"The treasure may have been originally found near the beach, maybe on one of these bluffs-maybe these are Captain Kidd's Ledges-but the Gordons would most likely move the loot out of the shaft or hole where they'd uncovered it, because the hole could easily collapse and they'd have to dig again. Right?"
"Probably."
"I think the Gordons hid the treasure somewhere in or around Fort Terry or maybe that maze of artillery fortifications that we saw when we were here."
"Possible."
"So, assuming Tobin knows where it is, he now has to pack it out, through the woods and back here. It may take two or three trips depending on how heavy the loot is. Right?"
"Could be."
"So, if I were him, I'd go get the loot, bring it back here, then get it down to the Whaler. I wouldn't try to get the Whaler back to the Chris-Craft in this weather, or try to transfer the treasure in those waves. Right?"
"Right."
"So, he's going to wait in the Whaler until the storm blows out, but he'd want to get moving before dawn, before the helicopter and boat patrols get out and about. Right?"
"Right again. So?"
"So, we have to try to follow his trail and jump him as he's recovering the loot. Right?"
"Right-no, not right. I don't follow that line of reasoning."
"It's complicated, but logical."
"It's actually bullshit, John. Logic says we stay here. Tobin will be back here no matter what, and we'll be waiting for him."
"You can wait for him. I'm going to track down the son of a bitch."
"No, you're not. He's better armed than you are, and I'm not giving you my piece."
We looked at each other, and I said, "I'm going to find him. I want you to stay here, and if he shows up while I'm gone-"
"Then he's probably killed you. Stay here, John. There's safety in numbers." She added, "Get rational."
I ignored this and knelt beside her. I took her hand and said, "Go down to the Whaler. That way, you can see him if he comes along the beach or if he goes down the rope. Take cover down there among the rocks. When he's so close to you that you can see him clearly in the dark, put the first round in his midsection, then move in fast and close and put a bullet in his head. Okay?"
She didn't reply for a few seconds, then she nodded. She smiled and said, "Then I say, 'Freeze, police!' "
"Right. You're learning."
She drew her 9mm Clock and held it out to me. She said, "I only need one shot if he comes back here. Take this. It has four rounds left. Give me yours."
I smiled and said, "The metric system confuses me. I'll stick with my real American.38 caliber six-shooter."
"Five-shooter."
"Right. I have to remember that."
"Can I talk you out of this?"
"No."
Well, a quick kiss might have been appropriate, but neither of us was in the mood, I guess. I did squeeze her hand and she squeezed back, and I stood, turned, and walked through the trees, away from the windy bluff and away from Beth.
Within five minutes, I came to the gravel road again. Okay, I am Fredric Tobin now. I might have a compass, but whether or not I do, I'm smart enough to know I should put a blaze mark of some kind on one of these trees to show me where I am on this road relative to my landing spot on the beach.
I looked around and sure enough, I found a white length of cord tied between two trees about ten feet apart. I took this to be Tobin's compass heading, and though I had no compass, and no Empire State Building to guide me, it appeared that Tobin had gone almost due south. I struck out through the trees, trying to maintain that heading.
In truth, if I hadn't gotten lucky and hadn't found anything to indicate where Tobin had gone, I might have turned back and rejoined Beth. But I had this feeling-amounting to almost an assurance-that something was pulling and pushing me toward Fredric Tobin and Captain Kidd's treasure. I had a clear vision of me, Tobin, and the treasure all together, and in the shadows around us were the dead-Tom and Judy, the Murphys, Emma, and Kidd himself.
The land rose and I soon found myself at the edge of a clearing. On the other side of the clearing, I could make out two small buildings silhouetted against the dark horizon. I realized I was at the edge of the abandoned Fort Terry.
I searched around for a marker and found a length of rope hanging from a tree. This was Tobin's exit point from the woods, and it would be his entry point when he returned. Apparently, the inertial navigation system in my head was working fairly well. If I was a migrating bird heading south, I'd be right on track to Florida.
It was no surprise that Tobin was heading to Fort Terry. Virtually all the roads and paths on Plum Island converged there, and there were hundreds of good hiding places among the abandoned buildings and nearby artillery bunkers.
I knew if I waited right there, I'd be able to ambush him when he returned. But I was in more of a hunter-stalker mood than a patient ambusher mood.
I waited a few minutes, trying to determine if anyone with a rifle was waiting for me on the far side of the clearing. From a hundred war movies, I knew I wasn't supposed to cross a clearing-I was supposed to go around. If I did that, though, I'd either miss Tobin, or get myself lost. I had to go the route he'd gone. The rain was getting heavier and the wind was picking up. I was miserable. I put my head back, opened my mouth, and got some fresh water on my face and down my throat. I felt better.
I entered the clearing and continued in a southerly direction across the open land. The cloth around my feet was in tatters and my feet were sore and bleeding. I kept reminding myself that I was tougher than twinkle-toes Tobin, and that all I needed was one bullet and a knife.
I approached the end of the field and saw that a thin treeline separated the field from the large expanse of Fort Terry. I had no way of knowing where he'd headed, and there'd be no further markings because the buildings were now his landmarks. All I could do was press on.
I zigzagged from one building to another, looking for some sign of Tobin. After about ten minutes, I found myself near the old headquarters building. I realized that I'd lost him, that he could have gone anywhere from here-south to the seal beach, or west toward the main building, or east out onto the pork chop bone. Or, he could be waiting somewhere for me to get closer. Or, I could have somehow missed him, as I'd done on the water, and he was behind me. Not good.
I decided to check out the rest of the buildings in the fort, and I began moving in a running crouch toward the chapel. All of a sudden, I heard a gunshot ring out, and I dived to the ground. I stayed motionless as another shot rang out. They were oddly muffled shots, not followed by a sharp crack, or by anything whistling over my head. I realized the shots weren't meant for me.
I sprinted to the side of the clapboard chapel and looked toward the direction where I thought the shots had come from. I could see the fire station about fifty yards away, and it occurred to me that the shots were fired inside, which was why they were muffled.
I started to move toward the firehouse, but hit the ground again as one of the big overhead doors began to open. It seemed as if it was going up in short lurches, as if someone were opening it with a pulley rope, and I figured the electric power was out here. In fact, in the upstairs windows, I saw a flickering light-candle or kerosene.
Anyway, before I had to decide what to do next, a big ambulance without any lights showing came out of the garage bay and turned onto the road, heading east toward the narrow bone of land where the ruined artillery batteries were.
The ambulance had a high chassis and ran easily over the deadfall on the road. Soon, it disappeared in the dark.
I ran as quickly as I could barefoot toward the firehouse, drew my revolver, and dashed in through the open garage door. I could make out three fire trucks in the garage.
I had been in the rain so long that the lack of ram felt sort of strange for about ten seconds, but I got used to it real fast.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw a fire pole toward the rear of the garage, and the flickering light from the bunkroom upstairs filtered down through the hole in the ceiling. To the left of the pole, I saw a wide staircase. I went to the staircase and climbed the creaky steps, my pistol out front. I knew there was no danger to me, and I knew what I was going to find.