"There are a few marinas and coves along here on Shelter Island. Do you want to put in?"
"Do you?"
"Yes, but no."
"I'm with you," I said.
Finally, we got into the passage between the North Fork and Shelter Island. The mouth of the strait was about half a mile wide, and Shelter Island to the south had enough elevation and mass to block at least some of the wind. There was less howling and splashing, so we could talk easier, and the seas were just a bit calmer.
Beth stood and steadied herself by holding on to the grab handle mounted on the dashboard above the compamonway. She asked me, "What do you think happened that day? The day of the murders?"
I replied, "We know the Gordons left the harbor at Plum Island about noon. They went far enough offshore so that the Plum Island patrol boat couldn't identify them. The Gordons waited and watched with binoculars and saw the patrol boat pass. They then opened the throttles and raced toward the beach. They had forty to sixty minutes before the boat came around again. We established this fact on Plum Island. Correct?"
"Yes, but I thought we were talking about terrorists, or unauthorized persons. Are you telling me you were thinking about the Gordons even then?"
"Sort of. I didn't know why, or what they were up to, but I wanted to see how they could pull something off. A theft. Whatever."
She nodded. "Go on."
"Okay, they make a high-speed dash and get close to the shore. If a patrol vehicle or a helicopter spots their boat anchored, it's not a major problem because by now everyone knows who they are and recognizes their distinctive boat. Yet according to Stevens, no one did see their boat that day. Correct?"
"So far."
"Okay, it's a nice, calm summer day. The Gordons take their rubber raft onto the beach and drag it into the bush. On the raft the aluminum chest."
"And shovels."
"No, they've already uncovered this treasure and hidden it where they could get at it easily. But first, they had to do a lot of groundwork, like archival and archaeological work, buying the Wiley land, and so forth."
Beth thought a moment, then asked, "Do you think the Gordons were holding out on Tobin?"
"I don't think so. The Gordons would be satisfied with half the treasure, minus half of that to the government. Their needs weren't anywhere near what Tobin's were. And also, the Gordons wanted the publicity and the acclaim of being the finders of Captain Kidd's treasure." I added, "Tobin's needs, however, were different and his agenda was different. He had no scruples about killing his partners, taking the whole treasure, fencing most of it, and then discovering a small portion of it on his own land and holding an auction at Sotheby's, complete with media and the IRS guy in the back."
Beth reached under her slicker and retrieved the four gold coins. She held them out toward me, and I took one and examined it while I steered the boat. The coin was about the size of an American quarter, but it was heavy — the weight of gold always surprised me. The gold was amazingly bright, and I could see a guy's profile on it and some writing that looked Spanish. "This could be what's called a doubloon." I handed it back to her.
She said, "Keep it for luck."
"Luck? I don't need the kind of luck this brought to anyone."
Beth nodded, looked awhile at the three coins in her hand, then threw them over the side. I did the same.
This was an idiotic gesture, of course, but it made us feel better. I could understand the universal sailors' superstition about throwing something valuable — or someone — over the side to appease the sea and make it stop doing whatever the hell it was doing that was scaring the crap out of everybody.
So we felt better after we threw the gold overboard and sure enough the wind dropped a little as we made our way along the Shelter Island coast, and the waves had diminished in height and frequency as if the gift to the sea had worked.
The land masses around me looked black, totally devoid of color like piles of coal, while the sea and sky were an eerie gray luminescence. Normally at this hour, you could see lights along the coast, evidence of human habitation, but apparently the power was out all over and the coasts had slipped back a century or two.
All in all, the weather was still a horror show, and it would become deadly again once we cleared Shelter Island and got out into Gardiners Bay.
I knew I was supposed to turn on my running lights, but there was only one other boat out here, and I didn't want to be seen by that boat. I was certain he wasn't running with his lights either.
Beth said, "So the Gordons didn't have time to go back for a second load before the Plum Island patrol boat came around again."
"Right," I answered, "a rubber raft can hold only so much, and they didn't want to leave the bones and so forth unguarded on the Formula while they went back for a second trip."
Beth nodded and said, "So they decided to get rid of what they'd already recovered and come back for the main treasure some other time."
"Right. Probably that very night, if the temporary clove hitch was an indication." I added, "They had to pass Tobin's house on Founders Landing on the way back to their house. I have no doubt they pulled into his boathouse, maybe intending to leave the bones, the rotted sea chest, and the four coins — as a sort of souvenir of the find — at his house. When they saw that the Whaler was gone, they figured Tobin was gone, so they continued on to their house."
"Where they surprised Tobin."
"Right. He'd already ransacked their house to simulate a burglary, as well as to see if the Gordons were holding out on any treasure."
"Also, he'd want to see if there was any incriminating evidence in their house linking them to him."
"Exactly. So the Gordons pull into their dock, and maybe it's at this point that they raise the flags signaling Dangerous Cargo, Need Assistance." I added, "I'm sure they'd raised the Jolly Roger in the morning, signaling to Tobin that this was, indeed, the day as agreed. Calm seas, no rain, and a lot of confidence and good vibes, or whatever."
"And when the Gordons pulled into their dock, Tobin's Whaler was in the wetlands nearby."
"Yes." I thought a minute and said, "We'll probably never know what happened next — what was said, what Tobin thought was in the chest, what the Gordons thought Tobin was up to. At some point, all three of them knew that their partnership had ended. Tobin knew he'd never have another opportunity to murder his partners. So… he raised his gun, pressed on the handle of the air horn, and squeezed on the trigger of his pistol. The first round hits Tom in the forehead at close range, Judy screams and turns toward her husband and the second round hits her in the side of the head… Tobin stops squeezing the air horn. He opens the aluminum chest and sees that there isn't much gold or jewels in it. He figures the rest of the loot is on board the Spirochete, and he goes down to the boat and searches it. Nothing there. He realizes he's killed the geese that were supposed to deliver the golden eggs. But all is not lost. He knows or believes that he can complete the job himself. Right?"
Beth nodded, thought a moment, then said, "Or, Tobin has another accomplice on the island."
I said, "Indeed." I added, "Then killing the Gordons is no big deal."
We continued east through the passage, which is about four miles long and half a mile wide at its narrowest. It was definitely dark now — no lights, no moon, and no stars, only an ink-black sea and a smoke-black sky. I could barely see the channel markers, and if it weren't for them, I'd have been totally lost and disoriented, and would have wound up on the rocks or shoals.
To our left, I saw a few lights onshore, and realized we were passing Greenport where there was obviously some emergency generator lighting. I said to Beth, "Greenport."
She nodded.
We both had the same thought, which was to make for this safe harbor. I pictured us in some bar at a traditional hurricane party — candlelight and warm beer.