Guilt by Association Read online

  She tore her mouth away, crying out, “Let me go!”

  He ignored her and laughed at her struggles, but suddenly a voice interrupted, “Pretty late for the lady to be up, Vince.”

  Canelli gave a start and loosed his grip. Dani took that moment to break free and stand up. Vince rose, anger deforming his handsome face, and said, “I’d butt out of this if I was you, Lonnie!”

  Lonnie had walked halfway across the room and stood there looking mildly at Vince. He said nothing, but at that moment Vince’s face revealed his murderous emotions. He stepped toward Lonnie, then whirled to his left, where Candi had come out of the sleeping quarters, wearing a wool robe, and a strange expression on her face. “Doin’ a little homework, Vince?” she asked tautly.

  Canelli hesitated, then laughed and threw up his hands. “This place is turning into some kind of Bible school,” he said. “Never saw so much fuss over a kiss.”

  When he left the room, Dani said in a voice that was not as steady as she’d have liked, “Thanks, Lonnie—and you, too, Candi.”

  “Aw, he didn’t mean nothing.” Lonnie yawned. He went to the sink, got a glass of water, and after drinking it noisily, said, “G’night,” and disappeared through the door.

  “Yeah, he meant something,” Candi said bitterly. She stood there, staring at Dani, her eyes hollow, and she was a pathetic figure. Her story was all written in the pretty face that had begun to show the marks of hard living and in the flesh that had begun to lose its youthful tone. Candi turned and went back into the other section. When she walked past Candi’s bunk, to go to bed, by the faint light of the small bulb, Dani thought she saw tears running down the other woman’s cheeks. She wanted to stop, to say something, but Candi turned her face to the steel wall, leaving Dani no choice but to wordlessly go to her own bunk.

  The next morning, at breakfast, Vince said little to anyone else, but Dani noticed he sat beside Candi. She ate very little, but he kept talking to her, smiling and laughing, and by the time the meal was over, she had offered him a watery smile.

  Dani had gotten to her feet to begin clearing the dishes, when a sudden loud voice broke through the table talk: “I wish to speak with all of you.”

  Dani looked around wildly, for the voice was hollow, artificial somehow. Karl, who was standing close by, said, “The speaker!” She looked up, following his nod and saw again the large speaker and the camera that she had ceased to notice.

  Everyone was standing mutely in place, staring at the speaker, when the voice came again: “Come and stand in front of the camera—all of you.”

  They all moved reluctantly forward.

  “I don’t like this,” Bix muttered. “It don’t seem right, not seeing whoever that is.”

  “Be quiet!” Karl ordered sharply. Then he looked up and said, “We are all here. What do you wish to tell us?”

  “Ah, Herr Holtz,” the voice responded at once, “Always in command, eh?”

  “I am in command of nothing!” Holtz snapped out, a trace of the seething anger that lurked deep inside him making his voice harsher than normal. “I protest against this thing you have done to me—to all of us.”

  “Your protest is noted,” entoned the unbodied, ghostly, impersonal male voice, seemingly devoid of age and emotion. When the voice spoke again, Dani thought it belonged in a training film.

  “I will not exhaust your patience with a long speech,” the voice droned on. “We live in a world in which justice has almost ceased to exist. Murderers are routinely set free. Even a man’s home is no longer his castle, for he may be murdered with his family in his own living room. It is a day in which every man does that which is right in his own eyes—and justice hides its head.”

  After a very slight pause, every one of the prisoners felt as if the speaker was looking right at him: “It is every man’s duty to see that this condition is dealt with. That is why you have been brought to this place. You are guilty, and you will be punished.”

  “Guilty of what?” Lonnie burst out angrily. “I ain’t done nothing to be put in a hole like this!”

  “Nor have I!” Rachel spoke up. She shook her fist at the camera’s blank eye and said, “You are a tyrant! A tyrant!”

  “Rachel, Lonnie! Be still!” Holtz spoke up. “One of the first laws of justice is that a man must be informed of his crime. If you are intent on justice, what crime are you holding us for?”

  “That will come—it will come!” For the first time a trace of emotion touched the toneless voice, and he added, “You will all know the charge against you, but if you will confess of your own free will, it will go much better for you.”

  “How can we confess, if we don’t know what we have done?” Alex cried angrily. “Be reasonable, man!”

  “I am reasonable,” the voice went on tonelessly. “It is reasonable for men and women to lead decent lives. It is reasonable for them to have the protection of the law and the armed forces to watch over their lives. And it is reasonable, when men and women violate those laws, to bring them to trial and justice.”

  An angry cry went up, and they all began to try to talk at once, but the voice said, “I will give you exactly forty-eight hours to step forward. If you do not admit your guilt, I will know what course to follow. Remember—forty-eight hours.”

  The speaker went dead, and the red light on the camera blinked out. They all stood there, struck dumb, until Alex said heavily, “Well, we’ve got a real kook out there, friends.”

  They all began to mill around, speaking rapidly. Each wanted to talk, and no one wanted to listen. Finally they broke up, and Karen paused to say, “What do you think, Dani?”

  “I’m afraid,” Dani answered honestly.

  “Who isn’t?” Rachel had heard the question and gave a shiver. “This is much worse than I thought—and I thought it was pretty bad.”

  “I guess I was hoping it’d be money.” Dani said. “Even though that didn’t make much sense.” She shook her head slowly, and an almost palpable heaviness came into her breast. She sat down and stared at the floor. “Money is one thing, but this man is neurotic. And as far as I know, there’s no way to satisfy a neurotic.”

  Rachel nodded, then suggested bitterly, “Well, we all better be thinking up some nice juicy confessions. That’s what we’ve got to come up with by Friday morning!”

  Dani asked, “Commander, may I have some writing materials? I want to write down what he said.”

  “Of course!” Karl ushered her to his desk and furnished her with paper and a ball point pen. She began to write as he busied himself with another task. Five minutes later she said, “Will you look this over for accuracy?”

  He took the paper and read it carefully. Surprised, he exclaimed, “Why, this is almost word for word, Dani!”

  “Oh, not really, but pretty close, I guess. I’ve always had a good memory for things like that.” The two of them went over her text carefully, studying each word. Finally Dani said, “It’s not enough but I’ll get down everything he says, and sooner or later he’ll give something away.”

  “You have a fine mind.” Karl smiled. “I trust you’ll be free again soon to use it.”

  All day long the message seemed to hang in the air, like an invisible fog, dampening their spirits and carrying grim foreboding. They all seemed inhibited, even to the point of ignoring it, until finally the thing would not be contained, and they dissected every word and quarreled over its portent. The idea of guilt seemed ominous, and Sid broke out once, crying, “Why, everybody’s guilty of something! Everybody in the whole world! What does this nut want?”

  Wednesday passed, creeping by slowly. They ate three meals, read, and exercised; Lonnie and Sid even played their favorite game, Monopoly. Alex took a quick shower—for the first time in anyone’s memory—and went to bed at nine o’clock. The rest followed shortly.

  Dani lay awake, her mind humming like a hard disk, but she got nowhere at all. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally drifted off, only to awak
e with a start as people moved across the floor, talking excitedly.

  “What is it?” she cried out in sudden fear.

  “The box! It’s comin’ down!” Candi cried. “Come on!”

  By the time Dani got to the rec room, everybody else was already there, staring at the roof. A high-pitched whine came to her ears, and she asked, “What’s that, Lonnie?”

  “Winch—lettin’ something down.”

  “Never got anything this late,” Betty said doubtfully. “Be like the scum to send our supplies down in the middle of the night.”

  “And it wouldn’t be another prisoner,” Karen said. “The bunks are all filled.” They all watched carefully as a large, rectangular, ghostly box slowly descended into the lighted area of the silo.

  “Stand back!” Vince commanded, reaching up and guiding it down. At once the whine stopped, and they all crowded in closer. “We got a new playmate,” Vince said. “Anybody know him?” He asked the question perfunctorily, and Dani saw from the faces of those in front of her that the answer was no.

  She stepped from behind Bix, who had crowded in front of her, and looked down at the face of the man strapped firmly inside the box. The shock she got reminded her of a time when she had been struck in the pit of the stomach during a volleyball game.

  Standing there, she felt lightheaded for a few seconds. Quietly she answered Vince, “Yes. I know him.” She looked up into the startled faces around her and said, “His name is Benjamin Davis Savage.”

  6

  The First Confession

  * * *

  As soon as Dani had identified Savage, Holtz asked sharply, “How do you know him, Danielle? Who is he?”

  “He’s one of my investigators,” she explained, not missing the suspicious look in Holtz’s eyes. “We can talk about that later. Karen—”

  Karen Sanderson bent over, lifted one of Savage’s eyelids, and peered carefully at the eye. “Concussion,” she said tersely. “I don’t know how bad—but that cut has got to be sutured. Get him out of this thing and put him on the table, while I get my bag. Put a pad of some kind over the table, and be careful when you move him.”

  While Vince removed the straps, Betty ran to get some blankets. She came back quickly and arranged them deftly. Vince directed, “Give me a lift, Lonnie. Holtz, you and Rosie take his other side.” Carefully they lifted the injured man to the table, and Betty eased a pad under his head. “He took a pretty bad beating,” Vince observed as he looked down at the bloody face. “But I guess he got in a couple of licks, from the looks of his hands.”

  As Karen hurried back, stepping up to Ben’s head, Dani noticed that his hands were raw, the knuckles scraped and bleeding. Then Karen said, “I’d be afraid to give him any kind of anesthesia, with that concussion—which is a good thing, because I don’t have any. Vince, you’ll have to hold his head steady. I don’t think he’ll feel anything, but just in case.”

  “Well, okay, Doc,” Canelli said uneasily.

  “All of you, move back,” Karen said. “The rest of you men take one of these couches into the women’s room, close to the heater. Fix up some sort of light by it, so I can see. I want to be close to him until he wakes up, and it gets too noisy out here. Somebody get some water; boil it and put it in a pan.”

  “I’ll do it,” Dani said quickly. She had a queasy feeling as she looked down at the gaping wound in Ben’s forehead. Scurrying off, she boiled the water. Just as Karen was straightening up, she brought it to her.

  “Put it down here, Dani,” the doctor commanded tersely. Taking a sterile pad from her kit, she dipped it in the water and began sponging the wound.

  Dani kept her eyes averted, but asked, “Is it very bad?”

  “Not unless he’s got some internal damage. We’ll check for bruises when we get him moved.”

  She worked quickly, and ten minutes later Dani was in the women’s quarters, standing over the couch that the men had set up. Holtz had rigged a light, which hung to one side. When the men had left, Karen said, “Now let’s see if he’s got any bad bruises. If his body is as bad as his face, we’ve got problems.” Moving to the end of the couch, she unbuttoned the worn suede jacket and commanded, “Lift him up, Dani—you and Rachel. I’ll try to keep his head from moving too much.”

  Dani and Rachel, one on each side of the couch, lifted Ben and, being as gentle as they could, pulled the coat off. “Now the shirt,” Karen said, and they removed that. “Ugly bruise over his kidney,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Let him down easy.”

  They carefully put him down, and Karen released her grip and stepped to look down at his chest. Rachel said softly. “What a mensch!”

  “If that means ‘What a man!’” said Karen with a faint smile, “I agree with you.” She indicated the swelling muscles that rounded out the chest of the unconscious man and shook her head. “You find that sort of development in swimmers or gymnasts.” Carefully she ran her hands over his side. “I don’t think he has any ribs broken.” Then she ordered, “Pull his slacks off.”

  Dani stared at her, and a flush rose to her cheeks. Karen saw her expression and laughed. “Guess that sounded a little rough, Dani. I forgot I wasn’t talking to a hardened medical student. Let me do it.” She stepped forward, removed Savage’s trousers skillfully, and after a quick look said, “All right, get him covered up—lots of cover!”

  Rachel and Dani found extra blankets and placed them on the unconscious man.

  Karen said, “We’ll have to watch him. He could kick that cover off and get pneumonia. We don’t need anything like that!”

  Dani said, “I can watch him, Karen.”

  “All right. If he comes out of it, wake me up.” Karen and Rachel went to bed at once, for the clammy cold bit at the flesh. Dani pulled two of the straight chairs over in front of the couch, made herself a facsimile of a bed, and wrapped up in her blankets.

  Betty and Candi came in, took a look at Dani at her place by Savage, then quickly went to bed. Rachel said, “Give me a call when you freeze out, Dani. I’ll take a turn.”

  “All right, Rachel.”

  Dani shut her eyes and pulled the blankets under her legs as tightly as she could, then spent half an hour trying to convince herself that she was going to sleep. But minute noises kept jarring her awake. The wind rose and fell, seeming to travel around the silo, brushing at the sides with ghostly fingers, making a very low and quite unnerving keening noise. A deep groaning startled her as the entire structure seemed to give under the power of the wind, but she shook her head, knowing it had to be her imagination. The sounds of a man coughing came to her; then one of the women—she couldn’t tell which—uttered a muffled cry that rose and then broke off abruptly. Worst of all were the faint scurrying noises, for Betty had informed her that rats inhabited the silo.

  She shifted from side to side on the hard chairs, keeping a close guard on Savage, but he never seemed to move. Once he moved his head from side to side and mumbled something, but he stilled when she went to him. As she tried to relax, she kept thinking of how inadequate she was. What made me ever think I could be a missionary—or even a detective? I’m a hothouse flower! Finally she dropped off into a fitful sleep.

  “. . . Timing isn’t right. . . . Florrie? . . . Didn’t make it! . . .” Ben spoke in muffled tones, and had thrown off all his blankets. Awakening with a stab of fear, Dani got up quickly, nearly collapsing on legs that had no feeling. She snatched up the blankets and tried to keep them on Ben, but he kept thrashing, throwing his limbs about and moaning. A wild swing of his hand caught Dani across the mouth, and the pain made her bat her eyes, but she captured the hand and managed to get his arms under the cover. She kneeled beside him, holding him down. Suddenly he turned his head toward her, and his eyes opened. “Florrie?” he asked thickly. “Florrie?” His face was only inches away from her, and she saw that his eyes were not clear. He called for Florrie again, and this time his voice rose in what sounded like fear. “Florrie . . . ?”

&nb
sp; “Yes,” Dani whispered. “It’s Florrie. Now, try to rest, Ben.”

  At the sound of her voice, he lay still. His eyes were fixed on her, but she saw that he was not awake. As he said, one more time, “Florrie!” the eyes closed, and she felt his body relax.

  Sitting there, watching his face, Dani wondered how he had found her—and why. Ben had simply dropped into her life, and she’d been terribly unfair at their last meeting. The memory came to her sharply, and she bit her lip, aggravated for she disliked being wrong. He could at least have told me what he was doing, she thought bitterly. What else would anyone think—seeing him half dressed in his room with that woman? Somehow that did not comfort her, and she shifted uneasily on the hard chair. How would she face him when he came out of unconsciousness?

  He grew quieter, and she sat there in the hollow silence, looking down at the tough face on the pillow. The faint light highlighted the stark planes of his features, darkening the deep-set eyes and emphasizing the pale scar by his mouth. His coarse black hair had fallen over his broad brow, and she reached out unconsciously to brush it back.

  “I guess you know him pretty good, huh?”

  Dani started, jerking her hand back, and turned quickly to see Candi, who stood back a few steps in the darkness, watching. She came forward, clutching a blue woolen robe to her chin, and sat down in the other chair. The dim light softened the hard lines of her face, making her look much younger and somehow more gentle. “You in love with him?” she asked, when Dani didn’t answer her first question.

  Dani shook her head quickly. “No. Nothing like that.”

  Candi studied the still face of Savage, and a wistful quality entered her voice. “He’s got kind of a tough face.” She leaned closer and after a while added, “But he don’t look mean tough—you know?”

  “Maybe I do.” Dani studied the face of the other woman. “You’re right, Candi—there’s no meanness in Ben. He’s stubborn as a bulldog, and he talks tough, but underneath all that, he’s gentle.” She did reach out then and smoothed the unruly hair from his forehead. “You must know men pretty well, to see that in Ben.”