The Mysterious Benedict Society

“An Executive!”

“I see you are amazed. You should not be. No, the question is not whether you have the ability to be an Executive — you have that in abundance — but whether you have the inclination. You are an orphan, I know. No doubt you have little to miss in your old life. And so I urge you strongly to consider what might constitute a new life — a life as an Executive.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen —,” Reynie began.

Mr. Curtain screeched — that is, laughed — and cut Reynie short. “Ah, yes, what you’ve seen. There is more to being an Executive than what you’ve seen, Reynard. There soon will be, at any rate. See here, I am about to tell you something only my Executives and a handful of Messengers know. You’re to hold this information in utmost secrecy. If it comes back to me, I will know it was you who told it, do you understand?”

Reynie could not imagine what he was about to be told. His heart and stomach seemed to be switching places inside him, then changing their minds and switching again. “I understand, sir.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Curtain. “Here is the secret: Things are going to change, Reynard. They are going to improve. I will not say precisely how. That will come later, after you have proven yourself. Suffice it to say that the Institute as you know it is destined to change. Grand things lie in store. The Improvement is quite near, and after it has occurred there will be no such thing as Messengers anymore. Much to the heartbreak of my students, I know, but it is for the better.”

Reynie almost started in his seat. No more Messengers? Why not?

“Even so,” Mr. Curtain was saying, “I shall still need Executives, and I intend to keep on a few of the best Messengers to groom for higher service when they come of age. Obviously I am thinking of you . . . and perhaps your friend George Washington, too, though about him I am less certain. He possesses enormous talent, but I fear the fidgeting belies an underlying weakness. However, I am loath to dismiss him out of hand. I have an open mind, you see. In fact,” he added with one of his short, screeching laughs, “open minds are what I prize most!”

Mr. Curtain pressed a button on his chair, and the office door slid open. Reynie was being dismissed.

“Thank you, sir,” Reynie said, stepping out into the corridor, where Jackson stood waiting for him.

“Don’t thank me,” Mr. Curtain called as the door slid closed. “Impress me!”

When at last the lights were out, the girls had descended from the ceiling, and Reynie had told his friends everything that had happened, the first thing Constance could think to say was, “You don’t trust me?”

“Come on, Constance,” Sticky said. “That’s just what he wanted Mr. Curtain to think. It’s better than having him suspicious of Reynie, too, you know.”

Kate pretzeled up her legs and thrust her chin into her hands. “The Improvement,” she said. “So that’s what Mr. Curtain calls the thing to come. And he said he won’t need Messengers anymore?”

“That’s what he said,” said Reynie. “But I knew better than to ask why. I still need to prove myself to him.”

“Well, we’d better pass all this on to Mr. Benedict,” Sticky said, climbing up onto the television. As soon as the coast was clear, he sent their report, outlining all they’d learned: Mr. Curtain called the thing to come the Improvement, it was coming very soon, and Messengers wouldn’t be needed. A few minutes later a response began flashing among the mainland trees.

“Here it comes,” Sticky said.

Do not worry, the message said.

And then, after a short pause: But do hurry.

Everything As It Should Be

Before supper the next day, the Mysterious Benedict Society, hopeful for clues, climbed the hill beyond the gym to take a look around. It was quite a high hill, but if you moved at a quick pace — and Kate always moved at a quick pace, even with Constance riding piggyback — you could follow the winding path to the summit in a matter of minutes. This Kate did, with Reynie and Sticky panting along behind her at some distance. By the time the boys reached the top, she was already surveying the area with her spyglass.

Reynie mopped his brow. “See anything?”

Kate shrugged. “Grass and rocks, bushes and rocks, vines and rocks, sand and rocks. Lots of rocks,” she said, lowering the spyglass. Then, ever so casually, she added, “I also found another trap.”

“A trap?” Sticky said, glancing all around, as if the trap might sneak up and grab him.

“Don’t worry, it’s way down there, in a little grassy area behind the Institute Control Building. You can’t see it from anywhere else, but if you aim the spyglass over the roof of the classroom building, you can just see it.” She offered the spyglass to Sticky, who declined. He didn’t care to see any more traps. Reynie took a look, though, and sure enough, from this spot you could just make out the telltale drapeweed and boulders behind the building.

Reynie returned the spyglass to her. “I wonder why both traps are right next to a group of boulders.”

“Don’t you think it’s to make them harder to see?” Kate said. “By moonlight or sunlight, the drapeweed would almost always be in shadow.”

“Crafty,” said Constance.

“Drapeweed was a perfect choice, then,” said Sticky. “It’s a shade-loving plant.”

“Put away the spyglass,” Reynie murmured. “We have company.”

Two Helpers had appeared on the path below them, each lugging two buckets full of gardening tools. They were making their slow way up the hill, clearing weeds and debris from the paths. As they drew near, they moved wordlessly to the edge of the path, so as not to disturb the children.

“Good afternoon,” Reynie said, forgetting that he usually avoided greeting Helpers. He was nervous about the spyglass and had wanted to seem casual.