“You said throw you the other end.”
“I didn’t mean two hundred feet of it!” Stone paid out forty feet of rope, then made it fast to a stern cleat. “Okay, I’ve got it,” he yelled.
“What do I do now?”
“Go back to the bridge and steer the boat.”
“Steer it where?”
“Just keep it headed upstream behind the dinghy!”
“Okay, okay.” Dino went aft toward the bridge.
“And when we pass back under the bridge, don’t let the yacht hit it!” Stone screamed.
“Thanks,” Dino called back. “I needed to be told that!”
Stone put the engine in gear and slowly went forward until the rope was taut. For a long moment nothing happened. He applied more power and finally, the dinghy began to move forward an inch at a time, then a foot. The bows of the yacht fell into line behind him, and he aimed at the center of the bridge.
Slowly, with the outboard engine making a loud racket, the yacht moved under, then away from the bridge.
“What now?” Dino yelled from the bows.
“Go back to the wheel! I’m going to try to bring the yacht alongside where we were tied up before. Find some more ropes, and as soon as we’re by the seawall, make one end fast to the yacht and jump ashore with the other end!”
“Okay!” Dino yelled, and went aft again.
The seawall came into sight now, illuminated by a dock light and the lights on the garden paths ashore. Stone could see Juanito and the yacht’s skipper standing on the wall, looking at them. He towed the yacht past the seawall, then, very slowly, made a 180-degree turn and started back toward the yacht’s berth.
“Easy!” somebody yelled from ashore. “Cut your power, and she’ll drift in.”
Stone did as he was told. Gradually, the big yacht drifted toward the seawall, then Dino was throwing ropes to the men ashore. Five minutes later, the yacht was secure.
Stone scrambled up a ladder to shore and tied the dinghy to the ladder.
The skipper approached. “What the hell happened? Did you decide to go for a cruise?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stone said. “I was asleep, and somebody cut our lines.”
“Untied them,” the skipper said.
Dino walked over. “Yeah, they were just hanging in the water.”
“I tried to start the engines,” Stone said, “but we couldn’t find the ignition key.”
“In my pocket,” the skipper said, holding up the key. “Well, she’s secure, now. Why don’t you go back to bed, and we’ll try to figure this out in the morning.”
“Good idea,” Stone said, and he and Dino trudged back aboard.
“Are you thinking Dolce?” Dino asked as he paused at his cabin door.
“Maybe. Or maybe our friend Manning.”
“Some friend.”
“Yeah.”
The two men said good night and went to bed. It took Stone a long time to get to sleep.
57
Stone and Dino barely made it on deck in time for lunch the following day. They had the afterdeck to themselves, and they had just finished their omelettes when two men in suits emerged from the house and made their way toward the yacht.
“Ten to one they’re FBI,” Dino said.
“No bet,” Stone replied. He knew how Dino hated FBI agents, and his own experience with them as a cop had not been wonderful.
“Nobody else looks quite like that. What the hell do they want?”
“I think we’re about to find out,” Stone said, as the two men came up the gangplank.
“Either one of you Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti of the NYPD?” one of them asked without preamble.
“Who wants to know?” Dino asked.
Both men whipped out ID.
“Wow, I’m impressed. I’m Bacchetti. Why are you disturbing my vacation?”
“We want to ask you some questions,” the first agent said.
“See me in my office in New York,” Dino said. “I’ll be back next week.”
“It’s in connection with a bank robbery in Arlington, Virginia, four years ago,” the man said.
“I didn’t do it,” Dino said, “and I can probably come up with an alibi.”
The man turned to Stone. “Who are you?” he demanded.
Stone started to reply, but Dino interrupted. “None of your fucking business,” he said. “Now get off my yacht.”
The agent looked around. “Yours, huh? Pretty fancy for a New York cop. I wonder what your Internal Affairs people would have to say about this.”
Dino began laughing, and so did Stone.
“What’s so funny?” the agent asked, annoyed.
“You be sure and mention my yacht to Internal Affairs,” Dino said. “I’d enjoy their reaction. Now, will you people go away?”
“Look,” the agent said, “maybe we got off on the wrong foot, here. My name is Miles, and this is my partner, Nevins. We’d really appreciate your help, Lieutenant Bacchetti.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Dino said expansively. “Have a seat.” He kicked chairs in the agents’ direction, and they both sat down.
“Can I get you something?” Dino asked, the generous host, now that he had brought the two men into line.
“No, thanks,” Miles said.
“What can I do for you?” Dino asked.
“A couple of days ago, your office in New York ran a match on some fingerprints in our computer.”
Dino said nothing.
“Isn’t that right?”
“If you say so. We probably run prints a dozen times a day.”
“You ran a set of prints that matched with a thumbprint we got from a note passed to a teller in a bank robbery in Virginia.”
“So?”
“We want to know where you got the prints.”
“Didn’t you ask my office?”
“They wouldn’t tell us. They said we had to talk to you, and you were in Palm Beach, so we drove up here from Miami this morning.”
“How much did the bank robber get?” Dino asked.
“About thirty thousand, I think. I’m not sure.”
“Let me get this straight,” Dino said. “You two guys got into your government car and drove all the way up here from Miami, using government gas, in pursuit of a guy who got thirty grand from a bank four years ago?”
“That’s right,” Miles replied.
“Well, Agent Miles, I’m not too sure I approve of the way you people are spending my tax dollars,” Dino said.
“I don’t understand,” Miles replied.
Stone spoke up. “Neither does Lieutenant Bacchetti. He can’t figure out why you fellows are making this kind of effort to track down a penny-ante, walk-in bank robber who the bank won’t even make the effort to
