All in all, the weather was still a horror show, and it would become deadly again once we cleared Shelter Island and got out into Gardiners Bay.

I knew I was supposed to turn on my running lights, but there was only one other boat out here, and I didn't want to be seen by that boat. I was certain he wasn't running with his lights either.

Beth said, "So the Gordons didn't have time to go back for a second load before the Plum Island patrol boat came around again."

"Right," I answered, "a rubber raft can hold only so much, and they didn't want to leave the bones and so forth unguarded on the Formula while they went back for a second trip."

Beth nodded and said, "So they decided to get rid of what they'd already recovered and come back for the main treasure some other time."

"Right. Probably that very night, if the temporary clove hitch was an indication." I added, "They had to pass Tobin's house on Founders Landing on the way back to their house. I have no doubt they pulled into his boathouse, maybe intending to leave the bones, the rotted sea chest, and the four coins-as a sort of souvenir of the find-at his house. When they saw that the Whaler was gone, they figured Tobin was gone, so they continued on to their house."

"Where they surprised Tobin."

"Right. He'd already ransacked their house to simulate a burglary, as well as to see if the Gordons were holding out on any treasure."

"Also, he'd want to see if there was any incriminating evidence in their house linking them to him."

"Exactly. So the Gordons pull into their dock, and maybe it's at this point that they raise the flags signaling Dangerous Cargo, Need Assistance." I added, "I'm sure they'd raised the Jolly Roger in the morning, signaling to Tobin that this was, indeed, the day as agreed. Calm seas, no rain, and a lot of confidence and good vibes, or whatever."

"And when the Gordons pulled into their dock, Tobin's Whaler was in the wetlands nearby."

"Yes." I thought a minute and said, "We'll probably never know what happened next-what was said, what Tobin thought was in the chest, what the Gordons thought Tobin was up to. At some point, all three of them knew that their partnership had ended. Tobin knew he'd never have another opportunity to murder his partners. So… he raised his gun, pressed on the handle of the air horn, and squeezed on the trigger of his pistol. The first round hits Tom in the forehead at close range, Judy screams and turns toward her husband and the second round hits her in the side of the head… Tobin stops squeezing the air horn. He opens the aluminum chest and sees that there isn't much gold or jewels in it. He figures the rest of the loot is on board the Spirochete, and he goes down to the boat and searches it. Nothing there. He realizes he's killed the geese that were supposed to deliver the golden eggs. But all is not lost. He knows or believes that he can complete the job himself. Right?"

Beth nodded, thought a moment, then said, "Or, Tobin has another accomplice on the island."

I said, "Indeed." I added, "Then killing the Gordons is no big deal."

We continued east through the passage, which is about four miles long and half a mile wide at its narrowest. It was definitely dark now-no lights, no moon, and no stars, only an ink-black sea and a smoke-black sky. I could barely see the channel markers, and if it weren't for them, I'd have been totally lost and disoriented, and would have wound up on the rocks or shoals.

To our left, I saw a few lights onshore, and realized we were passing Greenport where there was obviously some emergency generator lighting. I said to Beth, "Greenport."

She nodded.

We both had the same thought, which was to make for this safe harbor. I pictured us in some bar at a traditional hurricane party-candlelight and warm beer.

Somewhere to our right, though I couldn't see it, was Dering Harbor on Shelter Island, and I knew there was a yacht club there where I could put in. Greenport and Dering Harbor were the last of the big easily navigable ports before the open sea. I looked at Beth and reminded her, "As soon as we clear Shelter Island, it's going to get rough."

She replied, "It's rough now." She shrugged, then said, "Let's give it a shot. We can always turn back."

I thought it was time to tell her about the fuel, and I said, "We're low on gas and at some point out in Gardiners Bay, we will reach that legendary point of no return."

She glanced at the gas gauges and said, "Don't worry about that. We'll capsize long before then."

"That sounds like some idiotic thing I'd say."

She smiled at me, which was unexpected. Then she went below and came back with a lifesaver, meaning a bottle of beer. I said, "Bless you." The boat was banging around so badly, I couldn't put the neck of the bottle to my lips without knocking my teeth out, so I poured the beer into my upturned and open mouth, getting about half of it on my face.

Beth had a plastic-coated chart, which she spread out on the dashboard and said, "Coming up on our left over there is Cleeves Point, and to the right over there is Hays Beach Point on Shelter Island. When we pass those points, we're in this sort of funnel between Montauk Point and Orient Point where the Atlantic weather blows right in."

"Is that good or bad?"

"This is not funny."

I took another swig of the beer, an expensive imported brand, which is what I'd expect from Fredric Tobin. I said, "I sort of like the idea of stealing his boat and drinking his beer."

Beth replied, "Which has been the most fun-wrecking his apartment or sinking his boat?"

"The boat is not sinking."

"You ought to go look below."

"I don't have to-I can feel it in the helm." I added, "Good ballast."

"You're a real sailor all of a sudden."

"I'm a quick learner."

"Right. Go take a break, John. I'll take the helm."

"Okay." I took the chart, gave the wheel to Beth, and went below.

The small cabin was awash in about three inches of water, which meant we were taking in more water than the bilge pumps could handle. As I indicated, I didn't mind a little water to add weight and ballast to make up for the lighter fuel tanks. It was too bad the engine wouldn't burn water.

I went into the head and retched about a pint of saltwater into the toilet. I washed the salt off my face and hands, and came back into the cabin. I sat on one of the bench beds, studied the chart, and sipped my beer. My arms and shoulders ached, my legs and hips ached, and my chest was heaving, though my stomach felt better. I stared at the chart for a minute or two, went to the bar refrigerator and found another beer, which I carried topside along with the chart.

Beth was doing fine in the storm, which, as I said, wasn't too bad here on the leeward side of Shelter Island. The seas were high, but they were predictable, and the wind at sea level wasn't so bad as long as the island sheltered us.

I looked out at the horizon and was able to see the black outline of the two points of land that marked the end of the safe passage. I said to Beth, "I'll take the wheel. You take the chart."

"Okay." She tapped the chart and said, "There's some tricky navigating coming up. You have to stay to the right of Long Beach Bar Lighthouse."

"All right," I replied. We exchanged places. As she sidestepped past me, she glanced toward the stern and let out a scream.

I thought it must be a monster wave that caused that reaction and I looked quickly back over my shoulder as I took the wheel.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing-a huge cabin cruiser, a Chris-Craft to be exact, the Autumn Gold to be specific-was no more than twenty feet off our tail on a collision course and gaining fast.