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The Players: Benton
This is part five of the second section (seven parts) of the story (part one, part two, part three, part four) that began with The Games (six parts) and continued with The Network (one part).

The story may be regarded as fanfic set in poisontaster's Keptverse. It is being written as part of wrimowrimo.

The Players: Benton

There were axioms that Benton had never thought to challenge till he had got married and moved to Chicago.

My father would not lie to me.

Ray’s father had tried to sell both Ray and Ray’s sister when they were minor children. Benton’s father had bought and sold slaves. These were the kinds of things he thought about now when he couldn’t sleep, and for four hours, he hadn’t been able to sleep.

My father would not lie to me.

Parents defend and protect their children.

“Ray,” he said quietly, his mouth against his husband’s ear.

“Can’t be,” Ray said, out loud, through a yawn. “That was ten minutes ago.”

“Four hours, Ray.”

“Can’t be,” Ray said, pushing himself up and looking at Benton with a kind of dogged despair. “Can’t be, can’t be, can’t be…” He stood up, shook his head, yawned widely, and staggered to the washroom. He was certainly awake.

Benton lay down where Ray had slept, and turned his face into the blanket that smelt of Ray, and went to sleep.



When he woke again, there was a mug of hot coffee and a doughnut on the shelf beside the couch: Sam Gerard was sitting on the chair, coffee in one hand, doughnut in the other.

“You awake?”

Benton sat up. “I believe so.”

“I sent Ray and Dana back to their rooms to get some real sleep. Drink your coffee.”

“What day is it?”

Gerard glanced at his watch. “Thursday morning.”

“Are they dead?”

“No,” Gerard said, shaking his head, half-smiling. “Dana says they’re going to live. You stand watch now till the morning, I’ll send Dana back again then.” He glanced up, over Benton’s shoulder, at the readouts on the screens. “If you’re not going to eat that damn doughnut, go fix yourself something else, okay?”

Adam and Willow were still in the kitchen, as they had been there every break Benton had taken for the past two days – both of them heads together over the same laptop, arguing in low voices and making changes to the screen.

“Don’t you think you should let Willow get some sleep?” Benton asked. He had fixed and was eating a bowl of cereal with dried fruit and toasted nuts: Ray, if he’d been awake to comment, would have protested.

“Hey, she’s keeping me awake.”

“Am not,” Willow said, head down. “Are they – ?”

“Where’s Richard?” Benton asked.

“Oh, Sam locked him in the holding cell about an hour ago,” Adam said. “He went quietly.”

“They’re all still alive,” Benton said. He was unable to suppress a smile: Willow smiled back.

“I should get back,” Benton said.

“We probably should stop for the night,” Adam admitted. “I’m not as young as I used to be.” He laughed.

Benton stood in the hall outside the kitchen. He was strangely familiar with this place: more familiar than he would have liked. Since Sam Gerard had recruited them both, six years ago, he and Ray had slept here, eaten here, worked here – even, sometimes, made love in the bedrooms upstairs. Ray admired Gerard wholeheartedly with an enthusiasm that Benton couldn’t share.

Upstairs, in the holding cell, Gerard had a prisoner of his own. Ray said that a man who could murder his wife, brutally and cruelly, was a scumbag who deserved to be condemned to slavery – who deserved worse than the way Gerard treated him.

My father would not lie to me.

Parents defend and protect their children.

Good, hardworking people do not become slaves.

Foundational axioms. Benton wished, sometimes, he was still the person who had never thought to challenge them. Never known any reason to challenge them.

He did not like Gerard. That did not matter: he respected Gerard, trusted him in any matter connected with their work – trusted him more absolutely than that, with Ray’s life. Benton did not like being included in bambini by Gerard, did not like being identified as one of “Sam Gerard’s kids”: but he had recognised some time ago that he felt completely comforted to know that Ray was one of “Gerard’s kids”. Gerard would protect Ray, if that became necessary.

For six years,they had known they were living on borrowed time.

My father would not lie to me.

Parents defend and protect their children.

Good, hardworking people do not become slaves.

I will never participate in a conspiracy to overthrow the USNA government.

“You good for the night?” Gerard picked himself up. “God, I’m tired.” He gave Benton one of his oddly sweet smiles, and took himself off. To the other side of the house, where he had a prisoner, locked in a cell, available for rape.

Benton sat down on the chair Gerard had just left, still warm from his body. It was one o’clock in the morning. Three prisoners on this side of the house would survive because of Sam Gerard. You couldn’t balance that with the fate of the prisoner on the other side of the house. But at least this was something, some kind of compensation for what he and Ray had done on Monday: something they were doing right.



Dana came over just after eight, and Ray followed half an hour later, with two cups of coffee and bagels that Giles had brought in. The prisoners were probably conscious, silent, but their eyes opened, closed, seemed to react. Dana had them on a complicated drugs cocktail being fed to them intravenously: but they still reacted. “You might as well sleep here,” Dana said. “The cleaning crew are in the house.”

“I didn’t bring you any coffee,” Ray told Benton, helpfully.

“Thank you,” Benton said. He thought about it. “Won’t they be coming over here next?”

“Yes,” Dana said, “but we won’t be letting them in here.”

Dana had done what she could with the mouths of the three prisoners, but they would still have difficulty talking. They were, in Adam’s parlance, haeftlings: like Richard, they probably would never talk much except when alone with other slaves. Gerard had laid down ground rules long ago on the things no one should talk about in front of slaves or prisoners. Their temporary fear and confusion was supposed to be a acceptable price for them to pay.




By early afternoon, Benton woke again and Dana sent him over to the other side of the house to get sandwiches. The kitchen was empty: the fridge was full again.

Benton was sitting at the table constructing three sandwiches out of cold cuts, lettuce, and tomatoes, when Richard came in: he was holding five empty mugs and two plates. He froze in the doorway, seeing Benton.

“Good afternoon, Richard,” Benton said. Richard did not move or speak. “Please do come in.”

Richard stacked the mugs and plates in the washer. He emptied out the coffee pot and refilled the coffee maker. He moved quietly, but not inaudibly. Willow had said it gave her the creeps, but Benton thought that must be the effect both of her knowledge of Richard’s crime and that Richard rarely spoke.

“Are you expected back in the lounge?” Benton asked. “Would you like to sit down?”

After a moment, Richard shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Benton said. He went on putting the sandwiches together, not sure what he could do when he was finished. “Please understand, I can’t do anything to change the conditions of your imprisonment here. But I am sorry.”

Richard’s mouth twitched suddenly in what was almost a smile. Benton smiled back.

“Have you eaten yet today? Would you care for a sandwich?”

Richard shook his head again.

“No, you haven’t eaten? No, you don’t like the look of these sandwiches?” Benton asked.

This time the twitch was really half a smile. “I had food,” Richard said. He sounded a little distanced from his own words, as if each one was being considered. “Earlier. I’m okay.” He stopped. “Thank you,” he added.

“We’re all extremely busy,” Benton said. “Especially just now, for reasons I can’t discuss with you. But we don’t bear you any active ill-will.” He thought about it briefly. “Well, most of us don’t, and Ray’s hostility towards you is exaggerated, he wouldn’t actually harm you in any way. Gerard’s orders were to let you alone. You have no cause to be concerned about how any of the rest of us may treat you.”

After a moment, Richard nodded. The coffee was brewing. He lined up three clean mugs.

“Who’s awake?”

“Sam is in the lounge,” Richard said. “So are Giles and George.”

“Thank you,” Benton said. He had finished making the sandwiches. There was really nothing more to be said.



They settled it that Dana would stay over in the clinic on Thursday night, and he and Ray would sleep in one of the guest rooms: relieve her Friday morning for the last day. The prisoners were all doing well. Adam delivered a paper copy of the report he and Willow had put together, grumbling that Dana had left her iPhone behind, and Benton and Ray went back to the other side of the house together.

Gerard was sitting at his desk looking at his own laptop: George at the chair nearby, reading a paper copy. He was frowning.

Giles and Willow were on the couch at the far end of the room: Giles was looking at the report on Willow’s laptop, and Willow was staring off into space.

Gerard looked up. “Everything okay?”

Richard was nowhere to be seen. “They’re all still alive,” Ray said.

“Good.” Gerard glanced, frowning, around the room. “Hell, where’s Richard?” A beep signalled arriving e-mail: Gerard looked down at the screen, muttered “What’s this?” in tones of pure exasperation, and looked up at Benton. “Go find Richard, okay?”

“Yes, Sam.”

Richard wasn’t in the kitchen: or in the ground floor bathroom: or in the function room in back of the kitchen: the back door out to the garden was locked: the front door and both doors to the working part of the house were locked. Upstairs, all three bedrooms and the bathrooms were empty. Benton opened the holding cell door: Richard was sitting on the mattress, head back against the wall.

“Gerard wants you,” Benton said.

Richard got to his feet. He nodded. Benton waited. After a moment Richard said “May I use the bathroom?” He looked at the commode.

Benton let him use the bathroom attached to the guest room he and Ray used. Downstairs, Gerard was no longer looking at his laptop. He had swung round in his chair and stared at Richard with a narrow frown. “Where had you got to?”

“I was in my room,” Richard said.

“Hell, didn’t I give you orders to tell someone before you put yourself in there?”

“Yes, Sam,” Richard said. His hands were flat-palmed against his thighs: his voice was not shaking, but his hands were moving, nervous twitches. “I’m sorry. Everyone seemed to be very busy.”

“Yeah. Don’t care how busy. Tell someone. Got it?”

“Yes, Sam.”

“Willow, what are you doing?”

Willow started and sat up. “I – I guess I’m – ” She looked around the room. “I’m not really doing anything.”

“Then you and Richard get through to the kitchen and get some supper on, okay?”

George was still reading the report, but he looked up. “None for me. Sam, I want to take this home and think about it. Don’t send it anywhere yet, will you?”

“Is it all right?” Willow sounded startled and worried.

“It’s a grand piece of work,” George said. “I’m very impressed.”

“I can’t send it anyway till Dana’s amended it with the final details,” Sam said. “You let me know when you’re done thinking, George.”



Giles went through to the kitchen with Willow and Richard: Gerard pointed to chairs for Benton and Ray. “I want you to know I really appreciate your work this week,” he said. “You’ve earned a rest. You should get the weekend off.” He grinned. “Of course I say that now, I might have to say something different Sunday morning.”

“Everyone’s been working very hard,” Benton said.

“Yeah,” Gerard said. “I got a very interesting e-mail concerning Richard just now.”

“What about him?” Ray asked.

“Someone wants to buy him, that’s all.” Gerard sat back in his chair. “I got an offer from a Doctor Charles Nicholls, on behalf of a medical experimentation facility he runs. He’s offering quite a bit of money which he says is coming out of his research budget. Doctor Nicholls works for Chicago Memorial Hospital, which is, as I recall, where Doctor Richard Kimble used to work. I somehow do not think that Doctor Kimble’s old colleague really wants to buy him in order to do him in by medical tests: I think this is a rescue attempt.” Gerard tilted his chair back and folded his hands across his stomach. He was smiling. “I’d say that of all my kids, you two like the idea of my owning Richard least, would you say that was a fair estimation?”

“I don’t care what you do with that scumbag!”

Benton took a breath. “I think that it’s fair to say we are both personally opposed to the ownership, buying, and selling of human beings. Very strongly so.”

Ray glanced at him. “Or …what he said. Yeah.”

“I picked up Richard from the arena on Saturday, right after their right to hold his contract lapsed. I suppose other people could have been waiting for the right time to make a bid on Richard to buy him from the arena, but the timing of this is all wrong. It’s not a bid to Commerce that they’ve forwarded to me. Doctor Nicholls knows I am holding Richard. How do you suppose he could have found out?”

The question hung in the air. Gerard wasn’t smiling any more. Benton’s mind went scrambling back over the past days: for most of them Ray had been either in sight or in earshot or in a deeply exhausted sleep.

Ray had taken the same few seconds to react. “You think we told him? How would we have known? I didn’t know the scumbag had any friends!”

“Sam,” Benton said. “Quite apart from what Ray said – I had no idea who I would ask to buy Richard in order to rescue him from here without landing him somewhere worse – if you really think that we did that, why are we still working for you?”

Gerard shrugged. He still wasn’t smiling. “I think either one of you is capable of it,” he said. “And both of you knew it. You both took a minute to think, figured out that the other one of you hadn’t had time to do it this week, and then you relaxed and got mad at me for being a suspicious son of a bitch.” He sat up. “Okay. Neither of you did it. But there’s got to be a leak somewhere. I don’t like it, but I don’t see how Nicholls found out I’ve got Richard just by coincidence.”

“Maybe someone did some research,” Ray said. He still looked shaken, but his voice looked steady. “Will found out all about Kimble in a few hours Sunday morning.”

“Records concerning Final transactions are sealed,” Gerard said. “Maybe Willow could crack them and Commerce not find out. If someone else as good as our girl is working in this state and we don’t know it, we’re in bad trouble already. Otherwise, the only people who’d have a right to know if they made a formal application to Commerce are Lady Helen Waverley’s immediate family: no children, parents both dead, brother’s a well-known drunk in New York. Don’t talk about this, okay? Not till I say.”

“What are you going to do about this?” Benton asked.

“I’m going to tell Doctor Nicholls no,” Gerard said.

to Part Six