He studied me. “Why’s that?”

“Been bugging me since I woke up. We’re looking south for the storm, right? Superstorm Leon moving up the coast. But my itch says there’s something brewing out there.” I nodded due east, out to sea.

“You’re saying, a second storm?”

“Just . . . something.”

“Better give Rousseau a heads up.”

“They’d never believe me.”

Doyle moved into planning mode. “How many men do we have? How many weapons?”

“Hold on,” said Rousseau.

Doyle beckoned Tito to join him on his floating podium. “Can’t let ’em catch us here in the Lagoon. What’s the best spot for an ambush?”

Tito stayed where he was, glancing to Rousseau.

“Tommy!” Rousseau bellowed, leaning over the rail. “I’m not letting you risk everyone’s life just because you’re hot for confrontation!”

And there we were again, in that same bad place: half the den ready to race into battle, the rest even readier to speed away and avoid bloodshed. The gathering around Doyle shifted as those not up for a fight crept off the float while the willing shoved their way on with waving fists and roars of support.

Rousseau called to Tito for an updated count: how many boats, how much people and cargo? But anyone could do the math: three power boats strong enough to pull a loaded raft, two of them already overladen and fully crewed. Five other rafts, each rigged with sail and rudder, already loaded, already crewed. The remaining small craft—canoes, kayaks, dinghies—could take about another dozen people between them. I ticked off available spaces versus the thirty or forty . . . no, make it exact . . . forty-two people needing transport.

“What about our war canoes?” I hoped this was a new idea.

“Went out with the second shift,” Breakers said. “Crammed to the gills with Macys.”

Save the children first. Well, why not? They’d been through so much already.

“What if those who want to fight just stayed behind?”

Breakers sucked her teeth. “Suicide mission, if Tommy’s got the numbers right.”

Massing, Doyle had said. Like army ants. I turned to Daniel. “What would you do?”

“Me? I’m for splitting soon as everyone has a ride uptown.”

“Really?” Silly to be so relieved, since enough rides was exactly the problem. But I did.

He gave me a wan smile. “I’m not as bloodthirsty as you think.”

“I don’t . . .”

“You do. But whenever I opt for the extreme course, I like the odds to be on my side. Doyle’s setting us up for a massacre. And tell me true: in a court of law, would you honestly be able to plead a mercy case for BlackAdder?”

I had no answer for that, and Jake saved the need for one, whistling for silence.