"The Golden Rule according to Fredric Tobin-whoever has the gold makes the rules."

He chuckled. Sometimes I pissed him off, sometimes I made him laugh. In the absence of another cop, I had to play both good cop and bad cop. It's enough to make a guy schizoid.

Tobin was saying, "The Gordons came to me and asked if I'd consider working out a deal with the government whereby we'd get a fair share of the treasure as a finder's fee, and the rest would go into new state-of-the-art lab equipment with some money left over for a Plum Island recreational facility, a day care center on the mainland for employees' children, some environmental cleanup on the island, and historical restoration and other worthwhile projects on Plum Island. We would be heroes, philanthropists, and legitimate." Tobin paused a second, then said, "I told them I thought it was a wonderful idea. Of course, at that point, they were as good as dead."

Poor Tom, poor Judy. They were completely out of their league when they made their pact with Fredric Tobin. I said, "So, the Fredric Tobin Toddler Town didn't appeal to you?"

"Not one bit."

"Oh, Freddie, you just act tough. I'll bet you have the heart of a young boy." I added, "I'll bet you keep it in a jar on your mantelpiece."

Again, he chuckled. Time to change his mood once more and keep him interested in the conversation. I said, "By the way, the storm destroyed your vineyards and your boathouse. I wrecked your wine cellar and also your apartment in Tobin Tower. I just wanted you to know that."

"Thank you for sharing that. You're not very diplomatic, are you?"

"Diplomacy is the art of saying nice doggy, until you can find a rock."

He laughed. "Well, you're out of rocks, Mr. Corey, and you know it."

"What do you want, Tobin?"

"I want to know where the treasure is."

This sort of surprised me, and I replied, "I thought it was here."

"So did I. It was here in August when the Gordons took me on a private archaeological tour of the island. It was right here in this room, buried under old ammunition crates. But it's not here any longer." He added, "There was a note."

"A note? Like a fuck-you note?"

"Yes. A fuck-you note from the Gordons saying they moved the treasure, and if they had met an untimely end, then the treasure's location would never be rediscovered."

"So, you fucked yourself. Good."

Tobin replied, "I can't believe they didn't share this secret with someone they trusted."

"They may have."

He said to me, "Someone like you. Is that how you knew this had nothing to do with germ warfare? Is that how you knew about Captain Kidd's treasure? Is that how you knew I was involved? Answer me, Corey."

"I figured everything out all by myself."

"Then you have no idea where the treasure is now?"

"Not a clue."

"Too bad."

The automatic came up again into the firing position.

"Well," I said, "I might have a small clue or two."

"I thought you might. Did they send you a posthumous letter?"

No, but I wish they had. I'said, "They gave me some hints that didn't make any sense to me, but they might to you."

"Such as?"

"Wel l… hey, how much do you think it's worth?"

"Worth to you? Or worth all together?"

"All together. I just want ten percent if I help you find it."

He shone the flashlight on my chest, just below my chin, and he regarded me awhile. He asked me, "Are you playing games with me, Mr. Corey?"

"Not me."

Tobin stayed silent awhile, torn between his burning desire to plug me right then and there, and his faint hope that I might actually know something about what happened to the treasure. He was grasping at straws, and he knew it on the one hand, but he couldn't come to terms with the fact that the whole scheme had come apart, that he was not only broke and wiped out, but that the treasure was missing, years of work were down the tube, and he stood a very good chance of being tried for murder, convicted, and deep-fried.

Finally, Tobin said, "It was incredible, really. Not only were there gold coins but also jewels… jewels from the Great Mogul of India… rubies and sapphires and pearls set in the most exquisite gold settings… and bags and bags of other precious stones… There must have been ten or twenty million dollars' worth of jewels… maybe more…" He made a small sighing sound and said to me, "I think you know all of this. I think the Gordons either took you into their confidence, or left you a letter."

I really wish they'd done one or the other, preferably the former. However, they'd done neither, though maybe they'd intended to. But as I suspected, the Gordons had apparently given Tobin the impression that John Corey, NYPD, knew a little something; and that was supposed to keep them alive, but it hadn't. It was keeping me alive at the moment, but not for many more moments. I said to Tobin, "You knew who I was when I came to see you at the vineyard."

"Of course I did. Did you think you're the only clever man in the world?"

"I know I'm the only clever man in this room."

"Well, if you're so damned clever, Mr. Corey, why are you standing there with your hands on your head and why do I have the gun?

"Good point."

"You're wasting my time. Do you know where the treasure is?"

"Yes and no."

"Enough. You have five seconds to tell me. One-" He steadied his aim.

"What difference does it make where the treasure is? You'll never get away with the treasure or the murders."

"My boat is equipped to take me as far as South America. Two-"

"Get a grip on reality, Freddie. If you're picturing yourself on a beach with native girls feeding you mangoes, forget it, pal. Give me the gun, and I'll see that you don't fry. I swear to God you won't fry." I'll kill you myself.

"If you know anything, you should tell me. Three-"

"I think Stevens figured out some of this. What do you think?"

"It's possible. Do you think he has the treasure? Four-"

"Freddie, forget the fucking treasure. In fact, if you go outside and listen carefully, you'll hear the biohazard warning siren. There's been a leak. We all have to get to a hospital in the next few hours or we'll be dead."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not. Didn't you hear the siren?"

He stayed quiet for a long time, then said, "I guess it is over, one way or the other."

"Right. Let's make a deal."

"What sort of deal?"

"You give me the gun, we get out of here and get to your boat, quick, then to a hospital. We talk to the DA about your voluntary surrender and you get out on bail, then a year from now, we go to trial and everyone has his or her chance to tell lies. Okay?"

Tobin stayed silent.

Of course, the chance of getting out on bail on a charge of multiple murder was zero; also note I didn't use words like arrest or jail or anything negative like that. I said, "I really will go to bat for you if you voluntarily turn yourself over to me." Right, pal. "Really. Cross my heart."

He seemed to be contemplating this offer. This is a tricky and sticky moment because he had to choose between fight, flight, or surrender. I kept in mind that Tobin was a lousy long-shot gambler with an ego too big to cash in when he was down.

He said, "It occurs to me that you're not here as a law officer."

I was afraid he'd figure that out.

"It occurs to me that you've taken all of this personally. That you'd like to do to me what I did to Tom, Judy, the Murphys, and Emma…"

Of course, he was dead right, and that made me dead anyway, so I dived left, out of the beam of light, into the dark, and shoulder-rolled across the floor. Tobin swung the flashlight and fired, but I was much farther across the floor than he'd judged. In fact, I did another roll in the opposite direction as the shot echoed and covered the sound of my movement. I got the knife out of my pants before it sliced off my dick.