Impact

number.' He handed her a piece of paper. 'He'll help you.' He paused. 'I've decided to go public with this information.'

'The shit'll really hit the fan if you do that.'

'It's the only way. The world's got to know.' Ford took Abbey's shoulder in an affectionate grip, peering down at her from his massive frame, his unruly black hair sticking out every which way, his gray eyes steady. 'Promise me you'll stay on the island and lie low. Don't go tooling around in the boat. You've got enough supplies to last you a week.'

'Will do.' He squeezed her shoulder. 'Good luck, Abbey. You've been a great assistant. Sorry I got you mixed up in this.'

Abbey snorted. 'No problem, I enjoy stealing cars and getting shot at.'

He turned and she watched him stride up the gangplank, walk up the pier, and onto the road. After a moment his tall angular figure disappeared around a bend, and she felt a certain odd and unexpected loneliness take hold.

'Well, there goes Mr. CIA,' said Jackie. 'You fuck him yet?'

'Jackie, cut it out. He's twice my age. You've got sex on the brain.'

'Who doesn't?'

They cast off and Jackie lit up a joint as they cleared the harbor, Abbey driving the boat slowly, enjoying the evening. The great bulk of Monroe Island loomed in front, covered with trees. A steady swell broke on Cutters Nubble, a reef beyond the southern end of the island, the cadence of the surf as regular as a slow clock. Abbey made a wide berth around the Nubble, and as they cleared it, a buttery full Moon rose over the limb of the ocean. A group of guillemots winged home low and fast across the water, like flying bullets, while an osprey, far overhead, headed back to his nest with a fish, still wiggling, clasped in its talons.

'Man, look at that,' said Jackie, gazing eastward at the full Moon. 'Looks like you could almost touch it.'

Abbey eased the throttle forward, turning the wheel, and set the Marea II toward the Muscle Ridge Islands, a line of black humps on the horizon, four miles distant. It all looked so peaceful, so perfect, so timeless . . . It seemed surreal that somewhere up there, on a distant moonlet, there might be a weapon taking aim, right now, at the Earth. And that in a split second, all of this could be gone.

67

Burr tossed the cigarette into the wake and looked around once more with the binoculars. The sun had set and most of the fishing boats had disappeared, but here and there he could still see the odd boat, loaded with traps, churning along toward some home port or other. From time to time he'd spied a lone motor yacht or sailboat cruising along--but no Marea II. He hadn't realized just how big the coast was and how many damn islands there were. And it seemed likely that they had gone to ground anyway or were doing whatever the hell it was they were doing, far from prying eyes. For the first time, he began to worry that he might not complete the assignment.

He lit up another cigarette, his eighth. Usually he paced himself, smoking no more than seven a day, but this was a bad day.

He strolled into the open pilothouse and stared at the chartplotter.

'Where are we now?'

'We're just leaving the north end of Muscongus Bay.'

'Where to?'

'Penobscot Bay opens up on the far end of the channel.'

Burr grunted, inhaled. 'It's almost dark. I think we should find a place to hove to for the night.'

'We're not going to hove to. We're going to keep looking. We got radar, we got GPS. We can cruise these islands all night, looking for boats in out-of-the-way places.'

Burr grunted. 'How are you going to see it in the dark?'

'Full Moon tonight. On the water under a full Moon it's almost like day.'

He glanced up. 'What about this storm?'

'We'll deal with it when it comes. This is a fine, seaworthy boat.'

'Good enough.'

He went to the gunwale and finished up the cigarette. It was getting dark and there was no sign of the approaching storm. He tossed the butt overboard. In the distance he could see the dim outline of another lobster boat, crossing the far end of the channel--appearing from behind a large island and heading out instead of in. He quickly raised the binoculars. It was just light enough to make out the name painted on the stern.

Marea II.

Making an effort to control his excitement, he examined the boat more carefully. He could barely make out what looked like two figures in the pilothouse. Ford and the girl. This was an amazing stroke of luck. The boat was heading for a cluster of islands east of the channel.

Burr had already worked out in his head what he would do when he found his quarry. He reached into his holster and pulled out the Desert Eagle. No need for the noise suppressor, which was damned awkward, they were at least a mile offshore. He walked up behind Straw, who had just lifted the binoculars to look at the boat. A quick intake of breath.

'See that boat?' he cried. 'It's the Marea II! They're heading for the Muscle Ridge Islands.' He swung around. 'All right. We did it. Your plan worked. Now we call in the cavalry and get that son of a bitch.' He reached up for the VHF.

Burr gently placed the muzzle of the gun against the back of his head. 'Do exactly what I say, Straw, or I'll kill you.'

68

As the Marea II slipped into the cluster of islands, Abbey throttled back to four knots. Little Green lay almost in the center of the grouping and it had only two approaches, one from the northwest and another from the east. Both were tight, with sunken rocks and reefs all around, and the approach took a high degree of caution. Twilight had descended and the first stars were appearing in the night sky.

The islands passed by, dark and silent. With her eye fixed on the chartplotter, Abbey maneuvered the boat through the winding channels until Little Green came into view, a long island forested in spruce, with a half-moon cove in the middle and a meadow above, at the far end of which stood the old fishing shack.

She carefully brought the boat into the cove and Jackie dropped anchor. It splashed into the water and the chain rattled out of the locker. As soon as the anchor was set, Abbey killed the engine.

In the ensuing silence she noticed the distant sound of another boat, somewhere among the islands to the west of them.

They got into the dinghy and rowed to shore. Inside the shack, Jackie turned on lights while Abbey put kindling in the small stove.

'Hamburgers?' Jackie asked, rummaging in the cooler.