Traffic on Lake Shore Drive whizzed past, oblivious to Jung’s predicament . . . or mine. The constant procession of taillights and headlights was a taunting reminder that the world didn’t stop, no matter what went on in it. No sign of police lights yet. I held my watch up toward the streetlamp. Just twenty minutes since I’d left Spada’s house; enough time for this place to be swarming with cop cars. Hadn’t Barb been able to get through to Ben?

I hung back behind a tree and watched Tim’s boat. Nothing moved on deck, and all the lights were off. Was Jung hiding on board, waiting for Spada? What if he didn’t come? Was Jung prepared to lie in wait indefinitely? I headed that way, but stopped when I heard scuffling behind me. I reeled to see two dark figures on a boat moored some feet away from Tim’s—three slips down, to be precise. It was Spada’s boat, the Magnifique; the one Darby was living on in order to keep tabs on Tim; the one Spada’s wife said he refused to step foot on.

I pedaled backward, out of the dim glow of the lights, my eyes glued to the top deck of Spada’s boat. The figures walked slowly topside, both keeping low, the figure in front moving unsteadily. They moved like men, not women, I thought. The figure in front was tall, thin, like Jung, but I couldn’t be sure it was him.

Suddenly the figure in front fell and the one behind reached down and dragged him along; then someone yelled out, “Dude!”

My breath caught. It was Jung. Who else could it be? Spada had him and he was going to kill him. I marked the distance from the tree where I stood to the boat. There was no way I could make it without being seen, and the only chance I had was the element of surprise. If Spada saw me coming, he’d kill Jung on the spot. I searched the Drive for cop lights, sirens. Nothing.