becoming positively psychopathic about this.”
Cain told her where to go and stalked off down the beach. In a few moments he was back, dressed and in better humor. Clothing gave him a dignity he found he could not possess without it. When he came on board Lisa was walking nervously in the tiny space.
“Let’s hurry,” she said. She kept looking toward the trees as if expecting someone to appear there at any moment.
“To my place,” Cain told Honor.
She asked no questions. Cain sat on the motor hatch, cradling the coil he had found. There was no conversation at all until they had tied up at Cain’s dock and were in the cabin. Lisa, as usual, busied herself making food and coffee and, though Cain did not feel he could eat, he found himself wading into a pile of sandwiches with a will. Only Honor seemed unenthusiastic. It was gray, dull daylight with clouds coming up when they had finished.
Cain said, “Honor, has anyone but me used your boat lately?”
“No. I don’t let anyone.”
“But they could have access to it?”
“I suppose,” Honor said. She sounded puzzled. “But it’s in the boathouse and we keep it locked. There’s a good view of the door from the house and access would be pretty difficult.”
“Unless someone swam under,” Cain said. He shook his head. “Not likely.” He took the coil and motioned for Honor to follow him outside. He set it carefully on the sand, a good distance from anything and pointed. “That was hooked to your motor.”
“I thought a dirty carburetor was the trouble.”
“Most of it was, fortunately. This stops motors permanently.”
Honor looked it over carefully and then looked at Cain and shrugged. “It looks like one of those whistle smoke bombs to me. Who was the practical joker who …” She stopped. “But it didn’t go off.”
“One of the delayed types,” Cain said. “There’ll be a series of little relays inside, each requiring so much current built up before they release and let the juice through. That way it wouldn’t go off until you’d run the motor for a pre-determined length of time.”
“But I’ve been running it a lot tonight. I …” She stopped and flushed. Cain heard her whisper, “Damn!”
He ignored her obvious blunder for the moment. He said “Honor, I’ll give you odds that this little gadget doesn’t just whistle. It’s a miniature mine. The Navy had some.” He didn’t add that smugglers did too, with a switch ready to throw if they needed to jettison both cargo and ship. Throw the switch and you still had so many minutes to get away before the Revenue boys got there. Cain had seen it work once — on a full-sized fishing smack, not a dinky little runabout. There was some wood and an oil slick. That was all.
“Cain?”
He turned to her and saw the struggle going on inside her written on her face. She was finding it hard to believe him. Then as she had a good look at his face, he saw horror and fear in her eyes. He said, “What were you doing cruising at this time of night?”
“Maybe I have insomnia,” she said, looking squarely at him.
“Damn it …”
“For that matter, what were you doing over there without a boat?”
“I went by car,” Cain said. “Someone stole my car. Therefore, I had no car.”
“There are taxis on Kitsap and Toby has a phone, I’m sure.”
Lisa laughed. “You can’t win, Cain. Why should she answer you if you don’t answer her.”
Cain said, “Let’s go back inside.” He saw that Honor was nervous now, unable to stand still, shuffling her feet, moving a few steps one way and then back. She was frightened, too.
“Who would want to blow you to hell?”
“I don’t know.” She looked miserable. “I want to go home. I’m sleepy.”
Cain and Lisa watched her turn and walk off a few steps and then begin a trot and finally break into a run that carried her swiftly to her boat and away. As if, Cain thought, she were afraid they would stop her. When she had
Cain told her where to go and stalked off down the beach. In a few moments he was back, dressed and in better humor. Clothing gave him a dignity he found he could not possess without it. When he came on board Lisa was walking nervously in the tiny space.
“Let’s hurry,” she said. She kept looking toward the trees as if expecting someone to appear there at any moment.
“To my place,” Cain told Honor.
She asked no questions. Cain sat on the motor hatch, cradling the coil he had found. There was no conversation at all until they had tied up at Cain’s dock and were in the cabin. Lisa, as usual, busied herself making food and coffee and, though Cain did not feel he could eat, he found himself wading into a pile of sandwiches with a will. Only Honor seemed unenthusiastic. It was gray, dull daylight with clouds coming up when they had finished.
Cain said, “Honor, has anyone but me used your boat lately?”
“No. I don’t let anyone.”
“But they could have access to it?”
“I suppose,” Honor said. She sounded puzzled. “But it’s in the boathouse and we keep it locked. There’s a good view of the door from the house and access would be pretty difficult.”
“Unless someone swam under,” Cain said. He shook his head. “Not likely.” He took the coil and motioned for Honor to follow him outside. He set it carefully on the sand, a good distance from anything and pointed. “That was hooked to your motor.”
“I thought a dirty carburetor was the trouble.”
“Most of it was, fortunately. This stops motors permanently.”
Honor looked it over carefully and then looked at Cain and shrugged. “It looks like one of those whistle smoke bombs to me. Who was the practical joker who …” She stopped. “But it didn’t go off.”
“One of the delayed types,” Cain said. “There’ll be a series of little relays inside, each requiring so much current built up before they release and let the juice through. That way it wouldn’t go off until you’d run the motor for a pre-determined length of time.”
“But I’ve been running it a lot tonight. I …” She stopped and flushed. Cain heard her whisper, “Damn!”
He ignored her obvious blunder for the moment. He said “Honor, I’ll give you odds that this little gadget doesn’t just whistle. It’s a miniature mine. The Navy had some.” He didn’t add that smugglers did too, with a switch ready to throw if they needed to jettison both cargo and ship. Throw the switch and you still had so many minutes to get away before the Revenue boys got there. Cain had seen it work once — on a full-sized fishing smack, not a dinky little runabout. There was some wood and an oil slick. That was all.
“Cain?”
He turned to her and saw the struggle going on inside her written on her face. She was finding it hard to believe him. Then as she had a good look at his face, he saw horror and fear in her eyes. He said, “What were you doing cruising at this time of night?”
“Maybe I have insomnia,” she said, looking squarely at him.
“Damn it …”
“For that matter, what were you doing over there without a boat?”
“I went by car,” Cain said. “Someone stole my car. Therefore, I had no car.”
“There are taxis on Kitsap and Toby has a phone, I’m sure.”
Lisa laughed. “You can’t win, Cain. Why should she answer you if you don’t answer her.”
Cain said, “Let’s go back inside.” He saw that Honor was nervous now, unable to stand still, shuffling her feet, moving a few steps one way and then back. She was frightened, too.
“Who would want to blow you to hell?”
“I don’t know.” She looked miserable. “I want to go home. I’m sleepy.”
Cain and Lisa watched her turn and walk off a few steps and then begin a trot and finally break into a run that carried her swiftly to her boat and away. As if, Cain thought, she were afraid they would stop her. When she had
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