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Jacqui smiled at us. 'Welcome to Aruk.'

'Something to eat?' said Creedman. 'I know it's early but I've found Chinese for breakfast a great pick-me-up. Probably all the soy sauce, gets that blood pressure up.'

'No thanks.'

'Okay,' said Creedman to Jacqui. 'Just beers.'

She left.

'Knife Castle?' said Robin.

'Local nickname for your lodgings. Didn't you know? The Japanese owned this island; Moreland's manse was their headquarters. They used the locals as slaves to do all the dirty work, imported more. Then MacArthur decided to take over everything from Hawaii to Tokyo and bombed the hell out of them. When the surviving Japanese soldiers were trying to entrench, the slaves grabbed any sharp thing they could find, left their barracks, and finished the job. Knife Island.'

I said, 'Dr. Moreland said it was because of the shape.'

Creedman laughed.

'Sounds like you've done some research,' I said.

'Old habits.'

Jacqui brought the beers and he threw a dollar tip at her. She looked irritated and left quickly.

Creedman lifted a bottle but instead of drinking rubbed the top of his hand against the glass.

'What brings you here?' I said.

'Little wind-down from reality. Running with the Beltway movers and shakers too long.'

'You covered politics?'

'In all its sleazy splendor.' He raised his bottle. 'To island torpor.'

The beer was ice-cold and terrific.

Robin took my hand. Creedman stroked the bottle some more, then the Filofax. 'I'm working on a book. Nonfiction novel- life-changes, isolation, internal revolution. The island mystique as it relates to the end-of-the- century zeitgeist.' He smiled. 'Can't really say more.'

'Sounds interesting,' I said.

'My publisher hopes so. Got them to pay me enough so they'll break their asses promoting.'

'Is Aruk your only subject or have you been to other islands?'

'Been traveling for over a year. Tahiti, Fiji, Tonga, the Marshalls, Guam, rest of the Marianas. Came here last year to start writing because the place is dead, no distractions.'

Taking a long swallow, he gave yet another closed-mouth laugh. 'So how long will you be here?'

'Probably a couple of months,' I said.

'What exactly are you here for?'

'Helping Dr. Moreland organize his data.'

'Medical data?'

'Whatever he's got.'

'Any specific diseases you're looking at?'

'No, just a general overview.'

'For a book?'

'If there's a book in it.'

'You're a psychologist, right?'

'Right.'

'So he wants you to analyze his patients psychologically?'

'We're still discussing the specifics.'

He smiled. 'What's that, your version of no comment?'

I smiled back. 'My version of we're still discussing the specifics.'

He turned to Robin. 'And you, Robin? What's your project?'

'I'm on vacation.'

'Good for you.' He faced me again. 'Another beer?'

'No thanks.'

'Good stuff, isn't it? Most of the packaged goods that get over here are from Japan. Marked up two, three hundred percent- ultimate revenge.'

He drained his bottle and put it down. 'I'll have you guys over for dinner.'

'Where do you live?' I said.

'Just up there.' He tilted his head toward the hillside. 'Spent a few days up at Moreland's but couldn't take it. Too intense- he is something, isn't he?'

'He seems very dedicated.'

'Easy to be dedicated when you're loaded. Did you know his father was a big San Francisco investment honcho?'

I shook my head.

'Big bucks. Mega. Owned a brokerage house, some banks, ranchland all over wine country. Moreland's an only child, inherited the whole kit and k. How else could he keep that place going? Not that it's going to matter. Lost cause.'

'What is?' said Robin.

'Saving this place. I don't want to put a downer on your trip, but Aruk's on the way out. No natural resources, no industry. No industriousness. Talk about your slackers- look at that beach. They don't even have the energy to swim. The smart ones keep leaving. Only a matter of time before it looks like one of those cartoon desert islands, shipwrecked loser under a palm tree.'

'I hope not,' said Robin. 'It's so beautiful.'

Creedman inched closer to her. 'Maybe so, Robin, but let's face it, ebb and flow is part of the life rhythm- that's a theme of my book.'

'How much of the island's decline is due to the Navy's blocking the southern road?' I said.

'Have you been to Stanton?'

'No.'

'If that's a base, I'm a sea anemone. The only incoming flights are to feed and clothe the skeleton crew that runs the place. Letting a few sailors come into town to get drunk and laid doesn't create a viable economy.'

'What happens to Stanton after the island closes down?'

'Who knows? Maybe the Navy will sell the island. Or maybe they'll just let it sit here.'

'The base has no strategic value?'

'Not since the Cold War ended. Main thing is there's no constituency here. Seagulls don't vote.'

'So you don't think the Navy's intentionally shutting the island down?'

'Who told you that?'

'A guest up at the estate suggested it.'

'Dr. Picker.' He chuckled. 'Kind of an asshole, isn't he? Couple more weeks in the sun, he'll be spotting Amelia Earhart skinny-dipping in the lagoon with Judge Crater. Sure you don't want another?'

I shook my head.

'Actually,' said Robin, petting Spike, 'we were going to do some snorkeling.'

We stood and I tried to put money on the table.

'On me,' said Creedman. 'How often do I get to have an intelligent conversation. And your pooch is okay, too. Didn't pee on me.'

He walked us back to the Jeep.

'I like to cook. Have you up for dinner sometime.'

We got in the car. He leaned into Robin's window and took off his sunglasses. His eyes were small and very dark, scanning slowly.

'There was a good reason for blockading the south road,' he said. 'Public safety.'

'Disease control?' I said.

'If you consider murder a disease. It happened half a year ago. Local girl found on the beach, right where you're headed. Raped and mangled pretty badly. The details never came out. Moreland can give them to you- he did