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“Listen, amigo, here’s the deal. I’m working for Theresa Fonseca. I’m brokering the sale of some of the assets she’s received in her divorce settlement. I’ve got this couple on the hook, but they’re a little skittish because the divorce is turning ugly, and they’re looking for an excuse not to buy. They keep making noises about security down here, so what I need from you is to act like you’re busting my chops. Be a hardass-”

The guard looked confused, glanced at Drake and Jada, and then shook his head. “I don’t know any Theresa-what was the name?”

“Fonseca. She-”

“Nah,” the guard said. “No Fonseca down here.”

Sully turned to Drake and Jada and put his hands up in a see-what-I-mean gesture, as if trying to show them just how tight security was at the marina.

“That’s good, man. Perfect,” Sully said.

The guard narrowed his eyes. “I’m not playacting here, pal. There’s no one named Fonseca.”

Sully bopped his palm against the side of his head. “Right, right. Divorce, remember? Crap, what’s the husband’s name? Starts with a K, I think. Keller? Kramer?”

“Kurland?” the guard suggested.

Sully pointed a finger at him, pistol-style. “That’s it. Yeah. Look, I just need to walk them down and show them the boat and I’ll be out of your hair. If I do my job right, Miss Fonseca-Mrs. Kurland, I guess-gets a decent price for the thing, and it’ll serve the son of a bitch right for making babies with his girlfriend on the side.”

The guard’s face twisted in deep disapproval. “Babies?”

“I know. Awful stuff. Imagine finding out your husband was having an affair for, what, six years? Bad enough, right? But the guy fathered two children with the other woman. How does a lady pick herself up after getting kicked like that?”

By then the guard was nodding in agreement.

“What an ass,” the guard said.

“Fortunately, the judge agreed,” Sully said, smiling conspiratorially. “Now, look, do me a favor? Tell me we’ve got thirty minutes, no more. I have another appointment before I can go home tonight, so I don’t want to be hemming and hawing with these folks for hours.”

The guard did better than that. He walked Sully over to Drake and Jada, looking as though he were doing them a mighty favor.

“I’m sorry, but the marina has strict policies about visitors,” he said. “Without the owner present, I can only give you half an hour. You’ll have to sign in and show your ID. Please respect the privacy of the other owners and see me on your way out.”

Jada squeezed Drake’s arm, apparently concerned about having to show her ID.

“Not a problem,” he said. “We wouldn’t have it any other way, especially if we might be owners ourselves.”

“I-um-left my purse in the car,” Jada said.

The guard furrowed his brow.

Drake only smiled wider. “I’ve got it, sweetie. I’ll sign us in.”

The guard glanced at Sully, clearly trying to decide whether to push the ID issue, but then he let it go. Apparently, he didn’t want to make trouble for Mrs. Kurland, because he led the three of them to a small guard booth not far from the marina entrance and barely glanced at the false identification Drake and Sully showed him as they signed the guest book.

Drake still had his bloodstained coat folded under his arm, and the guard shot a quizzical glance at it as Drake signed in, as if he thought he might be hiding something inside.

“What’ve you got there?” the guard asked.

Drake sighed in regret. “Not a damn thing. I spilled juice all over myself like an idiot. Ruined my coat.”

Careful to show only the inside of the coat, he unfurled it to show that there was nothing wrapped inside it and then draped it carefully over his arm.

“Thanks, amigo,” Sully said, giving a private little nod to the guard that Jada and Drake weren’t supposed to see. “Say, what’s the slip number again?”

He patted at his pants pockets as if looking for the piece of paper where he’d written the number down.

“One forty-seven,” the guard replied.

Drake felt sorry for him. It wasn’t the guard’s fault he was dumb enough to fall for their hustle. He probably was going to get into serious trouble over this, maybe even lose his job. But if Drake had to choose between getting shot or thrown in jail and causing problems for this guy, well, it was really no choice at all.

Sully thanked the guard, pressing a twenty into his palm as they shook hands-a tiny fraction of the reward money Drake had brought back from South America. Then they were walking along the dock, the boats swaying on either side of them, rocked by the river.

Compared to some of the luxury crafts that were docked at the marina, the boat in the Kurlands’ slip wasn’t much to speak of-a thirty-five-foot Chris Craft with a fiberglass deep V-hull, maybe twelve feet at the beam-but that was all right. They didn’t want anything huge or ostentatious. Even better, the Chris Craft was moored in a slip at the outside edge of the marina.

They boarded as if they belonged there, Sully behaving as if he were giving them a tour. Then Sully ducked out of sight, working the key switch off the ignition and pulling at the wires, figuring out which ones were for the starter. Drake kept watch out of the corner of his eye until the guard got a phone call at the booth. He was one of those people who paced while they were on the phone, and as he talked, he strolled back and forth between his security booth and the walkway that led from the dock to the marina club.

The third time he strolled up the walk, Drake gave a nod and Sully twisted the wires together. The motor growled to life, and Sully grinned up at Drake.

“You guys are a little too good at this,” Jada said.

“Our line of work requires a lot of improvising,” Drake said.

Jada gave him a dubious smile. “Right.”

Sully backed the boat out of the slip. Just as he throttled forward, pulling away from the dock, the guard came running toward them, shouting and waving at them to pull back into the slip. Drake knew that even then the man wouldn’t know exactly what to make of it all. If he had believed Sully’s story-and it was clear he had-Mrs. Kurland might have just given her broker the key so he could take the prospective buyers for a spin. The guard would suspect, certainly. But he wouldn’t be sure, and he wouldn’t do anything drastic until he was.

As they sped upriver, the boat whipping over the water, Drake watched the guard growing smaller in the distance.

“That guy is having a bad day,” he said.

“Could be worse for him,” Jada said. “He could be with us.”

Drake and Sully both glanced at her, saw the sarcastic glint in her eyes, and laughed. She was right. Her father had been murdered, and they had encountered two other dead men today. Someone had sent men with guns to fire lots of bullets at them in hopes of making them very dead. Another someone-or maybe the same someone-had burned down Jada’s father’s apartment building.

They were having a day far worse than the guard’s.

“Still,” Drake said. “When we get back into the country, I’ll send him something. Wine of the month, maybe.”

“Cigars,” Sully said, as if wine had been the stupidest suggestion Drake could have made. “Maybe steaks.”

“Steaks?” Drake asked.

“Man’s gotta eat. And did you get a look at him? You don’t get that big eating Brussels sprouts.”

“You guys are unbelievable,” Jada said, raising her voice to be heard over the wind whipping past them as Sully throttled up and the boat went even faster.

Drake nodded. “That is actually not the first time we’ve heard that.”

Jada whacked his arm. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

But she couldn’t quite erase her smile, and Drake was glad. After all she had been through since the discovery of her father’s remains, she needed all the distraction she could get. Now that they had a moment’s respite, though, he watched her amusement quickly fade until she gazed at the city passing on their right-lights coming on as evening arrived-her expression solemn and somehow lost.