Dr. Zollner again nodded.
Foster concluded, "I would recommend a permanent detachment of Marines at Fort Terry."
I was anxious to get out of the orange locker room and into the sunlight, so I moved toward the door and everyone followed.
Out in the big, gleaming lobby, Dr. Z looked for Beth, still not getting it.
Anyway, we all walked to the reception counter where we exchanged our white plastic chain passes for the original blue clip-on ones. I said to Zollner, "Is there a gift shop where we can buy souvenirs and T-shirts?"
Zollner laughed. "No, but I'll suggest it to Washington. In the meantime, you should pray that you haven't picked up a souvenir of another kind."
"Thanks, Doc."
Dr. Zollner looked at his watch and said, "You can catch the 3:45 ferry if you wish, or you can come back to my office if you have anything further to discuss."
I'd wanted to go back to the artillery batteries and explore the underground passages, but I thought if I suggested that, I'd have a mutiny on my hands. Also, to be honest, I was not up to another trek around the island.
I said to Dr. Zollner, "We await the boss. We don't make major decisions without her."
Dr. Z nodded and smiled.
It appeared to me that Zollner didn't seem particularly worried about any of this-about people questioning his security or his biocontainment procedures, or even about the possibility that his two star scientists stole something good and valuable, or something bad and deadly. It occurred to me that Zollner was not worried because even if he'd somehow screwed up or if he could be held accountable for someone else's screwup, he was already off the hook-he'd already cut his deal with the government; he was cooperating in a cover-up in exchange for a free pass on this problem. There was also a possibility, however remote, that Dr. Z killed the Gordons or knew who killed them. As far as I was concerned, everyone who was close to the Gordons was a suspect.
Beth came out of the ladies' locker room and joined us at the reception counter. I noticed that she hadn't done a complete paint-by-numbers job, and her cheeks glowed with that freshly scrubbed look.
She exchanged passes, and Dr. Zollner related his offers and our options.
Beth looked at us and said, "I've seen enough, unless you want to do the underground bunkers or something else."
We all shook our heads.
She said to Dr. Zollner, "We reserve the right to revisit the island anytime until this case is closed."
"As far as I'm concerned, you're welcome anytime." He added, "But it's not my decision."
A horn sounded outside, and I looked through the glass doors. A white bus was out front, and a few employees were boarding.
Dr. Z said, "Forgive me if I don't accompany you to the ferry." He shook hands with all of us and bid us fond adieu, with not a hint of good riddance. A real gentleman.
We went out into the sunlight, and I breathed gallons of fresh air before boarding the bus. The driver was another security guy, and I guess he was our escort.
There were only six employees on the bus, and I didn't recognize any of them from our tour.
The bus made the five-minute trip to the dock and stopped.
We all got out and walked to the blue and white ferry, The Plum Runner. We went into the big cabin, the horn sounded, and we cast off.
The five of us remained standing, making small talk. One of the boat's crew, a weather-beaten gent, came around and collected our passes. He said, "So, did you like the island of Dr. Moreau?"
This literary reference took me aback coming from an old salt. We chatted with the guy for a minute and learned his name was Pete. He also told us that he felt pretty bad about the Gordons.
He excused himself and went up the stairs that led to the top deck and the bridge. I followed, and before he opened the door to the bridge, I said, "Got a minute?"
"Sure."
"Did you know the Gordons?"
"Sure did. We rode this boat together for two years on and off."
"I was told they used their own boat to commute."
"Sometimes. Nice new Formula 303. Twin Mercs. Fast as hell."
Time to be blunt. I asked, "Any chance they were running drugs with that thing?"
"Drugs? Hell, no. They couldn't find an island much less a drug ship."
"How do you know?"
"I talked boats with them once in a while. They couldn't navigate worth a damn. They didn't even have a navigation system on board. You know?"
"Right." Now that he mentioned it, I never saw a satellite nav device on board. But if you were a drug runner, you needed a satellite navigation device. I said to Pete, "Maybe they were pulling a fast one on you. Maybe they were the best navigators since Magellan."
"Who?"
"Why do you think they couldn't navigate?"
"I tried to get them into the Power Squadron course. You know? And they weren't interested."
Pete was a little dense. I tried again. "Maybe they were making believe they couldn't navigate. You know, so no one would think they were running drugs."
"Yeah?" He scratched his head. "Maybe. Don't think so. They didn't like the open water. If they were in their boat and they saw the ferry, they'd get on the leeward side and stay with us all the way. They never liked to lose sight of land. Does that sound like a drug runner to you?"
'I guess not. So, Pete, who killed them and why?" He did a theatrical double take, then said, "Damned if I know."
"You know you thought about it, Pete. Who and why? What did you first think? What did people say?"
He hemmed and hawed, then replied, "Well, I guess I thought they stole something from the lab. You know? Like something to wipe out the world. And they were going to sell it to foreigners or something. You know? And the deal went bad, and they got knocked off."
"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."