“The T is out of the question,” Nick said. After what had happened at the monument, law enforcement wouldn’t be taking any more chances. And Nick knew from experience, once that APB went out, it was, for cops, piñata without the blindfolds, and everybody got a chance with the bat.

Which meant that public transportation of any sort was out. A taxi or Uber wasn’t a much better choice; taxi dispatchers would have been warned to look out for people fitting their descriptions, and an Uber left too big an online trail to follow. Who knew what sort of technical tricks the FBI was capable of?

Which meant on foot.

“You say across town,” Nick said. “That can mean a lot of things—”

But Adrian was looking past him, at something beyond the chain-link fence directly across the street from them. Nick saw one of the floating docks he’d noticed when they’d first entered the alley, lined with motorized skiffs that bounced against the water.

Hailey stepped next to him.

“You know how to drive one of those?”

“Pilot,” Nick said. “It’s not that complicated. One lever steers; the other makes it go.”

He thought for a moment. The chain-link fence wouldn’t be a problem, and the skiff’s ignition would be even more simple. He glanced back at Adrian, who nodded. Truth was, it wasn’t much of a decision. They were too deep, now, to do anything else.

“But we should wait until it gets dark,” Nick said.

*  *  *

“Look out. This one’s gonna hurt.”

Nick braced himself against the low bench that took up most of the aft section of the arrow-shaped skiff, twisting the throttle forward as hard as he could. His other hand was white against the rudder controls, keeping the bow of the little boat aimed directly at the peak of the wave that had suddenly sprung up in front of them, probably churned up by one of the big cargo boats farther out in the harbor.