He crept out from behind his dune and closely followed the vehicle as it crawled up the beach, keeping out of sight of the men in the truck. He heard voices, excited and happy, congratulating one another. There were two or three men on the truck and probably two on the boat. He pulled his gun from the shoulder holster. It felt warmer than his hand. He released the safety catch as the boat began to turn, probably to make it easier to unload the oyster cages into the truck. In the glow of the headlights he saw and recognized the boat’s registration number: AC 322699.

He pulled off his other glove and took out his phone with his other hand.

“They’re here,” he said quietly, and heard Isabelle gasp in reply. “Boat and truck. The boat numbers match. A-C-three-two-two-six-nine-nine. I’ll make the arrest.”

“Don’t,” he heard her reply. “We have what we need. The roadblocks are in place.”

It was too late; his voice had been heard. There was silence from the truck and boat alike. He moved out into the light, realizing he’d make a mistake as he lost vision and started blinking his eyes against the glare of the headlights.

“Armed police!” he shouted. “You’re under arrest and surrounded. Down on the ground, all of you. Hands on your heads.”

At least his warning would be recorded, he thought. He fired a round into the air.

“Down on the ground,” he repeated, stepping out to the side where he could see them all staring at him in shock and disbelief. Then the man with the flashlight threw it at him and darted back to the side of the truck and clambered into the cab, shouting, “Let’s go!”

A man on the boat hurled an oyster cage at Bruno, which missed, and the boat began reversing back down the beach. The truck began to move, and Bruno strode forward, gun at the ready, when he was jolted forward and down by a massive blow in the small of his back. Another oyster cage had hit him. The truck was moving, but his gun was still in his hand, and he sighted carefully and put two bullets into each of the front tires, watching the truck slump down onto the wheel rims.

He turned and saw the boat trundle gracefully into the waters of the bay just as a police siren sounded and a flashing blue light pulled into the parking lot, three armed men leaping out. He put his gun down on the ground, put the phone to his ear, and said, “You still there?”

“Jesus, Bruno, I heard the shots.” Isabelle’s voice was anguished. “What’s happening?”