The Prisoner's Dilemma (7 page)

“Er, yes… quite,” Mr. Gaines replied after an uncertain silence. “Please continue.”

“The Whisperer,” continued Mr. Benedict, “was modeled after my brother’s own brain, and was once responsive only to his mental direction. Given the similarities of our brains—I trust you’re aware that Ledroptha and I are identical twins—I have managed to induce the Whisperer, with certain modifications, to respond to my own directions as well… but of course you will be familiar with all this from the case files.”

Reynie felt a tickle at the end of his nose. A spider had descended by a strand of web and settled lightly upon him. In the ambient glow from Kate’s flashlight, he could just make out the spider’s doubled image (doubled because his eyes were crossed), and somehow resisting an urge to thrash about in panic, he moved his hand slowly and deliberately to brush it away.

“—of the original functions still in place,” Mr. Benedict was saying when Reynie was able to concentrate again, “along with other modifications that have allowed me to aid its victims in recovering their memories. So as you can see, if the Whisperer were to fall into my brother’s hands again, he would be an immediate threat. Not only could he suppress memories—as he has done before with devastating effect—he could
retrieve
them as well.”

“You mean he could obtain key information,” rumbled Mr. Gaines. “Sensitive information.”

“Precisely. Passwords, codes, any bit of classified material a person might possess—he could have it all at his disposal. He would need only be within range.”

Ms. Argent asked, “And how far exactly would that range extend, Mr. Benedict?”

“It is not so much a question of distance as of focus. Ledroptha could use the Whisperer on anyone in his presence—any person toward whom he could direct his full attention.”

Mr. Gaines said, “So if I were standing, say, in the courtyard outside this house, and he was looking down at me from a window…”

“You would be in range, yes.”

“And he could, what do you call it, brainsweep me,” Mr. Gaines said. “He could wipe away my memories. Or extract my memories for his own purposes—essentially read my mind.”

“Yes.”

“And if there were a whole crowd of people in that courtyard?”

“In theory they would all be at risk,” said Mr. Benedict, “though in reality perhaps not. The Whisperer responds only to very specific, very powerful mental direction, and the concentration required to use it is exhausting. My brother has a fierce mind and could certainly do a great deal of damage, but he is human, after all. He would need to rest.”

“You keep saying your brother,” said Mr. Gaines slowly, “but what about you, Benedict? The Whisperer responds to
your
mental direction, too. So couldn’t—in theory, I mean—couldn’t you do all those things we’ve just mentioned?”

“In theory, yes.”

“But he wouldn’t!” Rhonda cried.

Mr. Gaines’s demanding tone had become conciliatory now, almost ingratiating. “Oh no, I never meant to imply Mr. Benedict would use the Whisperer for the wrong reasons. But if it were for a higher purpose, I mean? For the good? Take for example these captured former Executives. Your questioning of them has produced no useful information—”

“On the contrary,” said Mr. Benedict. “I have found it helpful indeed.”

“No offense, but the committee has deemed that information useless,” said Mr. Gaines. “Psychological motives and personal foibles aren’t exactly facts, you know. Or perhaps you don’t—well, let’s not argue, Benedict. The point is with the Whisperer you could find out more
definite
things, could you not? Secret information that would lead us to your brother?”

“I doubt it,” said Mr. Benedict. “Ledroptha has never trusted even his closest assistants to keep his most guarded secrets. He chooses instead to spread information around selectively, and to season it with red herrings… by ‘red herrings’ I mean false leads.”

“I
know
what a red—”

“I may have misinterpreted your look of confusion,” Mr. Benedict said quickly. “Perhaps you simply don’t understand my position. So let me be clear: I will not use the Whisperer on anyone—anyone, Mr. Gaines—against that person’s will. It is an intrusion, a violation. One’s mind is one’s most valuable, private possession. I would no sooner break into your memories, Mr. Gaines, than I would break into your home.”

“We’re not talking about
me
!” protested Mr. Gaines. “We’re talking about criminals, Benedict! Listen, I can understand your hesitation with these Executives—I’ve read your arguments about how they were captured as children and raised up under Curtain’s influence, how they should therefore be shown some lenience, even forgiveness, and so on—but leaving them aside, I don’t see how you could refuse to probe the minds of these wicked fellows who worked for Curtain, these… what do you call them? These elegant thugs your man Milligan has brought in?”

“The agents call them Ten Men,” said Ms. Argent. “Because they have ten different ways to hurt you.”

“Right. These unsavory Ten Men. Nothing they’ve said has helped us get one step closer to your brother. In point of fact they’ve hardly said anything at all.”

“Nor will they,” said Mr. Benedict. “Not so long as they perceive any chance of Ledroptha gaining power.”

“So you admit it! You admit your brother may yet be seeking a way to gain power! But you won’t use the Whisperer on these vicious—”

“Tell me, Mr. Gaines, have you ever spoken with Milligan about the years of crushing sadness he endured because of the Whisperer’s effects? Or the mental anguish he experienced while trying to resist being brainswept in the first place?”

“I don’t need to speak to Milligan about it. His is a different case entirely. In this case, couldn’t you—”

“I have nothing further to say on this matter, Mr. Gaines.”

There was a long pause, during which the eavesdroppers strove to keep still and quiet. Sticky was especially tormented—his natural fidgetiness was at its peak in moments like this—but the others were struggling, too. In Kate the reminder of those lonely years she and Milligan had lived apart had stoked an old, low-burning anger, and she felt like running, jumping, climbing, fighting—anything to work off the emotion. And Reynie, as he often did when his mind was racing, felt a powerful urge to pace.

Instead the three of them stood frozen, ears to their listening glasses, waiting.

At length Ms. Argent broke the silence. In a tentative voice, as if she herself didn’t much like what she was about, she said, “What about your new side project, Mr. Benedict? Don’t you wish to pursue that work?”

“What new project?” asked Mr. Gaines. “Why am I just hearing of this?”

“Mr. Benedict believes the Whisperer might be used to alleviate the symptoms of his narcolepsy. By way of a kind of hypnosis—is that right, Mr. Benedict? A sort of fooling of the brain’s habitual responses to stimuli?”

“I’m impressed, Ms. Argent,” said Mr. Benedict in an amiable tone. (Reynie imagined him tapping his nose, as he often did when someone gave a correct answer.) “You remember perfectly something I never mentioned to you.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“That’s quite all right. I’ve made no real secret of my project, and it does interest me to see how information travels.”

“We’re offering you a deal,” said Mr. Gaines, having instantly latched on to Ms. Argent’s implied suggestion and making it his own. “You can get rid of your narcoplexy, or whatever you call it, and in the meantime you’ll use the Whisperer as we see fit. That’s a fair trade, Benedict. You know it is.”

“I know nothing of the kind. It was not just my own situation I hoped to improve, Mr. Gaines, but that of countless people with similar conditions, since it stands to reason that what works on me might work on others. Regardless, I am not sure my ideas are even practicable; to determine that would require considerable research and experiment. But even if I
were
sure, Mr. Gaines, we would have no deal, for I simply will not do what you ask of me.”

“I guess you like falling asleep willy-nilly?” said Mr. Gaines angrily.

“I certainly prefer it to laying aside my moral concerns.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Gaines, and there was a harsh scraping sound as he rose abruptly from his chair, “you leave us no choice. We’re taking the Whisperer. There’s no longer any justification for you to have it here. You’ve already restored all the memories that your brother—”

“Not all of them,” Mr. Benedict corrected.

Mr. Gaines snorted. “Do spare me your pointless distinctions! The captured Executives had their chance and refused it. If they don’t trust you, what do you expect me to—”

“I wasn’t referring to the captured Executives.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t begin to care!” Mr. Gaines snapped. “Your time is over, Benedict. The Whisperer is to be moved. And don’t try to argue that you’re the only one who can use it. All of our top scientific advisers are being assembled right here in Stonetown next week to deal with this very matter.”

“That was not the argument I intended to raise,” said Mr. Benedict calmly. “I’m sure you’ll do everything you can to find a way to use the Whisperer—and I do worry about the choices you’ll make if you succeed—but my more immediate concern is that you’ll lose possession of it altogether. If you transport the Whisperer, you expose it. You make it vulnerable.”

“A weak argument, Benedict. We have our top security people involved. No, I’m afraid the greater risk, as the committee sees it, would be to leave such a powerful tool in the hands of someone who refuses to heed our directions. There is growing concern that we cannot trust you anymore.” Mr. Gaines made a disgusted sound. “Ms. Argent, if you please, stop looking so horrified. He wants us to be frightened—the better to protect his position. Now then, Benedict, should you choose to cooperate, you’ll be allowed to supervise the removal of the Whisperer and its computers from the premises. We would welcome your technical input, and a good-faith effort on your part might help repair some of your damaged credibility.”

“And if I choose
not
to cooperate?” Mr. Benedict asked.

“Then you’ll be required to remain in your study throughout the removal process.”

“I see,” said Mr. Benedict. “And when is the removal to take place?”

“This very evening,” said Mr. Gaines. “I have the paperwork right… well, where the devil is it?”

“You’ve mislaid the papers?” Mr. Benedict said. “But Mr. Gaines, you know you cannot take action in my home without proper authorization.”

“I had it… right… What’s happened, Ms. Argent? Did I not have it right here with these other—”

“Forgive us,” said Ms. Argent. “Obviously we’ll need to find these papers, or else have them run through committee again. If that’s the case it will be some time before we can proceed.”

“Very well, Ms. Argent, I thank you,” said Mr. Benedict. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Rhonda and I must return to work. Milligan is waiting outside the door to show you down.”

Mr. Gaines spluttered indignantly. “I’m not leaving until I’ve—”

“Actually, you’ll be leaving right now,” said Rhonda, whereupon the study door opened, and Milligan’s voice—quite cheerful and polite, yet managing at the same time to suggest how unwise it would be to contradict him—said, “If you’ll be so kind as to follow me, sir, this is your best opportunity to exit without conflict.”

“Please, Mr. Gaines, let’s go,” said Ms. Argent.

With a snort and a few muttered protests, Mr. Gaines stalked from the room, followed by a silent Ms. Argent. The study door closed.

“Rhonda,” said Mr. Benedict after a pause, “when they’ve gone, please ask Milligan to bring those papers up. We’ll want to look them over. Number Two should come as well.”

“Of course. But Mr. Benedict, can it really be that—”

“Before we continue, Rhonda, I must ask another favor. Would you also fetch Reynie, Sticky, and Kate? Escort them all the way here, please. I want no one to speak with them before I’ve had a chance to do so myself.”

“Certainly,” Rhonda said. “I’ll tell the others and then go find them.”

“Oh, finding them won’t be necessary,” said Mr. Benedict, and Reynie heard a tapping sound inches from his ear. “They’re right behind this wall.”

The eavesdroppers were feeling grateful it was Rhonda who’d been sent to escort them—Rhonda’s sternness being tempered somewhat by her amusement—when they discovered Number Two and Constance waiting for them outside the study. Both wore expressions of furious disapproval.

“Eavesdropping!” Number Two hissed, crossing her arms.

“Without
me
!” Constance said, doing the same.

Milligan came along the hallway behind them. Playfully tapping Kate on the head with a bundle of papers he said, “This is hardly appropriate behavior, young lady. Spies have
rules,
you know.”

“Milligan, tell me you aren’t making light of this!” said Number Two.

“Absolutely not,” said Milligan ambiguously, with a wink at the children.

Mr. Benedict opened his door and smiled at the crowd gathered in the hallway. “Won’t you all come in? Or must I stand at the wall with a glass?”