“Everyone waltzes in here,” Diesel said. “It happens all the time.”
“I was hit on the head with a gun,” I said, pointing to my Band-Aid.
“I’m so sorry,” Rutherford said, looking at the Band-Aid, his face a study in agonized concern. “I’ll do my best to explain this to Mr. Ammon. Yes, yes.”
Diesel closed the door after Rutherford left, and topped off his coffee. “You’re getting a lot of traffic in here today.”
I set my mug in the dish drain. “Do you think Devereaux and Josh will be able to find the island?”
“Devereaux probably always knew where the island was located. It was crudely drawn on the bottom of the map, and he had the map long enough to conduct research. Ammon has probably always known where the island is, too. And most likely both of them have searched every square inch of it and found nothing. They were dead-ended without the coin to read the message on the map.”
“What about us? Do we know where the island is?”
“Yep. I took a picture of the map last night and sent it to a guy I know who’s spent a lot of time sailing these waters. The cluster of small islands is in Penobscot Bay. My guy said it wasn’t hard to find the target island because it has a unique shape. It’s called Brimstone Island. And he also knew about Gull Rock.”
“The name Brimstone Island doesn’t exactly conjure up thoughts of a tropical paradise.” I checked the time. “I have to run. I’m going to be late for work.”
“Correction. You’re going to be missing. You need to call in for another ‘save the world’ day. We need to get to Brimstone Island before Devereaux.”
“Can we do that? He has a head start.”
“I’ve mapped it out. It takes about four hours to get to Rockland, Maine. From there it’s a two-hour ferry ride to the Fox Islands. Then it’s necessary to hire a boat to get to Brimstone. It’s about an eight-hour trip total. Fortunately we have resources that probably aren’t available to Devereaux.”
“And that would be?”
“A fast boat. Wulf is meeting us at the wharf in an hour.”
I called Clara and told her I wouldn’t be in. Sunday was a slow day, and she’d be able to manage the cider doughnuts on her own. Glo could help her with cleanup.
We took Diesel’s car to Pickering Wharf Marina, parked, and walked to the dock.
“I don’t see Wulf’s boat,” I said.
“It’s the orange one on the end.”
“That’s not the boat I was on.”
“The boat you were on is too slow for our purposes. This is a fifty-one-foot Nor-Tech 5000 Vee. It tops out at 120 miles per hour. We won’t be going that fast today, but we’ll be going faster than Devereaux.”
“How many boats does Wulf have?”
Diesel shrugged. “They come and go.”
“Do you have a boat?”
“I have a hammock and a surfboard.”
The boat was long and low with an open cockpit. Wulf was at the helm. Hatchet was in the copilot seat. There were three seats behind them. I counted eighteen dials on the console and more to the left of the wheel. The hatch leading to below decks was also to the left of the wheel. Decking was teak. Seats were red leather. I got on board and took a seat. Diesel stood behind Wulf. Wulf hit the ignition switch and the boat rumbled to life. Wulf maneuvered us away from the slip and into the harbor. He was in his usual black. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. I wondered if he was wearing sunscreen. We reached open water, he pushed the throttle forward, and the boat took off. Diesel and Wulf looked like this was business as usual. Hatchet looked like he was going to throw up. And I was breathless.
We reached Penobscot Bay at midmorning. The sea was calm and the sun was shining. Wulf slowed and cruised along, following the
coordinates from Diesel’s boat guy.
“That’s Brimstone straight ahead,” Wulf said.
It looked like a cupcake with green icing. In reality it was a massive hunk of rock with just enough topsoil for trees to grow. We circled the island, keeping our eyes open for Gull Rock. Most of the coastline consisted of ledges and boulders, but we found a small sand beach on the north side of the island and a larger beach on the west side. The west-side beach was packed with people. A tiki hut had been erected on the beach and music carried across the water to us. Small boats were moored a few feet from shore.
“I thought this was supposed to be a lost deserted island,” Diesel said.