Suspended between, I watched Daniel settle cross-legged beside a skinny, dreadlocked kid, no more than six or seven. Daniel began some quiet story, while the boy stared into space. As if she’d heard my thought, Rivera came in with a gaggle of Smith kids, the same ones she’d comforted not so long ago. She scattered them among the Macys, urging them to share what they’d been through. Her competence shamed me but released my paralysis. But I was no use here. Those poor kids had enough good intentions leaning on them already. I drifted away toward the tables.

“Escalating the conflict is not the answer!” Rousseau was insisting as I found a long bench to drag up behind them. “Whatever we find, they’ll find bigger.”

“I’m thinking a direct connection to the Mainland military,” Red Katja mused.

Will sounded less sure of himself now. “Why would the Mainland be arming an Island den? They’ve got enough problems on their own turf.”

“What the fuck does it matter?” Doyle’s hands fisted on the tabletop. “We need to take the fight to their doorstep!”

“How’re you going to do that if you don’t know who they are?” R.J. said.

“We could just . . .” Doyle’s girl Mitsuko was speaking, so softly and unexpectedly that everyone shut up to listen. “. . . pick up a few Adders and ask them.”

Doyle grinned, while Rousseau stared down at clasped hands and chewed his lip.

“Nah,” snorted Spunk. “You woan get nuttin’ outa dem. Betcha dey doan even know.”

“Might be satisfying to try,” said Doyle.

“Probably Bright brings the stuff in,” Maxine said.

“Then we ask him!” Doyle’s voice sharpened. “Say we’ll deal, then take him for a little boat ride.”

“We could,” agreed Jake. “But would anyone who values their profit tell the middleman about the route back to the secret source? He’s got some neutral pickup point.”

“Then we find that out! You rather sit about moaning while they do us in den by den?”

“No one’s suggesting that,” snapped Will.

“What are you suggesting, then?” Doyle did his uncanny mimic again. I wondered if he’d been an actor before, like Jake. Maybe why they’d been friends?

Will glanced at R.J. sidelong, his restraint wearing thin. “We’re suggesting a more businesslike, long-term solution. One that won’t leave half of us slaughtered in our beds.”

“Won’t happen if we hit ’em hard enough! And soon!”

“Who? Who?” yelled Will. “Who are you going to hit? And where?”

“Whoever! Wherever!” Doyle rose, bracing his arms on the table. His flanking muscle boys slammed their feet to the floor and sat erect. “You can hide behind your fucking numbers all you want! Won’t save you when the Adders come knocking!”

“Enough, Tom.” Rousseau scraped his chair back. “Not while the children . . .”