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〃I'm ing to that；〃 said Molly McNamara。 〃By the way； did I mention that Mr。 Kingsbury is offering a reward to anyone who turns in the vole robbers？〃
〃Oh； no；〃 said Danny Pogue。
〃Quite an enormous reward； according to the papers。〃
〃How nice；〃 said Bud Schwartz； his voice cold。
〃Oh； don't worry；〃 Molly said。 〃I wouldn't dream of saying anything to the authorities。〃
〃How could you？〃 Danny Pogue exclaimed。 〃You're the one asked us to rob the place！〃
Molly's face crinkled in thought。 〃That'd be awfully hard to swallow； that an old retired woman like myself would get involved in such a distasteful crime。 I suppose the FBI would have to decide whom to believe…two young fellows with your extensive criminal pasts； or an older woman like myself who's never even had a parking ticket。〃
Danny Pogue angrily pounded the floor with one of his crutches。 〃For someone who don't like to lie； you sure do make a sport of it。〃
Bud Schwartz stretched out on the sofa； closed his eyes and smiled in resignation。 〃You're a piece a work；〃 he said to Molly McNamara。 〃I gotta admit。〃
The Card Sound Bridge is a steep two…lane span that connects the northern tip of Key Largo with the South Florida mainland。 Joe Winder got there two hours early； at ten o'clock。 He parked half a mile down the road and walked the rest of the way。 He staked out a spot on some limestone boulders； which formed a jetty under the eastern incline of the bridge。 From there Winder could watch for the car that would bring the mystery caller to this meeting。
He knew it wouldn't be Dr。 Will Koocher； Nina was never wrong about phone voices。 Joe Winder had no intention of confronting the impostor； but at least he wanted to get a good look； maybe even a tag number。
Not much was biting under the bridge。 Effortlessly Winder cast the same pink wiggle…jig he'd been using on the bonefish flats。 He let it sink into the fringe of the sea grass； then reeled in slowly； bouncing the lure with the tip of his rod。 In this fashion he picked up a couple of blue runners and a large spiny pinfish； which he tossed back。 The other fishermen were using dead shrimp with similar unexciting results。 By eleven most of them had packed up their buckets and rods and gone home； leaving the jetty deserted except for Joe Winder and two other diehards。
The other men stood side by side； conversing quietly in Spanish。 As Joe Winder watched them more closely； it seemed that the men were doing more serious talking than fishing。 They were using Cuban yo…yo rigs； twirling the lines overhead and launching the baits with a loud plop into the water。 Once in a while they'd pull in the lines and cast out again； usually without even checking the hooks。
One of the men was a husky no…neck in long canvas pants。 The other was short and wiry； and as dark as coffee。 Both wore baseball caps and light jackets； which was odd； considering the heat。 Every few minutes a pair of headlights would appear down Card Sound Road； and Joe Winder would check to see if the car stopped at the foot of the bridge。 After a while； he noticed that the two other fishermen were doing the same。 This was not a good sign。
As midnight approached； the other men stopped pretending to fish and concentrated on the road。 Joe Winder realized that he was stranded on the jetty with two goons who probably were waiting to ambush him。 Worse； they stood squarely between Winder and the relative safety of the island。 The most obvious means of escape would be jumping into Card Sound； while exceptionally dramatic； such a dive would prove both stupid and futile。 The bay was shallow and provided no cover； if the goons had guns； they could simply shoot him like a turtle。
Joe Winder's only hope was that they wouldn't recognize him in the dark with his hair hacked off。 It was a gray overcast night； and he was doing a creditable impersonation of a preoccupied angler。 Most likely the goons would be expecting him at twelve sharp； some dumb shmuck hollering Koocher's name under the bridge。
The strategy of staying invisible might have worked if only a powerful fish had not seized Joe Winder's lure。 The strike jolted his arms； and reflexively he yanked back hard to set the hook。 The fish streaked toward the rock； then back out again toward open water。 The buzz of Winder's reel cut like a saw through the stillness of the bay。 The two goons stopped talking and looked up to see what was happening。
Joe Winder knew。 It was a snook； a damn big one。 Any other night he would have been thrilled to hook such a fish； but not now。 From the corner of his eye he could see the goons rock…hopping down the jetty so they could better view the battle。 Near a piling the fish broke to the surface； shaking its gills furiously before diving in a frothy silver gash。 The goons pointed excitedly at the motion； and Winder couldn't blame them； it was a grand fish。
Joe Winder knew what to do； but he couldn't bring himself to do it。 Palm the spool。 Break the damn thing off； before the two guys got any closer。 Instead Joe Winder was playing the fish like a pro； horsing it away from the rocks and pilings； letting it spend itself in short hard bursts。 What am I； crazy？ Winder thought。 From up here I could never land this fish alone。 The goons would want to help； sure they would； and then they'd see who I was and that would be it。 One dead snook and one dead flack。
Again the fish thrust its underslung snout from the water and splashed。 Even in the tea…colored water the black lateral stripe was visible along its side。 Twelve pounds easy； thought Winder。 A fine one。
One of the goons clapped his hands and Joe Winder looked up。 〃Nize goying；〃 the man said。 〃Dat's some fugging fish。〃 It was the short wiry one。
〃Thanks；〃 said Winder。 Maybe he was wrong。 Maybe these weren't the bad guys； after all。 Or maybe they hadn't e to hurt him； maybe they just wanted to talk。 Maybe they had Koocher and were scheming for a ransom。
After five minutes of back…and…forth； the snook was tiring。 Twenty yards from the jetty it glided to the surface and flopped its tail once； twice。 Not yet； Winder thought； don't give up yet； you marvelous bastard。
He heard their heavy footsteps on the rocks。 Now they were behind him。 He heard their breathing。 One of them was chewing gum。 Joe Winder smelled hot spearmint and beer。
〃What're you waiting for？〃 asked the big one。
〃He's not ready；〃 Winder said； afraid to turn and give them a look at his face。 〃He's still got some gas。〃
〃No； look at the fugging thin；〃 said the little one。 〃He juice about dead； mang。〃
The snook was dogging it on top； barely putting a bend in Joe Winder's fishing rod。
〃That's some good eating；〃 the big no…neck goon remarked。
Winder swallowed dryly and said； 〃Too bad they're out of season。〃
He heard both of the men laugh。 〃Hey； you don't want him； we'll take it off your hands。 Fry his ass up in a minute。 Right； Angel？〃
The little one； Angel； said； 〃Yeah； I go down and grab hole the fugging thin。〃 He took off his baseball cap and scrabbled noisily down the rocks。
Joe Winder got a mental picture of these two submorons in yellowed undershirts…swilling beer； watching 〃Wheel〃 on the tube…cooking up the s