Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye she saw the slightest rush of movement, then something flashed in the darkness.

A bullet hit the woman with the dark hair just below her ribs. Her gun spun out of her hand, and she crumpled forward, clutching at the wound. A man rushed toward her from the direction of the bow of the ship. He had his own gun drawn and was flashing a badge with his other hand.

“Zack Lindwell,” he shouted, “FBI.”

He kept the gun trained on the woman, who was still barely on her feet, but hunched all the way forward, almost to the deck. Then Zack turned toward Hailey.

“You OK?” he started, but he never finished the question.

In a flash of motion so fast Hailey couldn’t digest what she was seeing until after it had happened, the woman with the dark hair leapt forward, holding something she’d slipped out of the heel of her right shoe. Before Zack could react, she’d jammed the thing into his extended arm, and, in an instant, his entire body contorted. The gun fell from his fingers and he collapsed onto the deck. He rolled onto his back, trying to regain control of his limbs, but then every part of him went rigid, like his muscles were turning to bone.

The woman stepped away, kicking off her other shoe so that she was now barefoot, still pressing the gunshot wound beneath her ribs with one hand. The bronze eagle, now flecked in her blood, was still tight in the other. She turned toward Hailey, took a step forward. Hailey stumbled backward, felt the cannon again—but then noticed something else. The base of the cannon wasn’t as smooth and curved as she’d thought. She reached back, touched it with her hand. There was an opening near the top of the cannon that shouldn’t have been there.

A gasp emerged from the stiffening FBI agent on the ground.

“What did you do to him?” Hailey asked.

As the woman glanced toward Zack, prone against the deck, Hailey reached behind herself and grabbed the cannon with both hands, then pulled as hard as she could, spinning the enormous thing around on its wheeled frame. When she looked up, the barrel was aimed directly at the woman, who was staring at her, a mixture of shock and amusement on her face.

Hailey looked down at the cannon. As she’d felt, there was an opening in the iron where the back of the tube had been shorn off and replaced. From within the opening, Hailey caught the faint scent of packed powder.