Light spilled in, not from above, but ahead. The tunnel opened, and the ground turned to cement underfoot. The walls were spotted with snails. Through the blinding yellow light, I could make out a rocky shore, timber piers, a hundred docked sailboats. It seemed we were concealed in a culvert tapering to the sea.
We hadn’t taken five paces when Patrick said “Wait here,” and we stopped. Donny and Otto positioned themselves in front of Polly and me. Donny said “Smells like rottin’ fish in here,” and Otto shushed him.
Within moments, sunshine and sea were interrupted by three figures. All men. All armed.
“Hello, boys,” Patrick said, as though we weren’t convening secretly in the mouth of a giant drain. “What’ve you got for me?” From his mouth coiled small spirals of smoke. There was a lit c
