He was tinkering with the plot when he was startled by flapping behind him – the stately heron, returning. This time it stood on the bow of the boat. Tom Krome saluted. The bird paid no attention; a small silvery fish wriggled in its beak.

Nice work, Krome thought, especially in a deluge.

Then the heron did something unexpected. It let go of the fish, which bounced off the slick deck and landed on the grass-covered beach. The bird made no move to retrieve its meal. Instead it froze like an iron weather vane, its head erect and its snakelike neck extended.

Uh-oh, Krome said to himself. What does it hear?

He didn't have to wait long. Between the stutter of the gunshots and the woman's scream, the great blue flared its wings and took off. This time it flew away from the island, into the teeth of the squall, and this time it made no sound.

Amber had never witnessed gunfire.

She'd heard it before, of course; everyone who lived in Dade County knew the sound of a semiautomatic. Yet she'd never actually seen a flame-blue muzzle flash until Shiner cut loose with the TEC-9. Her shriek was involuntary but hair-raising, cutting like a sickle through the respective stupors of Bodean Gazzer and Chub. Spewing curses, they lumbered bleary-eyed into the clearing – first Bodean Gazzer, brandishing the .380 stolen off the Colombian motorist; then Chub, in his droopy underwear, stoned and waving the Colt.

Shiner met them at the edge of the clearing. "I seen somebody! I did!" He radiated uncertainty and shame.

Bode snatched the TEC-9 and turned to Amber. "Tell the damn truth," he said.

"There wassomething out there. I heard it."

"A man? A critter?"

"I couldn't say – it's too dark."

Chub said, "Un-fucking-believable." He coughed up something that landed near Shiner's feet.

The kid knew he was in trouble. After the earlier fiasco at the trailer, the colonel had given him a stern lecture about wasting ammo. "It was a human bean," Shiner insisted in a mumble. "A nigger is what it looked like, a small un."

Impatiently Bode Gazzer motioned for the flashlight. Amber handed it to him. He ordered everyone to stay put and stalked into the trees. Ten minutes later he returned to report finding no signs of a human prowler, Negro or otherwise.

"Figgers." It was Chub growling. With a difficulty born of distaste and insobriety, he was attempting to insert his legs and arms into a set of Bode's camos. His own clothes were soaked by the rain, and he was freezing his ass off in the Jockey shorts.

Amber saw Shiner's stock sliding and tried to help. "It was making all kinds of noise. Right over there." Pointing where Shiner had fired.

"Yeah, I bet it did," said Bode Gazzer. From the pocket of his parka he produced a bloodied tuft of brown fur. "Got this off a leaf."

Amber declined an offer to inspect the evidence. Shiner shrunk away in embarrassment.

"You shot a mean ole bunny rabbit." Chub, with a sneer. "Or maybe a killer mouse."

Amber rose. Chub asked where she was going.

"To get some sleep. You mind?" She walked to the lean-to and lay down beneath the tarp.

Chub said, "We got us a Girl Scout. She made her own tent."

Bode told Shiner to go back out in the boat. "I need to talk to Major Chub alone."

"Don't call me that," Chub grumped. The camos looked absurd; the cuffs were six inches short, and the seat was about to rip out of the trousers. Yet he couldn't work up much indignation, he was still so high from the marine glue. He announced he was beat and headed for the lean-to to join his dream girl. •

Bode intercepted him. "Not right now." Then, under his breath: "You got the tickets, right?"

"Yeah. Somewheres." Chub gingerly probed at his nose, which felt scalded on the inside. "I think they's still in the boat."

"You think?"Bode wheeled and called to Shiner: "Hey, sergeant, change of plans!" Motioning toward the tarp. "You go ahead and sleep there. Chub and me'll take the perimeter."

Wordlessly Shiner did what he was told. He stretched out next to Amber, whose lovely eyes were closed. The wind had dropped off noticeably, and the rain had waned to an irregular drizzle that made whispers on the oilskin. Shiner was half dozing when he heard Amber's voice:

"It's going to be OK."

"I don't think so."

"Don't underestimate yourself," she told him.

Nothing could have puzzled Shiner more.

They waited until the kid and the waitress were asleep before checking the Reel Luv.The lottery tickets were safe in the console. Bodean Gazzer returned the precious condom to his wallet. Chub rolled up the other ticket, the stolen one, and slipped it into an empty bullet chamber in the .357. He laughed dopily at his own cleverness.

"Bang bang," he said.

Bode was buoyed by the sight of Chub in camouflage, even if it wasn't a tailored fit. At least they were finally dressed like an honest-to-God militia; Bode, Chub, Amber and Shiner.

Shiner, God Almighty ...

They'd lucked out again. Thanks to the heavy weather, nobody seemed to have heard the kid's reckless shooting or the girl's scream. No planes or boats had come out to the island to investigate. The group's secret position seemed safe, for now.

Bode said to Chub: "The dumb fuckup, he's gonna get us killed."

"No shit."

"I say we cut him loose."

"You got my vote."

They agreed Shiner had outlived his usefulness to the White Clarion Aryans. While he'd faithfully backed up their story for the Lotto scam and delivered Amber to Jewfish Creek as ordered, he had become a security risk. It was only a matter of time before he'd blow away one of them by mistake.

"Maybe even the girl," Chub said, though in truth he was more worried about Shiner putting the moves on Amber than shooting her. Not that she'd ever sleep with a zit-faced skinhead, but she did seem awful protective of the kid. Chub didn't go for that one bit.

He said, "We kick him out, he's like to rat on us. How 'bout we kill him."

Bode flatly said no. "I'll never shoot no Christian white man, I can help it."

"Then let's pay the fucker off."

"How much?"

"I dunno. A grand?" Glue fumes always made Chub generous.

Bode Gazzer said, "You gotta be jokin.' "

A thousand dollars wouldn't put a ding in the $28 million, but it was still too much money for a half-wit. Especially since Bode still suspected Shiner as a possible leak in the organization. What if the kid was working undercover for the Black Tide? What if the nutball shooting sprees were an act and he was actually using the guns to signal the Negroes? Bode had no proof, but the doubts nagged at him like an itch.

He said, "How about this: A thousand bucks, less what it costs for a new quarter panel on my pickup. On account a the bullet holes he made."

"Fair by me. Tell him he gets his money soon as we get ours," Chub said, "long as he keeps his trap shut."

The decision was made to inform Shiner of his expulsion first thing in the morning. Chub would transport him by boat to the Overseas Highway, where he could hitch a ride up to Homestead and retrieve his car.

"Meanwhiles I can pick up s'more beer," Chub said.

"Cigarets, too. And ice." And A1 sauce for my scrambly eggs."

Bode Gazzer said, "I better make a list."

"You do that now."

Chub took out the grocery bag containing the tube of marine adhesive. He squeezed out a moist curlicue and offered a hit to Bode, who declined. Chub buried his face in the bag and luxuriantly sucked in the vapors.

Bode said, "Easy."

Chub whooped. He had a rubber patch stuck on one eye and a rotting crab claw poking through one hand, and still he felt fucking wonderful. He wasn't the least tiny bit worried about the Black Tide or NATO or the Tri-fucking-Lateral Commission, no siree. Nobody was gonna find 'em out here on this faraway island, not even the trickiest niggers. It was OK to get wasted tonight because him and Bode was white and free and well-armed, and best of all they was goddamn m-millionaires.