Bernie said: “Hell, if I was going by boat I wouldn’t go all the way to Mexico. I’d go out and dig in on China Point.”
Kells sat down on a pile. “I’ve heard of it,” he said. “What’s it all about?”
“That’s God’s country.” Bernie grinned, stared through the sheets of mist at the lights of the bay. “That’s the rum runners’ paradise. All the boys in the racket along the coast hang out there. They come in from mother ships — and the tender crews... I’ll bet there’s a million dollars’ worth of stuff on the island. They steal it from each other to keep themselves entertained...”
“How long since you were there?”
“Couple years — but I hear about it. They got a swell knockdown drag-out café there now — the Red Barn.”
Kells said: “It isn’t outside federal jurisdiction.”
“No. A cutter goes out and circles the island every month or so. But they pay off plenty — nobody ever bothers ’em.”
“That’s very interesting,” Kells stood up. “How would Rose get out there?”
Bernie shook his head. “A dozen ways. He’d probably get one of the boys who used to run players to the Joanna to take him out. It’s a two-hour trip in a fast boat.”
They walked back toward the waiting room.