The Last One Left

Chapter Nine

By noon of that same Friday, Samuel Boylston had been in Nassau forty-eight hours. He had not been able to get away as quickly as planned, hoping each hour would bring word of the fate of the Muñeca, and had arrived Wednesday noon by Pan Am from Miami.

Before he left he had received a wire from Jonathan Dye saying that he was staying at something called the Harbour Central House on Victoria Avenue. Sam had arranged to have a rental car reserved for him and waiting at the airport. It was a small Triumph sedan, weakly air conditioned. The rental clerk gave him a Nassau map and he studied it for a little while before driving off. He had been in Nassau at other times for both business and pleasure, and it did not take long for him to refresh his memory of the layout of streets, and it took no longer than the trip from Windsor Field to the city for him to adjust his alarm system to driving on the wrong side of the street.

He found the Harbour Central House two blocks up the hill above Bay Street and parked in front just as Jonathan came with long loose lanky strides up from Bay Street. He was a big knuckly young man with coarse black hair and that variety of tough, underprivileged-looking skin which remains pale despite all exposure. He had a calm dignity which Sam interpreted as an infuriating kind of self-approval.

Sam got out for the awkward measure of the handshake and said, “Any word yet?”

“No sir. It’s sort of — slacking off.”

“How?”

“There’s only about so much area to cover. I can show you on the chart I’ve got, sir. It’s not they’re not anxious to do everything. There’s the Aircraft Crash and Rescue people, a lot of them volunteers. And the commercial aircraft people. And the Marine Operator telling all the pleasure boats to be on the lookout. The people at the Ministry of Maritime Affairs have been wonderful. But the weather has been perfect, and they know exactly when the Muñeca left Nassau last Friday morning, just 5 days ago today, heading for Little Harbour in the Berry Islands. They didn’t take off until maybe ten thirty in the morning, and Mr. Kayd didn’t call in at nine on Saturday morning. They cruised at sixteen miles an hour and usually got where they were going before dark. So the search area wouldn’t be more than a hundred and twenty or thirty miles across. But they’ve covered three times that much area, sir. The wind has been out of the east and the northeast just about every day, and they’ve allowed for drift. They haven’t said it to me, and they won’t say it to you, but you get the feeling — they think that somehow it sunk in deep water. They’re going through some motions still, but...”

Sam saw the pure misery in the boy’s eyes as he turned away and stared down the slope of the street toward the harbor.

“What kind of a place is this where you’re staying?”

“Simple. Clean enough. Sixteen shillings.”

“You could get your gear and come along with me as my guest. I’ve got a reservation at the Nassau Harbour Club.”

“I guess I’d just as soon stay right here, sir.”

“Then get that chart of yours and ride on out with me while I register. We’ll talk some more and I’ll bring you back.”

The room they gave him was on the second floor with a small balcony overlooking that part of the harbor. Sailboats with blue sails were racing around a marked course in a windy chop.

From the side windows there was a view of the free-form swimming pool below, of tidy tanned girls swimming, of waiters bringing drinks to round metal tables. At the long docks with their finger piers were the pleasure boats, clean and colorful, bright work winking in sunlight, moving and lifting against the mooring lines to the push of wind, tide and chop.

Jonathan spread the chart out on one of the twin beds. There were patterns marked on it in different colors of crayon.

Jonathan said, “One of the Aircraft Crash and Rescue people marked it up to explain how a search pattern works. This is a square pattern here. It’s a spiral with square corners. They know how far they can see from the altitude they fly at, and on each leg they overlap about a third of the area they could see the last time past. When they go down to check something, they use loran to get back to the point where they broke off from the pattern. Anything they see floating, they check it to make sure it isn’t debris from the Muñeca.”

“How would they explain two seaworthy boats disappearing with no trace at all?”

“Well — fire and explosion is one way. The Muñeca was diesel powered, but the smaller boat Mr. Kayd bought in Florida was gasoline. If it was tied alongside the big boat something like that could have happened. Then there are coral heads. The navigation charts of the Bahamas aren’t real accurate. A coral head can build up from the bottom maybe fifty feet down, and the top of it might be only a foot across and two feet under water, but they’re hard as granite. At cruising speed one could open up the bottom of a cruiser so that it would go down in seconds practically. If they went plowing into a whole area of coral heads, maybe it would open up both hulls.”

“So that would bring it down to the question of just how competent that Captain Staniker might be, and how well he knows the waters and the special problems of the area.”

“From what I’ve found out I guess he knew what he was doing, sir.”

“I’m her brother, Jonathan. Would it be at all possible for you to call me Sam?”

“I guess so. I guess I could — Sam.”

“She wouldn’t have been over here if I hadn’t leaned on you two. I suppose you keep thinking about that.”

The boy sat on the bed, looked down, frowning. “I guess you do too, sir. Sam. But what’s the good of saying if this and if that? There’s that saying, if your aunt had wheels she’d have been a tea cart. Leila and I, we talked about it a long time before we agreed to play it your way. She was a lot more indignant about it than I was. I made her see it from your point of view. You were motivated by love for her. When the motivation is okay, you can overlook lousy performance.”

“Lousy performance?”

Jonathan looked up at him, slightly surprised. “You want to deny people the privilege of making their own mistakes. It’s like you don’t want to give yourself or anybody else any leeway. Leila said you were pushing us around just for the sake of pushing us around. It could look that way, you know. I said you were concerned about her having a good and happy life. She put her finger right on the flaw in that one. She said there must be a thousand definitions of what constitutes a good and happy life, and so it was a thousand to one that what you wanted for her would relate to what she wants for herself. Certainly it was a lousy performance, because there was no need for us to prove anything to each other, and certainly not to you. You see, Sam, if Leila and I had any doubts or reservations, we’d have taken a leave of absence from each other to check it out. At nineteen and twenty-one we’re both a little tougher and more mature than the average. What we want to do with our lives is not sacrificial. For us it’s self-seeking, because that’s where the satisfaction is. And what could make our lives full might sound like nonsense to you.” He paused. “Just as your life sounds like nonsense to us, Sam. You do what you do very successfully. But there are people who are the best in the world at juggling flaming torches, or dancing on ice skates, or collecting old Roman coins. It doesn’t mean everybody should get the same charge out of it.”

“So you went along with it because my motives were pure.”

“Because if we didn’t, it would have been years before you and Leila would have re-established a good relationship. She said it didn’t matter. I said you are the only blood kin she had and it does matter.”

“At this point it is an academic discussion, Jonathan.”

“If — it’s as bad as it could be, I am going to try not to let myself hate you, Sam. Because what was true is still true, no matter what happened.”

“Why didn’t the three of us have this kind of a talk seven weeks ago?”

“We tried to. You weren’t listening.”

Sam stared out at the boats, finally turned and said, “That is perfectly accurate. I wasn’t listening. And I might learn to regret that most of all. Now then. What did you find out that makes you think Staniker qualified?”

“He came here with his wife ten years ago with enough money saved up to make a down payment on a big ketch that had been built here in the islands. He and his wife did a lot of the work themselves, fixing it up for charter. He got all the necessary papers and permissions. He was based at Yacht Haven, just down the road from here. They lived aboard. He operated it on charter for five years. They made a living, but they didn’t make much more than that, I guess. Five years ago they were out on charter and heading for Eleuthera and a waterspout took the sticks out of her and opened the seams and smashed the dinghy. The water that came in drowned the auxiliary so he couldn’t transmit. She drifted down to Cat Island and broke up on a reef there. He got everybody ashore, and he was cleared of any blame when they had the investigation. The ketch was a total loss and there wasn’t enough insurance money to start up again. He went back to Florida and got a job as a hired captain. I guess that when Mr. Kayd was looking for somebody to run the Muñeca over here and cruise the Bahamas, he’d be a pretty good choice.”

“If he was such a good choice, why would he be available? Why wasn’t he already employed?”

“I wouldn’t know. I guess it would be easy enough to find out in Miami.”

“Why didn’t he make a better success of the charter business right here?”

“The people I talked to at Yacht Haven, the ones who were there when Captain Staniker was, they gave me the idea he was a good sailor but not a very good businessman. I got the impression that it was his wife, Mary Jane, who sort of held the whole thing together.”

Sam and Jonathan went down and had lunch in the coffee shop. After lunch Sam drove into town, dropping Jonathan off on the way. He had dealt on a prior visit with a Mr. Lowry Malcolm with the law firm of Callender and Higgs on Bay Street. He took a chance on catching Malcolm in, and after a ten minute wait was taken back to Malcolm’s small office. Lowry Malcolm had gotten out the file on the previous business matter.

“This is something else entirely,” Sam said. “I’d like your help in tracking down some information. One of the law firms here represents Mr. Bixby Kayd either under his own name or the name of Sunshine Management, Incorporated, a United States corporation.”

Lowry Malcolm was a languid, remote-acting man, thin, pale and balding. He raised his eyebrows. “Ah, the poor chap who’s been lost at sea?”

“My nineteen-year-old sister, Leila, was aboard.”

“Oh, I say! That is hard lines. Terribly sorry to hear it. Saw the names in the paper, of course, but didn’t make the connection. I do hope the vessel will turn up safe and sound.”

“Thanks. Will it be a lot of trouble to find out exactly who would be representing Mr. Kayd?”

“Shouldn’t be. Shall we give it a try?”

On the fourth call he found that the firm was Kelly and Dawson, only a block away. Before calling there, Malcolm said, “When I get the chap on the wire, what should I say?”

“Tell him that I want to speak to him on a matter of great urgency, as soon as possible. Tell him I am an attorney from Texas and you have had dealings with me and can vouch for my reputation and integrity — and you will appreciate all the cooperation he can give me.”

After he had made the call, Malcolm said, “That firm is the Bahamian headquarters for Sunshine Management. Thought I’d seen that bloody name on a plaque on someone’s building. The chap you want is Kemp Rodgers. Know him well. All my life, actually.”

“Would you call him an honest man?”

Malcolm’s jaw sagged. “What an odd thing to say!”

“Sorry I haven’t got time to work up to it gradually, but it is important that I know.”

“Kemp is a dear fellow. He is absolutely straight. Never fear. Actually he might have done far better at the law had he not considered it — a necessary nuisance to provide him funds for unspeakably savage little motor cars. He lives for Race Week when he can risk his neck in all that snarling, sliding nonsense. But I must say, if one can endure the racing part of it, it does provide one a rather remarkable choice of lively ladies. He will see you as soon as you can get over there, Boylston. He’s shifting his appointments to make space. If you need more help...”

“I’ll be back. And thanks.”

Kemp Rodgers was a trim man with a large, guardsman moustache, bright blue eyes, oversized hands, and two shelves of race trophies.

His first impression was that Sam Boylston was connected in some way with Sunshine Management. When he learned there was no connection, he was reluctant to give out any information.

Sam Boylston called upon that special and directed force he used rarely, in fact could not use except when a great deal was at stake. He could not fake it. He would feel a curious stillness within himself, and he would have a sense of something coiling and gathering. His voice always became softer, with the feeling that he heard it from a distance, and observed the scene from a distance. It was a force he seemed to be able to aim with his eyes, and he had watched varied and strange effects it had upon people.

Usually they seemed startled, and then alarmed. As if some familiar and unremarkable object, such as a paperweight, had suddenly grown a viper’s head, impressive fangs, and had begun waddling across the desktop toward them with every evidence of malignant determination.

Out of the stillness he said in a careful voice, “I do not need to be reminded of the ethics of my profession, Rodgers. I know what privileged information is. My sister was aboard that cruiser. I am not going to beg, and I am not going to be very patient. Have you seen Bixby Kayd recently? Did he have anything to say about buying the land holdings of Ventures, Limited? Was a large sum recently transferred to the local bank account of Sunshine Management?”

The blue eyes tried to look fierce. They became vague. The moustache twitched. The large hands began washing each other. “Really, I couldn’t — ah — it was thirty-one hundred thousand odd pounds. Told Kayd there was no reason to think Venture would settle for that little. He roared with laughter, gave me a great bloody bash on the shoulder and talked about positive thinking. We fixed up a limited power of attorney.”

“For what purpose?”

“His offer was, in your money, eight million seven. He said Sir Willis Willard — he’s the Chairman of the Board of Ventures — would be calling a special meeting to consider the offer. I would be advised to attend and make the offer official, and hand over the cheque if they approved. Not bloody likely, I told him.”

“I’d like to talk to Sir Willis.”

“He’s a very busy chap and...”

“I’m sure you can arrange it.”

“But I don’t see what the connection could be between...”

“If you don’t mind. It can be at his convenience.”

With visible reluctance, Rodgers reached for his desk phone. He arranged an appointment for Sam Boylston with Sir Willis Willard for the following morning, Thursday morning, at ten o’clock in Sir Willis’s offices in the Imperial Bank of Commerce on Parliament Street.

Rodgers said, “Sir Willis is a lovely old boy. He’s done so very well with almost everything he’s touched, this Ventures mess is a thorn in his side. I gather he’s trying to liquidate it in such a way none of his associates in it will get too badly hurt.”

“As far as you know, no special meeting was called.”

“I expect if it were to be called to vote on the Sunshine Management offer, I’d have been notified.”

Sir Willis’s offices were spacious, paneled in pale wood, decorated with cheerful accents of primary colors. The girl ushered Sam in and pulled the door shut as she left. Sir Willis was a wispy man, white hair, pink skin, bright blue eyes. He seemed no larger than a child behind the absolutely empty expanse of pale desk. And he looked like a child who had been mercilessly scrubbed, carefully dressed, and sent off to a party with many warnings about how to behave.

“Whichever chair might suit you, Mr. Boylston. The straight one or the soft one. You heard Rodgers’s half of our conversation, I believe. This is all something to do with Kayd, poor chap, and Sunshine Management, but you are not associated with either.”

Taking the straight chair, Sam had his first chance to look directly at those old blue eyes. There was nothing childish about them. They had seen a great deal, understood most of what they saw, and had stored away only what seemed of any possible future use.

“I may startle you with what I have to say, Sir Willis.”

“I vaguely recall hearing something which startled me in nineteen fifty-eight, or possibly fifty-nine. As I recall, I rather enjoyed the experience.”

“I have no proof. So I am not making — accusations. I’m going to ask for your advice.”

“I’m most generous with it, Boylston. Generous to a fault. But, of course, the supply is unlimited. Old men have vast stores of it.”

“Did Angus Squires request a special meeting of the Board of Ventures, Limited, to consider another cash offer from Sunshine Management?”

Without hesitation, Sir Willis said, “He did indeed. Last Wednesday. One week ago yesterday. And suggested tomorrow. Friday seems to be the traditional day for Board meetings for some reason which defies logical analysis.”

“There will be such a meeting, sir?”

“My young ladies out there are indignant. They properly notified the other nine members of the Board. Then Squires phoned again on Tuesday, day before yesterday, shortly before noon, and withdrew his request. You understand that any Board member can ask for a special meeting. And so my young ladies had to telephone the other nine chaps and cancel. At least they did not have to inform young Rodgers. They had not gotten around to notifying him.”

“Do you know what Sunshine Management was offering?”

“I believe Squires’s expression was ‘interesting enough to merit consideration.’ ”

“Eight million seven hundred thousand.”

“My word! That would have been a waste of time. I see no reason why we should go lower than ten million five. Kayd knows that was our firm figure.”

“He was confident your Board would accept it.”

“Rather a fool then, what?”

“I don’t think anyone could safely call Bixby Kayd a fool. I did some legal work for him a few years ago. When I finished it up, I refused to do any more work for him. He was a little too tricky for my taste. He believed your Board would accept the offer.”

“But what could give him that impression?”

“I believe, sir, he had a certain amount of faith in the eight hundred thousand dollars he was carrying in cash aboard the Muñeca. It was to be a little private gift, as I understand it, for Mr. Squires and some of the others on your Board.”

Sir Willis Willard placed his little hands palm down against the top of his desk. He stared at the far wall of the room, high above Sam’s head.

“I congratulate you, Boylston. You have indeed startled me. Very cunning indeed. And quite merciless, of course. Aside from myself, three other men are quite well situated, and they are willing — as I would be under other circumstances — to take their losses, recoup a sizeable portion of their investment and put it to work elsewhere. I have voted against them because the other seven, including Squires, are not in a position to absorb such a percentage loss of investment capital. And so, to swing it, Squires would need only to corrupt two other men. It would give him six votes in favor. And it would mean a very serious loss to the other four men I have been trying to protect. Excuse me a moment, please.”

He opened a drawer in his desk, took out a folder, pencil, scratch pad. He turned to a tabulation in the folder, then did some rapid computation. “Certainly!” he said. “Assuming Angus Squires would take four hundred thousand for himself, and give two hundred thousand each to — the two I suspect would be most susceptible, accepting an offer of eight million seven would give Squires nearly a quarter of million of your dollars in profit, and give his friends fifty thousand net profit each. And by getting it all for a total of nine million five, your Mr. Kayd would be undercutting our rock bottom offer by a million dollars.”

“My informants told me Kayd had evidently been dealing quietly with Angus Squires for some time,” Sam said. “On the same day the cruiser was reported missing, Kayd was going to rendezvous with Squires at a fishing lodge Squires owns on Musket Cay in the Berry Islands. I’d guess Squires would want to make certain Kayd had the money, and perhaps take some of it along to bring here to Nassau to turn over to the men who’d agreed to sell their vote. I suppose that after the deal went through here, Squires would get the rest. He’d want some sort of safeguard. Dealing with Kayd can make anybody uneasy. My sister was a guest aboard that boat, Sir Willis. And there was over three quarters of a million dollars aboard. Four women and three men and money for a bribe. Bribe money has no past. It doesn’t appear on the records. And if nobody is left to report it missing...”

“But evidently someone is.”

“I got my information from two men who — go into things like this with cash the revenue people overlook. There were — certain reasons why they were willing to talk to me. But they won’t want to raise a fuss if it’s gone forever. They took a chance. The return was going to be high. They’ll moan a little, lick their wounds and keep their mouths shut. If somebody did go after the money, I can’t believe the information came from them, or from Kayd. I am curious about Squires. If he might be in so much financial trouble he would take — a bigger risk.”

“Who knows about all this, Boylston?”

“You and I, sir. Squires. The two men I questioned. And perhaps the two men on your Board who were going to go along with it.”

“And Rodgers?”

“I didn’t talk about it to him. My guess would be no. Kayd wouldn’t tell him anything he didn’t have to know.”

“If Kayd had mentioned it, I am quite confident Rodgers would have terminated representation and come immediately to me.”

“Sir Willis, do you think Angus Squires could have...”

“Done them all in? Highly unlikely, I would say. If he needed money badly, he would have gotten more out of the whole thing by going ahead as planned. And, as you know, we have no tax upon income here. I was a bit dubious of his coming in with us on this Ventures thing. Heard some rumors, you know. But no proof, of course. He’s one of the Canadian chaps who got in on that Freeport arrangement in the beginning. And, if you meant could he have mentioned it to anyone capable of violent acts, you must remember that Squires would not talk freely about anything so certain to damage him should it come out. As it has, of course.”

“How much could it damage him?”

“Badly. Both him and the others involved. You Americans have taken quite a fancy to the phrase ‘power structure.’ Ours here is small, but very strong. One generally knows who might be doing what, and how well they are managing it. I shall merely trap the likely ones into revealing Squires’s plan and activities. It shouldn’t be at all difficult.” He smiled, made a small chopping gesture with a small hand and said, “Then we shall make quite certain everything they touch from now on shall turn out very badly indeed. Squires and friends accepted that risk. And lost. I am grateful to you for a most interesting talk.”

“Could I ask a favor, Sir Willis?”

“Of course!”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would like to know Squires’s movements last Friday, Saturday and Sunday — where he went and who might have been with him.”

“No trouble at all, my dear fellow. And I should like to know as well. Ring me here at — this same hour tomorrow and I shall have it for you. I have been wondering, and perhaps it is none of my affair, if the authorities might conduct a — a more productive investigation were they to be told of the money carried aboard?”

“If it’s possible, Sir Willis, I’d like that kept quiet. If — it was taken, and there was a lot of publicity about it, it might drop out of sight for a long time. And it seems to me it is getting a lot of publicity right now. I had a television team with a movie camera and lights trap me just outside the Harbour Club this morning. From a Miami station. They wanted a statement. It would seem to me that — a public mention of the money would compound the confusion. And anybody with any useful information might get lost in the crowd of crazies who would come forward. I’d like to go at this quietly. If, in the future, I think a lot of new attention would help, then I can bring it up. Sometimes — special information can be a good lever.”

“And if whatever happened had nothing to do with the money?”

“I have to keep remembering it might have been that way. It’s hard to think clearly when — you’re emotionally involved.”

Sir Willis appeared to look more attentively at Sam Boylston. “Forgive me, Boylston, but I’ve rarely been exposed to Americans who make that distinction. Makes doing business with them a bit of a bother at times. Judgments based on emotions are quite valid, of course, if one happens to know what he is doing and why.” There was, Sam felt, a considerable power in this pink and white doll-man, a knowledge of the flaws in others and himself, a readiness to take any kind of advantage so long as it did not offend his own image of himself as an ethical man.

This immaculate little old man was going to quietly dismantle all the works and dreams of Squires and friends, burn the rubble and sow their lands with salt. And some phases of this program would enrich Sir Willis in one way or another. In a sudden, expanded comprehension of self, Sam Boylston realized he had made exactly this same decision himself, had made it about big Tom Dorra and old Judge Billy Alwerd. Though their role had been peripheral, their actions had been illegal enough to give Sam his rationalization. There had been an icy little focus of satisfaction and anticipation in the back of his mind whenever he had thought of them since finding out about the money loaned to Bix Kayd. When he had time to devote to them, he would find out their every area of income and investment, and see to it that small things began to go wrong. A man in a boat who has to devote all his time to caulking the seams, bailing, working the pump, has no time for careful navigation, no time to look for the reefs. If Dorra and Alwerd were to respond with total speed and energy and calm intelligence to every challenge, he could do them no real harm. But those two were hunch players, drifting at half efficiency through a haze of myth, superstition and self-approval. Shrewder than most, perhaps, but capable of fatal mistakes in judgment if too many things started to go wrong at the same time. And, when they began foundering, he could reach into the chaos and pluck out a few useful things at sacrifice prices.

As his intent became more apparent to himself, Sam saw the similarity between himself and this scrubbed old man with the eyes as cold as Burmese sapphire. And he felt a curious contempt for Sir Willis and for himself.

As Sam left, amid the expressions of mutual gratitude, Sir Willis said, “Perhaps one day we might talk about the special advantages of setting up business interests here in the Bahamas. I suspect, dear boy, we might find some unexpected mutual benefits — of the sort you chaps from your province of Texas seem able to appreciate.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Sam said, but knew from a flicker in cool blue depths he had not quite carried it off. The original feeling of affinity had faded away.

He telephoned Sir Willis at the bank on Friday morning at ten. Sir Willis said, “Bear with me, Boylston, if I seem a bit — indirect. Our friend was expecting a radio message from your fellow countryman Saturday morning. It did not come. Saturday afternoon he went to his vacation spot from his home base by float plane, and was left off there, along with a young chap who is in the way of being a personal aide and secret’ry. On Sunday evening our friend used his marine radio there at his place to ask the float plane to come by Monday morning and take him off. He went back to his home base, leaving the secret’ry chap alone there, should anyone come visiting, I expect. By now he has returned also, but I do not know precisely when. As to the friends of our friend, I had a chat with the one I thought most likely last evening. It became rather an ugly conversation, but it was all confirmed. There were two of them, as I suspected, beside our friend. I can guarantee silence on the part of the one I talked with. Much better if our friend has no inkling that I know of the nasty bit of work he hoped to arrange. Is all this sufficient for you?”

“I’m grateful to you, Sir Willis.”

“May I offer my hope that things will turn out far better than — you have reason to expect at the moment. Do let me know if I can be of any help. Matters which you might find difficult I could probably arrange quite easily. We are quite a small community, actually. And it would have been a great pity had anyone of your countryman’s special — talents acquired such substantial land interests here, particularly in such a manner. It would have been troublesome to oust him, as we most certainly would have, sooner or later.”

Sam Boylston’s room phone rang at ten o’clock Friday evening as he was pacing restlessly, uncertain as to what he should do next.

If it had been — as he was quite certain Sir Willis would term it — foul play, it had to depend on word of the money leaking out. The leak could have come from careless talk in Texas, in Nassau, in Freeport, possibly even in Miami. With a promise of a share of that much money, some very savage talent could be recruited along the lower coast of Florida. Small cruisers came over at will, and several men masquerading as sports fishermen could monitor the calls from the Muñeca and trace her and intercept her at the proper time and place.

But the timing of it seemed almost too close. The Muñeca had left Nassau Friday morning. Kayd had planned to meet Squires on Saturday. But he had not made his routine radio contact on Saturday morning.

Kayd’s shrewdness had to be taken into account. He would make certain that information about the fortune aboard didn’t leak out. He would certainly keep it from his family. And he would not take aboard any hired captain who had not been checked out very carefully.

What if the Muñeca had arrived at Musket Cay earlier, say by Friday evening? They were headed that way. The cruiser could make it comfortably. Just because Squires had arrived Saturday afternoon, it did not mean he had not arranged for a little reception party to arrive there, possibly by private boat, a day or more earlier. Or perhaps somebody in Squires’s confidence had arranged it without Squires’s knowledge. It seemed to fit the timing. Perhaps the logical course was to go to Freeport first, then back to Musket Cay.

His mind would travel in logical patterns and rhythms, but at intervals he could not anticipate, he would suddenly realize that every conjecture was based on the assumption all aboard had been slain and the bodies stowed aboard to sink with the boats into the great black depths of the Tongue of the Ocean. Logically it was an acceptable assumption. Emotionally he could not believe such a thing could have happened to Leila. She was too vibrant, too spirited, too totally alive to be wasted so mercilessly, so prematurely. In those moments remorse and grief and rage combined into an emotion as strong as a physical illness, darkening his vision, clogging his throat, giving him ripples of nausea which made cold sweat on his body and made his legs feel too weak to support him.

He was recovering from one of those moments when the phone rang and he heard Jonathan’s excited and unsteady voice say, “Sam? Are you there, Sam? They’re bringing Staniker in.”

“In where? Who is?”

“Some people on a boat. They found him somewhere, on some island, and they’ve asked for an ambulance to meet them.”

He reached the Prince George Wharf area in time. He found Jonathan in the crowd. A cruiser was angling in, spotlight trained on the dock area. A man was trotting, waving them along to a place inside the main wharves where the dock levels were suitable for small boats. The big cruise ships with their festival lights dwarfed the Chris-Craft. The ambulance was waiting. The cruiser edged in. Lines were heaved to the men on the dock. As the cruiser was moored, there was a silent lightning of flash bulbs and strobe lights, and the doctor and the ambulance attendants stepped aboard, carrying the stretcher.