Take the Reason Prisoner

here?"

  "The others come in around nine," the clerk said, yawning,bleary-eyed.

  "I see. Did anything come in last night?"

  "That stuff." A wave toward a roll of yellow teletype paper.

  Bennington stared at the man, continued to stare until the clerkflushed a deep red. Finally the night man straightened in his chair,then stood up. He picked up the roll of paper and came around hisdesk.

  "Sir," he said "this report came in last night. It is a list of theprisoners we can expect to receive today and the probable time oftheir arrival."

  "Thank you," Bennington said, accepting the roll. "I will be in myoffice if anyone is looking for me."

  "Sir...." The clerk gulped, hesitated, forced out the words. "That'sthe only copy."

  Bennington looked the man directly in the eyes. "You must have beenvery busy last night." He returned the roll of paper. "I'll be in myoffice."

  "Yes, sir!"

  Bennington started to walk away, but before he reached the door, theclerk, a man Bennington remembered as being on day duty on his firstvisit, began to sputter, "Sir, the quickest way to your office--"

  The general glanced over his shoulder, then continued on his way.

  Before he could get to the door he had chosen, he heard behind him theelectrotyper chattering away like an automatic weapon with a weak searspring.

  * * * * *

  Bennington could have left by a door leading into Dr. Thornberry'soffice and gone on through another door into his own big office. Buthe wanted to check on the availability of the rest of the staff.

  The door he opened led into a long hallway. On the left was the longroom where Thornberry's psych-med staff had their personal desks andpermanent records. On the right, a door leading to Thornberry'soffice, but none into his own. His room was reached only through theoffice of a clerk-receptionist or Thornberry's.

  Down the hall, past the wide main entrance with its glimpse of theflagpole outside and inside the stairs leading to the second floor,where a large part of the permanent staff were given rent-freequarters.

  The armory, on his left just beyond the entrance, a room as long asthe med-staff's, but unlike the other--and who had the brains to dothis--locked.

  Across from the armory, a big room for the rest of the administrativestaff, but no one on duty.

  The supply room, corresponding in size and location to the MessageCenter on the other end, unlocked and no one in it; with everythingthe prison received on open shelves, available to any reaching hand.

  Bennington went back the hall, through his secretary's room into hisown office.

  One sleepy clerk and himself on duty--he looked at his watch--0815.

  _... There were going to be some changes made...._

  He spun his chair around and looked out the big window directly behindhis desk. He noted the fact that about twenty feet away the landdropped into a very deep slant to the western arm of the moat, but thefact recorded itself only because he always made subconscious notes ofthe military aspects of terrain.

  Consciously, he was wondering why the vast expanse of good, richearth, north, west and south of the prison, acres of fine land thathad been and still were a part of this former military post, had neverbeen put to productive use.

  How easily Duncannon could become more self-supporting--and eventhough Giles and Culpepper wanted to make a racket of the idea, therewas much to be said for a trusty system.

  _Hold it_, he told himself, _those ideas and where we'll set up alaundry--it's utterly ridiculous that we have to send everything intoHarrisburg!--can come later. Right now let's think about anappointment list ... and the first name is my good assistant warden's,Dr. Thornberry._

  Still looking out the window, he leaned back in his chair and feltagain the slow boil of anger.

  * * * * *

  A gentle rap on his office door, the one opening from his secretary'soffice.

  Bennington swung around to face his desk again. "Come in."

  The Message Center clerk, with a neat stack of papers. "Sir, this isyour copy of the report received last night. The original is on filein Message Center and other copies are on the desks of the people whowill need them."

  "Thank you," Bennington said. "I am sure that this procedure will befollowed in the future."

  "Yes, sir!"

  It will be in your case, Bennington decided, then turned his attentionto the report.

  The distribution list in the upper righthand corner was--h-m-m-m,good. Himself, Chief Psychologist, Chief Guard, Kitchen, Supply.Probably set up by the same man who had designed Message Centeritself.

  The report was not good.

  The first paragraph was a summary and it was almost all bad news.Total: 35. No women, no juveniles, the only good reading. But theywere coming from all six states and all but one of them Barracks Twoand Three cases. Assembled at Philadelphia, by train to Harrisburg, bytruck to here, but not arriving until 1530.

  Two and Three were overcrowded now. With their communications so good,why couldn't they move the processed men out faster?

  And this new group would arrive so late. Couldn't even beginprocessing them. Or could they?

  Might have to.

  Let's look at the details.

  Connecticut: Musto, John, and his brothers, Ralph and Pietro. Murders.Following those names, five others of the gang that had terrorized thebanks in that area for two years. Capturing all of them at once byputting a sleep-gas bomb in a basket of groceries delivered to theirhideout, that had been a neat bit of police work. But till those boyswere conditioned or drugged, they would need special guards.

  Delaware: Clarens, Walter. Murders. The name was familiar--Oh yes,three killings, one of them a little girl with whose blood Clarens hadwritten at the scene. "For God's sake, catch me before I kill again."Well, Thornberry would be happy.

  Maryland: Major crimes, but no killers.

  New Jersey: The usual list from the waterfronts and the usual widevariety of manslaughter and homicide.

  New York: Dalton, Harry. Let's see, haven't I ... yes. "The Man NoJail Can Hold." Another special guard.

  Pennsylvania:...

  The name jumped out. _Rooney, Michael_.

  The intercom on his desk buzzed and he flipped the switch. "Go ahead,Bennington here," he said, and realized only after he had spoken howthe thought of Rooney had made his voice a growl.

  "Dr. Thornberry, sir. May I see you?"

  "By all means," Bennington said. "The sooner, the better."

  * * * * *

  Thornberry started talking as soon as he opened the door between thetwo offices.

  "General, did you see the list of new arrivals? Of all people, Dalton!And arriving too late to be conditioned!"

  Bennington said nothing until the psychologist had seated himself. Hesimply watched his chief assistant and tried to find some reason tolike the man.

  "What do you mean," he finally said, "too late to be conditioned?"

  Having just considered this problem, Bennington's question was atesting of Thornberry, not a request for information.

  Thornberry was looking aggrieved, as if the fact was so obvious eventhe general could understand it. "Processing takes all day, sir, andthis group does not arrive until late afternoon."

  "Does the processing have to be continuous?" Bennington hoped hischief assistant would show a little flexibility.

  But the question threw the bureaucratic psychologist into mentaldishevelment. "I beg your pardon?"

  "All we have to worry about is keeping them quiet tonight, then youcan slip them back to normal in the morning and run them through as ifthey had arrived tomorrow."

  Thornberry pursed his lips. "But that would mean--"

  "A little extra work on the part of very few men," Bennington snapped."We'll keep them away from the rest tonight by sleeping them in TheCage. A couple of men in Supply can move cots and blankets over therenow. Feed them
coffee and sandwiches. Call the Mess Hall and get themmade up. At the same time I know you'll find three or four men whowant the overtime for dishing it out.

  "How long do you need to know if you can use hypnosis or if you needdrugs, and wouldn't it be simpler to drug the whole lot?"

  "No, definitely not the last," and for the first time Thornberry wasbeing positive, "because we have to use a massive dose and they can'tshake it till--day after tomorrow, at the best tomorrow afternoon."

  "The Army can decide to hypno in two minutes with a spin-dizzy wheeland some lights. How long for you?"

  Thornberry bridled. "The same, especially if _I_ do it."

  "Good. So now you need a doctor to drug the ones who need it, apsychologist to decide who gets what, one machine moved and onetechnician."