We all considered that scenario. Of course you have to wonder, if the transfer had taken place at sea, why wasn't the murder also done at sea? When homicide guys talk about the perfect murder, they talk about murder on the high seas-little or no forensic evidence, usually no noise, no witnesses, and most times no body. And if it's done right, it looks like an accident.

It stands to reason that pros who just copped a lethal bug are not going to draw attention to it by killing two Plum Island people on their back deck. Still, it was supposed to look like the Gordons surprised a burglar. But whoever staged that wasn't very convincing. This whole thing looked amateurish, or maybe it was done by foreigners who didn't watch enough American cop shows on TV. Or, something else.

And what about those five and a half hours between the time the Gordons left Plum Island at noon, and the time Mr. Murphy said he heard the Gordons' boat at 5:30? Where were they?

Max said, "That's about all we have at the moment, John. We'll have the lab reports tomorrow, and there are people we have to speak to tomorrow. Can you suggest anyone we ought to see? Friends of the Gordons?"

"I don't know who the Gordons were friends with, and to the best of my knowledge, they had no enemies." I said to Mr. Nash, "Meanwhile, I want to speak to the people on Plum Island."

Mr. Nash replied, "It may be possible for you to speak to some people who work on Plum Island." He added, "But in the interest of national security, I must be present at all interviews."

I replied in my best New York obnoxious tone, "This is a murder investigation, remember? Don't pull that crap on me."

It got a little frosty in the kitchen. I mean, I work with FBI and Drug Enforcement types now and then, and they're okay people-they're cops. However, these spooks, like Nash, are real pains in the ass. The guy wasn't even saying if he was CIA, Defense Intelligence, Military Intelligence, or some other weird outfit. What I knew for sure was that he wasn't from the Department of Agriculture.

Max, feeling I suppose like the host at this gathering of egos, said, "I don't have any problem with Ted Nash being present at any interviews or interrogations." He looked at Penrose.

My buddy Beth gave me a curt glance and said to Nash, the eye-fucker, "I have no problem with that either."

George Foster pointed out, "Any meeting, interview, interrogation, or working session at which Ted is present, the FBI will also be present."

I was really getting the crap kicked out of me, and I was wondering if Max was going to pull the plug on me.

The reasonable Mr. Foster went on, "My area of concern is domestic terrorism. Ted Nash is concerned with international espionage." He looked at me, Max, and Penrose, and said, "You are investigating a homicide under New York State law. If we all keep out of one another's way, we'll be fine. I won't play homicide detective if you won't play defenders of the free world. Fair? Logical? Workable? Absolutely."

I looked at Nash and asked him bluntly, "Who do you work for?"

"I'm not at liberty to say at this time." He added, "Not the Department of Agriculture."

"Fooled me," I said sarcastically. "You guys are sharp."

Penrose suggested, "Detective Corey, can we have a word outside?"

I ignored her and pressed on with Mr. Nash. I needed to get seven points on the board, and I knew how to do it. I said to Nash, "We'd like to go to Plum Island tonight."

He looked surprised. "Tonight? There aren't any ferries running-"

"I don't need a government ferry. We'll take Max's police boat."

"Out of the question," said Nash.

"Why?"

"The island is off-limits," he said.

"This is a murder investigation," I reminded him. "Didn't we just agree that Chief Maxwell, Detective Penrose, and I are investigating a murder?"

"Not on Plum Island you're not."

"We sure are." I love this stuff. I really do. I hoped Penrose was seeing what a putz this guy was.

Mr. Nash said, "There is no one on Plum now."

I replied, "There are security people on Plum now, and I want to speak to them. Now."

"In the morning and not on the island."

"Now, and on the island, or I'll get a judge out of bed and get a search warrant."

Mr. Nash stared at me and said, "It is unlikely that a local judge would issue a search warrant for U.S. government property: You would need to involve an assistant United States attorney and a federal judge. I assume you know that if you're a homicide detective, and what you may also know is that neither a U.S. attorney nor a federal judge will be enthusiastic about issuing such a warrant if it involves national security." He added, "So don't bluff and bluster."

"How about if I threaten?"

Finally, Max had had enough of Mr. Nash, whose sheep's clothing was slipping. Max said to Nash, " Plum Island may be federal land, but it's part of the Township of Southold, the County of Suffolk, and the State of New York. I want you to get us authorization to go to the island tomorrow, or we'll get a court order."

Mr. Nash now tried to sound pleasant. "There's really no need to go to the island, Chief."

Detective Penrose found herself on my side, of course, and said to her new friend, "We have to insist, Ted."

Ted? Wow, I really missed some stuff in the lousy hour I was late.

Ted and Beth looked at each other, tortured souls, torn between rivalry and ribaldry. Finally, Mr. Ted Nash, of the Bug Security Agency or whatever, said, "Well… I'll make a call about that."

"Tomorrow, a.m.," I said. "No later."

Mr. Foster didn't let the opportunity pass to tweak Mr. Nash and said, "I think we're all in agreement that we're going out there tomorrow morning, Ted."

Mr. Nash nodded. By now he'd stopped batting his eyelids at Beth Penrose and was concentrating his passions on me. He looked at me and said, "At some point, Detective Corey, if we determine that a federal crime has taken place, we probably won't need your services any longer."

I had reduced Teddy-boy to pettiness, and I knew when to leave well enough alone. I'd come back from a verbal drubbing, slain the slick Ted, and reclaimed the love of Lady Penrose. I'm terrific. I was really feeling better, feeling like my old unpleasant self again. Also, these characters needed a little fire under their asses. Rivalry is good. Competition is American. What if Dallas and New York were pals?

The other four characters were now making small talk, rummaging around the cardboard box and doing coffee stuff, trying to re-establish the amity and equilibrium that they'd established before Corey showed up. I got another beer from the fridge, then addressed Mr. Nash in a professional tone. I asked him, "What kind of bugs do they play around with on Plum? I mean, why would anyone, any foreign power, want bugs that cause hoof-and-mouth disease or Mad Cow Disease? Tell me, Mr. Nash, what I'm supposed to worry about so when I can't get to sleep tonight, I have a name for it."

Mr. Nash didn't reply for a good while, then cleared his throat and said, "I suppose you should know how high the stakes are here…" He looked at me, Max, and Penrose, then said, "Regardless of your security clearance, or lack of, you are sworn police officers, so-"

I said amiably, "Nothing you say will leave this room." Unless it suits me to blab it to someone else.

Nash and Foster looked at each other, and Foster nodded. Nash said to us, "You all know, or may have read, that the United States no longer engages in biological warfare research or development. We've signed a treaty to that effect."

"That's why I love this country, Mr. Nash. No bug bombs here."

"Right. However… there are certain diseases that make the transition between legitimate biological study and potential biological weapons. Anthrax is one such disease. As you know"-he looked at Max, Penrose, and me-"there have always been rumors that Plum Island is not only an animal disease research facility, but something else."