Plum Island

destruction of the planet. All in all, this was some operation, and we hadn't even seen the inside of the main research building yet.

Now and then we passed a building that Mr. Stevens failed to identify, and if any of us asked him about the building, he'd say, 'Paint Storage,' or 'Feed Storage,' or something. And well they may have been, but the man didn't inspire credibility. In fact, I had the distinct feeling he enjoyed the secrecy crap and got his jollies by pulling our chains a little.

Nearly all the buildings, except for the new main research building, were former military structures, most made of red brick or reinforced concrete, and the vast majority of the buildings were deserted. All in all, this had once been a substantial military installation, one in a string of fortresses that guarded New York City against a hostile navy that never showed up.

We came to a grouping of concrete buildings with grass growing through the cement pavement. Stevens said, 'The big building is called 257, after the old Army designation. It was the main laboratory some years ago. After we moved out, we decontaminated it with poison gas, then sealed it forever, just in case anything in there is still alive.'

No one spoke for a few seconds, then Max asked, 'Isn't this where there was a biocontainment leak once?'

'That was before my time,' Stevens said. He looked at me and smiled his waxy smile, 'If you'd like to take a look inside, Detective, I can get you the key.'

I smiled back and asked, 'Can I go alone?'

'That's the only way you can go into 257. No one will go in there with you.'

Nash and Foster chuckled. Boy, I haven't had so much fun since I tripped on some slime and landed on a ten- day-old corpse. I said, 'Hey, Paul, I'll go if you go.'

'I don't particularly want to die,' Stevens replied.

As the bus drew closer to Building 257, I saw that someone had painted in black on the concrete a huge skull and crossbones, and it struck me that this death's-head had actually two meanings-the Jolly Roger, the pirate flag that the Gordons had flown from their mast, and it was also the symbol for poison or contamination. I stared at the black skull and bones against the white wall, and when I turned away, the image was still in front of my eyes, and when I looked at Stevens, the death's-head was superimposed on his face, and the skull and Stevens were both grinning. I rubbed my eyes until the optical illusion faded. Jeez, if it hadn't been broad daylight with people around, this could get creepy.

Stevens continued, 'In 1946, Congress authorized money to build a research facility. The law states that certain infectious diseases may not be studied on the mainland of the United States. This was necessary in the days when biocontainment wasn't very advanced. So, Plum Island, which was already wholly owned by the government and which happened to be shared by the Department of Agriculture and the Army, was a natural site for the study of exotic animal diseases.'

I asked, 'Are you saying that only animal diseases are studied here?'

'That's correct.'

'Mr. Stevens, while we'd be upset if the Gordons stole foot-and mouth virus, and the cattle herds of the United States, Canada, and Mexico were wiped out, that is not the reason we're all here. Are there diseases present in the Plum Island laboratory-crossover diseases-that can infect humans?'

He looked at me and replied, 'You'll have to ask the director, Dr. Zollner, that question.'

'I'm asking you.'

Stevens thought a moment, then said, 'I'll say this-because of the coincidence of the Department of Agriculture sharing this island for a while with the Army, there was a lot of speculation and rumor that this was a biological warfare center. I guess you all know that.'

Max spoke up and said, 'There is plenty of evidence that the Army Chemical Corps was developing diseases here at the height of the Cold War to wipe out the entire animal population of the Soviet Union. And even I know that anthrax and other animal diseases can be used as biological weapons against a human population. You know that, too.'

Paul Stevens cleared his throat, then explained, 'I didn't mean to imply that there wasn't any biological warfare research done here. Certainly there was for a while in the early 1950s. But by 1954, the offensive biological warfare mission had changed to a defensive mission. That is to say, the Army was studying only ways to prevent our livestock industry from being purposely infected by the other side.' He added, 'I will not answer any more questions of that nature… but I will say that the Russians sent a biological warfare team here a few years ago, and they found nothing to cause them any anxiety.'

I always thought that voluntary arms compliance inspections were sort of like a suspected murderer leading me on a guided tour of his house. No, Detective, there's nothing in that closet of any interest. Now, let me show you my patio.

The bus turned onto a narrow gravel road, and Mr. Stevens went on with his prescribed talk, concluding with, 'So, since the mid-1950s, Plum Island is undoubtedly the world's foremost research facility for the study, cure, and prevention of animal diseases.' He looked at me and said, 'Now, that wasn't so bad, was it, Detective Corey?'

'I've survived worse.'

'Good. Now we'll leave the history behind us and do some sight-seeing. Right ahead of us is the old lighthouse, first commissioned by George Washington. This present one was built in the mid-1850s. The lighthouse isn't used any longer and is an historic landmark.'

I looked out the window at the stone structure sitting in a field of grass. The lighthouse more resembled a two-story house with a tower rising out of its roof. I asked, 'Do you use it for security purposes?'

He looked at me and said, 'Always on the job, aren't you? Well, sometimes I have people stationed there with a telescope or a night-vision device when the weather is too nasty for helicopters or boats. The lighthouse is then our only means of 360-degree surveillance.' He looked at me and asked, 'Is there anything else you'd like to know about the lighthouse?'

'No, that's about it for now.'

The bus turned onto another gravel lane. We were now heading east along the north shore of Plum Island, with the coastline to the left and gnarled trees to the right. I noticed that the beach was a pleasant stretch of sand and rocks, virtually virginal, and except for the bus and the road, you could imagine yourself as a Dutchman or Englishman in sixteen-whatever stepping onto this shore for the first time, walking along the beach, and trying to figure out how to screw the Indians out of the island. Ping . Ping .

There it was again. But what was it? Sometimes, if you don't force it, it just comes back by itself.

Stevens was prattling on about ecology and keeping the island as pristine and wild as possible, and while he was going on about that, the helicopter flew over, looking for deer to slaughter.

The road generally followed the coastline, and there wasn't much to see, but I was impressed with the loneliness of the place, the idea that not a solitary soul lived here and that you were unlikely to meet anyone on the beach or on the roads, which apparently went nowhere and had no purpose except for the one road that ran between the ferry and the main lab.

As if reading my mind, Mr. Stevens said, 'These roads were all built by the Army to connect Fort Terry to the coastal batteries. The deer patrols use the roads, but otherwise, they're empty.' He added, 'Since we've consolidated the entire research facility into one building, most of the island is empty.'

It occurred to me, of course, that the deer patrols and the security patrols were one and the same. The helicopters and boats may well have been looking for swimming deer, but they were also looking for terrorists and other bad actors. I had the disturbing feeling that this place could be breached. But that wasn't my concern, and it wasn't why I was here.

So far, the island had turned out to be less spooky than I'd expected. I didn't actually know what to expect, but like a lot of places whose sinister reputation precedes them, this place didn't seem too bad once you saw it.

When you see this island on maps and navigation charts, most of the time there aren't any features shown on the island-no roads, no mention of Fort Terry, nothing except the words, 'Plum Island-Animal Disease Research- U.S. Government-Restricted.' And the island is usually colored yellow-the color of warning. Not real inviting, not