I was glad that Rink offered his nickname: it meant that we were all going to get along. The two shook hands, and Rink flipped his shades back on his head. His size and his Arkansas drawl often surprise people when they notice his eyes; he has the epicanthic fold common to Eastern races that comes courtesy of his Japanese mother. Bryce didn’t do a double start—partly because I’d told him that Rink was Asian-American, partly because he was already familiar with Rink’s file—but I saw Rink reading the man’s reaction and judging him by it. Rink seemed happy and his grin became less fixed.

“Great to meet you, Rink. We never had the opportunity to work together before, but I’ve heard good things about you.” Bryce gave me a quick glance, and I guessed that he was wishing Rink had been in Bogota that fateful day. Maybe he thought Rink would have pulled the trigger where I hadn’t. He didn’t know Rink the way I did.

Rink leaned back into his Porsche and pulled out a canvas bag. “Supplies.”

Dropping my hands down my body, I indicated that I’d everything I needed right there. Rink shook his head, a smile twitching the corner of his mouth. “There’s a guy I’ve paid to take my car outa here. No sense in leavin’ it here an’ giving the cops a heads-up.”

Rink led us along the wharf to a cabin cruiser and stepped onto the boat. Bryce went next while I checked behind us. There was no sign of any surveillance, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. I’d missed the shooter when he was tailing me in Tampa. That time I’d been distracted by Castle and Soames, and I wasn’t about to make the same mistake again.

A young black guy in baggy shorts was at the controls. An older man unhitched the ropes from the wharf and used a kick of his foot to push us clear. He clambered past us toward the cabin, talking quickly to the young man. I didn’t catch a word they said to each other.

Watching Bryce’s expression, I said, “No. We don’t intend sailing all the way to Maine.”

The motor stuttered, then roared, and the cabin cruiser angled out into the gently undulating water. The older black guy was doing a lot of gesticulating while the younger one ignored him stoically. Father and son, I assumed.

“Used these guys before?” I asked Rink.

“No. But they’re being paid to keep their lips zipped. You don’t have to worry about them.”

“Where are we going?” Bryce had sat on a bench and was watching Rock Harbor recede away from us.

“Out in the Keys,” Rink said. But that was all.