“Don’t be a fool,” snapped Martina, irritated to have been left out of the discussion. “We still need to report this to Mr. Curtain. Give me your radio, Crawlings.”
Crawlings raised his single eyebrow. “Oh dear, I never said we shouldn’t report it, did I? But I’m afraid my radio’s of no use.” He pretended to look apologetic. “There’s no reception in the cave, remember?”
Martina cursed under her breath. With a haughty toss of her hair she said, “I’ll need to take the Salamander, then. Garrotte, you drive me. The rest of you wait here. We won’t be gone long.”
“Why not bring the children?” asked McCracken.
“Because I said so,” Martina growled.
She offered no explanation beyond this, but Reynie felt pretty sure he knew what she was thinking. Here in the shelter they were under Martina’s direct control. That would change once they were brought to Mr. Curtain, and Martina was in no hurry for that to happen. No doubt she had some nasty punishment in mind for them — perhaps one inflicted by the Ten Men, who must obey her — and didn’t wish to lose her opportunity. She probably hated to wait even a minute, but she wouldn’t dare put off her report to Mr. Curtain.
“Before I go,” Martina said, jerking her thumb toward Kate, “we need to take her bucket away and search her pockets. She’s a tricky one. Here, McCracken, you hold her while I search her.”
It was shrewd of Martina to have McCracken hold Kate, who might otherwise have relieved her of several teeth. As it was, Kate was left unable to speak or even breathe as Martina searched her — very thoroughly and none too gently — from head to foot. When McCracken released her, Kate fell to her knees, clutching her midsection and gasping for breath.
“That’s just for starters,” Martina said with a satisfied smile. “Wait till I get back — then things will really get fun. Let’s go, Garrotte. McCracken, you keep a close eye on them, you hear me? I don’t want any chance of their getting away.”
“They won’t be getting away.”
“Just do as I say,” said Martina. She grinned at Kate, who was struggling to her feet, and held up the bucket so Kate could see her leave with it. Then she went out, followed by Garrotte, and McCracken barred the door behind them.
“Why bar the door?” asked Crawlings. “We’ll just have to open it again when her highness returns.”
McCracken grunted. “You’re a fine fellow, Crawlings, but you have yet to learn proper caution.”
“I’m cautious enough, aren’t I?” Crawlings said. “Oh sure, I’ve had a bad scrape or two, but I’m cautious, McCracken. I’ll wager I’m as cautious as you!”
“And yet I’m in possession of both my eyebrows, and you’re not.”
Sharpe snickered. “He has you there, Crawlings!”
“At any rate,” said McCracken, “there’s something about all this that doesn’t quite fit, and when I figure out what it is, I want to be ready.”
“Shall we do an inventory?” asked Crawlings.
“Wouldn’t hurt,” said McCracken. “At the very least it will pass the time until her ladyship returns.”
As if in response to some unseen signal, the Ten Men knelt in unison and set their briefcases before them. They were in the middle of the room, where the light from the lantern was strongest, and the children — also in unison — flinched at the sound of the dreadful briefcases being unbuckled.
Outside, the Salamander rumbled out of the village. Then all was quiet except for the Ten Men going through their briefcases. It was clearly a serious business, yet the men surveyed the contents of their briefcases with expressions of happy expectation, even jollity, as if they were selecting chocolates from a holiday tray. The children watched in horror as they laid out tidy rows of sharpened pencils; an assortment of ink pens in various colors; staple removers (which resembled nothing so much as metallic piranhas); sleek-looking calculators; stacks of brilliant white business cards; elegant letter openers tucked into monogrammed leather sheaths — and, of course, the dreaded laser pointers.
Crawlings held up his pointer. “What do you think?” he said, wriggling his eyebrow and jerking his chin toward the children. “Shall I take just the very tip of one of their noses? I’m thinking of a collection.”
McCracken frowned. “You’d waste your only shot on the tip of a nose? This is what I mean about proper caution, Crawlings.”
“Oh, don’t be so serious,” said Crawlings. “I was only sporting for the kittens’ sake.” He grinned at the children. Evidently he very much enjoyed frightening them. “At any rate, you know I prefer to use this.” He lifted up what appeared to be an ordinary clipboard.
McCracken nodded approvingly. “That’s because you’re so good with it.”
“It’s true,” Sharpe said, patting Crawlings on the back. “I’ve never seen anyone so smart with a clip —”
“You’re nothing but a bunch of monsters!” Sticky blurted, finding his voice at last, and the other children stared at him in shock. “Why aren’t you disgusted with yourselves? I mean, look at you! You like hurting people! You like frightening children!”
He fell abruptly silent, every bit as shocked by his outburst as the others had been and regretting it extremely. What kind of fool wanted to make a Ten Man angry? He hadn’t even realized he was going to speak. With his breath coming in ragged gulps and his emotions still awhirl, Sticky braced himself for the response.
But the Ten Men only looked over at him with expressions of mild interest, and McCracken chuckled and said, “We don’t like frightening children in particular, sweetie. It isn’t our fault you’re still a child, is it? Now, why don’t you leave the grownups to their discussion? You wouldn’t want to distract us, would you? We might grow annoyed.”
Sharpe fanned himself with his clipboard. “You know, McCracken, I get so warm when I’m annoyed. It makes me want to loosen my tie.”
“Very warm indeed,” Crawlings murmured, pretending to mop his bald head with his handkerchief. “I may have to take my tie off, too.”
McCracken eyed the handkerchief. “Again, Crawlings. Proper caution.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t be such a mother duck, McCracken. I’m not going to blow my nose with it.”
McCracken and Sharpe laughed at this, and Crawlings carefully folded the handkerchief and returned it to his pocket. The Ten Men resumed their dark discussion.
Sticky was shaking so violently his handcuffs jingled. He longed to polish his spectacles, but with his wrists cuffed to Constance and Reynie it was too difficult to manage.
“It’s okay,” Reynie whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”
Sticky looked at him. “H-how?”
Reynie had no idea. He looked down the line at Constance and Kate. Constance, evidently impressed by Sticky’s outburst, was staring at him as if she’d never seen him before. She seemed to be holding up fairly well. Kate, on the other hand, was still clutching her midsection, and it occurred to Reynie that McCracken might really have injured her. He was about to ask if she was all right when Kate suddenly cocked her head to the side, and Constance stiffened. They had heard something. Kate squeezed the smaller girl’s hand — as if to warn her not to speak — and turned to face the wall.
McCracken glanced up. “What’s the matter, honey? You don’t like watching us get our things together?”
“I think I’m going to throw up,” Kate said.
“Ah! Mixed up your insides a bit, did I? Happens sometimes. Well, that’s a good girl, then. You do your business against the wall where we won’t have to step in it.” He went back to his briefcase materials.