‘It’s no joke. Who are you?’

‘The name’s Ritchie.’

‘Better get the hell out of here, Ritchie.’

The man with the gun grinned at the hollow threat. ‘Yeah? Maybe you haven’t noticed, but your gun’s inside a metal case, and mine’s pointed at your chest. Now get on your knees.’

He assessed his options. There was a four-foot railing on one side of the pier. On the other side, the pier was open, inches above the swirling water. He didn’t know how deep it was or what debris littered the bottom. As they confronted each other, the wind tore into both of their bodies, shoving them off balance. Rain threatened to drown them where they stood.

‘Get on your knees!’ Ritchie shouted again. ‘Put the pistol case down.’

He squatted and put the aluminum case in front of him. Ritchie knelt down, and his blurred eyes, soaked by rain, flicked toward the pier as he groped for the handle of the case. The barrel of his gun dipped sideways.

That was the moment he needed.

With Ritchie off balance, he corkscrewed sideways, throwing himself off the pier. Ritchie’s gun cracked above the storm. The bullet singed the flesh of his arm, but in the next moment, the water engulfed him, and he sank below the surface. The bay was warm and black. He kicked through the water, putting distance between himself and where he’d entered the bay. Somewhere above him, Ritchie fired again, and then again, but he knew the man was blind, seeing the after-image of the flashlight as if he’d been staring into the sun.

He felt the bottom; it wasn’t deep. His head and then his torso rose out of the water like a sea monster. Ritchie was immediately above him. He seized the man’s right ankle with both hands and levered his leg into the air. Ritchie toppled backwards. The gun blasted harmlessly toward the sky. Ritchie landed hard on the concrete pier, and he slithered out of the water and threw himself on top of the blond man, wrestling for the gun. He pinned Ritchie’s wrist; the gun fired again, loud and hot. Ritchie landed a haymaker on the side of his skull, shunting him sideways, making the world spin. Heavy and strong, Ritchie rolled on top of him. The rain poured over their bodies.

The gun fired again, so close now that the explosion made his ear bleed. A bullet ricocheted on stone and metal, and something sharp cut his face. He grabbed Ritchie’s wrist again, but the man outweighed him, and he could see the gun barrel push toward his face. He felt something in his pocket. Something sharp and solid. In a single seamless motion, he yanked out his knife and drove it sideways into the flesh of Ritchie’s neck, until the hilt collided with cartilage and bone.

Ritchie howled. His fingers loosened. The gun fell.