"And you don't think that anymore?"

'"Well, I heard something different."

"Like what?"

"Like what they stole was a vaccine worth millions." He looked at me. "Is that right?"

"That's it."

"They wanted to get rich quick and instead they got dead quick."

"The wages of sin is death."

"Yup." Pete excused himself and went into the wheelhouse.

It was interesting, I thought, that Pete, and probably everyone else, including yours truly, had the same initial reaction to the Gordons' deaths. Then, on second thought, I came up with drug running. Now we're doing vaccine. But sometimes your first reaction, your gut reaction, is the right one. In any event, what all three theories had in common was money.

I stood on the top deck and watched the green shore of Plum Island recede into the distance. The sun was still high in the west, and it felt good on my skin. I was enjoying the ride, the smell of the sea, even the movement of the boat. I had the disturbing thought that I was going native. Next I'd be shucking clams, whatever that means.

Beth Penrose came up on deck and watched the ship's wake awhile, then turned and leaned back against the rail, her face into the sun.

I said to her, "You predicted what Zollner was going to say."

She nodded. "It makes sense, and it fits the facts, and it resolves the problem we had with believing the Gordons were capable of stealing deadly organisms, and also the problem we had believing they were running drugs." She added, "The Gordons stole something good. Something profitable. Money. Money is the motivator. Saint-seducing gold, as Shakespeare said."

"I think I've had enough Shakespeare for this year." I mulled a moment and said, "I don't know why I never thought of that… I…mean, we were so hung up on plague and stuff, we never thought of the antidotes-vaccines, antibiotics, and antivirals, and all of that. That is what the scientists are studying on Plum, and that is what the Gordons stole. Gee whiz, I'm getting dumb."

She smiled, then said, "Well, to tell you the truth, I started thinking about vaccines and all of that last night-then when Stevens mentioned foot-and-mouth vaccine, I knew where that was going."

"Right. Now everyone can rest easy. No panic, no hysteria, no national emergency. Jeez, I thought we'd all be dead by Halloween."

We looked at each other, and Beth said, "It's all a lie, of course."

"Yeah. But it's a really good lie. This lie takes the heat off Plum Island and off the Feds in general. Meanwhile, the FBI and CIA can work the case quietly without us and without media attention. You, Max, and I just got dealt out of the Plum Island part of this case."

"Right. Though we still have a double homicide to solve. On our own."

"That's right," I said to Beth, "and I think I'm going to miss Ted Nash."

She smiled, then looked at me with a serious expression and said, "I wouldn't cross a man like that."

"Screw him."

"So, you're a tough guy."

"Hey, I took ten slugs and finished my coffee before I walked to the hospital."

"It was three, you spent a month in the hospital, and you're still not completely recovered."

You've been talking to Max. How sweet."

She didn't respond. She rarely took the bait, I noticed. I'd have to remember that.

She asked me, "What did you think of Stevens?"

"The right man for the right job."

She asked, "Does he lie?"

"Of course." How about Zollner?"

"I liked him."

'Does he lie?"

Not naturally, the way Stevens does. He's been prompted though. Rehearsed."

She nodded, then asked, "Is he running scared?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Nothing to be frightened about. It's all under control. Stevens and Zollner have made their deals with the government."

She nodded in understanding. "That was my impression. The cover-up was conceived, written, and directed late last night, early this morning. The lights burned all night in Washington and on Plum Island. This morning, we saw the play."

"You got it." I added, "I told you not to trust those two jokers."

She nodded again, then said, "I've never been in a situation where I couldn't trust the people I was working with."

"I have. It's a real challenge-watch your mouth, cover your ass, grow eyes in the back of your head, smell for rats, and listen for what's not said."

She glanced at me and asked, "Were you feeling okay back there?"

"I'm feeling fine."

"You should get some rest."

I ignored this and said to her, "Nash has a teeny weenie."

"Thank you for sharing that with me."

"Well, I wanted you to know because I saw that you were interested in him, and I didn't want you wasting your time with a guy who has a third pinky between his legs."

"That's very thoughtful of you. Why don't you mind your own business?"

"Okay."

The sea got a little choppier in the middle of the Gut, and I steadied myself against the rail. I looked at Beth, who had her eyes closed now, and with her head tilted back was catching a few UVs. I may have mentioned that she had one of those cupid-like faces, innocent and sensuous at the same time. Early thirties, as I said, and once married, as she said. I wondered if her ex was a cop or if he hated her being a cop, or what the problem was. People her age had some baggage; people my age have whole warehousesful of steamer trunks.

Her eyes still closed, Beth asked me, "What would you do if you were handed a disability retirement?"

"I don't know." I considered, then replied, "Max would hire me."

"I don't think you're supposed to do police work if you get a three-quarter. Do you?"

"I guess not. I don't know what I'd do. Manhattan is expensive. That's where I live, I think I'd have to move. Maybe out here."

"What would you do out here?"

"Grow wine."

"Grapes. You grow grapes and make wine."

"Right."

She opened her blue-green eyes and looked at me. Our eyes met, searched, penetrated, and all that. Then she closed her eyes again.

Neither of us spoke for a minute, then she opened her eyes and inquired, "Why don't we believe the Gordons stole a miracle vaccine in order to make a fortune?"

"Because that still leaves too many questions unanswered. First, what's with the power boat? You don't need a one-hundred-thousand-dollar boat to make a one-time score of golden vaccine. Right?"

"Maybe they knew they were going to steal the vaccine, so they knew they could afford the boat eventually, and they had some fun. When did they buy the boat?"

"April last year," I replied. "Right before the boating season. Ten thou down, and they're financing the rest."

"Okay, why else don't we believe the Plum Island version of events?"

"Well, why would the customers of this vaccine have to murder two people? Especially if the person or persons on the Gordons' deck couldn't be sure of what the Gordons were delivering in the ice chest."

She said, "As for the murders, we both know people are killed for small reasons. As for the goods in the chest… what if the Gordons had accomplices on Plum who loaded the vaccine on their boat? The person on Plum calls the person or persons who are waiting for the Gordons and says the goods are on the way. Think accomplice on Plum Island. Think Mr. Stevens. Or Dr. Zollner. Or Dr. Chen. Or Kenneth Gibbs. Or anyone on the island."

"Okay… we'll put that in the clue bag."

"What else?" she asked.

Well, I'm no geopolitical expert, but Ebola is pretty rare, and the chances of the World Health Organization or the affected African governments ordering this stuff in quantity seem a little remote. People are dying in Africa of all sorts of preventable diseases, like malaria and tuberculosis, and no one is buying two hundred million doses of anything for them."