“Fine, thank you.” He resumed his surveillance, studying the watery field of play. A half-dozen boats were visible in the Inner Harbor: several sleek launches, a Boston police harbor patrol; a few larger boats. I wondered what sort of naval support the FBI had managed to scare up.

The next shuttle boat was approaching the pier. It was a gray tug: broad-beamed, with an open rear deck and a small enclosed cabin. The wind was rising, adding more chop to the water, and it took the crew longer to bring the boat alongside the dock and secure the lines. The gangplank went out, and the chain was lowered.

“Let’s go,” said Alessi.

We boarded the little boat. Five or six passengers clambered on behind us. Alessi and I each bought a one-way ticket. When everyone was aboard the crew cast off and we nosed out into the channel, toward the skyscrapers of downtown Boston. Alessi stood on the forward part of the deck, scanning the waterline. A Boston whaler skimmed toward our starboard bow from the direction of Chelsea and the Mystic River. Our boat slowed to let it pass. On our port side, far in the distance, were the old brick wharves that had survived from the nineteenth century, now gussied up for tourists.

We were heading toward Rowes Wharf on the Boston side, in the shadow of the new office buildings, apartment towers and hotels that lined the waterfront. Dead ahead was a huge archway, perhaps a hundred feet high, draped with a giant American flag. Down the wharf, to the left, stood a rusted metal bridge. As we came nearer I could see several cruise boats and private yachts tied up along the dock. I scanned the faces onshore, looking for the FBI men.

The wharf was perhaps fifty yards away now. The waves slapped against the hull as the ferry began to slow. We were close enough now that I could see the faces clearly. There was a line of men gathered on the terrace of a hotel that fronted on Rowes Wharf, pretending not to watch us. They formed a taut spring, ready to uncoil instantly the moment someone spotted Bézy and gave the order to move in. They were not of my world, these robotic FBI men. It was strange to think of them as my allies and protectors.

We neared the wooden piers of the wharf. One of the crew jumped off and secured the bow line and the gangplank went out. The other passengers went first; Alessi and I waited. Up on the dock I could see the strain on some of the faces. I felt the hardness of the vest against my chest. I tapped my pen, my lighters. I was grateful now for all this silly gear. Alessi motioned for me to come. I looked for Bézy on the dock, but didn’t see him.

“Where are we going now?” I asked.