Hannah looked at the sketch again. The others were the teachers who were, as John Wilkie had put it the night he came to their house, the true believers. The martyrs. They were also her friends.
I certainly knew they were removed, Hannah said.
And you yourself, the FBI man said, resigned prior to testifying at a Board of Ed hearing. Is that correct?
I was six months pregnant at the time, Hannah said. I resigned prior to testifying to my own fertility.
And now you have two children?
Yes.
Congratulations.
Thank you, Hannah said.
The FBI man seemed nervous and highly scripted, as if he were conducting a polite conversation based on the principles of a book he’d read on the subject.
Mrs. Quick, have you ever heard the name Hans Kallenbach?
No.
This man Kallenbach, the FBI man said, seems to have been a benefactor of not only Bobby Sheppard, but also several people in that sketch.
How do you mean? Hannah said.
He seems, the man said, to have contributed meaningful sums of cash to the defense and living expenses of those concerned.
Surely charity is not a crime? Hannah said.
No, ma’am, said the FBI man. But will you let us know if in your travels you hear Kallenbach’s name come up in any context?
Of course I will, Hannah said.
The FBI man complimented her chicken again, and the two men left. Hannah thought the encounter had gone as well as could be expected.
Maybe not, Billy said. Hans Kallenbach is one of my investors.
Who is he?
His family has a bank in Switzerland, and in New York he handles money for very rich people that, on the back end, he invests with people like me. We have lunch twice a year at that Hungarian place on Third Avenue. Peregrine Wilkie introduced him. He invested with me at the very beginning.
How would he know Bobby Sheppard?
No idea, Billy said.
Anyway, they missed it.
Let’s hope so, Billy said.
29
Catta boarded the Heron along with his father, James, and the Old Man. He had already leapt onto his preferred seat up on the bow when Cyrus said, “Big bodies fore, small bodies aft.” That meant the tide was very low, and Catta walked reluctantly back into the stern.
His grandfather did not normally go out on the boats, and the Old Man’s presence today made the trip feel like a special occasion. Catta wanted to tell him about seeing Penny and the barge from the Indian Head cliff—how he had shouted and they had heard him from so far out on the water. How the gull had been only just there, just a few feet away, a prisoner of the wind. But for some reason, he could not find a way to start or a reason to pull his grandfather aside. He decided he would wait until they came back to the dock. The boat pulled slowly out of the harbor, and his grandfather stood next to the wheel, pointing out to Cyrus a series of invisible eddies surrounding imaginary rocks. Cyrus nodded each time and turned the wheel.
The part of Baffin where Edward Peck had seen the nest was across the channel from the old lumber camp at Starks Cove, and if for some reason they missed the eagles today, Catta thought he would look for them tomorrow from the Seven side. He would ask the Old Man for his binoculars.
When they reached the harbor bellbuoy, Cyrus looked over his shoulder. Then he looked again. He lifted the storage bench by the wheel, checked inside for a moment, and then abruptly turned the boat around.
“Why are we turning?” his father called out from the foredeck.
“We’re short one life jacket,” Cyrus said. “I didn’t realize young James was coming along.”
“We can do without it. Everyone here can swim.”
“It’s the law, especially with children on board. Peck says the Coast Guard is out today.”
Back at the dock, Cyrus landed the boat so gently, and at such a good angle, that it stopped the instant it touched wood. James jumped out and stood on the dock, holding the bowline and waiting for instructions. Cyrus left the boat and walked up the ramp. After what seemed like a long time, he came back with his familiar battered sun hat, plus three more life jackets. Catta saw Martha walking uphill, away from the shop on the bulwark. He waved, but her back was turned.
“Anything else?” his father said to Cyrus, who shook his head and started the engine.
Catta was looking the other way when there was a rapid sound of feet on the metal ramp. As he turned, Penny Quick grabbed hold of the railing and vaulted onto the deck. She sat down in the center of the bow with her legs dangling over, laughing.
“Where are we going?” Penny said to nobody.
“To see the eagles,” Catta said from the stern.
“Who is this?” his father said to Cyrus.
“She’s Billy Quick’s niece,” Cyrus said. “I guess everyone wants to see the eagles’ nest.”
“Shouldn’t she be in the stern?” the Old Man said.
“Nah, the balance feels about right just now.”
The Heron pulled away from the dock and then when they entered the channel that ran along the island, Cyrus opened the throttle. Once they were at speed, he took off his sun hat and handed it back to Catta.
“Put that on,” Cyrus said.
Catta looked up and the sun was behind a cloud, but one did not contradict Cyrus on boats. The hat was much too big: the band scratched him, and he had to hold on with one hand to keep it from flying off in the wind.
Hillsinger saw they were close to the open sea, and now the water was rougher. The boat rose and slammed down onto the whitecaps, but the Quick girl stayed up on the bow, drenched but not about to move.
After this morning’s conversation with Cyrus, Hillsinger had decided, once and for all, to put Catta on Baffin for the night. He had promised Lila not to do it, but much had changed there in that little room off the back stairs. He had put all his assumptions to the torch. It was immensely unpleasant, but he had been blessed with luck or insight and now he knew where and what the lie was. The world was very different now from what he had thought—his marriage, the charges against him, his sense of a higher logic, and even his children, all were irretrievably changed. He had been blind, but now, standing here on the bow of the Heron, the world was brighter and sharper. Now he was free to act.
As far as Baffin was concerned, he was not deluding himself; he knew that Catta would suffer. Time moves slowly for children, and his hours on the island would feel like days, possibly even years. Catta would learn something about endurance, and he, Hillsinger, would find out precisely what was in his son. Lila would not like it, but he was sure she would accept it.