Free The Liger Plague (Book 1) by Joseph Souza Page B

that they’d been drinking. A long set of stairs led from the man’s summer home atop the cliff down to the marina. Goldstein preferred to dock the Cera Bellum because of how little time he actually spent on the island, which Tag estimated was roughly three weeks out of the year. That was because Goldstein lived in Boston and spent much of his time in the surgical unit of the Brigham and Women’s Hospital, where he was chief of surgery.
    “Hi, guys,” he said, idling next to the group. Goldstein had a cocktail in one hand and walked with a loose-limbed gait. “Where you guys going at this late hour?”
    “If it isn’t my curious neighbor, the esteemed army physician Tag Winters. How are you, my friend?” Goldstein greeted him with an air of condescension.
    “Fine, Dave,” he replied, knowing the man hated to be called Dave. “Just wondering where you’re all headed tonight…”
    “Heard that the ferries are all out of commission. I’ve got a group of friends visiting from San Fran that need to head back tonight to catch their flight. I’m going to drop them off at Pier Seven to catch a cab and then return to the island after this little hubbub passes.”
    “I’m afraid you can’t do that, Dave.”
    “It’s Dr. Goldstein, Winters, and I can do whatever I damn well please,” Goldstein said, holding up his drink.
    “I beg to differ, Dave.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “I said I beg to differ. I’m afraid I can’t let you get on that boat.”
    Goldstein laughed and sipped his cocktail. With his pointy beard, long gray hair and horned-rimmed glasses, he intimidated most people. But Tag was used to dealing with imposing, self-righteous assholes who thought their shit didn’t stink. Not to mention the lethal viruses he handled. He felt sorry for all the young interns that had to study under this difficult taskmaster.
    “You can’t let us? I suppose I didn’t get the memo that you’d been elected the new sheriff of Cooke’s Island,” Goldstein said, continuing to walk toward the dock.
    Tag hopped out of the golf cart and sprinted past the man and towards the middle of the dock. He faced Goldstein and pointed the Glock at him.
    “You heard me, Dave. We have a situation on the island, and I’m afraid I’ve been designated to spread the word. For the time being no one is allowed to leave the island, and that includes you.”
    “What the hell are you talking about, Winters?” he said, his jovial expression now turning sour and nasty. “What could have possibly happened that would prevent me from leaving here on my own boat?”
    “I’m not at liberty to discuss the situation at the moment, Doctor, but if you return to your home right now, I’ll explain it to you later in much greater detail.”
    “I’m not going back to my house, Winters. I’m going to take my guests on that dock and then onto the Cera Bellum like I planned. Then I’m going to head toward Portland and drop them off in town. When I return, I’ll be happy to discuss this matter and any other matters with you over a few cocktails.”
    “The cocktails are not going to happen,” Tag said, clutching the Glock, “just as you leaving here is not going to happen.”
    “What are you going to do, shoot me?” Goldstein laughed and turned to his startled guests. “Can you believe this guy?”
    “Besides, you’re in no condition to captain that boat. How many cocktails have you had tonight?”
    “Do you know who I am ?” he screeched, punching his fist into his chest. “You’re a lowly army physician doing meatball surgery. I’m a world-renowned neurosurgeon in demand all over the world for my services. I save lives. I could destroy you in a heartbeat, Winters.”
    Tag laughed. He’d never told people where he worked, especially his neighbors on the island. Whenever he was asked about his job, he told people that he was an army physician working in a veterans’ hospital in Maryland. To a world-renowned neurologist like Goldstein,