I took a step toward the boat, then turned back for a last look at the wharf. A man had emerged from under the arches and was looking directly at me. He was dressed in a trench coat, belted at the waist. He had the intense manner of a unit commander who had reached H-hour. As I stepped toward Alessi’s boat he began signaling me urgently with his hand. Alessi was already on board, talking to the captain; he didn’t see this bit of pantomime.

“Be careful!” the man onshore seemed to be saying, or maybe it was “Don’t go!” I didn’t respond at first, but when he did it a second time, I put my thumb in the air. It’s okay. I’m going. He’s on the boat. I’ll be all right.

I saw the man lift his sleeve toward his face. I guessed he was speaking into a microphone, relaying information and asking for guidance. Perhaps he was talking to Rubino. How would Tom explain my lapse? I was already ignoring orders; I was unreliable; there might be a flap. The commander let his sleeve drop; he was listening now to someone speaking in his earpiece. The whole tableau on the dock seemed frozen in time for an instant: the men and their guns immobile, waiting for instruction.

I stepped onto the Serendipity. The steward steadied me as the boat surged away from the dock. “Welcome aboard,” he said.

Alessi had gone into the cabin. I looked back toward the shore. The man in the trench coat was boarding a launch that had been idling a little farther down the wharf. He must be the agent in charge. Out in the harbor channel, a larger boat was moving toward us. The welcoming party had put to sea.

The Serendipity churned out toward the channel, its screws biting into the dark water of Boston harbor. We had the breeze in our faces now, and there was a hard pounding against the hull as the boat struggled against the wind and the tide. Alessi called to me from the cabin. He wanted me inside. I rehearsed what I wanted to say to Bézy: The New York Mirror has obtained information that you received a $120 million payment as part of the communications contract. What was the money for?

I entered the deckhouse and walked down a few steps. It took my eyes a few moments to adjust. The main cabin was opulently furnished, with sofas and chairs and a gleaming mahogany table in the center. I looked for Bézy at the foot of the table, but he wasn’t there. Except for Alessi, the cabin was empty.

“Where is he?” I said.

Alessi’s face colored. Finally he had something to say.