The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey

Milligan chose not to reply to most of their questions (thereby answering the one about whether they should know more), but he did say that he’d called Rhonda and told her to pass along word that the children were fine. And yes, Milligan could confirm that the Washingtons and Miss Perumal and her mother had been in a state of near-panic since the children sneaked away. And yes, they would be in big trouble when they got home — huge trouble, in fact — but since this paled in comparison to the danger they might face on the island, he suggested they concentrate on surviving the next twenty-four hours.

“Speaking of which,” Milligan said, checking his watch, “three more should bring us there.”

Reynie knew something of geography and had seen Risker’s map, so he knew their destination lay in the North Sea, not far off the coast of Scotland. And Sticky, who knew a great deal more, said the island went unnamed on the maps he’d seen of the region (in fact it rarely appeared on maps at all) and had never been the focus of any territorial disputes. To the rest of the world, apparently, the island was of no consequence, yet to Milligan and the children it was now the most important place on earth.

For a long time they flew in silence, everyone lost in thought. So much had happened in so short a time there’d been little chance to reflect upon any of it. Reynie, for one, was contemplating the events of the day in order, trying to determine if anything had gone overlooked. Eventually, after more than an hour had passed, he did think of something — an obvious question he had neglected to ask.

“Milligan,” Reynie said, “do you have any idea who the person is Mr. Benedict mentioned? I mean the one who supposedly knows about the duskwort? I can’t think of anyone closer to Mr. Benedict than Rhonda or Number Two, but neither of them knows, and you said you don’t know — so who could it be? Do you think it’s a trick of some kind?”

“I have no idea who it might be,” Milligan replied, “but I believe the person exists. In his letter Curtain said he was positive Mr. Benedict was telling the truth. Well, I know what that’s about. A group of Ten Men recently broke into a laboratory and stole a rare chemical compound — a new kind of truth serum. It was only enough for a few doses, but I’m sure Curtain used at least one of those on Mr. Benedict.”

“If that’s true, then why didn’t Mr. Benedict give the information outright?” Sticky asked. “Why this mysterious business about someone ‘extremely close’ to him?”

“The truth serum is tricky. A single drop will make you answer questions truthfully, but it’s only effective for a minute. If a person were clever enough — and we all know Mr. Benedict is as clever as they come — he might anticipate the questions and invent responses that are essentially true but too vague to be meaningful. I imagine this is why Mr. Curtain is holding Mr. Benedict and Number Two for ransom. His serum is in short supply, so he’s trying a different tactic.”

“So what if —?” Kate began.

Milligan interrupted her. “Listen, all of you, I can’t answer any more questions right now. If you must talk, talk among yourselves. There appears to be a bit of a mechanical issue with this plane. Nothing serious, but I do need to concentrate.”

“Oh, good grief,” said Kate, heaving a sigh. She turned to the boys. “All right, I suppose we — hey, what’s the matter with you two?”

“An . . . issue,” Sticky mumbled, his lips barely moving. “He said . . . there’s an . . . issue. . . .”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Calm down. He’s probably just trying to make us stop asking questions. There’s obviously something he doesn’t want us to know. So fine, let’s think about Mr. Benedict’s clue. What do you suppose ‘follow the wind’ means?”

“A mechanical issue,” said Reynie, putting his hands on his head.

“With the plane . . .” said Sticky.

“Snap out of it!” said Kate, and she badgered the boys mercilessly until they did — at least enough to have a conversation, though they kept watching Milligan’s face for signs of distress. (He seemed untroubled, but then Milligan was sphinx-like in a crisis. He might appear untroubled even if the wings had fallen off.)

“ ‘Follow the wind,’ ” Kate repeated when she had their attention. “What do you think that means? Which wind did he have in mind? And follow it where?”

“It might not be an actual wind,” Reynie pointed out. “It might be a symbol of some kind.”

“At the very least,” Sticky said, “we know we’ll be heading east.”

Kate and Reynie looked at him in surprise. (Milligan, in the pilot’s seat, perked up his ears.)

“I didn’t tell you?” Sticky said when he saw their expressions. “No, I guess I didn’t. Sorry, we’ve been busy.”

“Tell us what?” asked Kate.

“Han de Reizeger’s letter said that on this island a strong wind blows out of the west from sunrise to sunset every day. The villagers told him it had always been that way. It’s a curious phenomenon. He speculated it was a combination of tidal forces and thermal activity under the island, though personally I suspect —”

“Did you just say ‘villagers’?” interrupted Reynie, remembering why it was often better for Sticky to quote things than to summarize them. With so many details to choose from, Sticky sometimes failed to recognize the significance of a particular one.

This time Sticky hadn’t left out much. Yes, there used to be a village on the island, he said, though at the time Han de Reizeger wrote the letter it was rapidly losing its in habitants. The villagers were forgoing that isolated, wind-blasted place for the conveniences (electricity and plumbing, for instance) of the mainland. Han had predicted that within a few years the island would be home only to mountain goats and cliff swallows.

“Sounds like there are mountains, then,” Reynie observed.

“How do you know that?” Kate asked, then blushed and laughed. “Oh, right. Mountain goats. Cliff swallows. Well, it sounds perfectly charming.”

Two hours later they saw the island for themselves — a very large, oblong land mass in the middle of a watery nowhere. From a distance it had a notably two-faced appearance, for the late evening sun bathed the western half in soft yellow light, while a small central mountain range blocked the sun from the eastern half, relegating that part to something like dusk. The low mountains — of which there were exactly three — ran from south to north in the middle of the island and were dotted sparsely with trees. Seen from above they gave the island the look of some