Intelligence stated that this part of the beach, a mile south of the Coast Guard station and summer homes of Joppa, near the head of the Plum Island road, would be clear for fifty minutes following every hour dusk to dawn.
Dusk falls and he shuts up shop, swings a leg over his battered bicycle and pedals away down the road, as reggae music drifts out from an open doorway, and a troupe of fruit bats traces lazy circles in the twilight.