The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey

“You’re absolutely right,” Rhonda said. “Ready, then?” And she quoted the message, which was as follows:

Dear Miss Kazembe,

I write to report that your friends are in grave danger, and — lest there be any doubt — that it is I who endangers them.

Let me explain. Despite his efforts to keep silent on the matter, my prisoner, Nicholas Benedict, has been compelled to reveal a secret regarding a certain rare plant. According to his reluctant confession, “only one person can secure the information” I seek — namely, the exact location and description of the plant — and this person is neither Benedict nor his yellowish assistant but someone, regardless, who is “extremely close” to Benedict. I know for a fact that he is telling the truth. I must assume that if you are not this person yourself, you will at least know of whom he speaks. For Benedict’s sake, I certainly hope so.

You have exactly four days to release this pigeon with the information I require. Be assured that if you attach any tracking devices to the bird, or make any sort of attempt to follow it to its destination, I will know. Such treachery will not bode well for your friends. If you hope to see either of them again, you will give me exactly what I wish, and without delay.

Oh, do not delay, Miss Kazembe. We shall all be most unhappy if you delay.

Cordially,

L. Curtain

When Rhonda had finished reciting the letter, there was a disturbed silence as everyone felt its meaning sink in. At length the silence was broken by Mrs. Washington stifling a sob with her handkerchief, and then everyone started to speak at once. Rhonda held up a hand. “Nobody say anything yet.” She went to make sure nobody was listening at the door, then returned to the table and spoke to the children in a low voice. “Do any of you know what this is about?”

None of them did.

“Good, then at least you won’t be subjected to more than the usual unpleasant questioning.” Rhonda jerked a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the officials down the hall. “They’re very concerned about what Mr. Curtain is trying to get. They’re worried it’s connected to the Whisperer.”

Everyone at the table knew that Mr. Curtain’s infamous machine was now situated here in Mr. Benedict’s house, powered by a huge bank of computers that had been moved into the basement. Several months ago, Mr. Benedict had finished altering the Whisperer’s sophisticated functions, and since then he’d been using it to help people whose memories had been suppressed by the Whisperer under Mr. Curtain’s guidance. In fact, in Mr. Benedict’s last letter he had happily reported that he’d restored the memories of almost everyone ever affected by the Whisperer, and that after a year of constant labor he might even allow himself a short vacation.

“What would a plant have to do with the Whisperer?” Sticky asked.

“I don’t know,” Rhonda said. “Mr. Benedict’s never mentioned anything about a plant to me. All I know is that he was away doing some personal research. Of course he had to take Number Two with him — she’d never let him go alone, and I had to stay to prepare for your visit — but if she knew where they were going, she didn’t let on. I doubt she knew. Mr. Benedict loves his surprises.”

“Hold on,” Kate said. “Mr. Benedict went away on purpose? He wasn’t going to meet us here?”

“He and Number Two left last week,” said Rhonda. “It was supposed to be part of your surprise.” She was about to say more, but a look of crushing sadness came over her face, and she fell silent.

Miss Perumal spoke up, addressing the children. “We adults all knew about it, of course. Mr. Benedict asked our permission before he made the arrangements. You were to go on a mysterious adventure.”

Sticky looked at his parents in surprise. After this last year of being so carefully sheltered, he found it hard to believe they had granted permission for him to go on an adventure of any kind — mysterious or otherwise.

Mrs. Washington lowered her handkerchief. “We’d been fretting about your education, you see. You’re such extraordinary children, and none of us thought you were being suitably challenged. Yet we were reluctant to send you off to college so young. We must have had a dozen telephone conversations on the subject, wouldn’t you say, Miss Perumal?”

“We did,” said Miss Perumal. “And we were still deliberating when we heard from Mr. Benedict, who happened to be planning an anniversary reunion for you. When we mentioned our concerns to him, he suggested that a field trip — a very special field trip — might be just the thing to supplement your educations. He’d always regretted you were exposed to such dangers on your mission, he said, but it was undeniable that you had thrived under the challenge. None of us could disagree. It was obvious how much you’d grown as a result of that mission — to say nothing of how much you missed one another now.”

“So Mr. Benedict proposed an adventure,” Mrs. Washington said. “A completely safe one this time, but an adventure nonetheless. The timing was perfect, he said, because he intended to take a research trip anyway and would be happy to expand its purpose. He and Number Two would leave sometime before you, and then you four would follow in their footsteps, with Rhonda and Milligan accompanying you. That was to be your big surprise.”

Miss Perumal leaned to murmur into Reynie’s ear. “You were going to be away for two weeks. I knew you’d have a wonderful time, but I also knew how much I’d miss you.” She gave him a sad smile, and Reynie nodded, understanding now the bittersweet look she’d given him that morning.

“Mr. Benedict would cover the expenses,” Mrs. Washington went on (with a significant look at Sticky, who’d just been wondering how they could afford such a trip). “He said you were owed that and a great deal more besides, and with Rhonda and Milligan to accompany you we hadn’t the least worry for your safety. But now to think” — here Mrs. Washington raised her handkerchief to her face again, though not enough to conceal her look of horror — “to think if you had actually gone. What might have happened to you?”

“Nothing would have happened to us,” said Kate soothingly. “Milligan was going, too, remember? Nobody could have touched us with him along.”

Mrs. Washington, who at any rate wished to banish such frightening thoughts from her mind, nodded tightly and lowered her handkerchief. Mr. Washington squeezed her shoulder and said nothing — he’d said scarcely a word since they arrived — but his eyes were deeply troubled.

“What exactly was this field trip to be?” Reynie asked. “Where were we going?”