The Formula was being tossed around so badly now that I was totally disoriented. There were times when I realized we were literally airborne, and I knew that the boat-which had shown good stability in the water-could actually flip upside down in midair, I think it was only the bilgewater that kept us hull-side down during our launches into the stratosphere.

I'd had the presence of mind to cut the throttles to idle as soon as I saw that the propellers were spending more time in the air than the water. Fuel management is a long-term strategy, and I was in a short-term situation-but, hey, you never know.

Beth was clinging tighter, and if it weren't for our imminent deaths by drowning, I might have found this pleasant. As it was, I hoped the physical contact gave her some comfort. I know it did for me. She spoke again into my ear and said, "If we go in the water, hold me tight."

I nodded. I thought again of how Tobin had already killed five good people and was about to be the cause of two more dying. I couldn't believe that this little turd had actually caused all this death and misery. The only explanation I had for it was that short people with beady eyes and big appetites were ruthless and dangerous. They really had a bone to pick with the world. You know? Well, maybe there was more to it.

Anyway, we were blown through the Gut like a spitball through a straw. Ironically, I think it was the very ferocity of the storm that got us through okay, and we were probably on an incoming tide, I mean, the whole thrust of the sea, wind, and tide was north, which sort of canceled out the usual treacherous swirling of the wind and the tides in the Gut. Sort of like the difference between being caught in a flushing toilet bowl or being in the waste pipe, to stretch an analogy.

We were in the Long Island Sound now, and the seas and wind were a little better. I revved up the engines and headed the boat east.

Beth was still behind me, holding on, but not as tight.

Off to our fight front was the dark shape of the old Plum Island Lighthouse. I knew if we could get behind that headland, we would be a little more protected from the wind and seas, just as we had been when we had Shelter Island between us and the storm. Plum Island was not as elevated as Shelter Island, and it was a lot more exposed to the open Atlantic, but it should offer some protection.

Beth said, "Are we alive?"

"Sure." I added, "You were very brave. Very calm."

"I was paralyzed with fear."

"Whatever." I took one hand off the wheel and squeezed her right hand, which was clamped on to my tummy.

So, we got on the leeward side of Plum Island, and we passed the lighthouse on our right. I could see now into the lantern of the lighthouse, and what I saw was a green dot, sort of following us. I drew Beth's attention to it, and she said, "Night-seeing device. We're being watched by some of Mr. Stevens' men."

"Indeed," I agreed. "That's about all the security they have left on a night like this."

The wind was partly blocked by Plum Island, and the sea was just a bit calmer. We could hear the waves crashing up on the beach about a hundred yards away.

Through the driving rain, I could see a glow of lights behind the trees, and I realized this was the security lighting of the main laboratory building. This meant the generators were still working and this in turn meant that the air filters and scrubbers were still doing their job. It would have been really unfair if we'd survived the storm, landed on Plum Island, and died of anthrax. Really.

Beth let go of me and squeezed out of her nook between my seat and my butt. She stood beside me, holding the grip on the dashboard. She asked me, "What do you think happened to Tobin?"

"I think he continued on around the south end of the island. I think he thinks we're dead."

"Probably," Beth replied. "I thought so, too."

"Right. Unless he has radio contact with someone on Plum Island who knows from the guy in the lighthouse that we made it."

She thought a moment and asked, "Do you think he has an accomplice on Plum Island?"

"I don't know. But we're about to find out."

"Okay… so where is Tobin going now?"

"There's only one place he can go and that's right here, on this side of the Island."

She nodded. "In other words, he's coming around from the other direction, and we'll meet him coming at us."

"Well, I'll try to avoid that. But he's definitely got to get on the leeward side if he's going to anchor and get onto the beach with that Whaler."

She thought a moment, then asked, "Are we going to land on the island?"

"I hope so."

"How?"

"I'll try to run up on the beach."

She took the chart out again and said, "There are rocks and shoals along most of this beach."

"Well, pick a place where there aren't any rocks or shoals."

"I'll try."

We moved east for another ten minutes. I looked at the fuel gauge and saw it read Empty. I knew I should make my run to the beach now because if I ran out of fuel, we'd be at the mercy of the weather, and we would either blow out to sea or wash up onto the rocks. But I wanted to at least catch sight of Tobin's boat before I beached.

Beth said, "John, we're about out of gas. You'd better head in."

"In a minute."

"We don't have a minute. It's about a hundred yards to the beach. Turn now."

"See if you can spot the Chris-Craft in front of us."

The binoculars were still on the strap around her neck, and she raised them and peered out over the bow. She said, "No, I don't see any boat. Turn into the beach."

"Another minute."

"No. Now. We did all of this your way. Now we do it my way."

"Okay…" But before I began my turn into the beach, the wind suddenly dropped and I could see this incredible wall of towering clouds rising above us. More incredibly, I saw the night sky overhead, circled by these swirling walls of clouds, as if we were at the bottom of a well. Then I saw stars, which I never thought I'd see again.

Beth said, "The eye is passing over us."

The wind was much calmer though the waves weren't. The starlight filtered into this sort of round hole, and we could see the beach and the sea.

Beth said, "Go for it, John. You won't get another chance like this."

And she was right. I could see the breaking waves so I could time them, and I could also see any rocks protruding out of the water as well as shoaling waves, which indicated shoals and sandbars.

"Go!"

"One minute. I really want to see where that bastard made land. I don't want to lose him on the island."

"John, you're out of gas!"

"Plenty of gas. Look for the Chris-Craft."

Beth seemed resigned to my idiocy, and she raised the binoculars and scanned the horizon. After what seemed like a half hour, but was probably a minute or two, she pointed and called out, "There!" She handed me the binoculars.

I looked into the rainy darkness and sure enough, silhouetted against the dark horizon, was a shape that could have been the fly bridge of the Chris-Craft-or could have been a pile of rocks.

As we got a little closer, I saw that it was definitely the Chris-Craft, and it was relatively motionless, indicating that Tobin had at least two anchors out, bow and stern. I handed Beth the binoculars. "Okay. We're going in. Hold on. Look for rocks and stuff."

Beth knelt on her seat and leaned forward, her hands gripped on the top of the glassless windshield frame. Whenever she moved, I could tell by the expression on her face that she was in some pain from her wound.

I turned the Formula 90 degrees to starboard and pointed the bow at the distant beach. Waves began breaking over the stern, and I gave the engines more gas. I needed about one more minute of fuel.

The beach got closer and more distinct. The waves smashing onto the sand were monstrous and getting louder as we got closer. Beth called out, "Sandbar right ahead!"