“So what is it?” Kate asked.
“He said to remind you that every single one of you is essential to the success of the team — that now more than ever, you must rely upon one another in all things.” Milligan took the cloaks back from the children. “What’s more,” he said, tucking the cloaks down the legs of his suit pants, “you must also rely upon me. Whatever develops, I’m here to help you. I’m staying on the island. When the time comes, this is the place to contact me.”
“How do we do that?” Reynie asked.
Milligan pointed back the way they had come. “Not far from here an old drainage culvert empties into the channel. It’s a good marker. To leave me a message, hide it in a dry spot within twenty paces of the culvert, and stack two stones upon it. I’ll check the place often, and meanwhile I’ll keep an eye on you as best I can.” With that, Milligan turned to go.
“Wait a minute,” Kate said. “Aren’t you going to wish us luck?”
“Luck?” Milligan said, without turning around. “I’ve been wishing you luck from the moment I met you. What I wish for you now is a miracle.”
He disappeared into the darkness. The children stared after him.
“He thinks we need a miracle,” Sticky said in a bleak voice.
“Well, optimism has never been his strong suit,” said Kate. “Or haven’t you noticed?”
A Chess Lesson
Reynie woke before dawn, shivering and drenched in sweat. For the second night in a row he had dreamed an awful thing. This time, while his friends cried for help from somewhere far away — so far away they sounded like whining mosquitoes — Reynie had been sitting in the Whisperer, incredibly happy and content, grinning in triumph. Why triumph? He tried to remember. He was grinning because . . . Reynie shuddered, remembering: He had decided to join Mr. Curtain.
Reynie rubbed his temples. Just a dream, he told himself, though reality wasn’t much better.
Nor did reality improve as the day unfolded. Classes, meals, studytime — all passed in an unpleasant blur as Reynie struggled to come up with a plan. For the first time since he’d set foot on Nomansan Island, he was dreading the meeting of the Mysterious Benedict Society that night. He had no idea what to do. The others were looking to him as a leader, and he could only look back at them as a failure. When the lights finally went out and the girls joined them, Reynie was cringing even before Kate asked her question.
“Okay, Reynie, what’s the plan?”
Reynie shook his head. “I . . . don’t have one. I’m sorry. I’ve tried, but my brain just goes round and round. All I can think is that we need to disable the Whisperer, but —”
“That’s a great plan!” Kate said, excited. “How do we do it?”
“That’s what I mean,” Reynie said with a shrug. “I don’t see how we can. The computers are below the Whispering Gallery, tucked away beneath two feet of metal and stone. There’s no way. . . .”
“Mr. Curtain told you that,” Kate pointed out. “Are you sure he was telling the truth? You were blindfolded, remember. How do you know the computers aren’t sitting out in the open and you just couldn’t see them?”
Reynie was surprised this hadn’t occurred to him. “It’s a good question.” He considered a moment. “But no, as much as he emphasized security, I’m inclined to think he’s telling the truth. Wouldn’t you say, Sticky?”
“I’m afraid so,” Sticky said.
“But Mr. Curtain needs some way to get to those computers,” Kate pressed. “To work on them and modify them and all that. Don’t you think?”
Reynie went from being surprised to being mortified. Shouldn’t he have thought of this? “You’re . . . you’re right, Kate. He must have some way of getting to them. Which means we might be able to get to them, too. After all, we know the door codes now!”
“It couldn’t hurt to take a peek,” said Kate, standing up. “And the sooner the better. I’ll go by myself — if I get caught, you three might still have a chance to figure something out. Now just tell me how to get there. I know I need to go through the secret entrance behind the Institute Control Building, but then what? Sticky?”
Sticky felt a powerful urge to make up a lie — to protect the Whisperer. Unbelievable, he thought. He tried again, but again he felt the urge. Only by clenching his fists and speaking through gritted teeth did he manage to tell Kate the truth. “It’s just down a short passage and then up the tower steps.”
“We need to go with you, though,” Reynie said. “It’s too dangerous alone.”
Kate waved him off. “I’ll be fine. It’s really a one-girl operation, anyway.”
You shouldn’t let her go alone, Reynie thought. She ought to have help. But when he opened his mouth to argue, he found nothing would come out. A fog seemed to have rolled into his mind, and on top of that he felt bone-weary. He was tired, very tired, of always trying to do the right thing.
Kate set her flashlight on the television. “You’ll need this in case I get caught.”
“If you get caught —,” Constance began.
“Don’t worry, I won’t give up my friends,” Kate snapped. “Good grief, Constance, it’s the last thing I’d do!”
In a vexed tone Constance said, “I was going to say, ‘If you get caught, don’t worry. We’ll find some way to save you.’”
They were all moved by this — especially Constance, who’d said it herself — and Kate patted Constance’s shoulder. “Sorry, Connie girl. Sometimes I forget you’re not always a crab. Now let me take you back to the room. Reynie, Sticky — I’ll let you know what I find out. Wish me luck!”
They wished her luck, and moments later the girls were gone.
With hardly a word between them, hardly even a glance, the boys slipped into their beds. They often chatted a minute or two before dropping off to sleep, but now both were afraid of betraying how strongly the Whisperer was affecting them.
Betray, Reynie thought. It was an ugly word, an awful thought. But as often happens with awful thoughts, he could not stop thinking it. Why hadn’t he argued with Kate? He should have insisted he accompany her. Why hadn’t he? Was it the broadcasts fogging his mind? Or was it that part of him didn’t want to stop Mr. Curtain?
Reynie pressed his fists into his eyes. In his mind he began composing a letter.
Miss Perumal,
Would you ever have thought I might choose a lie for the sake of my own happiness? The Whisperer’s version of happiness is an illusion — it doesn’t take away your fears, it only lies to you about them, makes you temporarily believe you don’t have them. And I know it’s a lie, but what a powerful one! Maybe I’m not who I always thought myself to be. Maybe I’m the sort of person who will do anything to hear what I want to believe. . . .
Reynie was crumbling, on the brink of despair. Mr. Benedict had expected him to be a leader to his friends, to be smart enough to devise a plan, to be brave. But he was no kind of leader at all, he knew that now, certainly not brave, and Mr. Benedict felt very far away indeed. More and more, Mr. Curtain seemed like the real man, and Mr. Benedict like a memory from a dream. And Miss Perumal, the only person who always treated him kindly, had become an imaginary reader to whom he wrote imaginary letters.
What has happened to you? he thought. He’d never expected doing the right thing to be so hard. But it was. Too hard for him, anyway. He was the wrong person for this task, the wrong person in the wrong place.
Reynie squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry. But that only made him see the Whisperer all the more clearly. How was he supposed to resist the Whisperer when it was the one thing that offered relief? What he needed was help — some encouragement, some guidance, anything to bolster his resolve. The others all looked to him. Who was he supposed to look to?