One such hardy soul was Albert Einstein, who summered here at a place called Nassau Point in 1939; and since there wasn't much to do, he probably had a lot of time to think. So one day, at the urging of other physicists, he wrote a letter to Franklin Roosevelt-now called the Nassau Point Letter-in which he strongly advised the president to get moving on the atomic bomb before the Nazis built one of their own. The rest, as they say, is history.

Regarding microclimates and the warming weather, I said to Kate, "Let's go for a skinny-dip."

She glanced at me and replied, "It's October, John."

"We should take advantage of global warming before everyone else does. In ten years, this place will have palm trees instead of vineyards, and thousands of people will be coming here in October to soak up the sun."

"Then let's come back in ten years for a swim."

I continued east on Route 25, an old colonial-era road, formerly known as King's Highway when the British were in charge here before the Revolution. Along the road, in the bluffs to the north, I could see old white clapboard houses and recently built summer houses of cedar and glass. I never really wanted to be rich, but now and then I think about starting a new revolution so I can appropriate some stockbroker's summer house on the water. I mean, I'd give it back after a few years, and everyone would benefit from the experience.

We were close to Orient Point now, and up ahead was the terminal for the ferry to New London, Connecticut, and beyond that, the restricted area where the government ferry went to the top secret Animal Disease Center on Plum Island.

This, of course, made me think back to that summer when I was recuperating from my gunshot wounds out here, and I got involved with a bizarre double homicide when I was supposed to be watching my bullet holes closing up. I also got involved with a lady named Emma Whitestone, whom I still think about too often.

Subsequent to the case, I also became involved with a lady named Beth Penrose, who was the county homicide detective assigned to that case-Beth preceded Kate, or perhaps they overlapped a bit-so the Plum Island case and the name Beth Penrose didn't come up too often when Kate and I were talking about old cases.

Also while working that case, I first met Mr. Ted Nash of the Central Intelligence Agency, and this meeting was to have a profound influence on my life, and as it turned out, on his as well. His life ended before mine, so he doesn't think about me much anymore, though I still think about him now and then.

And, in another weird twist of fate, Ted Nash knew Kate before I did, and I really think they had something going before I came along.

Therefore, I sometimes have this fantasy that Nash actually survived the World Trade Center, and that he and I meet again. Then, the fantasy continues with a verbal confrontation that I win, of course, followed by a physical confrontation-no guns-in which I throw him off a cliff, or a skyscraper, or sometimes I just snap his neck and watch him twitch.

Kate asked me, "What are you thinking about?"

I came out of my happy reverie and replied, "About what a beautiful place this world is."

She asked, "What did you say your name was?"

"Be nice. I'm trying to get in the mood of ... whatever."

"Good." She suggested, "Let's go back to the B and B and make love."

I made an immediate two-wheeled U-turn on the deserted road and hit the accelerator.

"Slow down."

I eased off on the gas pedal. As the old expression goes, "Women need a reason to have sex; men need only a place." So, in that spirit, I hung a quick left at a sign that said: ORIENT BEACH STATE PARK.

"Where are you going?"

"A romantic spot."

"John, let's go back to the B and-"

"This is closer."

"Come on, John. I don't like to do it outdoors."

I didn't care where I did it as long as I did it. And my pocket rocket had clearly pointed to this road.

I continued on the dark, narrow road that ran through bulrushes and sea grass along a narrow peninsula. The land widened, and I saw an opening in the vegetation to the left and turned onto a path that went down to the water. I put the Jeep in four-wheel drive, continuing through some boggy ground until we reached a small sand beach on Gardiner's Bay.

I shut off the ignition, and we got out of the Jeep, took off our shoes and socks, and walked to the edge of the water.

To the east, we could see the mysterious shore of Plum Island, and to the south was Gardiner's Island, which had been in the Gardiner family since the 1600s, and where Captain Kidd had supposedly buried his treasure, which may be true, but the Gardiners weren't talking about it.

Further south across the bay were the lights of the Hamptons, whose summer residents had more treasure than any pirate could hope to steal in a lifetime of pillaging and plundering.

But, I digress from the subject at hand, which was my extreme horniness. I said, "Let's skinny-dip." I took off my jacket and flung it back on the sand.

Kate put her toe in the water. "It's cold."

"It's warmer than the air." I took off my shirt and pants. "Come on." I slipped off my boxer shorts and stepped into the water. Jeez. My stiffy dropped like a cold noodle.

Kate noticed and said, "Maybe you do need to cool down." She pushed me. "Go ahead, Tarzan."

Well, this was my idea, so, remembering the Polar Bear Club's annual January dip into the Atlantic Ocean at Coney Island, I let out a bloodcurdling scream and charged into the water, then dove under.

I thought my heart stopped, and for sure my testicles headed straight up into my groin, while my formerly stiff member shrunk to the size of a comma in a telephone book.

I stayed under as long as I could, then popped my head up and treaded water. I called to Kate, "It's okay once you're in!"

"Good. Stay in. I'm going back to the B and B. Bye!"

I shouted back, "I thought FBI agents were tough! You're a pussy!"

"You're an idiot. Get out of there before you freeze to death."

"Okay ... oh ... jeez ... I'm getting cramps ..." I went under, then came up again, spit water, and yelled, "Help!"

"Are you joking?"

"Help!"

I heard her say, "Damn," or maybe she said, "Drown." She pulled off her clothes, took a deep breath, and ran into the water up to her waist, then dove in and began swimming toward me.

I filled my lungs with air and floated on my back, looking up at the magnificent night sky. I think I saw Pegasus through the skimming clouds.

Kate reached me and treaded water a few feet away. "You asshole."

"Excuse me?"

"If you're not drowning now, you will be in a fucking minute from now."

"I didn't say I was drowning." I suggested, "Float on your back. I'll show you Pegasus."

"I cannot fucking believe you did that. I'm freezing."