographer was busy over the body of a middle-aged +man. + +"Some folks you can't tell anything," Scott said, "and especially when +they're in heat. We never had any complaints about this guy, but we +knew what he was. I myself told him that someday he would pick up the +wrong man. + +"And he sure did this time," he added unnecessarily. + +Corporal Forester squatted beside the body. "He was kneeling, grabbed +by his long hair, head pulled back, one good slash did the rest." + +"Real nice slash," General Mosby agreed professionally. "I'd like to +show that to some of my men." He pushed the head back so that the cut +across the throat was more clearly visible. "Just one swipe." + +"Clarens was a pre-med student," Thornberry stated. + +Bennington noticed that his psych-expert had kept his gaze fixed on +the trees after a glance at the body. + +"No idea where he went from here, of course?" Mosby asked. + +"None," Scott admitted, "but I've got patrols out." + +"I've got another battalion upstairs," Mosby remarked, jabbing toward +the stars with his thumb, "and the rest of the regiment on the way. + +"You know this town. Tell me how you want them distributed." + +"I'd like to." Scott meditated a moment. "But, I can't. I can't even +swear them in. They're Federal troops." + +"I've just declared martial law," Governor Willoughby emerged from the +shadows. + +"Thanks, sir." Scott looked like a man with a weight taken from his +shoulders. "We'll need cars, of course." + +"But we can stop them on the streets. Then have our men drive them +home. With your help, General Mosby, we can cover this town like a +blanket." + +But the blanket was too late to stop the second murder. + + * * * * * + +The report came in after they had talked to Dalton. + +"That's why I gave myself up," the convict said. "I wanted no part of +that guy, so I figured my best alibi was a nice, quiet cell." + +"How is Clarens dressed?" Scott demanded. + +"He picked a double-breasted blue suit from the racks in the truck. +Fitted him good, too." + +Scott strode into the next room and through the open door Bennington +saw the Chief of Police pick up a mike. + +"This is important." Thornberry, intent, looking like a lean hound on +a hot trail. "_What were you told when you were conditioned?_" + +"I don't remember." Dalton was plainly baffled. "I just don't +remember. Something about when a guy threw his tray.... You got me, I +don't know." + +"All right." The psychologist tried another tack. "What made you leave +the others and take Clarens with you?" + +"I didn't take him with me." Dalton's voice was weary, edged with +anger. "I remember sitting down under the hypno-hood in The Cage. +From there on, things are mixed up. I think there was running and +yelling and that I ran and yelled, too. + +"Then I came to and I was in a building with a lot of guys grabbing +guns." + +"I should have predicted it," the psychologist said, "that he would be +commanded to forget what he had been told while under the hood." + +"Can't you remove the block?" Chief Scott had returned in time to hear +the last words. + +Thornberry pursed his lips, then said, "It would take a very long +time. Remember, I know Judkins, I interviewed him and watched him work +before we hired him. He is a very, very good hypno-tech. And there's +no machine anywhere near except at the prison. + +"Let's hear the rest of his story. Go on, Dalton." + +"You know my record, guns aren't for me. So I looked around and saw a +busted window. This Clarens and another guy--a big fat one--had sort +of stuck with me. I guess they didn't like guns either. When I went +out the window, they were right behind. Clarens and I ran real fast. +The fat guy behind us tried to run as fast, but he wheezed too much. + +"Somebody lying on the edge of the moat cut loose with a subgun and +Big Belly went down. Then Clarens and I were in the water. The other +cons back in the building started shooting at the guy with the subgun. +I guess he got too busy ducking to give us any more attention. Anyhow, +he didn't swing any tracers after us. + +"We ran across a couple of fields, toward Duncannon, and spotted a guy +pulling a delivery truck into a farm lane. We sneaked in, found a +wrench. When the driver came back, I gave him a gentle tap. Clarens +and I stripped the fellow, tied him up and shoved him in one of the +big baskets in the truck. + +"In the uniform, it was a cinch to fool the troopers. They stopped us +only once on the way into town. When we got there, I switched again +from the driver's uniform into one of the suits from the racks. We had +it made, hands down." + +"Why didn't you turn Clarens in when you gave yourself up?" Scott +demanded angrily. + +"I tried to. Remember, I didn't know who the guy was until after we +had looked in the railroad station and seen it full of cops. But when +he started admiring the steak knives in the window, his name clicked +with me. I said to him, 'I've got to go to the little boy's room--I'll +be back in a minute'. I found the nearest cop and turned myself in, +but I couldn't make that thickhead believe there was a worse one than +me down the street. At least, not until Clarens had got the knives and +taken off." + +Bennington wondered if he had ever heard anyone speak with such deep +disgust. + +The call which took them to the Camp Hill area justified Dalton's +condemnation. + + * * * * * + +The hysterical mother had been led away by a couple of consoling +neighbors. Bennington, Scott and Thornberry stood looking down at the +neatly dismembered body. Behind them General Mosby spoke to three of +his soldiers. + +"Good work, men. Keep it up and get back on your beats. You know now +what you're hunting for. I'm sure you'll hunt even harder." + +The slapping sounds of rifles saluting, the clicks of heels, the +scrape of boots in an about-face and a scrap of conversation floated +to Bennington. "Any mother who lets a kid out as late as this...." + +Mosby joined them and picked up where the soldier had left off. "How +did it happen, Scott?" + +"It's hard to get anything out of the mother right now," Scott +replied, "but I got this. They were waiting up for the father--he's on +the swing shift--and the kid wanted ice cream. The store's just around +the corner and the mother was busy ironing, so she gave the kid a +quarter." + +The chief of police turned away from the body, turned away from the +lines written in blood on the wall--"PLEASE CATCH ME QUICK". He went +to his car and switched its radio to one of the local stations. + +[Illustration] + +"_Stay off the streets. If you are in your car, do not stop for +anything except--and listen carefully--at least three men in army or +police uniforms. Do not stop for any man standing alone. Do not leave +your home except on the most essential business. If you must leave do +not go alone. Repeat: Do not leave the house alone...._" + +Scott switched back to the police band. "What we just heard is on +every radio and TV station covering Harrisburg." + +Another police car drifted into the alley, emptied men and equipment. + +"We can go," Scott said. "My men will take care of the routine." + +All of them were silent as they crossed the Market Street Bridge into +the central section of town, deserted except for police and army +patrols. + +"Belton Hotel," the radio squawked. "_Judkins has been picked up at +the Belton._" + +"Now I'll find out what he has told them," Thornberry exulted, "and +then we'll have no trouble finding Clarens." + + * * * * * + +"You know my name, you know my present address, and I'm not saying any +more until I see my lawyer." Judkins had been saying that for half an +hour and his words had not changed. + +Mosby tugged at Bennington's sleeve. Together they moved to a corner +of the hotel room, and at Mosby's nod, Scott and Thornberry joined +them. + +"Get out of here for five minutes. When you come back, he'll be glad +to talk." + +Mosby wasn't joking. + +"I want to do the same thing," Scott said bitterly, "but I can't do +it." + +"You're under civil law," Mosby stated. "This town is under martial +law. I might be able to get away with it." + +"Not a chance," Governor Willoughby had joined them. "It would mean +your career, general. Even the President couldn't protect you." + +"Clarens is out there," Mosby argued, pointing out the window +overlooking the city. "Did you see that little girl?" + +"No, but I heard about it. And I saw the man," the governor answered. + +"I was there," said Thornberry abruptly. "Will you gentlemen let me, +_just_ me, alone with Judkins for five minutes?" + +All four of them, the two generals, the police chief, the governor, +stared at the psychologist. + +"Yes," Bennington decided for the group. "We will." + + * * * * * + +_Doughboy...._ + +Bennington stopped after his first step back into the room, was +jostled by Mosby following closely behind. He moved forward to where +he could see both Judkins and Thornberry. + +The hypno-tech sat bolt upright, his face like that of a +newly-conditioned prisoner, completely blank. + +Thornberry's face radiated pride. + +"These technicians are all alike," the psychologist sniffed. "Their +work makes them especially sensitive to hypnosis." + +Bennington looked at Judkins, then back to Thornberry. "You mean...." + +"I mean that I can ask Judkins anything we want to know and he'll give +a truthful answer." Another sniff. "I've forgotten more about hypnosis +than he'll ever know." + +"This won't hold in a court," Chief Scott warned. + +"But it may save a life, maybe more than one," Bennington answered. +"Thornberry, you did a good job of those guards. You question +Judkins." + +"Wait a minute," General Mosby said. "How fast can we get a tape +recorder?" + +"Why waste time?" asked Bennington. "You can't use this in court." + +"Hell, Jim, stop thinking about courts-martial; there's more than +_one_ court. Let's fry these boys in the court of public opinion. The +news services aren't bound by the rules of evidence. We can worry +about other courts later." + +"I can get you a tape recorder in two minutes," Scott stated. "Our +patrol boys always carry them to take statements at accidents, before +the victims get over their shock enough to start lying. And we keep +one in the office, too." + +Thornberry looked at Judkins and a self-satisfied smirk crept over his +face. "No need to worry about lies from this one." + + * * * * * + +Judkins spoke in a low monotone not much louder than the soft hiss of +the machine recording his words. Question by question--in Judkins' +condition, each query had to be specific, Thornberry said--the pattern +emerged. + +Basing his request on his position as a member of the prison +commission, Senator Giles had invited Judkins to lunch with him. The +senator, however, despite his statement that he wanted only to be sure +that Duncannon was getting the best personnel, had not confined his +questions to Judkins' background. + +Was the hypno-tech alone when he conditioned the men? Any set +statement to be made? Could Judkins add to the instructions given each +convict without the knowledge of the prison authorities? + +The following day, both Senator Giles and Representative Culpepper had +called upon Judkins at his sister-in-law's home. Bluntly, they offered +ten thousand dollars if the technician could guarantee that Rooney +would never be able to talk about the income tax racket. + +When Judkins had explained that any conditioning he could give would +be as easily removed by another tech, the two men had gone into a +corner and consulted in whispers. + +They had emerged from the corner with this offer: First, they would +bargain with the new warden to get Rooney a job as a trusty. If that +failed they offered Judkins twenty thousand dollars and a hideout in +New York--until they could set him up outside the country--if he would +condition a group of prisoners to riot and discredit Bennington +immediately. + +"What Rooney must be sitting on!" Mosby murmured in Bennington's ear. + +"Was sitting on," Bennington said bitterly. "He was the fat belly with +Dalton and Clarens, the one who didn't make it." + +The story flowed on under Thornberry's skillful questioning. + + * * * * * + +At noon yesterday, a frightened and angry Giles had called Judkins, +had boosted the bribe to thirty thousand and demanded immediate +action. + +"What did you tell the prisoners?" Thornberry's voice was as even as +Judkins'. + +"I was their friend and their only friend; every one else was their +enemy. I told them they must be quiet and obey all orders until the +last man received his coffee in the mess hall. They were then to throw +their trays at the people around them. I told them where to go for +guns. I told them that then they would forget all that I had said, +that they would know how to take care of their enemies." + +"Gentlemen, do you realize what this means, in terms of the +constitutional psychopathic inferior? I refer to Clarens, not Dalton. +Dalton reacted as Judkins directed, including to forget that he had +been told everyone was his enemy. Dalton, we know from his record, +actually disliked to use weapons even as a threat. + +"But we can be sure that Clarens has not forgotten." + +"Why not?" Mosby demanded. + +"Because the instructions he received only intensified what he himself +believed before Judkins worked on him. As soon as he had a chance he +looked for his kind of weapons. How he got her there, we won't know +until we catch him, but note that he killed the little girl in the +equivalent of a cavern. + +"And the man in the park, that, too, took place in what was +necessarily an almost secret spot. + +"Those orders Judkins gave, we _know_ Clarens is still responding to +them...." + +Thornberry hesitated a moment, then completed his thought. "And so we +must intensify our patrols on the darker streets. With this poor boy +believing that every man's hand is turned against him, he is now +looking for some dark place in which to feel safe. He is in essence +retreating to the foetus--" + +"Sounds good, but tell me the rest later, Doc." + +"General Mosby, you and I want to call our roving patrols," and Scott +headed for the door, Mosby right behind him. + +"By the way, Doc," the chief called back over his shoulder, "when +you're done with that guy, just tell one of my men. We've got a +special, reserved, very solitary cell for him." + +More slowly, Bennington followed Scott and Mosby. + +The area of the hunt had perhaps been narrowed. Their quarry--the +beast with steel knives for talons--would be found in a dark, deserted +place. + + * * * * * + +Bennington noted that Thornberry stayed with Judkins for about ten +minutes before he joined the group around the map of Harrisburg in the +Operations Office. + +Personally, the warden was glad that his assistant was not present; +the discussion would almost certainly have produced and explosion from +the psychologist. + +Scott began his gloomy analysis after both he and General Mosby had +redirected their patrols to heavier concentrations in Harrisburg's +dim-lit and winding side streets. + +"I hate to hunt this kind," the chief said gloomily. "You just never +know, never know anything, except that they're going to kill again. + +"I just hope he has cooled off and that he wants to sleep a while." + +Bennington noted with amused interest the startled glance General +Mosby gave the Chief of Police. Mosby's greatest strength and greatest +weakness, both in the field and garrison, was his complete refusal to +accept or excuse aberration. + +Scott had caught the glance, too, and continued. "I got a good lab, +general, smart boys willing to pull extra duty. They've already told +me that Clarens reached--after he killed the guy in the park--an +emotional climax." + +Bennington watched his former Division Commander's face harden as +expected. + +Scott continued: "That's why I said, I hope he's crawled off, wants to +sleep a while. Every place he can get a bed in my town, I'll know the +minute he wants to lie down. + +"Then I'll take him, like this"--the big hand crushed upon +itself--"dead or alive, and I hope I have to take him dead." + +"Why _dead_?" + +"General, sorry, _warden_--no, I'll go back to the way I know you +best--General Bennington, Clarens simply isn't the business of any +kind of normal living. + +"You take a guy who cracked a safe, knocked off a payroll, robbed a +bank, he's like any good business man taking a risk; he has insurance, +he's got an out. + +"He can buy me, he can talk to the D.A., he can get the court to go +along if he's caught. He just says, I'll tell you where the stuff is +if I get the minimum. + +"O.K., we're wrong, we should go black-and-white, we should say no to +any kind of deal, I shouldn't let a little guy go just because I'd +rather grab the big one. Only, unconditional surrender doesn't work +any better in my job than it does in yours on a battlefield." + + * * * * * + +"We've learned it doesn't work too well," Bennington agreed, "but what +has this to do with Clarens?" + +"General, you did the right thing up at Duncannon when you decided to +talk to Musto. He was a man in business, with something to buy and +something to sell. He could be dealt with. + +"Now think this through: Suppose everybody in that Administration +Building had been a Clarens. And I heard that you said this, General +Bennington, that there has to be some sort of mutual trust for +bargaining. You could deal with Musto because he is, and I'll make the +point again, a sort of business man even though his business isn't +legal. + +"But Clarens...." + +Chief Scott let the silence build while he lit a cigarette. + +"But Clarens wants to be caught," Mosby said. + +"He does?" Chief Scott pointed to the map. "General Mosby, you and I +both know that all he has to do is sit down on the curb underneath any +street light. + +"Let me change that. We would have him ten minutes faster if he sat +down on the curb of any dark street. + +"No, he doesn't want caught, except maybe those first couple of +minutes when he's almost human, those first couple of minutes after +he's killed somebody. And if you have to kill someone to have human +feelings yourself--that's not for most of us and that's why I hope he +fights back and I have to take him--dead." + +Chief Scott turned back to the map of Harrisburg. His forefinger ran +down the river, pausing at each of the many bridges. Then he turned to +the generals. + +"Maybe we've got him pinned. We've had the bridges sealed tight and if +Dr. Thornberry is right, he won't chase west because Pennsylvania +land, especially around here, is selling real high and that's still +very open country. + +"And that's not for Clarens, he wants back into our little city, back +where things feel close and he feels _inside_." + +Bennington found himself looking at Mosby, with the glance returned. + +Mosby spoke, reluctantly. "He could be through us, Chief Scott." + +"_How?_" + +"The same way my men come back to camp and it's a natural way that's +rarely stopped." + +"Clarens had no military experience!" Scott said. + +"No, but he's read a lot--that came out at the trial--and he's under +pressure, so he'll remember what he read," Bennington said. + +"Tell me this way you can walk invisible across a lighted bridge," and +Scott was still unconvinced. + +"You don't walk over, you ride over," Mosby said. "I would work it +this way. + +"I would stop in a bar and buy a drink that made me smell five feet +away. I would order and get rid of a couple more of them, very +quickly, then I would tip the bartender to call me a cab. + +"And by the way, of course I wouldn't be drinking any after the first +one. + +"But when the cabbie came, I'd offer him a drink, wave a big bill or +two that meant a good tip, and give him a good address--for instance, +the hotel that takes up the biggest space in the yellow pages of the +telephone book. + +"I would get into the back seat of the cab still holding on to the +biggest bill or two out of those we took from the cleaning truck and I +would pretend to fall asleep. + +"With that cab driver convinced that he's hauling a drunk just aching +to give away a big tip--and any normal human being perfectly sure that +a wanted killer would never walk into a bar, get loaded and order a +cab to take him to the biggest hotel in town--what are my chances, +Chief Scott?" + + * * * * * + +The chief did not answer directly. Instead, "And I'll bet he wins that +appeal he's got going, too." + +"What did you say, Chief Scott?" Bennington asked. + +"We got the word a while ago from Delaware by teletype. Clarens has +three good lawyers fighting an appeal from the conviction on every +grounds you can think of, including that the confession was beaten out +of him. + +"That's why I hope he wants to fight when I catch up with him, and +that's what Delaware hopes, too. + +"But here comes Dr. Thornberry, General Mosby. Let's ask him why +Clarens hides so well when he says he wants to be caught." + +Thornberry pursed his lips so tightly that his face became a skull's +head, then he answered. + +"In some areas of human behavior...." he began. + +"Dalton," Bennington interrupted, "does he make a game out of getting +away when he's caught?" + +Thornberry's face became almost human with a big smile. "Oh, yes, +obviously." + +"Could that energy he puts into escaping be channeled, led, +educated--in some way--to constructive thinking? Put it this way: +could Dalton be led to thinking about making a jail escape-proof?" + +"A most excellent therapy," and Thornberry was actually beaming. +"General Bennington, I am beginning to have great hopes for our work +together as we start to see more and more eye to eye." + +"Let's go back to Clarens," Bennington said. "Son of wealthy parents, +a good education, the only child in a family who seemed to have +everything, including parents who loved both each other and the +child--why does he kill, ask to be caught, and then hide so well? + +"What therapy does your science have for him, Dr. Thornberry?" + +Thornberry's lip-pursing again made his face a skeleton's. + +"There are areas of human behavior--" + + * * * * * + +Bennington observed that Scott and Mosby had turned away from the +conversation to the immediacies of patrol distribution. Scott was +being eloquent on how lighting cut down crime and Mosby was analyzing +the idea in terms of house-to-house combat at night under +slow-dropping flares. + +For further insurance of privacy, Bennington pulled Thornberry into +the corner of the room most removed from the others. + +"Doctor, let's forget about Clarens for a moment. I want to talk about +Judkins." + +"Yes, general." + +"How did you hypnotize him? And don't hand me any of that stuff about +him being sensitive because of his job." + +Thornberry smiled. "You've seen too many conditioned men, and in a way +I'm surprised that I got past Chief Scott with my ... General Mosby +should have been more alert, too. + +"You're right, it was his skin, not his job." + +"I'm still puzzled." + +"I won't go into the physical structure of the man, his character as +revealed by his choice of profession, and so on. Briefly, he is +hyper-sensitive to the thought of physical pain, that's all. So I gave +him a simple choice. Talk to us in such a way that what he said could +never be used against him, or go for a ride with you, Chief Scott, and +General Mosby. + +"This is very odd, a fact I must further check into, that your name +frightened him most." + +"_You_ threatened someone with violence!" + +Thornberry sniffed. "It was no threat. I knew the man and simply +appealed to him in the proper way. Then with the spray of cannabis +indica that I carry, I speeded his willingness--" + +"Marihuana!" + +"Please don't be so shocked!" and Thornberry was horrified that +Bennington should be shocked. "The prescription I use is a carefully +compounded medical dosage specifically prepared to promote +suggestibility...." + +"Doctor, I am not in the least suggesting that you would use any +method or drug not thoroughly commended by your profession. + +"In addition, I am delighted beyond expression that you found some way +to learn what we needed from Judkins. + +"But, just as I was surprised that your profession did find a use for +a drug previously condemned, I now want to be surprised in another +way: + +"_What can you do for someone like Clarens?_" + +Thornberry's lips came together and his cheeks began to pull in. +Bennington resigned himself to hearing again the phrase, "There are +some areas of human behavior--" + + * * * * * + +"_Car 17, at M dash 9, Code Two Zero, times two. Standing by for +instructions._" + +Bennington turned to watch Chief Scott's big fore-fingers travel a +line from the side and a line from the top that brought them together +on the big map. "Signs of breaking and entering, down on Hickory, +where it's all big warehouses." + +Thornberry leaped to the chief's side. "Lonely at this time of night? +Dark? Not too many people?" + +"Right on every count," Scott said. "Only a few night watchmen." + +"This should be carefully checked," and Thornberry started for the +door. + +Scott turned to the dispatcher. "Tell them just to keep the place +under observation until I get there." + +There was an odd eagerness about the chief, odd until Bennington +remembered Scott's grim analysis of Clarens' behavior, the chief's +hope that Clarens would resist arrest. + +_And why do I now recall that time in Burma when I followed the +wounded tiger into the cave?_ + +_What was I thinking of at the time?_ + +Thornberry had disappeared into the corridor, but for once even the +prospect of immediate action was not enough to get the impetuous Mosby +out the door ahead of Scott. + +_Was I thinking of mercy, that I could not let a wounded beast which +could not destroy itself live with continual pain? Thornberry would +never agree, but Clarens is certainly both wounded and incapable of +self-destruction._ + +Thornberry was already seated in the back of the car. Mosby was ready +to seat himself in the front, Scott was opening the door to slide in +behind the driver's wheel, but Bennington did not change his steady +pace. + +_Retribution and punishment, because the tiger had killed human +beings? No, no and never no, for these are worthless without +understanding by the person upon whom they are visited. A baby +understands not the reason why, but only the whack across its buttocks +when its fingers or its life are in danger, and that action is thence +forward "reject"; but Clarens is not a baby and a baby is not a tiger, +with all three having only this in common, that 'don't do this' is a +mystery...._ + +Bennington seated himself beside Thornberry in the rear of Scott's +sedan, more aware of his thoughts than his movements. + +For a moment the whine of the turbine was high, the gleam of the +headlights low, then they were on their way. + + * * * * * + +Hickory Street was a fast three-minute run from the police station. + +"Nothing but warehouses," Scott said. "We're a big trans-shipment +center." + +The narrow, one-way streets and the broad-shouldered bulk of the big +buildings emphasized what the chief had said. The railroads and the +rivers were still the most economical way to ship the space-taking +stuff, coal, steel, grain. Harrisburg was a crossroads where the +east-west and north-south main lines met, with a natural growth of the +long warehouses at the intersection. + +Scott spun the driver's wheel to the left and cut the car lights. +"Hickory Street." + +It is a lonely place at night, Bennington decided. + +Thornberry leaned forward from the back seat of the car, leaned +forward so far between Scott and Mosby that his thin nose almost +touched the front window. + +"Ideal, ideal, just the way Clarens would be thinking." + +"Thank God we found Judkins," Mosby said, "but say, that reminds me. +Why didn't he take the first plane or train out of town? He had plenty +of time before we knew we wanted him." + +Thornberry pulled himself back, re-condensed his lean frame in the +left corner of the back seat. "He was waiting for Senator Giles to pay +him off and tell him where to hide out." + +Chief Scott idled his car to a halt beside another dark-blue sedan +almost invisible in the shadowed street. + +A figure loomed large in the shadows, came forward and identified +itself. + +"Patrolman Whelton, sir, and Sergeant Kerr is in the back." + +Somehow Scott managed to return the salute while at the same time +disentangling himself from his seat-belt and from behind the driver's +wheel. + +"What did you spot?" + +"According to orders, we were riding the alleys and we saw that the +window had been broken since our last inspection." + +They were in a tight group around the young patrolman because Whelton +had spoken in a soft, church-going whisper. Now Mosby walked away from +the group, thoughtfully fingering the ivory-handled butts of his +revolvers, but returning to the group when Scott began speaking. + +"Thanks, General Mosby. They couldn't have checked the alleys as often +as they did without your men helping out on the streets. This way, we +caught it fast." + +[Illustration] + +"Sir, we can't find the watchman for this area," and Patrolman Whelton +was very worried. + +"Watchman?" Mosby asked. + +"Fire-warden would be more accurate," Scott said. "He isn't here to +prevent theft. The stuff in these buildings is too big to steal +without a convoy of trucks that would awaken the whole town. But he +does have a definite route, with fixed posts where he clocks in." + +Two more cars drifted to a halt, disgorged men armed with shotguns and +submachine guns. + +Scott rubbed his chin thoughtfully, gave his orders carefully, +obviously aware that he had two renowned tacticians with him. + +His car and one of the newly-arrived ones were to remain in front of +the warehouse. The other patrol car would pull around the block and +join Sergeant Kerr in the alley. At Scott's signal, they would flood +the building with light. + +And not until much later did Bennington remember to laugh at the way +they had all followed the elephantine Whelton's example and gone on +tiptoe down the walk between the two concrete-walled warehouses, into +the alley behind. + + * * * * * + +The broken window was in a small door, part of the large door which +let trucks in and out. + +"Nice eye," Scott said to Whelton. + +Bennington agreed. + +The break in the window was just big enough to allow a hand through +the door, a small hand through the pane to the lock on the inside of +the door. + +Scott stretched out his arm to try to slide his big, freckled hand +through the break in the window, but abruptly Thornberry stepped +forward, catching the chief's hand in mid-gesture. + +"One moment, Chief Scott!" + +The chief was startled. "What's up?" + +"This isn't your job, it's mine. If that poor boy _is_ in there, he +needs a doctor, not a bullet." + +"Whatthehell--" Scott sputtered, the phrase emerging as a single word. + +"Thornberry's right, Chief Scott, though he's right for the wrong +reason. Clarens is our job." + +_Following the tiger had been a simple act of necessity in two ways. +To rid the tiger of the pain it could not remove from itself and to +rid society of the menace the beast had been and would continue to be +until it was destroyed._ + +With his words to Scott, with that last thought, Bennington shook the +lethargy, the stillness of deep thought that had contained and +enveloped him since the report of this breaking and entering. + +Now, as in that dash to the mess hall, he was ready for the fast +sprint, the decisive action. + +Before Scott could answer and possibly object, Thornberry had taken +the flashlight from the chief's hand, was fumbling through the open +pane for the lock inside. + +"Give me a flashlight, too," Bennington said. + +Patrolman Whelton responded. + +At the same time, Mosby reversed the grip on the pistol in his right +hand and offered the ivory butt to Bennington. + +"What do you think I am, a psychologist?" + +Bennington had kept his voice to a whisper, but he had made that +whisper a snarl. He further emphasized that snap in his tone by +pulling out his own pistol, throwing the beam of the flashlight on his +hand, making both the sight and sound of the safety going off clear to +the eyes and ears of those around him. + +Then he followed Thornberry into the black cave of the warehouse. + + * * * * * + +Before them stretched a long aisle formed by big boxes piled fifteen +feet high. Side aisles branched at ten-foot intervals. + +They moved slowly, used their lights carefully, in quick flickers on +and off. Each branching from the main corridor had to be approached +cautiously. Each, when checked by a rapid finger of light, showed only +the sides of boxes marked by stenciled words and the blank walls of +the warehouse. + +A flash of light, a few steps forward, another flash, a few more +steps ... until they were halfway down the warehouse. + +Bennington saw it first and halted Thornberry with a touch on the arm: +the last row of boxes on the left was outlined by a faint glow of +light. + +Together they walked rapidly, quietly, toward the glow. When they +reached the end of the aisle, Bennington tried to take the lead. But +Thornberry deliberately shoved himself ahead of the general and turned +the corner first. + +The space from the last row of boxes to the front doors of the +warehouse was big enough for a truck and trailer to maneuver in. The +feeble glow of light came from an electric lantern on a small desk. +Beside the desk, leaning his chair against the warehouse wall, a +palefaced young man sat looking down at his hands. His long fingers +played with a knife. + +The shadow of the desk spread across the floor and in that shadow +bulked a large, unmoving blackness. Bennington flicked the beam of his +light on and off quickly. One glimpse was enough. The unmoving +blackness was a middle-aged man in work clothes and boots, lying on +his back, with the slash across the throat standing out clearly. + +"Walter." + +Thornberry spoke softly, moved slowly, easily toward the young man. + +At the sound of his name, Clarens looked up, his face calm and +composed, his posture expressing complete disinterest in the fact that +someone was approaching him. + +"Walter: I am Dr. Thornberry. I am a friend of yours. I am here to +help you. You need help. I am here to help you." + +As Thornberry spoke, he continued to move forward slowly. + +Bennington followed, two strides behind and one to the left of the +psychologist. He kept his point of aim fixed on Walter's face. + +"I am your friend. I am here to help you." + +"You are my friend?" Walter asked, and there was doubt in his tone. + +"You can be sure of that, Walter. I want to help you. I am here to +help you, Walter." + +Thornberry, who had stopped when Clarens had spoken, now moved forward +again. + +"Put down the knife, Walter. You don't need the knife any more. Put +the knife down and come for a little walk with me. Come out of this +dark place with me. Out of the darkness into the world where you +belong. Let us take a walk together, out of the darkness into the +world where you belong." + +Bennington felt his own tense watchfulness relaxing in the smooth flow +of Thornberry's words. Before them, Clarens' disinterest had gradually +become absorbed attention. His hands no longer played with the knife, +but simply held it loosely. + +In another minute, he'll put down the knife and come with us, +Bennington decided. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thornberry +take a plastic squeeze-bottle from his pocket. + +Without any gathering of facial or body muscle to signal his +intention, Clarens launched himself from his chair. As he jumped, he +shrilled hoarsely, "Not into the light again!" + +Only Thornberry's height saved him; Clarens' leap could not quite +reach the psych-expert's scrawny throat. But the doctor did stumble +backwards, did fall on his back with Clarens on top of him. + +The killer's right arm swung back. The edge of the knife blade danced +brightly in the dim light. + +Bennington took no chances with fancy shooting. He dropped his point +of aim and his first shot smashed into Clarens' chest, driving the +young man back onto his haunches. The general's second and third shots +were also into the body. + +Then before Bennington's inner eye two scenes flashed fleetingly, one +of a darkened garage, the other of an almost-as-dark jungle trail. In +both the figure was a weeping mother above a child's still form. +Deliberately, with three carefully-aimed shots through Clarens' head, +Bennington killed the wounded tiger again. + +Out of ingrained habit, he reloaded his pistol before moving forward +to help Thornberry to his feet. + +But the psychologist was already standing, was turning toward +Bennington, wild anger on his face, in his voice. + +"What did you shoot him for? Why did you kill this poor, misguided +boy?" + +Bennington looked at his assistant warden and saw that the man was +deadly serious. Then the general looked at Clarens sprawled +grotesquely on his back, with his shattered head resting against the +dead night watchman's feet, with his right hand still gripping the +knife. + +I know seven languages, Bennington thought, with maybe knowing some of +them only well enough to swear in, but right now I don't know the +words to answer this man. + + * * * * * + +Bennington looked at the face reflected in the mirror in Chief Scott's +private bathroom. The face was gray and lined with fatigue, needed a +shave and the bristle of the beard was more white than brown. + +His throat was raw from too much smoking, from answering too many +questions, and a long, long day was still ahead. + +Judkins was in jail, and glad to be in a solitary cell because he was +handwriting a full confession. The knowledge of what Clarens had done +during his few hours of freedom had scared the hypno-tech into almost +incoherent co-operation. + +The chief of Harrisburg's police was showing less signs of wear than +anyone else. Scott was exulting in his position as supervisor of the +city search for Giles, glorying in his position as relayer of the +details of the state search for the errant politician. + +Bennington opened the door into Scott's office, meditating gratefully +on one blessing, that the six governors who had agreed on his +appointment had also finally agreed to sleep. + +Of course they had all assured him of complete concurrence with his +suggested reforms for Duncannon Prison ... but what else could they +have done? + +Mosby was just outside the bathroom door, standing big enough to +insure a half-circle of privacy between the general and the reporters. + +"Had a call from Washington, Jim. That Rooney tax mess is getting top +priority." + +"Good." + +"The AG called, too." + +Bennington found himself companioning Mosby's faint smile. "You had a +cigarette in your ashtray?" + +"I did, and he's got six good precedents to back us up, Jim. But the +next time he wants us to call him first: my men aren't the only ones +who need practical training." + +Bennington did not hold back his laugh and he stretched out his hand. +"Thanks, Mossback." + +"Hell, Jim, I owe you the thanks. That was the best training problem +my men ever had, taught 'em more in one night that they can ever learn +until the real stuff starts whistling around." + +Bennington glanced over Mosby's shoulder at the place he was heading +for: the hot seat, Chief Scott's desk chair, bright under the TV +spotlights, the center of every camera focus. + +"You've got work to do, I know, so where's that Thornberry?" Mosby +growled. "He should be with you." + +"Upstairs, asleep. He said that he was only the assistant warden, then +asked Chief Scott for an empty cell and left me." + +"Why?" + +"It's very simple: he's still not convinced that I had to shoot +Clarens." + +Mosby grunted deep disgust, looked over his shoulder toward the hot +seat, looked again at Bennington. "You should have shaved. + +"No, wait a minute, I guess not. Just go the way you are and give 'em +hell." + +Bennington rubbed his chin and the bristle of his late-night, +early-morning beard crackled crisply. + +The problem he had anticipated was now here, as he had known it would +be. And the answer was nowhere, which equally had been a matter of +foreknowledge. + + * * * * * + +"What will I say, General Mosby?" Bennington murmured. "Cue me in. You +were always the best public relations officer either of us ever had." + +"Jim, from anyone else--" Mosby started, stopped, grinned. "The +trouble is, you're right. + +"But this time we don't need any style, this time all we need is the +truth. + +"Tell them why the prison wasn't running right, how the riot happened +and why you are where you are tonight, and what the prisons need to +make them run better...." + +Mosby stopped again, and this time was very slow in re-starting. + +"When you get there, I don't know, Jim. What _are_ you going to tell +them?" + +_I wish I could be sure, Mossback._ + +_I know I can make that hot seat hotter by stating no one else knows +either, because we've never decided what a prison is for ... society's +protection, a place to put people like Clarens, where they won't +affect the lives of normal folk? A deterrent, a threat, a place to +point to as a warning not to break the law? Or, as Thornberry would +have it, the first step to returning people to normal lives as +functioning members of society again?_ + +_Dare I say that the only thing certain about prisons is that so far they +haven't worked ... that stone walls, iron bars, conditioning and drugs +that take the reason prisoner, none of these have kept men in ... that +they would always try to escape as long as there was hope, hope of +something better on the outside._ + + * * * * * + +As Mosby stepped aside, Bennington considered the reverse of that last +thought. + +_Was there an answer here, to ask his fellow-countrymen to face the +immediately, perhaps the forever, impossible, that the only way to +keep a man from hoping and trying to get out, was to build a society +where they never got in?_ + +Then Bennington remembered Clarens. + +_No, let's face facts, that till man is superman, there will always be +people like Clarens, people who will never be redeemed. People, who no +matter how carefully caged or watched, will ever be a potential +threat, if only to their keepers. By what weird accident they came to +life, well, list that among other facts as yet unknown, and consider +only the end result, that there were people whose only pleasure lay in +perpetual destruction._ + +_Automatically, such people themselves must be destroyed._ + +He was only vaguely aware of the flash-bulbs popping as he walked to +the chair behind Chief Scott's desk. + +_That could be an answer, a new addition to the Decalogue, a new +Commandment specific to the judge giving sentence to a man like +Clarens, an injunction not to jail but to destroy. Simply phrased for +the judge, thou shalt not commit!_ + +He seated himself and blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the +glare. + +_But, beginning with Thornberry, there would be many people who +wouldn't agree, who would never accept such an amendment to the Sacred +Ten, people who never seemed to see that phrase in their newspapers +every time a child was assaulted, "Police are questioning all known +sex offenders."_ + +Bennington looked thoughtfully around at the men ready to question +him. + +He, too, was ready, ready to tell them.... + +_... Some people are a damn sight better off dead._ + + * * * * * + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Take the Reason Prisoner, by John Joseph McGuire + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TAKE THE REASON PRISONER *** + +***** This file should be named 30972.txt or 30972.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/9/7/30972/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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