We looked at the chart. Mary drew her fingernail along the easternmost edge of the shoal.
'They slid the boat up here in the falling tide,' she said. 'Then they worked on the hull or whatever in the dark.'
'And I happened to see them. I bet they still had the guns aboard too. I think that's why Allan Hart died.'
'Really, how come?'
'Well, they're sitting in the harbor waiting to get the hull fixed and who appears but a diver, poking around under their hull. Also, do you remember the diving cap Allan was wearing? Remember it was loaned to him, a U.S. Navy cap?'
'They saw it and panicked.'
'Could have happened. They could, have beaned him right there in the harbor thinking he was on to them.'
'But why did they let the boat be hauled up into that place?'
'What choice did they have? They had to skedaddle and you can't do that with a boat that's going to sink. They had a quick patch job done and then split. We saw them leaving. I've never seen a boat more determined to make time than the Penelope was.'
“So you think our theory is pretty good?' she asked.
'I think it's just dandy. I had considered the Longstreet before but never in a specific way. Your little explanation seems to put the cap on it. Also, they haven't shelled the wreck in two years, so even though it's officially prohibited, and no doubt treacherous, it's safe from bombs. Yeah-you and your brother are to be congratulated.'
“You're pretty sure Rose is a decoy?'
'Yep. I bet you Schilling and his people are operating out of Plymouth. It's pretty far from Gloucester; it's near Boston and Southie, and it's big.'
'Well we're going to drop this thing anyway, right?'
The phone rang; it was Brian Hannon.
'Just touching base, Doc. Remember, don't go anywhere far without letting me or my office know, huh? I've got people watching your house and loved ones. You try to go
anywhere, I'm gonna follow you like B.O.'
'You remind me a bit of B.O.'
'That's not funny.'
I thanked him and hung up.
'I wonder if Jim's put Whimsea up for the winter yet?'
'One more fishing trip?'
I nodded.
'My hand's almost as good as new. That means I'll be returning to work shortly. I'd like to enjoy thoroughly what little screw-off time is left to me. I think I'll give him a jingle.'
But before I reached the phone, it rang out.
'This Doctor Adams?'
'Yes, who's this?'
'Now listen heer, Doctor. I'm tremendous upset you set yer goons ta watchin' that barn, don't ya know? They're muckin' up me plans. Now you call 'em off or there'll be the devil pay. You tell 'em. I was kind the first time but twawnt be again-'
The line went dead.
'Who was that?'
'Wrong number,' I answered, and dialed Jim DeGroot.
'I am amenable to such an excursion, especially since you have volunteered to buy all the gas,' said Jim languidly as he stretched his feet out on the rattan stool of his screen porch. We were sitting out in the fall sunshine, watching the colors beginning to turn, and exercising our livers. 'But we'd better do it this weekend 'cause it's getting close to the end of the season. Think there'll be any stripers there?'
'Probably tautog. They're thick in that part of the Bay because they feed off the quahogs and scallops. Got teeth in 'em like a gravel crusher. But I also want to do some snooping around and I can't use my boat; they're already on to it. Uh, don't mention this last bit to Mary or Janice, OK?'
DeGroot rattled the cubes in his empty glass and pondered. He said he didn't want anyone shooting at us. I told him there was scarcely a chance of that; we'd be fishermen. So we struck the bargain. Next Thursday we'd head south to Plymouth, then over to Wellfleet and the Bay, then back to Plymouth. It would cost me a small fortune in gasoline, but I felt I had to take one more try.”
Mary and Janice were none too pleased. But we emphasized it was a fishing trip, nothing else. I suggested that Mary stay at DeGroot's during my absence. This was arranged to everyone's satisfaction. My children had let me know their whereabouts, via Brian Hannon's office. Tony, his summer 'job' ended, had taken up residence at the home of a girl he'd met at the resort. I phoned him there.
'Do her parents think it's OK?'
'Oh sure,' he answered.
'May I speak with one of them please?'
'They're, uh, not here right now.'
'Well when are they expected back?'
'Pretty soon. Look I have to-'
'Wait. When is pretty soon? Half an hour?'
'Next month actually.'
''Next month? Where are they?'
'Sri Lanka.'
A female voice cut in. It was young and delicious.
'Doctor Adams? Hi! I'm Jennie! Listen there's really nothing to worry about. You see my older brother and his girl are here too and-'
'I'm so glad. You can? t imagine my relief. May I speak with my son alone for a second please?'
'Dad?'
'Look. I'll be brief and direct. Keep it in your pants until you've taken all the pills. Secondly, don't come near the house. You can reach Mother at the DeGroots'. Good-bye.'
I called Jack at Woods Hole. He was staying in a dorm at the Biological Station with some friends. He asked if Jim and I were to visit The Breakers, and I told him it was unlikely and for him to stay clear of the place.
Thursday afternoon at one, we left.
Before heading for the Cape Ann Marina I checked Gloucester's main harbor. The Rose was still there, deserted. I called Joe at the Commonwealth Avenue headquarters.
'I take it nothing has happened regarding the Rose.'
'Nope. But it will. You have any ideas?'
'No. You remember Jim DeGroot? Well, we're taking off for a few days aboard his boat. Why don't you jot down a few particulars, so in case we don't turn up you'll know where to look. But don't tell Brian Hannon I called you.'
'He just called me. Wanted to know where you were. Said he was going to stick to you like Duco.'
'Well tell him then; just don't let him bother me. Now take this down, and Mary's number too.'
We purred out of the marina by the south route. Plymouth lay forty-five miles to the south, a straight shot. As we passed Marblehead I had an urge to zip into the harbor there. But why? If Schilling were active, we'd never recognize the boat he was using. The only hope we had was to see if by chance we couldn't run across his track in the two places I'd seen him before. In short, we had to forget Salem, Marblehead, Lynn, Swampscott, Boston, Winthrop, Scituate, Cohasset-all the harbors between Gloucester and Plymouth. And I knew the odds of laying eyes on him were remote indeed. If I were him I'd lay low as a hibernating woodchuck for a couple of months. But
