CHAPTER 19
All Worked Out
Mr. Maasen was standing at the main exit of the auditorium, hurrying the kids outdoors. “Remember, you have to be back here at six forty-five to get in place for the concert . . . and don’t forget to wear your good clothes . . . and bring your instruments!”
It had been a good rehearsal, but Ben was going nuts. Because the Keepers had a clear objective now. They had to figure out how to “climb aloft” into the cupola so they could find that final safeguard. And they had to do it soon.
But the late bus was waiting at the curb, and Mr. Maasen was making sure that every single kid exited the building—and both janitors had joined him at the doorway.
Jill got to the door before Ben and Robert did, and she stopped and said, “I really need to go get something from my locker.”
Mr. Maasen shook his head. “Not possible, Jill. See you at the concert.” He pointed out the door.
Wally pointed too. “Yeah,” he sneered, “not possible, Jill.”
Mr. Maasen give the janitor an odd look, and Lyman seemed surprised too. But Wally didn’t care, didn’t even notice, and Ben got a glimpse of that same anger they’d seen earlier. His face wasn’t quite as red as when he had stormed out of the library, but the guy certainly looked strange.
When the three of them had walked around behind the school, Ben almost said, How about we sneak over to the north side and use Mr. Keane’s keys to get in through the door near the library? But he knew it would be pointless. On his way to the rehearsal, Gerritt had passed the janitor’s workroom, and he’d spotted a large cooler by the workbench plus two army-style folding cots leaning against the wall. The Glennley sentries weren’t going anywhere. Lyman and Wally were going to be patrolling the halls nonstop for the rest of day—and probably all Tuesday night.
So instead, Ben said, “You guys want to come eat dinner over at the boat? We can get pizza and work out a plan for tonight after the concert.”
“I’ve got the plan all worked out,” Robert said, “but, sure, pizza sounds good.”
Jill glared at Robert, and Ben was glad it wasn’t him getting the evil eye.
“All worked out?” she said. “How nice. And exactly when were you going to share this great plan of yours—or are we just supposed to wait and enjoy the surprise?”
“Tell you what,” Robert said. “You and Pratt walk along with me to my house so I can pick up my clothes for the concert, and on the way I’ll explain—which I was going to do anyway. And if you don’t like the plan, or if you want to add anything, that’ll be great. What I should have said is, ‘I’ve some ideas for tonight.’ ”
Ben wasn’t fooled. Gerritt had meant exactly what he’d said, and on the walk to his grandmother’s house, he laid out his plan, step by step. Jill offered a few ideas, but each time, Robert patiently explained why his way was better—and Ben had to agree. The guy really did have it figured out.
The pizza was good, and when they’d eaten, Ben called Tom Benton and asked him to set up a conference call with all the Keepers. And at six o’clock Tuesday evening, everyone was patched in—including the seven new kids, Mrs. Hinman, and Mrs. Sinclair. Ben, Jill, Robert, and Ben’s dad sat around one cell phone on the table in the saloon of the Tempus Fugit. A light breeze had come up, and the boat bumped gently against the dock, but it didn’t make enough noise to bother anyone.
First, Ben brought everyone up to speed on the day’s discoveries. He was glad that his dad was sitting there on the couch in their old sailboat, smiling and looking very proud of him. And then a less happy thought: He pictured his mom, sitting alone with her phone at their kitchen table over on Maple Street.
But Ben stayed focused. He couldn’t be thinking about personal stuff, not now.
When Ben finished, it was Robert’s turn, and he gave a detailed explanation of the plan for the night. When he was done, there were murmurs of agreement and appreciation, and Ben recognized Mrs. Keane’s voice saying, “What a marvelous plan!”
But Robert didn’t react much to the praise, and when it got quiet, he said, “So . . . are there any ideas about how to make this work better?”
Mrs. Sinclair quickly piped up with a suggestion, and Robert instantly said, “Great—that’ll help a lot!”
Which got him a funny look from Jill—Ben saw her eyes narrow, saw her lips press together. Because earlier, Robert had pushed back on every single idea she had offered. But she didn’t say anything now.
Then Jill’s dad said, “Can someone please tell me why we don’t just call all the media outlets, blow the whistle on these two phony janitors, and take over the school and do a huge search for the last safeguard, with all of us in the hunt? How come you kids have to keep sneaking around like this?”
Harold Chamden, the lawyer, spoke up before Robert could reply. “The answer to that is pretty simple. The school superintendent and the school board are eager to have the Glennley deal go through, and so are a lot of the business leaders in the town. And if this turned into a public fight tonight, the superintendent has the authority to cancel the concert, cancel the last half-day of school tomorrow, and demand that the police completely close off the school property—and I think she’s capable of doing that. So it’s wisest if we wait until tomorrow to launch our legal and public relations blitz.”
Mr. Acton wasn’t finished. “But couldn’t I at least hide somewhere inside the school tonight, just to be there as backup for the kids?”
Ben saw Jill roll her eyes, and then she said into the speakerphone, “Daddy, we’ve been in there tons of times, so stop worrying.”
“Those other times,” he replied, “you were sneaking out in the middle of the night, and I knew nothing about any of this. Now I know, and I just don’t like the idea of you kids having to deal with those two gorillas on your own.”
Again the lawyer replied, “Well, you could go and hide in the school, Carl. But if you got caught in there? You’d almost certainly be charged with criminal trespass, and probably breaking and entering, too. If the kids got caught, they’d get a scolding—and also, in a worst-case situation, where they had to appear in court? We could introduce Captain Oakes’s codicil as evidence that the school actually belongs to them and that their claim to trusteeship actually precedes the claims of the school board. But again, revealing the codicil now? That would make this fight very public, and if things don’t go as we hope, then there might never be another opportunity to search for the last safeguard. And, really, I feel quite sure those janitors are not going to do anything that might get themselves in trouble with the law—that’s the last thing the Glennley side wants.” Mr. Chamden cleared his throat, then added, “However, I think it would be an excellent idea to have our own backup in place outside the school, but close enough to get there almost instantly if any of the kids call for help. And, Carl, we can work out those details a little later, all right?”
Mr. Acton said, “Yes, that sounds good.”
It was quiet for a moment, and then Robert said, “Anything else?”
No one spoke, so Ben said, “Well, it’s good there aren’t more questions, because we’re about out of time—all the kids have to get over to the school soon. So, just remember what you need to do later on, and we’ll see everybody at the concert. Thanks a lot. Really, thank you.”
A number of voices said, “Good-bye,” or “So long,” or “Good luck,” and then the phone on the table started making noises as all the Keepers disconnected—more than a dozen clicks and beeps.
Those sounds were comforting for Ben—he felt good about their little army. It was a great team. Everyone had a job to do, and if all went according to plan, this was going to be quite a night.
CHAPTER 20
Phase One
Ben had a good view from his spot on the back row of the risers, and when the curtain finally opened at seven forty, he watched the principal walk to the center of the stage. The room dimmed, a spotlight focused on Mr. Telmer, and the packe
d auditorium got quiet.
He looked out over the crowd and then read from the paper in his hand, his voice strong and clear. “ ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.’ ” He paused, then continued, “When these historic words of our Declaration of Independence were first spoken to the world in 1776, the building that later became the Captain Duncan Oakes School was already standing next to the Atlantic Ocean, right here in Edgeport, Massachusetts.” Mr. Telmer paused again and used a knuckle to swipe at the corner of one eye. “Thanks to the dedication and hard work of thousands and thousands of wonderful parents, teachers, and children, this school has stood here like a lighthouse ever since—a beacon of education and freedom. As the current principal and as a fellow citizen, I want to welcome all of you to this historic event, this very last concert at our school. The title of the concert is An American Songfest.”
Everyone clapped, and as Mr. Telmer walked off the stage, a drum and flute began to play, and the chorus launched into “Yankee Doodle.”
Ben didn’t think it was weird that the principal had gotten emotional—there were tissues popping out all over the auditorium. Out of the hundreds of people here, all but a handful thought that this was the very last event, the end of an era, the end of the school.
But it’s not!
The next sixty minutes zipped by. After “Yankee Doodle,” they sang a sea chantey, and then one of Ben’s favorites, “Fifteen Years on the Erie Canal.” The song called “Across the Wide Missouri” was from the time when the country was expanding westward, followed by a cowboy song, and then “Casey Jones,” a railroad song. About halfway through the concert, they sang “Follow the Drinking Gourd,” and then Carolynn Eliot read Lincoln’s Gettysburg address. Carolynn was one of the new Keepers, and Ben thought she did a good job. The address was followed by a happy song from that era called “Wait for the Wagon.” After a First World War song, “As the Caissons Go Rolling Along,” there was a verse from a song about the end of the Great Depression called “Happy Days Are Here Again.” Then, while slides showed pictures from the Second World War, Korea, Vietnam, and the most recent wars, they sang “From the Halls of Montezuma”—immediately followed by “Where Have All the Flowers Gone,” which was a sad song about dead soldiers.
Even though it was the same music the chorus had practiced over and over for the past month and a half, this time it was different, and Ben got choked up a couple of times. As the concert ended with everyone on their feet for “The Star Spangled Banner,” he could barely sing.
But Ben made himself stop feeling and start thinking again. Because tonight’s main event was just getting started, and these fifteen minutes after the concert were a critical part of Gerritt’s plan—Phase One.
When the final applause died down, Ben checked his phone—it was eight forty-two—which meant that he had exactly eight minutes to get out into the main lobby and become part of the crowd of kids and parents who would be moving toward the parking lot. Because Gerritt’s plan depended on precise timing.
He made his way up the aisle and met up with his mom and dad at the place they had all agreed on, right in front of the big trophy case—which was now empty, since all the cups and plaques and little statues had been moved to the new school. And he spotted Jill as she found her parents, and then he saw Gerritt joining his grandmother.
So far, so good.
He scanned the area for Lyman and Wally.
As Robert had predicted, both men were standing near the main doors that led to the parking lot. Ben was trying to look around casually, but Lyman wasn’t. He didn’t try to hide the fact that he was closely watching all three kids, and when Ben glanced his way, their eyes met. Lyman smiled slightly and nodded, and Ben quickly looked away—but not before he had a sudden flash of memory. It was that thing Mr. Keane had said to him the morning he died: Lyman’s a snake!
All that seemed like a million years ago.
Still, a cold, creepy feeling tried to take hold of him, but Ben fought it off.
I am not the scared little kid I was back then!
With the sharp precision of a military commander, Ben continued his survey of the area.
Mrs. Keane? Check—there inside the doorway, just behind Wally, acting like she was looking outside and waiting for her ride.
Tom Benton? Check—standing near the wall on the other side of the doorway, close to Lyman. Tom hadn’t been using his walker as much recently, but he’d brought it tonight—because Gerritt had told him to. For a reason.
Ben looked to his left as he and his mom and dad neared the doorway. He was trying to spot one last key player . . . and there he was.
Check.
Mr. Chamden, the lawyer, was about twenty feet behind him and his parents.
Ben saw Gerritt and his grandmother go between Wally and Lyman, then walk outside, and he saw Lyman notice them leave.
Jill and her mom and dad were next through the wide double doors, and again, both Lyman and Wally took note that she was outside now, headed over into the parking lot.
Ben was the last of the three kids to go through the doors, and when he and his parents were outside on the driveway, his mom leaned toward him and whispered, “I don’t see why Robert’s plan couldn’t have included me stopping right there in the doorway and giving Mr. Lyman a black eye!”
Ben smiled, but he whispered, “Shhh! Listen for the signal!”
Because he and Jill and Robert were all out among the cars in the parking lot now. It was eight fifty-three. The school’s outside floodlights were on, but Ben and Jill and Robert were out where the shadows of the surrounding trees made it much darker.
Taking a quick peek back over his shoulder, Ben saw that another one of Robert’s predictions was correct: Lyman and Wally had moved.
They were standing outside next to the doors now, still watching. Which was exactly what Gerritt had said they would do: So, after the concert, the Two Musketeers are going to keep on watching their three problem children walk away from the school, to make sure that we have truly left for home.
Any second now, Ben thought, any second . . .
“Ohhhhh!”
It wasn’t a scream, but the sound pierced the night.
Mrs. Keane had a strong voice, and all the kids and parents in the parking lot stopped and looked back toward the school.
“This woman needs help, right NOW! You there, go get her a chair!”
That voice was even stronger, a loud, manly voice.
Ben smiled—Tom Benton was acting a little like a crazy man, just like Gerritt had asked him to, towering above Wally, blocking the doorway with his walker, one arm up and pointing at Mrs. Keane. And Wally rushed inside, instantly obeying Tom’s command.
And now it was Harold Chamden’s move.
He was tall—as tall as Lyman—and he got right up into the janitor’s face, pointing at Mrs. Keane, talking fast and demanding Lyman’s full attention for about ten seconds.
And then, Mrs. Hinman, who was also fairly tall, took up her position, pretending to look at Mrs. Keane, but standing so that she completely blocked Lyman’s view of the school parking lot . . . for about ten seconds.
And ten seconds was enough.
The crisis ended quickly, and the instant Mr. Chamden and Mrs. Hinman moved on, Lyman quickly peered back toward the darkened parking lot. And what Lyman saw was just exactly what Lyman wanted to see, what he needed to see: Because there was Ben, walking away between his mom and dad . . . and there was Jill, leaving with her parents . . . and there was Robert, headed home with his grandmother, still holding on to her arm.
That’s how it looked.
But it was Gabe Dalton walking with Mr. and Mrs. Pratt, and it was Jennie Arling there between Mr. and Mrs. Acton, and the tall young man holding on to Robert’s grandmother’s arm? That was Joey Slade, another of the ne
w Keepers that Ben had recruited during social studies yesterday afternoon.
Three minutes later one more of Gerritt’s predictions came true, because when Ben tried to put the key into the lock on the door on the north side of the school, it wouldn’t go in, and a quick check with a small flashlight showed why: Lyman or Wally had filled up the keyhole with some kind of hard white glue.
But it didn’t matter. Because thirty seconds later, at exactly eight fifty-eight, Mrs. Sinclair pushed the door open from the inside and whispered, “Phase One, complete!”
CHAPTER 21
The Waiting
Ben was wide awake. He looked at his phone for the sixth time—only eleven forty-five. He was supposed to be napping, but he just couldn’t get comfortable. Or shut off his thinker.
He heard low, regular breathing from underneath the table along the other wall of the library workroom—Gerritt wasn’t snoring, but he was definitely asleep. And just a foot away, by the dim light of his phone, he could see Jill’s face—calm, completely composed, a slight smile on her lips, out cold. The phone winked off, but the image of her face was still there, lit up in his mind. A good face.
When Mrs. Sinclair had let them into the school and then led them to the library, Ben had pointed at a painting on the hallway wall and whispered, “What happened there?”
It was a large painting, almost three feet wide, and it was one of Ben’s favorites—a winter scene of Edgeport Harbor, painted in 1822. But now the entire thing was covered with a white plastic wrap.
Mrs. Sinclair didn’t slow down, didn’t answer until she’d unlocked the darkened library and let them inside. When the door was shut behind them, she spoke softly. “That painting? A group from the town manager’s office came through, and all the paintings and everything else that’s hanging on the walls of the school has been wrapped and labeled—some things will go to the library, some to the historical society, some to the new school, and a few are going to the Peabody Essex Museum. They’ll all be taken away tomorrow after school, before the salvage crew comes in to remove the doors and the cabinets, all the old hardware and fixtures—anything that can be sold or reused. Before the demolition starts.”
We Hold These Truths Page 9