Stevens looked toward the bus, but the driver was just staring up at a flock of geese. Stevens glanced at his watch and said, "Well, let's see the rest of the island, then we have an appointment with Dr. Zollner."

We boarded the bus and off we went, heading east into the rising sun, out toward the spit of land that was the curved bone of the pork chop. The beach was magnificent, about two miles of unlittered, untrodden sand washed by the blue waters of the Long Island Sound. No one spoke in the presence of this majestic display of nature. Not even me.

Stevens, still standing, glanced at me now and then, and I smiled at him. He smiled back. It was not a really fun kind of smile.

Finally, at the narrow end of the island, the bus stopped, and Mr. Stevens said, "This is as far as we can go with the bus. Now we walk."

We all got out of the bus and found ourselves in the middle of an amazing old ruin. Wherever I looked, I saw massive concrete fortifications overgrown with vines and brush-pillboxes, bunkers, gun emplacements, ammunition magazines, tunnels, brick and concrete roadways, and huge, three-foot-thick walls with rusty iron doors in them.

Stevens said, "One of these underground passages leads to a secret laboratory where captured Nazi scientists are still working to develop the ultimate, indestructible virus that will wipe out the world's population.

He let that sink in a second or two, then continued, "In another underground laboratory is the preserved remains of four aliens that were recovered from the UFO crash in Roswell, New Mexico."

Again, there was a silence. Finally, I said, "Can we see the Nazi scientists first?"

Everyone laughed-sort of.

Mr. Stevens smiled his winning smile and said, "These are two of the absurd myths associated with Plum Island." He added, "People report seeing strange-looking aircraft taking off and landing after midnight on the parade ground. They claim AIDS was originated here and also Lyme disease." He looked around and said, "I guess these old fortifications with all the underground passages and rooms can play on some fertile imaginations. You're welcome to look around. Go anywhere you please. If you find the aliens, let me know." He smiled again. He had a really weird smile, and I thought maybe he was an alien. Mr. Stevens said, "But, of course, we all have to stay together. I need everyone in my sight at all times."

This didn't quite square with, "Go anywhere you please," but it was close enough. So, John, Max, Beth, Ted, and George reverted to adolescence and had some fun climbing around the ruins, up staircases, over parapets and all that, with Mr. Stevens always close by. At one point we walked along a long brick roadway that sloped down to a pair of steel doors. The doors were ajar, and we all went inside. It was dark, cool, damp, and probably crawling with things.

Stevens followed us and said, "This leads into a huge ammunition magazine." His voice echoed in the black void. "There was a narrow-gauge railroad on the island that carried the ammunition and gunpowder from the harbor to these underground storage areas. It's a very complex and sophisticated system. But, as you can see, it's entirely abandoned. There is nothing secret that goes on here." He said, "If I had a flashlight, we could go farther, and you'd see that no one lives, works, plays, or is interred in here."

"Then where are the Nazis and the aliens?" I inquired.

"I moved them to the lighthouse," replied Mr. Stevens.

I asked him, "But you can see our concern that the Gordons could have set up a clandestine lab in a place like this?"

Mr. Stevens replied, "As I said, I don't suspect the Gordons of anything. But because this possibility was raised, I'm having my men search this entire complex. Also, there are about ninety aboveground abandoned military buildings all over the island. We have a lot of searching to do."

I said, "Send your driver for a bunch of flashlights. I'd like to look around."

There was a silence in the darkness, then Stevens said, "After you see Dr. Zollner, we can come back here and explore the underground rooms and passages if you wish."

We walked back into the sunlight and Stevens said, "Follow me."

We followed him and came onto a narrow road that led toward the eastern tip of Plum Island -the end of the curved bone. As we walked, Stevens said, "If you look around, you can see more gun emplacements. We once used these circular gun walls as animal pens, but now all animals are kept inside."

Beth remarked, "That sounds cruel."

Mr. Stevens replied, "It's safer."

Finally, we reached the easternmost tip of the island, a bluff rising maybe forty feet above a rock-strewn beach. Erosion had undermined a concrete bunker, and it lay in pieces down the face of the bluff and some of it had tumbled into the water.

It was a magnificent view, with the shoreline of Connecticut faintly visible to the left, and straight ahead a speck of land called Great Gull Island, about two miles away.

Stevens directed our attention to the south and said, "Do you see that rock pile there? That island was used for artillery and bombing practice. If you're a boater, you know to stay away from there because of all the unexploded shells and bombs in the area. Past that rock pile is the north shore of Gardiners Island, which, as Chief Maxwell knows, is the private property of the Gardiner clan and is off-limits to the public. Beyond Great Gull is Fishers Island, which, like Plum, was frequented by pirates in the 1600s. So, from north to south we have Pirates' Island, Plague Island, Perilous Island, and Private Island." He smiled at his wit; appropriately it was a half smile.

Suddenly, we saw one of the patrol boats rounding the headland. The crew of three spotted us, and one of the men raised a pair of binoculars. Recognizing Paul Stevens, I suppose, the man waved, and Stevens waved back.

I looked down from the bluff at the beach below and noticed that the sand here had horizontal stripes of red, like a white layer cake with raspberry filling.

A voice called out behind us, and I saw the bus driver walking up the narrow road. Stevens said to us, "Stay here," and went to meet the driver. The driver handed Stevens a cell phone. This is the part where the guide disappears, and we see the bus driving off, leaving Bond alone with the girl, but then frogmen come out of the water with submachine guns and open fire, then the helicopter-

"Detective Corey?"

I looked at Beth. "Yes?"

"What do you think so far?"

I noticed that Max, Nash, and Foster were climbing over and around the gun emplacements, and, macho men that they were, they were discussing artillery ranges, calibers, and guy stuff.

I was alone with Beth. I said, "I think you're swell."

"What do you think about Paul Stevens?"

"Nuts."

"What do you think about what we've seen and heard so far?"

"Packaged tour. But now and then, I learn something."

She nodded, then asked, "What's with this archaeological stuff? Did you know about that?"

"No." I added, "I knew about the Peconic Historical Society, but not about the archaeological digs here. For that matter, the Gordons never once mentioned that they bought an acre of useless land overlooking the Sound."

"What useless acre on the Sound?"

"I'll tell you later." I said, "There's like all these little pieces, you know, and they sort of point to drug running, but maybe they don't. There's something else going on here… Did you ever hear a ping in your head?"

"Not lately. Do you?"

"Yeah, sounds like a sonar ping."

"Sounds like three-quarter disability."

"No, it's a sonar wave. The wave went out, it hit something, and it came back. Ping."

"Next time you hear it, raise your hand."

"Right. I'm supposed to be resting, and you've been upsetting me since I met you."