I raced for his gun, but stopped halfway there, a decision to make. Jung was drowning. I locked eyes on the gun lying on the deck, then on the lake, and on the approaching boat. Go for the gun, or go for Jung? That moment of hesitation, just that one moment, was enough. Spada sprang for the gun again and got it. I turned and bolted for the side of the boat.

I didn’t need to check behind me to know he had the gun pointed at my back. I didn’t have time to turn and fire again, only enough to haul ass. I hit the railing, grabbed it with both hands, squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the bullet, and swung myself up and over into the water.

Spada fired and missed, but the shots kept coming, the rounds torpedoing into the water all around me. I dove deep, waiting to be hit, wondering about the police boats, and knowing Jung was out here somewhere, taking on water. One, two, three, four, five shots; Spada emptied his clip, firing wildly. When the bullets finally stopped, I surfaced slowly to see him weaving toward the controls of the Magnifique just as the marine unit roared in.

The water was dark; the night was dark. My exhausted arms trembled. I couldn’t see anything beyond the reach of my own fingertips. No use calling out. Jung wouldn’t hear me. I dove again, feeling around below the surface, hoping I got lucky and happened upon him, popping up empty-handed, only to try again. The water suddenly lit up like daylight and I turned to see the CPD boat idling a few feet away, its engine rumbling, searchlights trained on the patch of lake I was bobbing around in.

“Out of the water,” a gruff voice announced over the bullhorn. “Swim toward the boat.”

The life ring tossed from the boat missed my head by inches, but I grabbed it, ducked inside it, and held on.

“There’s someone else in the water!” I yelled up to the boat. “He needs help.”

The searchlight moved along the surface in a wide arc, but no one jumped in to help in the search. All I could see from my vantage point were the tops of the waves.

“Out of the water,” the voice repeated.

I groaned, pounded a fist on the surface, and then turned my back to the boat. I slipped out of the ring and took another sightless dive. I came up empty again, but thanks to the lights, I spotted a dark mass floating as flat as a board in the chop a few feet away. It was Jung. I swam over and grabbed him from behind, hoisting him up under his rib cage. I checked for a pulse, two blistered fingers to the side of his neck. There it was. He was still breathing. He was alive.