McCrea snapped his rifle back to his shoulder. “You in the second boat!” he yelled. “Put your weapon down!” At a whisper he added for Victoria’s benefit, “You’re giving them advantage.”

“You can see how fragile this moment is, Captain,” Victoria called. “If people die in the next few minutes, it will be because of you, not because of us.” She wondered how far away people needed to be to hear the hammering of her heart.

“This is a mistake, Vicky,” McCrea said.

“Hush, Major.” Victoria watched as Magill worked through his options.

Magill never shifted his eyes from McCrea as he shouted to his troops, “Everyone stand down! Drop your muzzles. Let’s not have a fight. Not now.”

“Thank you,” Victoria said, taking a step closer, until her boots were in the water. “I am Victoria Emerson. We need to start over again. First of all, you will arrest no one. And you will not help yourself to our stores. If that is your sole intent, then you need to move on.”

Magill’s eyes narrowed as he listened. “Victoria Emerson,” he said, tasting the words. “Have we met?”

“Not that I remember,” Victoria said, “but we may have.”

“You look familiar.”

“I get that a lot. Would you like to come ashore so we can talk?”

“What about my troops?”

“That depends on how our talk goes. You pointed rifles at my son. That’s a crappy first step in a new relationship.”

“How many people do you have in this town?”

Victoria said nothing.

“Are you the leader?” Magill asked. “The mayor or something?”

“Or something,” Victoria said. “Captain Magill, we’ve arrived at the shit-or-get-off-the-pot moment. Either you come ashore and we talk, or you and yours press on. If you choose to fight, I guarantee you will lose.”

“You’ve got a lot of swagger, I’ll give you that.”

“Call the ball, Captain.”

“All right, Lieutenant MacIntosh, row us ashore.” His eyes never moved from McCrea, his hand never left the grip of his M4.

An unhealthy-looking man behind Magill engaged his paddle and pulled them closer to shore. As the bow of their pleasure craft scraped onto the launching slip, Magill threw a line to Victoria.

She made no effort to catch it as it splashed into the water. She was the leader of Ortho, not his crewman.

“It’s like that, is it?” Magill said as he hefted himself over the gunwale to land in shin-deep water. “Mack, come with me. Elliott?”

“Sir?” That came from a third man in Magill’s boat.

“Keep everyone close. If this is a trap, we’ll know it soon enough. Safeties on, but weapons at the ready.”

That didn’t sound good. “Major McCrea, come with me, please. George and Joey, you too.”

McCrea called out, “First Sergeant Copley!”

From somewhere behind them: “Sir?”

“You know what to do.”

“Yessir.”

“Are you ganging up on me, Vicky?” Magill asked.