Reynie watched Crawlings bar the door with a feeling of great desolation, as if it were his own tomb being sealed. He hoped Milligan had only been delayed, but when Milligan came back — if he came back — how could he rescue them if he was locked outside? He’d chosen this building for its sturdiness, after all. And even if he did manage to get inside, Milligan would still be greatly outnumbered, and the children would be chained up and couldn’t even make a run for it.
Crawlings joined the other Ten Men by the lantern, where Martina had ordered them to gather. Sharpe, the bespectacled Ten Man, had failed to find her a seat, and Martina gave his briefcase a covetous glance but said nothing. Evidently the briefcases were off limits to her. No doubt she hated that.
“Well, McCracken,” Martina said, “do you want to explain how she got away?”
“She hasn’t gotten away,” McCracken responded. He was casually picking his teeth with the sharp end of the pencil that had been stuck in the beam. Reynie had watched him pull it from the wood as easily as one might draw a thumbtack from a bulletin board. Kate had seen it, too, and her jaw had dropped.
“She hasn’t gotten away?” Martina said with a sneer. She glanced around the shelter and threw up her hands. “I don’t see her. Where is she? Is she hiding behind one of these beams?”
“She’s in the woods. Sharpe saw her heading into the trees, and I had him blow the tunnel entrance so she can’t cut through to the other side of the island. We can track her down that much faster now.”
“Then why aren’t we tracking her?”
“I thought perhaps we should deal with the little darlings first,” McCracken said. “They didn’t materialize out of the air, you know. Someone must have brought them. Better to find out right away who it was, don’t you think?”
Martina acknowledged this with a grunt. The truth — which was clear enough to everyone in the room — was that she wanted nothing more than to focus on the children, but thought it best to establish that failing to catch Number Two would be the Ten Men’s fault and not her own. Spinning on her heel, she marched over to stand before Kate. Of all the children, Martina bore a particular enmity toward Kate, who had done the most to embarrass her at the Institute (to say nothing of the past few minutes).
“How do you explain your presence here, Wetherall?” she demanded.
“Magic,” Kate said, coolly returning the older girl’s stare. “How’s your forehead, by the way? You might want to put some ice on that.”
Reynie noticed that Kate had slipped her free hand inside her bucket. Don’t do anything stupid, he thought. Don’t get yourself hurt, Kate.
Martina touched the swelling bruise on her forehead. Her eyes flashed. “And you might want to consider your position.” She held up the handcuff key that McCracken had given her. “Do you see this? I am in control here, Wetherall, and you are the one in chains, so if you don’t want to find yourself —”
Kate stomped Martina’s foot, snatched the key from her hand, and butted her in the chest with her head.
Martina staggered backward, her cry of pain cut short by the head butt, which had knocked the wind out of her. She turned toward McCracken, her eyes wide with outrage, and jabbed a finger toward Kate, who was scrabbling at her handcuffs with the key.
“Yes, ma’am,” McCracken replied to the unspoken order. He made no attempt to conceal his amused smile, but neither did he waste time striding across the room and grabbing Kate’s wrist. “I did enjoy that, plucky,” McCracken said to Kate, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t also enjoy this.” He squeezed. Kate gave a gasp of pain and opened her hand. The key fell to the floor.
McCracken checked the handcuffs. They were still locked tight. Martina, meanwhile, had snatched up the key and backed out of Kate’s reach. Recovering her breath she said, “I want you . . . to make . . . that girl . . . pay!”
“Yes, ma’am,” said McCracken, opening his briefcase.
“I thought you wanted to know how we got here, Martina,” said Reynie quickly.
Martina looked at him suspiciously. “Don’t try to put this off, Muldoon. Your snotty friend’s going to get hurt no matter what you say or when you say it.”
Reynie shrugged. “Okay, well, if it doesn’t matter to you — or Mr. Curtain — then I can certainly wait to tell you what’s going to happen.”
“What’s going to . . . happen?” Martina repeated. She glared at him. “What do you mean?”
“If we don’t return to the boat by morning, Risker will contact the authorities,” Reynie said. “So I suggest you think long and hard about whatever actions you’re planning to take now.”
The room was quiet. Then all the Ten Men looked at one another and burst into laughter. Martina laughed, too, and she shook her head a long time before saying, “Risker? You mean that greedy coward in Thernbaakagen? Thank you for the warning, Muldoon — it will be very useful — but we’re not really worried about someone like Risker. I’m surprised he agreed to bring you here in the first place.”
Reynie was doing his best to look crestfallen — crestfallen but defiant. “Well, he did! We paid him half the money Mr. Benedict left us and agreed to give him the rest when we got back to the boat! But if we don’t get back, he’s going to —”
“Where is this money?” McCracken interrupted.
“Nowhere you can get to it,” Reynie said.
“And where would that be?” said McCracken. From his briefcase he took out an elegant, leather-clad cigar box, gave it a shake, and set it on the ground between Reynie’s feet. A strange, sharp clicking sound came from inside the box, followed by a barely audible squeal. McCracken nudged it with the toe of his well-polished shoe. “Shall I open that? Or do you want to tell me where the money is?”
Reynie stared at the cigar box. He began to perspire. “It’s . . . it’s on the boat. Hidden in my bag.”
McCracken clucked sympathetically. “Then Risker’s gone, my dear. He took your money and left. That’s the sort of fellow he is, you see. Oh, we’ll check to be sure, but I think you can be confident he’s forgotten you. How did you even know about Risker, hmm? How did you know about this island? Tell me quick, and I might put away my box without opening it.”
With the other children listening in bafflement — they had no idea what Reynie was up to — Reynie told McCracken the truth. He said they had sneaked away from their families to find Mr. Benedict and Number Two. He explained about the clues Mr. Benedict had left for them as part of a surprise trip, about how they’d hoped to follow the clues until they found their friends, at which point they’d intended to contact Rhonda Kazembe. He told McCracken about everything — everything except Milligan and the final clue — and because what Reynie said was true, it was a perfectly convincing account.
McCracken seemed impressed. “You made that trip all by your little lonesomes? My, what big boys and girls you are!” He picked up the cigar box and held it very close to Reynie’s perspiring face. “Sure you don’t want just a peek?” He chuckled and gave the box a shake; the clicking sound inside grew louder. “No? Don’t want to meet Pandora?” He shrugged and put the box back into his briefcase.
Garotte spoke up. “What do you think, fellows? Will Risker make things inconvenient for us?”
“I rather doubt it,” said Crawlings. “If he’s stolen the chickadees’ money, he isn’t likely to contact the authorities.”