Hooper laughed. “You sound like a mobster. ‘I want that fish killed.’ So go get a contract out on him. Who are you going to get to do the job?”

“I don’t know. What about it, Harry? You’re supposed to know everything that goes on around here. Isn’t there any fisherman on this whole damn island equipped to catch big sharks?”

Meadows thought for a moment before he spoke. “There may be one. I don’t know much about him, but I think his name is Quint, and I think he operates out of a private pier somewhere around Promised Land. I can find out a little more about him if you like.”

“Why not?” said Brody. “He sounds like a possible.”

Hooper said, “Look, Chief, you can’t go off half-cocked looking for vengeance against a fish. That shark isn’t evil. It’s not a murderer. It’s just obeying its own instincts. Trying to get retribution against a fish is crazy.”

“Listen you …” Brody was growing angry—an anger born of frustration and humiliation. He knew Hooper was right, but he felt that right and wrong were irrelevant to the situation. The fish was an enemy. It had come upon the community and killed two men, a woman, and a child. The people of Amity would demand the death of the fish. They would need to see it dead before they could feel secure enough to resume their normal lives. Most of all, Brody needed it dead, for the death of the fish would be a catharsis for him. Hooper had touched that nerve, and that infuriated Brody further. But he swallowed his rage and said, “Forget it.”

The phone rang. “It’s for you, Chief,” said Clements. “Mr. Vaughan.”

“Oh swell. That’s just what I need.” He punched the flashing button on the phone and picked up the receiver. “Yeah, Larry.”

“Hello, Martin. How are you?” Vaughan’s voice was friendly, almost effusively so. Brody thought, he’s probably had a couple of belts.

“As well as could be expected, Larry.”

“You’re working pretty late. I tried to get you at home.”

“Yeah. Well, when you’re the chief of police and your constituents are getting themselves killed every twenty minutes, that kind of keeps you busy.”

“I heard about Ben Gardner.”

“What did you hear?”

“That he was missing.”

“News travels pretty fast.”

“Are you sure it was the shark again?”

“Sure? Yeah, I guess so. Nothing else seems to make any sense.”

“Martin, what are you going to do?” There was a pathetic urgency in Vaughan’s voice.

“That’s a good question, Larry. We’re doing everything we can right now. We’ve got the beaches closed down. We’ve—”

“I’m aware of that, to say the very least.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you ever tried to sell healthy people real estate in a leper colony?”

“No, Larry,” Brody said wearily.

“I’m getting cancellations every day. People are walking out on leases. I haven’t had a new customer in here since Sunday.”

“So what do you want me to do?”