“What made the trawler explode?”
“I believe it may have been propelled by a gasoline engine, and as the trawler passed us, there seemed to be a fire belowdecks, perhaps in the engine room.”
“That would account for one explosion,” the captain said.
“Perhaps they had two engines, or just two fuel tanks,” Stone offered.
“Did you know anyone aboard the trawler?”
“I didn’t see any familiar faces,” Stone replied.
Someone came on deck behind Stone and approached the table. “Perhaps I can be of assistance,” Lance Cabot said. He handed the captain his card and sat down.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the captain said, in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “We have the honor to be in the august presence of the director of Central Intelligence.”
“The honor is mine,” Lance replied, absent the sarcasm.
“Enlighten us, Director Cabot,” the captain said.
“Those aboard the trawler had been identified by one of our officers as members of a gang of Russian criminals, who held a grudge against one or more of those sailing aboard Breeze.”
“Which ones?” the captain demanded.
“I’m very much afraid that I must invoke national security in not replying to your question. The answer is not relevant to our discussion, in any case. Suffice it to say that they were being hunted as prey by evil men, and the actions taken aboard this yacht were entirely in response to those initiated aboard the trawler. It would seem that in their chase of the yacht they overtaxed their engines and started a fire on board.” Lance handed the captain a large brown envelope. “This was taken about half an hour before the resulting explosions. Note the smoke streaming from the engine bay.”
The captain removed a photograph from the envelope, looked at it, then passed it around the table. “You were flying over the scene, were you?”
“Not exactly,” Lance replied. “That photograph was produced by means that I cannot identify — once again, for reasons of national security. You have my assurance that it has been in no way doctored, except to be enlarged.”
“So you take it that no one aboard the yacht had any part in starting that fire?”
“I do. At the time it was taken, which is stamped in a corner, shots had not yet been fired from either vessel, so their engine fire was entirely self-generated.”
The captain seemed somewhat deflated, as if he had intended to tear into everybody. “Does anyone have any questions?” he asked, looking around the table.
His question was met by silence. Everyone looked anywhere but at him.
“Well, then,” the captain said, stuffing the satshot into his briefcase. “I find that no offense was committed by anyone aboard this yacht, and that the offenders, whoever they were, caused the damage to their own vessel and their own deaths.” He stood, and everyone stood with him. They filed to the boarding stairs and off the yacht.
Stone emitted a sigh of relief. “Just in time, Lance.”
“He did seem upset, didn’t he?”
“I think he was looking forward to personally conducting a hanging,” Stone replied.
“I enjoy disappointing authority,” Lance said, “unless the authority is mine.”
“Will you stay aboard for dinner?” Stone asked.
“I will, thank you, and if you’re headed back to Teterboro, I would be grateful for a lift.”
“I’ll order the aircraft for eight o’clock,” Stone said.
59
The group was all pretty quiet on the flight home. Vanessa slept, unfortunately, fully clothed. Everyone deplaned, Stone last, because he had to find his briefcase. When Stone came down the stairs he looked around and Vanessa was gone. Lance rode in with Stone because, as it turned out, he was begging a bed as well.
Helene made a late-night nibble and a nightcap for them, and they sat in Stone’s study. “Fill in the blanks for me, Lance,” Stone said.
“There are no blanks to fill,” Lance replied. “You know everything you should know, perhaps even more than you should know.”
Stone took a breath to ask a question, but Lance stilled him with a raised hand. “Either you already know the answer to your question, or you should not know. I thought I explained that.”
“So I can never ask a question again?”
“Not on the subject of the past few weeks.”
“I don’t suppose I should ask where Vanessa went, then?”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Lance said, patting his pockets and coming up with an envelope. “She asked me to give you this after we got home.”
Stone opened the envelope and took out a single sheet of paper. The note was brief:
My dear Stone,
I want to thank you for all your kindnesses of the past weeks. I have enjoyed myself immensely.
Now, I fear, I must cease to exist, so we will not speak again.
Stone turned to Lance, who held up a restraining hand. “You either know, or shouldn’t,” he said.