“Then the shooter would have needed elevation.”

“Quite.”

“And a rifle with sufficient muzzle velocity to be accurate at a distance.”

“Quite.”

“I would first look for the shooter’s location, and when I found it I would isolate the scene and look for evidence, such as cartridge casings and fibers from the shooter’s clothing. I would also look for fingerprints.”

“Of course; that will be done.”

Dino waved duBois to a chair and sat down himself. “Someone loading a rifle would leave fingerprints on the cartridge casings, unless he was careful to wear gloves or wipe them clean.”

“Yes,” duBois said. “Go on.”

Dino was beginning to get the impression that duBois had never investigated a homicide. Probably, with his Haitian police background, he was more accustomed to committing than solving them.

“Have you located the shooter’s firing point?”

“We believe it to be an abandoned fire tower on a hill not far from the police station.”

“Then I would also look for tire tracks and footprints, and if the tower is accessed by a ladder or stairs, I would look for prints on the rungs or banisters. I would also look for DNA evidence, if the shooter, perhaps, spat or left a coffee cup or cut himself while climbing the tower. Hairs would be helpful, too.”

“All of that will be sought, of course,” duBois replied.

Dino was surprised he wasn’t taking notes. “Do you have the facility for DNA analysis available on St. Marks?”

“Not as yet,” duBois replied. “That will be one of my first requests of my government.”

“I would be very happy to have any evidence you find tested in our labs in New York, if that would be helpful.”

“Thank you; I will let you know.” DuBois consulted a list from his pocket. “Where are your companions, Mr. Barrington and Ms. Heller?” he asked.

“I believe they are touring the island,” Dino said. “They told us not to wait lunch for them.”

“When will they return?”

“I’m not sure, but certainly in time for cocktails; they never miss cocktails.” Dino smiled.

“Quite.”

Dino didn’t know what else to say. “I would be happy to inspect the shooter’s roost or the crime scene, if that would be helpful.”

“Probably not,” duBois replied.

“Mr. Barrington was also a homicide detective on the NYPD. We were partners for some years. I’m sure he would be glad to help, as well.”

“What about his girlfriend? Is she a police officer, too?”

Dino almost said yes, but remembered. “No, she is a flying instructor; she owns and operates a small flying school in Florida.”

“Yes, I have heard this; did she fly you here?”

“No, we were fortunate enough to arrive by private jet.”

“Are New York policemen so wealthy, Lieutenant Bacchetti?”

Dino laughed. “Oh, no. Mr. Barrington is the one with money. He is a prominent attorney in New York, and an airplane company offered him the ride, with the hope of selling him a jet.”

“And will he buy one?”

Dino smiled. “Just between you and me, Mr. Barrington is not that rich, but he neglected to mention that to the salesman.”

DuBois did not smile. A car door slammed behind them.

Dino looked up to see Stone and Holly walking toward them.

“Ah,” duBois said, rising, “Mr. Barrington and Ms. Heller, I presume.”

“That’s right,” Stone said.

“Good. You are both under arrest.” He made a motion and the two police officers cuffed Stone’s and Holly’s hands in front of them.

“Colonel duBois,” Dino said, getting to his feet. “Why are you arresting my friends?”

DuBois turned and looked at Dino. “Lieutenant Bacchetti, I would advise you to mind your own business.”

Dino’s eyes flicked toward Stone and Holly; he saw a folded piece of paper fall at her feet, and she kicked it under the police car.

“Call the embassy, Dino,” Stone said, as they got into the back of the police car.

The car drove away.

“What was that all about?” Genevieve asked.

“I don’t know,” Dino said. He walked over to where the police car had been parked and retrieved the piece of paper Holly had dropped. When he unfolded it, he saw the photographs of the three men. “Robertson, Pemberton and Weatherby, I presume,” he said. Then he walked quickly to the phone.

43

The phone was answered by a young man. “United States Embassy,” he said.

“I don’t suppose you would connect me with the CIA station chief, would you?” Dino asked.

There was a brief silence. “Sir, what is the nature of your business?”

“Please give him or her a message,” Dino said. “Virginia Heller and Stone Barrington have just been arrested by a Colonel Marcel duBois of the Home Office, presumably in connection with the murder of Colonel Croft.”

“And your name, sir?”

“Dino Bacchetti; I am traveling with Ms. Heller and Mr. Barrington.” He gave the man the phone number at the inn. “I believe this to be a secure line,” he said, “since we disabled the bugs in the telephones. I can’t speak for your end.”

“I will pass on the message,” the young man said, then hung up.

James Tiptree’s phone rang, and he picked it up. “This is James Tiptree.”

“Scramble,” a voice said.

Tiptree pressed the button. “Scrambled.”

“Jim, this is Lance Cabot; we met some years ago in London.”

“Yes, Lance, I remember.”

“Have you received cable traffic regarding the replacement for Hugh English?”

Tiptree sat up straighter. “Not yet.”

“You should shortly. The cable will say that I have been appointed to replace Hugh.”

“Ah, well, congratulations, Lance.”

“Thank you. I’m calling to brief you with a situation on St. Marks.”

Tiptree immediately wondered what Cabot could know about St. Marks that he, himself, did not. “Yes?”

“I have an operative in St. Marks who is investigating the possibility that Teddy Fay is alive and on the island.”

Tiptree nearly laughed but decided silence was the better move.

“Are you acquainted with Teddy Fay?”

“I’ve heard about him, of course, but we never met.”

“My operative’s name is Holly Barker; she is using the cover of a real person named Virginia Heller, called Ginny, who operates a flying school in Florida, and she has a passport and other identification in that name.”

“Right.”

“She is traveling with two men, Stone Barrington and Dino Bacchetti, and a woman, Genevieve James. The two men are contract consultants to the Agency; the woman is just for color. They are traveling as vacationers and staying at the English Harbour Inn.”

“I understand; do they require my assistance?”

“Not at the moment, but I wanted you to be aware of their presence on the island. Barker and Barrington have already met with Bill and Annie Pepper. I had hoped to remove them all from the island tomorrow, but, as you know, travel restrictions have been imposed since the murder of Colonel Croft.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that; I was sitting on a bench next to Croft when the bullet struck him.”

“That must have been an interesting experience,” Lance said drily.

“Indeed; my clothes are at the cleaners.”

A young embassy officer knocked, entered Tiptree’s office and placed a sheet of paper on his desk. Tiptree nodded, and the man left.

“Lance,” Tiptree said, “it appears that Barker and Barrington do require my assistance. I’ve just received a telephone message from Bacchetti, saying that the two of them have been arrested by Croft’s successor, Colonel duBois, in connection with Croft’s assassination.”

“That’s preposterous,” Lance said. “They had nothing to do with it, but we suspect that Teddy Fay might have. Their only orders are to locate Teddy and verify his identity, then to report back to me.”

“Then I had better get over to police headquarters and see what I can do about shaking them loose before Colonel duBois gets too enthusiastic in their interrogation. I regard the man as worse than Croft, a loose cannon.”