The man with the rifle was good, Bennington noted again. His shots were gra.s.s-clippers that could have subst.i.tuted for a lawn mower.

Then a submachine gun chuckled crisply from Bennington's left. There was a howl of pain. The rifle stopped looking for the general.

Bennington began crawling along the edge of the moat. That submachine gun had spoken for his side of the argument and he had a big need for the author who had used its words so well. He stopped crawling.

Someone was coming toward him.

"General?"

"Ferguson!"

"Yes, sir. You all right?"

"Yes. And you?"

"Fine, sir, but it was close for a minute."

"Tell me."

"I was coming in the door to Message Center, going to put my gun back in the armory, then get your supper from the kitchen. I heard someone screeching down the hall and then a couple of shots. The clerk on duty got up and started toward the hall door. But it banged open in his face and someone emptied a pistol into him. I let loose a burst and jumped back. The guy with the pistol came through the door, still hollering. I gave him a belly-full, then waited a moment to see if anyone was behind him. n.o.body was. I remembered hearing a window smash, so I looked around this way for you."

"You've got how much ammo?"

"About half a clip, sir."

"We need help. I know they've got Message Centre, but--"

"The private line from the house, sir?"

"Right. And you'll stay here."

Ferguson understood. "No one will get out this way, sir, but I'll go with you part way so I can cover the door out of Message Center, too."

No more words. Not even a handshake.

These two had worked together, fought together, before. Speeches weren't needed.

Bennington's house was dark and, because it was still new to him, he barked his shins twice before he found the visiphone. To save time and avoid any lights, he first cut out the visual circuit and then he simply dialed "0".

"Operator," a lilting voice replied.

"Connect me with the nearest State Police Barracks, please. Warden of Duncannon Prison speaking."

"One moment, please." Not a change in the lilt.

Silence; then, "State Police Barracks, Private Endrews speaking."

"Warden Bennington, Duncannon Prison. We're having trouble here and I need help. About thirty prisoners have seized control of our Administration Building, which includes the armory."

"Riot? Duncannon? Impossible! Those men are con--"

"It may be impossible, but it's happening. Now, how much help can you give me?"

"Let me check, sir." The phone was silent, except for heavy breathing from Private Endrews. "Here it is, sir. In less than fifteen minutes, three cars--that's six men and they've got full equipment in those cars--will be at The Cage."

"That all?"

"No, sir. In twenty minutes I'll have the riot-control copter over the prison. It's got floodlights on its belly and the pilot knows the prison."

"Good. What else?"

"For at least two hours, that's all, sir. Standard Operating Procedure calls for the immediate establishment of a cordon at fixed points, roving patrols on the countryside west of you and blocks on all railroads, bus and air terminals--"

"Someone will be in the parking lot. Give me what you have and get it moving!"

It wouldn't be enough. Half of the permanent staff as hostages, enough weapons and ammo in the armory to fight a war....

He dialed again. "Operator? I want the Commanding General at Indiantown Gap. Now!"

"One moment; sir." The lilt was gone from the voice.

She had been listening in, the general decided.

"Duty Officer, Indiantown Gap. Major Smith speaking."

"Smith? Connect me immediately with General Mosby!"

"I'm sorry, but the general is--"

"Major, get off the line and get Mossback on before--"

There was a click, another telephone rang three times, then a calm voice, "General Mosby".

"Bennington here!"

"Jim! You old--"

"No time, Mossback, I need help. I'm down at Duncannon Prison. Got a riot on my hands, two gateguards plus myself and Ferguson to handle it. The State police can give me only another six men, in the next two hours."

"One moment, Jim. Duty Officer! The First Battalion, riot-armed, on the field and in their copters in twenty minutes!"

"Second and Third Battalions fully-armed, with all support sections, ready to roll in forty minutes!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Give me the whole picture, Jim. And by the way, I've visited the prison."

Bennington gave the details in less than a minute, then added, "Thanks, Mossback."