With Sprite’s engines throttled down, we could hear the rumble of voices, the occasional shout or burst of group laughter, even what might have been singing, rolling in a cheery chorus out of Unca Joe. A gathering announcing itself to the night.

Daniel unlashed the kayak while I held Sprite alongside the barge. “Sounds like the meeting has morphed into a party.”

I frowned. “Rousseau would never let that happen . . .”

“Perfect time to get caught off guard.”

“There are sentries out everywhere.” But still, I worried.

Drumming his fingers on the wheel, Julian studied the ragtag collection of boats: whalers, canoes, dinghies, even a pontoon boat or two. No mooring buoys. No bottom soft enough to hold an anchor. Tied to the walkway posts, tied to each other. Few of them had motors of any size. Nothing as trim and agile as Sea Sprite.

“A whole marina full of rodents,” he remarked, then glanced at me slyly.

I laughed. Couldn’t help myself. And so what? Arrogant prick that he was, he’d brought me through a lethal sort of day and, though he didn’t know it, had sparked my biggest memory quake ever. I owed him. “Thanks for the thrill ride, Dark Boy.”

He tossed his head, flashing a tiny, closed-tooth grin. “Any time, den rat.”

Daniel hefted the kayak onto the side deck of the book barge. “Done.”

“Shove off,” Julian called.

I tossed Sprite’s bow rope onto her forward deck and gave her nose a push. She floated free. Julian raised his leather-wrapped wrists and crossed them above his head, maybe some private victory gesture, then gunned her into a tight turn and took off.

From the bow, Daniel watched Sea Sprite snake a quick retreat among the close-packed hulls, setting them bobbing and knocking against each other. He watched long enough to be sure Julian didn’t tangle with any super-alert sentries. I busied myself in the stern, setting the kayak in the water, mating the paddle’s two halves and shipping it beside the seat. The torches along the walkway beckoned, their reflection in Julian’s wake offering a rippled path toward home. I couldn’t wait to be there.

Daniel walked back from the bow, checking his tie lines, the backpack dangling from one hand. He seemed calmer, ready to mend fences. “You and Julie got on okay. Thought I’d find you at each other’s throats when I got there. What’d you call him? Dark Boy?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure. Do I need to be jealous?”

What? I looked up from my fussing with the kayak, but he’d turned away to throw himself down on the stern bench with an explosive sigh.

“Fuck of a day.”

“Yes, it was,” I offered neutrally.

“But we survived it.” He stowed the backpack in a corner. “So, tell me about what you remembered back there in the hide.”

Not what I’d expected. “Now?”