With the other children listening in bafflement — they had no idea what Reynie was up to — Reynie told McCracken the truth. He said they had sneaked away from their families to find Mr. Benedict and Number Two. He explained about the clues Mr. Benedict had left for them as part of a surprise trip, about how they’d hoped to follow the clues until they found their friends, at which point they’d intended to contact Rhonda Kazembe. He told McCracken about everything — everything except Milligan and the final clue — and because what Reynie said was true, it was a perfectly convincing account.
McCracken seemed impressed. “You made that trip all by your little lonesomes? My, what big boys and girls you are!” He picked up the cigar box and held it very close to Reynie’s perspiring face. “Sure you don’t want just a peek?” He chuckled and gave the box a shake; the clicking sound inside grew louder. “No? Don’t want to meet Pandora?” He shrugged and put the box back into his briefcase.
Garotte spoke up. “What do you think, fellows? Will Risker make things inconvenient for us?”
“I rather doubt it,” said Crawlings. “If he’s stolen the chickadees’ money, he isn’t likely to contact the authorities.”
“Don’t be a fool,” snapped Martina, irritated to have been left out of the discussion. “We still need to report this to Mr. Curtain. Give me your radio, Crawlings.”
Crawlings raised his single eyebrow. “Oh dear, I never said we shouldn’t report it, did I? But I’m afraid my radio’s of no use.” He pretended to look apologetic. “There’s no reception in the cave, remember?”
Martina cursed under her breath. With a haughty toss of her hair she said, “I’ll need to take the Salamander, then. Garrotte, you drive me. The rest of you wait here. We won’t be gone long.”
“Why not bring the children?” asked McCracken.
“Because I said so,” Martina growled.
She offered no explanation beyond this, but Reynie felt pretty sure he knew what she was thinking. Here in the shelter they were under Martina’s direct control. That would change once they were brought to Mr. Curtain, and Martina was in no hurry for that to happen. No doubt she had some nasty punishment in mind for them — perhaps one inflicted by the Ten Men, who must obey her — and didn’t wish to lose her opportunity. She probably hated to wait even a minute, but she wouldn’t dare put off her report to Mr. Curtain.
“Before I go,” Martina said, jerking her thumb toward Kate, “we need to take her bucket away and search her pockets. She’s a tricky one. Here, McCracken, you hold her while I search her.”
It was shrewd of Martina to have McCracken hold Kate, who might otherwise have relieved her of several teeth. As it was, Kate was left unable to speak or even breathe as Martina searched her — very thoroughly and none too gently — from head to foot. When McCracken released her, Kate fell to her knees, clutching her midsection and gasping for breath.
“That’s just for starters,” Martina said with a satisfied smile. “Wait till I get back — then things will
“They won’t be getting away.”
“Just do as I say,” said Martina. She grinned at Kate, who was struggling to her feet, and held up the bucket so Kate could see her leave with it. Then she went out, followed by Garrotte, and McCracken barred the door behind them.
“Why bar the door?” asked Crawlings. “We’ll just have to open it again when her highness returns.”
McCracken grunted. “You’re a fine fellow, Crawlings, but you have yet to learn proper caution.”
“I’m cautious enough, aren’t I?” Crawlings said. “Oh sure, I’ve had a bad scrape or two, but I’m cautious, McCracken. I’ll wager I’m as cautious as you!”
“And yet I’m in possession of both my eyebrows, and you’re not.”
Sharpe snickered. “He has you there, Crawlings!”
“At any rate,” said McCracken, “there’s something about all this that doesn’t quite fit, and when I figure out what it is, I want to be ready.”
“Shall we do an inventory?” asked Crawlings.
“Wouldn’t hurt,” said McCracken. “At the very least it will pass the time until her ladyship returns.”
As if in response to some unseen signal, the Ten Men knelt in unison and set their briefcases before them. They were in the middle of the room, where the light from the lantern was strongest, and the children — also in unison — flinched at the sound of the dreadful briefcases being unbuckled.
Outside, the Salamander rumbled out of the village. Then all was quiet except for the Ten Men going through their briefcases. It was clearly a serious business, yet the men surveyed the contents of their briefcases with expressions of happy expectation, even jollity, as if they were selecting chocolates from a holiday tray. The children watched in horror as they laid out tidy rows of sharpened pencils; an assortment of ink pens in various colors; staple removers (which resembled nothing so much as metallic piranhas); sleek-looking calculators; stacks of brilliant white business cards; elegant letter openers tucked into monogrammed leather sheaths — and, of course, the dreaded laser pointers.
Crawlings held up his pointer. “What do you think?” he said, wriggling his eyebrow and jerking his chin toward the children. “Shall I take just the very tip of one of their noses? I’m thinking of a collection.”
McCracken frowned. “You’d waste your only shot on the tip of a nose? This is what I mean about proper caution, Crawlings.”
“Oh, don’t be so serious,” said Crawlings. “I was only sporting for the kittens’ sake.” He grinned at the children. Evidently he very much enjoyed frightening them. “At any rate, you know I prefer to use this.” He lifted up what appeared to be an ordinary clipboard.
McCracken nodded approvingly. “That’s because you’re so good with it.”
“It’s true,” Sharpe said, patting Crawlings on the back. “I’ve never seen anyone so smart with a clip —”
