They came out of nowhere, two boats, big searchlights flooding the whole estuary with light, Tarver and Brodie and Jenner blinking in the blinding light. Brodie threw an arm up to shade his dazzled eyes, and Tarver lifted his pistol; a shotgun blast blew his knee out from under him, and he collapsed, howling, on top of Jenner.

Jenner pushed out from under him and rolled on top of Deb to shield her. Looking up, he saw Brodie calmly lift both his hands and place them on his head.

He whispered to Deb, “Deb, the feds…Hold very still; for now, we’re all suspects.”

She shook her head. “It’s not the feds, Jenner.”

He struggled to sit up, back braced against the front-row seat struts.

The searchlights dimmed, and Jenner saw more boats arriving, sliding downriver, and out of the feeder channel, three smaller boats, not much more than canoes with an outboard. And the boats, small and large, were full of people, all told, Jenner figured, probably twenty men. They were short and dark, all wearing bandannas pulled up above their noses. Their faces were broad, hair black, skin mahogany from days in the sun. Some carried cane machetes, others held pistols and shotguns; most of the shotguns were pointing at Brodie, who was grinning wryly.

The boats formed a pontoon ring around the airboat. A man stepped onto the airboat, followed closely by the only big man in the flotilla, a hulking giant whose David Beckham T-shirt bulged like a frying sausage about to pop; in his hands, the shotgun looked like a squirt gun.

The first man ignored Tarver’s moaning and turned his back on Brodie to squat next to Jenner. He peered at the rope burn on Jenner’s neck and shook his head, then lowered his bandanna to speak. His English was heavily accented but fluid, and he spoke with an almost elegant intensity. “Doctor, this is not your fight now. We will take you to land safely; you have no cause to worry.”

He looked at Deb. “Your lady…She is okay?”

Jenner said, “She’s lost some blood; she needs to get to a hospital.”

The man spoke urgently to some of his followers in a dialect Jenner didn’t recognize. The other men began to redistribute themselves among the remaining boats; Jenner realized they were making room for him and Deb.

“We will take you to land. We have a…” He turned and spoke to the man behind him in the same dialect.

The big man thought for a second, then said, “Pickup trock.”

“Yes, we have a pickup trock; we will take you to the hospital. We can only take you at the entrance, you understand?”

Jenner nodded.

“There is one thing we must ask of you.”

Jenner looked up at him expectantly.

The man gestured loosely to Brodie and Tarver. “This human filth, this ordure, they do not exist now. They are gone from the world. You do not see them.” His speech was measured and even. “You make your way to the land all by yourself, thanks to God, and a good stranger drives you to the hospital. You do not know what happen to this scum, this animal. You understand, gentleman?”

Jenner nodded.

The man said, “Lady? You understand what I say too?”

“Yes,” Deb said. “And thank you.”

The man tucked his pale gray bandanna higher up his face and nodded.

He reached out a hand to Jenner and helped him to his feet, then had his men move Deb to one of the outboards. He watched Jenner get into the smaller boat, then nodded to the man at the helm. As the boat picked up speed, he nodded at Jenner, then lifted one hand high in salute, fingers clenched into a fist.

The last time Jenner saw him, the man was turning to Brodie and Tarver.