"I mean that I can ask Judkins anything we want to know and he'll give
a truthful answer." Another sniff. "I've forgotten more about hypnosis
than he'll ever know."
"This won't hold in a court," Chief Scott warned.
"But it may save a life, maybe more than one," Bennington answered.
"Thornberry, you did a good job of those guards. You question
Judkins."
"Wait a minute," General Mosby said. "How fast can we get a tape
recorder?"
"Why waste time?" asked Bennington. "You can't use this in court."
"Hell, Jim, stop thinking about courts-martial; there's more than
_one_ court. Let's fry these boys in the court of public opinion. The
news services aren't bound by the rules of evidence. We can worry
about other courts later."
"I can get you a tape recorder in two minutes," Scott stated. "Our
patrol boys always carry them to take statements at accidents, before
the victims get over their shock enough to start lying. And we keep
one in the office, too."
Thornberry looked at Judkins and a self-satisfied smirk crept over his
face. "No need to worry about lies from this one."
* * * * *
Judkins spoke in a low monotone not much louder than the soft hiss of
the machine recording his words. Question by question--in Judkins'
condition, each query had to be specific, Thornberry said--the pattern
emerged.
Basing his request on his position as a member of the prison
commission, Senator Giles had invited Judkins to lunch with him. The
senator, however, despite his statement that he wanted only to be sure
that Duncannon was getting the best personnel, had not confined his
questions to Judkins' background.
Was the hypno-tech alone when he conditioned the men? Any set
statement to be made? Could Judkins add to the instructions given each
convict without the knowledge of the prison authorities?
The following day, both Senator Giles and Representative Culpepper had
called upon Judkins at his sister-in-law's home. Bluntly, they offered
ten thousand dollars if the technician could guarantee that Rooney
would never be able to talk about the income tax racket.
When Judkins had explained that any conditioning he could give would
be as easily removed by another tech, the two men had gone into a
corner and consulted in whispers.
They had emerged from the corner with this offer: First, they would
bargain with the new warden to get Rooney a job as a trusty. If that
failed they offered Judkins twenty thousand dollars and a hideout in
New York--until they could set him up outside the country--if he would
condition a group of prisoners to riot and discredit Bennington
immediately.
"What Rooney must be sitting on!" Mosby murmured in Bennington's ear.
"Was sitting on," Bennington said bitterly. "He was the fat belly with
Dalton and Clarens, the one who didn't make it."
The story flowed on under Thornberry's skillful questioning.
* * * * *
At noon yesterday, a frightened and angry Giles had called Judkins,
had boosted the bribe to thirty thousand and demanded immediate
action.
"What did you tell the prisoners?" Thornberry's voice was as even as
Judkins'.
"I was their friend and their only friend; every one else was their
enemy. I told them they must be quiet and obey all orders until the
last man received his coffee in the mess hall. They were then to throw
their trays at the people around them. I told them where to go for
guns. I told them that then they would forget all that I had said,
that they would know how to take care of their enemies."
"Gentlemen, do you realize what this means, in terms of the
constitutional psychopathic inferior? I refer to Clarens, not Dalton.
Dalton reacted as Judkins directed, including to forget that he had
been told everyone was his enemy. Dalton, we know from his record,
actually disliked to use weapons even as a threat.
"But we can be sure that Clarens has not forgotten."
"Why not?" Mosby demanded.
"Because the instructions he received only intensified what he himself
believed before Judkins worked on him. As soon as he had a chance he
looked for his kind of weapons. How he got her there, we won't know
until we catch him, but note that he killed the little girl in the
equivalent of a cavern.
"And the man in the park, that, too, took place in what was
necessarily an almost secret spot.
"Those orders Judkins gave, we _know_ Clarens is still responding to
them...."
Thornberry hesitated a moment, then completed his thought. "And so we
must intensify our patrols on the darker streets. With this poor boy
believing that every man's hand is turned against him, he is now
looking for some dark place in which to feel safe. He is in essence
retreating to the foetus--"
"Sounds good, but tell me the rest later, Doc."
"General Mosby, you and I want to call our roving patrols," and Scott
headed for the door, Mosby right behind him.
"By the way, Doc," the chief called back over his shoulder, "when
you're done with that guy, just tell one of my men. We've got a
special, reserved, very solitary cell for him."
More slowly, Bennington followed Scott and Mosby.
The area of the hunt had perhaps been narrowed. Their quarry--the
beast with steel knives for talons--would be found in a dark, deserted
place.
* * * * *
Bennington noted that Thornberry stayed with Judkins for about ten
minutes before he joined the group around the map of Harrisburg in the
Operations Office.
Personally, the warden was glad that his assistant was not present;
the discussion would almost certainly have produced and explosion from
the psychologist.
Scott began his gloomy analysis after both he and General Mosby had
redirected their patrols to heavier concentrations in Harrisburg's
dim-lit and winding side streets.
"I hate to hunt this kind," the chief said gloomily. "You just never
know, never know anything, except that they're going to kill again.
"I just hope he has cooled off and that he wants to sleep a while."
Bennington noted with amused interest the startled glance General
Mosby gave the Chief of Police. Mosby's greatest strength and greatest
weakness, both in the field and garrison, was his complete refusal to
accept or excuse aberration.
Scott had caught the glance, too, and continued. "I got a good lab,
general, smart boys willing to pull extra duty. They've already told
me that Clarens reached--after he killed the guy in the park--an
emotional climax."
Bennington watched his former Division Commander's face harden as
expected.
Scott continued: "That's why I said, I hope he's crawled off, wants to
sleep a while. Every place he can get a bed in my town, I'll know the
minute he wants to lie down.
"Then I'll take him, like this"--the big hand crushed upon
itself--"dead or alive, and I hope I have to take him dead."
"Why _dead_?"
"General, sorry, _warden_--no, I'll go back to the way I know you
best--General Bennington, Clarens simply isn't the business of any
kind of normal living.
"You take a guy who cracked a safe, knocked off a payroll, robbed a
bank, he's like any good business man taking a risk; he has insurance,
he's got an out.
"He can buy me, he can talk to the D.A., he can get the court to go
along if he's caught. He just says, I'll tell you where the stuff is
if I get the minimum.
"O.K., we're wrong, we should go black-and-white, we should say no to
any kind of deal, I shouldn't let a little guy go just because I'd
rather grab the big one. Only, unconditional surrender doesn't work
any better in my job than it does in yours on a battlefield."
* * * * *
"We've learned it doesn't work too well," Bennington agreed, "but what
has this to do with Clarens?"
"General, you did the right thing up at Duncannon when you decided to
talk to Musto. He was a man in business, with something to buy and
something to sell. He could be dealt with.
"Now think this through: Suppose everybody in that Administration
Building had been a Clarens. And I heard that you said this, General
Bennington, that there has to be some sort of mutual trust for
bargaining. You could deal with Musto because he is, and I'll make the
point again, a sort of business man even though his business isn't
legal.
"But Clarens...."
Chief Scott let the silence build while he lit a cigarette.
"But Clarens wants to be caught," Mosby said.
"He does?" Chief Scott pointed to the map. "General Mosby, you and I
both know that all he has to do is sit down on the curb underneath any
street light.
"Let me change that. We would have him ten minutes faster if he sat
down on the curb of any dark street.
"No, he doesn't want caught, except maybe those first couple of
minutes when he's almost human, those first couple of minutes after
he's killed somebody. And if you have to kill someone to have human
feelings yourself--that's not for most of us and that's why I hope he
fights back and I have to take him--dead."
Chief Scott turned back to the map of Harrisburg. His forefinger ran
down the river, pausing at each of the many bridges. Then he turned to
the generals.
"Maybe we've got him pinned. We've had the bridges sealed tight and if
Dr. Thornberry is right, he won't chase west because Pennsylvania
land, especially around here, is selling real high and that's still
very open country.
"And that's not for Clarens, he wants back into our little city, back
where things feel close and he feels _inside_."
Bennington found himself looking at Mosby, with the glance returned.