Take The Reason Prisoner Part 12

"Thanks, sir." Scott looked like a man with a weight taken from his shoulders. "We'll need cars, of course."

"But we can stop them on the streets. Then have our men drive them home. With your help, General Mosby, we can cover this town like a blanket."

But the blanket was too late to stop the second murder.

The report came in after they had talked to Dalton.

"That's why I gave myself up," the convict said. "I wanted no part of that guy, so I figured my best alibi was a nice, quiet cell."

"How is Clarens dressed?" Scott demanded.

"He picked a double-breasted blue suit from the racks in the truck.

Fitted him good, too."

Scott strode into the next room and through the open door Bennington saw the Chief of Police pick up a mike.

"This is important." Thornberry, intent, looking like a lean hound on a hot trail. "_What were you told when you were conditioned?_"

"I don't remember." Dalton was plainly baffled. "I just don't remember. Something about when a guy threw his tray.... You got me, I don't know."

"All right." The psychologist tried another tack. "What made you leave the others and take Clarens with you?"

"I didn't take him with me." Dalton's voice was weary, edged with anger. "I remember sitting down under the hypno-hood in The Cage.

From there on, things are mixed up. I think there was running and yelling and that I ran and yelled, too.

"Then I came to and I was in a building with a lot of guys grabbing guns."

"I should have predicted it," the psychologist said, "that he would be commanded to forget what he had been told while under the hood."

"Can't you remove the block?" Chief Scott had returned in time to hear the last words.

Thornberry pursed his lips, then said, "It would take a very long time. Remember, I know Judkins, I interviewed him and watched him work before we hired him. He is a very, very good hypno-tech. And there's no machine anywhere near except at the prison.

"Let's hear the rest of his story. Go on, Dalton."

"You know my record, guns aren't for me. So I looked around and saw a busted window. This Clarens and another guy--a big fat one--had sort of stuck with me. I guess they didn't like guns either. When I went out the window, they were right behind. Clarens and I ran real fast.

The fat guy behind us tried to run as fast, but he wheezed too much.

"Somebody lying on the edge of the moat cut loose with a subgun and Big Belly went down. Then Clarens and I were in the water. The other cons back in the building started shooting at the guy with the subgun.

I guess he got too busy ducking to give us any more attention. Anyhow, he didn't swing any tracers after us.

"We ran across a couple of fields, toward Duncannon, and spotted a guy pulling a delivery truck into a farm lane. We sneaked in, found a wrench. When the driver came back, I gave him a gentle tap. Clarens and I stripped the fellow, tied him up and shoved him in one of the big baskets in the truck.

"In the uniform, it was a cinch to fool the troopers. They stopped us only once on the way into town. When we got there, I switched again from the driver's uniform into one of the suits from the racks. We had it made, hands down."

"Why didn't you turn Clarens in when you gave yourself up?" Scott demanded angrily.

"I tried to. Remember, I didn't know who the guy was until after we had looked in the railroad station and seen it full of cops. But when he started admiring the steak knives in the window, his name clicked with me. I said to him, 'I've got to go to the little boy's room--I'll be back in a minute'. I found the nearest cop and turned myself in, but I couldn't make that thickhead believe there was a worse one than me down the street. At least, not until Clarens had got the knives and taken off."

Bennington wondered if he had ever heard anyone speak with such deep disgust.

The call which took them to the Camp Hill area justified Dalton's condemnation.

The hysterical mother had been led away by a couple of consoling neighbors. Bennington, Scott and Thornberry stood looking down at the neatly dismembered body. Behind them General Mosby spoke to three of his soldiers.

"Good work, men. Keep it up and get back on your beats. You know now what you're hunting for. I'm sure you'll hunt even harder."

The slapping sounds of rifles saluting, the clicks of heels, the sc.r.a.pe of boots in an about-face and a sc.r.a.p of conversation floated to Bennington. "Any mother who lets a kid out as late as this...."

Mosby joined them and picked up where the soldier had left off. "How did it happen, Scott?"

"It's hard to get anything out of the mother right now," Scott replied, "but I got this. They were waiting up for the father--he's on the swing shift--and the kid wanted ice cream. The store's just around the corner and the mother was busy ironing, so she gave the kid a quarter."

The chief of police turned away from the body, turned away from the lines written in blood on the wall--"PLEASE CATCH ME QUICK". He went to his car and switched its radio to one of the local stations.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"_Stay off the streets. If you are in your car, do not stop for anything except--and listen carefully--at least three men in army or police uniforms. Do not stop for any man standing alone. Do not leave your home except on the most essential business. If you must leave do not go alone. Repeat: Do not leave the house alone...._"

Scott switched back to the police band. "What we just heard is on every radio and TV station covering Harrisburg."

Another police car drifted into the alley, emptied men and equipment.

"We can go," Scott said. "My men will take care of the routine."

All of them were silent as they crossed the Market Street Bridge into the central section of town, deserted except for police and army patrols.

"Belton Hotel," the radio squawked. "_Judkins has been picked up at the Belton._"

"Now I'll find out what he has told them," Thornberry exulted, "and then we'll have no trouble finding Clarens."

"You know my name, you know my present address, and I'm not saying any more until I see my lawyer." Judkins had been saying that for half an hour and his words had not changed.

Mosby tugged at Bennington's sleeve. Together they moved to a corner of the hotel room, and at Mosby's nod, Scott and Thornberry joined them.

"Get out of here for five minutes. When you come back, he'll be glad to talk."

Mosby wasn't joking.

"I want to do the same thing," Scott said bitterly, "but I can't do it."

"You're under civil law," Mosby stated. "This town is under martial law. I might be able to get away with it."