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."
"Right… but we don't understand the ins and outs of the trade in legitimate therapeutic drugs, whether they're stolen, black market, copied, or otherwise."
"Okay, but you agree that the Gordons stealing this vaccine sounds implausible?"
She replied, "No. It's plausible. I just feel it's a lie."
"Right. It's a plausible lie."
"A terrific lie."
"A terrific lie," I agreed. "It changes the case."
"It sure does. What else?"
"Well," I said, "there's the chart book. Not much there, but I'd like to know what 44106818 means."
"Okay. And how about the archaeology on Plum?" she asked.
"Right. That was a complete surprise to me and raises all sorts of questions," I said.
"Why did Paul Stevens give us that?"
"Because it's public knowledge, and we'd hear about it soon enough."
"Right. What's the meaning of the archaeological stuff?"
"I have no idea." I added, "But it has nothing to do with the science of archaeology. It was a cover for something, a reason to go to remote parts of the island."
She said, "Or, it may be meaningless."
"It may be. And then we have the red clay that I saw in the Gordons' running shoes and which I saw on Plum. The route from the main lab, into the parking lot, onto the bus, then to the dock has no place where you could pick up soft red clay in your treads."
She nodded, then said, "I assume you took some of the clay when you went to tinkle?"
I smiled. "As a matter of fact, I did. But when I got dressed in the locker room, someone had been kind enough to launder my shorts."
She cracked, "I wish they'd done the same for me."
We both smiled.
She said, "I'll request soil samples. They can decontaminate them if they get hung up on the 'Never Leave' policy." She added, "You tend to take the direct approach, I see, such as filching the financial printouts, then stealing government soil, and who knows what else you've done. You should learn to follow protocols and procedures, Detective Corey. Especially since this is not your jurisdiction or your case. You're going to get into trouble, and I'm not going to stick my neck out for you."