The man behind the counter shook his head. “I wouldn’t waste my time heading to the island airport. What I’m hearing is, bunch of those cars have blocked the runway, couple of them deliberately ran into one of the planes as it was trying to touch down. Thing went up in flames. If anyone’s coming to give these cars what’s comin’ to them, they’re gonna have to come by boat.”

“Is someone coming by boat?” the man asked.

“Just got off the phone with someone in Boston who knows someone in the coast guard who knows someone in the military. They’re pulling something together, but that’ll take time, and then they gotta load up a ferry and get over here. If I were betting, you’re looking at three, four hours, at least, before the cavalry arrives.”

The man’s wife said, “What about the local police? What are they doing?”

The man behind the counter chuckled. “That’s a good one.”

Kyle had heard enough. He continued on into the dining room. Derek was at the far end, sitting at a table by the window, holding what appeared to be a white linen napkin to his head. Kyle rushed over, pulled out a chair, and sat down opposite him.

“What in the hell happened?”

Derek pulled the cloth napkin away, and it clinked as he did so. The napkin was full of ice cubes, and Derek had been applying it to the now visible bump on his upper forehead. The black and blue wound was the size of a poker chip.

“Jesus,” Kyle said.

Derek nodded in agreement, then put the ice back to his head.

“Where’s the boat?” Kyle asked.

“Gone,” Derek said.

“What do you mean, gone?” Kyle leaned in and whispered, so as not to be overheard by the people still arguing at the counter. “What happened to the fucking boat?”

Derek sighed. “When I was coming into the harbor, it was nuts. People scrambling all over the place, looking for a way out. As I was tying up, these two guys—had a couple women with them, the whole lot of them looked like would-be bikers or something—ask me to take them out. Out where, I ask them, and they say anywhere. Just get us out of here. I say to them, I can’t do that, I’m picking up someone. Maybe, if they want to wait around, once this someone—that’d be you—comes, then we’ll see if we can work something out. That was when I got hit with the priest.”

Kyle blinked. “One of them was a priest?”

Derek shook his head. “No, no. A fishing priest, or a fish bat. One of those things you use to bonk a fish on the head to kill him. The one guy had one of those and whomps me right here.”