"What's next?"
"The book, I suppose. The Trial of Miles Foster."
"And then back to the Times?"
"Maybe, maybe. I haven't given it much thought," Scott said watering down the coals to reduce the intensity of the barbecue inferno he had created. "I promised to help out once in a while. Officially they call it a sabbatical."
"How long do you think you can hold out on this rock before going nuts?"
"We've managed pretty well, so far." Scott said admiring his bride whose phenomenal physical beauty was tightly wrapped in the high French cut one piece bathing suit that Scott insisted she wear in honor of their more conservative guests. Tyrone, he was sure, would not have minded Sonja's nudity, but Arlene would have been on the next flight to Boston and her parents.
"Three months so far, and nine months to go. I think I can take it," he said staring at Sonja and motioning to the view.
Tyrone silently conveyed understanding for Scott's choice of an island retreat to get away from it all. But Tyrone's choices demanded his presence within driving distance of civilization.
"So the bureau wasn't too upset about your leaving?" Scott changed the subject.
"I guess not," Tyrone said laughing. "I was approaching mandato- ry anyway and I'd become too big a pain in their asses. Using your hackers didn't endear me to too many of the Director's staff."