“Now, as I said, there’s good news and bad news,” Jillson went on.
Feeling as if they’d just been given very bad news indeed, Reynie had to stop himself from asking what the good news was.
“The bad news,” Jillson said, “is that what S.Q. found — a curious piece of paper — was destroyed before he could read it.”
“That’s . . . terrible!” the children cried, trying to cover their relief. It was too plain on all their faces, and they knew it.
Luckily, Jillson didn’t notice. She placed a hand on her belly and frowned. After a moment she belched, smiled with satisfaction, and continued, “Don’t worry, the good news makes up for it. The spy’s been caught!”
The children looked at one another. Caught?
Jillson belched again and scowled. “Must have eaten too much pudding. Yes, caught like a rat in a trap. Turns out it was a man disguised as a Helper. Came out of nowhere, snatched the paper from S.Q., and tried to run away. But Jackson heard S.Q. shouting for help, and some Recruiters on the bridge had seen it happen, so in no time they had the spy surrounded. He tried to fight them off, but he was no match for our guys, I can tell you. He’s in a classroom right now, under heavy guard.”
Reynie felt as if he’d been kicked in the belly. They had lost Milligan. “Why . . . why are you telling us this, Jillson?”
“Well, I have to admit I was surprised. Martina had convinced me that Kate was the spy. She was disappointed to learn otherwise. But I thought you should know Kate’s off the hook. The Helper confessed to everything. He’s a lone operator, apparently. That means he works by himself.”
Kate looked quite sick. “Did he say who he was?”
“We don’t know his name, but he was on the island once before — years and years ago. When they took off the disguise, Mr. Curtain and some of the Recruiters recognized him at once. Oh, and get this: He ate that piece of paper! Chewed it up and swallowed it before anyone could read it. Said it was from his private journal and was none of our business. Very dangerous madman. Don’t worry, though, they’re taking him to the Waiting Room in just — oh! Here they come now!”
The children could barely bring themselves to look.
There was Milligan. His hands and ankles were cuffed, his feet dragged along in a defeated shuffle, and his ocean-blue eyes, sadder than ever, focused only on the ground before him. Though he kept his head bowed, the cuts and bruises on his face were easily seen. He was being marched across the cafeteria by a half-dozen Recruiters and Executives (including a very proud Martina Crowe) — none of whom showed any marks from a scuffle. Reynie wondered how this was possible. Jillson said he’d tried to fight, but if Milligan had really resisted, wouldn’t his captors look as if they’d caught a tiger by the tail? Had he only pretended to struggle? But why? Unless . . .
Suddenly Reynie understood. Because S.Q. had glimpsed the note, Milligan had chosen to be caught. He’d wanted a chance to confess, a chance to make up a story about that piece of paper. A note would have suggested someone else had written it — another spy on the island — but a page from a private journal pointed only to Milligan himself. Yes, he had wanted to convince Mr. Curtain he was working alone, had wanted to take suspicion off the children. He had sacrificed himself for them.
As Milligan passed through the cafeteria, the whole place erupted in applause for the Executives and Recruiters, then horrible boos and jeers for the captured spy. The miserable man was led past their table — right past the grateful and heartbroken children he’d saved — but never did he look up or reveal any awareness of them.
“Boy, doesn’t he look glum?” Jillson said.
Kate started to speak, but a catch in her voice made her words incomprehensible. She was thinking exactly what her friends were thinking. Milligan had said he would die before he let any harm come to them.
Sticky’s Discovery
M captured. Must face Whisperer tomorrow. Please advise.
“Still no response,” Sticky reported from the window.
The others waited in depressed silence. Although the “stomach virus” had spread like wildfire (already the bathrooms and the Best of Health Center were crowded with students), the success of their scheme had done nothing to boost their spirits. Not even the sight of Jillson hurrying down a corridor with her hand over her mouth, clutching a paper bag in case she didn’t reach the bathroom in time — not even this managed to cheer them. Time was slipping away, and they’d been forced to abandon the hope that they’d nurtured in the backs of their minds: the hope that if things went terribly wrong, Milligan would be there to save them somehow.
After another interminable minute had passed, Kate said, “I’m sick of waiting. I say forget the plan and let’s try to rescue Milligan instead.”
Sticky was taken aback. “But he’s under heavy guard — we wouldn’t stand a chance!”
“We don’t stand a chance either way, do we?” said Kate.
“That isn’t like you, Kate,” said Reynie, surprised. “I think the broadcasts are getting to you.”
Kate frowned. “You’re . . . you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Wait, here comes a response,” Sticky said. “What in the world? Can that really be it?” He began signaling with the flashlight again.
“For crying out loud, what are you doing, George Washington?” demanded Constance. (Though the others wouldn’t have thought it possible, Constance grew steadily crankier as the Improvement drew closer.) “Did they send a message or not?”
“I’m asking them to repeat it.” But when the message was repeated, Sticky was left scratching his head. “It’s just an old saying: Laughter is the best medicine.”
“Are they joking?” Kate said.
“Maybe it’s their way of saying for us to cheer up, to have hope,” Sticky said.
Reynie didn’t think so. “That’s too lighthearted. They wouldn’t expect us to feel like that, not with Milligan taken prisoner. It’s a riddle of some kind — important advice. We just have to figure out what it means.”
“For once I’d like a straight answer,” Constance grumbled. “It’s ridiculous that they do it this way — it isn’t right!”
“They have to be careful, don’t they?” Sticky said. “If they gave us a straight answer and someone else saw it, we’d be in even worse shape.”
“How much worse shape could we possibly be in? I’m tired of being careful. And I’m tired of their dumb codes, and I’m tired of you all treating me like a stupid baby.”
“Easy now, Constance,” Reynie said, as calmly as he could. “We’re all frustrated and upset, and I know you’re scared —”
“Shut up,” Constance snarled. “I’m sick of you, too! Who made you king, anyway?”
“Why don’t you shut up?” Reynie snapped.
With that — the first time Reynie had ever spoken so sharply to her — Constance lapsed into furious silence. The others, disgruntled, turned their energy toward solving the riddle. But Sticky and Kate were not the best puzzle-solvers, and Reynie was lost in his mental fogbank. (And the Whisperer, high up in its tower, kept shimmering like a lighthouse beacon through that fog.)
After half an hour of useless guessing, the children had come no closer to an answer, and Constance abandoned her silence in order to mock their efforts. Reynie put his head in his hands. “Okay, Constance, I give up. Is that what you want? None of us can concentrate while you’re being this way. I say we adjourn and get a few hours of sleep. Maybe a little rest will help.”