The Zodiac was swallowed up and the weight of the engine took her down in seconds.

Ava was befuddled, but not alarmed. Vendetta was less than a hundred yards away; an easy swim for her and Adam. Besides, her stinky robes were in dire need of a good rinsing.

"Adam. Adam!" she called out and spun in place, searching for him.

A stab of panic ripped into her belly when Ava couldn't spot Adam.

She splashed about in a hurly-burly frenzy in the black, open water. When she bumped into a solid mass, she clutched on frantically. It was Adam! But he was face-down, motionless. She flung an arm across his back and gripped his opposite shoulder. She heaved, and was able to flip him face-up.

Adam began to choke feebly and then he coughed up the seawater that had threatened to fill his lungs. He moaned weakly.

"Adam, what's wrong? Tell me."

"Huh? Oh, Ava. I'm sorry." His eyes would not focus on her.

"What? Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for. What's wrong with you, Adam? Adam!"

"Zodiac got shot... she's a goner. I thought we, um... could make it... Sorry."

"Adam! Open your eyes. We will make it. Adam!"

"Huh? Oh. I'm sleepy. You go, Ava. I'll be there... in a minute."

"No! Remember what you said, 'all or nothing'? Well I choose, all. Now, c'mon! We're swimming to Vendetta, together."

Ava had no idea what the matter was with Adam. Her guess was concussion, delayed effects of the blow to the head. Whatever, she wasn't about to give up now.

The swim to Vendetta tested all of Ava's resolve and physical capacity. She was weighed down by her clothing and boots and Adam's near dead-weight. And she couldn't risk releasing him to remove her things. Occasionally, he would make feeble swimming motions with his arms, but they were more a reflex action than anything else. He seemed to flicker in and out of consciousness.

At one point Ava thought he'd passed out completely... or worse. But with eyes still closed he murmured, "Sharks. Sharks'll come for me. You go."

"You shut up, Adam. Sharks come for you, I'll bite back."

It must have taken Ava at least forty-five minutes, but at last she reached out her left arm and latched onto a rung of the transom ladder on Vendetta. Her entire body was sapped dry of energy, absolute fatigue. She knew there was no strength remaining in her burning limbs.

"Adam! We're here. Vendetta. We made it! But I need your help, Sailor. I can't get you aboard by myself. You've got to help. Adam!"

Adam rolled out of Ava's limp right arm. He lifted his head and his hooded eyes focused lethargically on hers. She thought he may have smiled. He laboriously dragged an arm out of the water and gripped the right side-rail of the ladder. Ava turned him inwards and directed his left hand to the opposite rail. She pushed from behind as best she could, and he tried to ascend. She positioned both feet on the submerged bottom rung, wedged a shoulder under Adam's butt, and heaved with nothing other than her cast-iron will.

Adam's thighs cleared the surface and pink seawater poured over Ava.

She gasped! Adam was bleeding profusely from his left leg. "Oh, god!" she cried. "Adam, you've been shot."

"How 'bout that?" he mumbled. "Bad guys s'posed be lousy shots." He chuckled dopily. "Thank Christ they missed my vital organ, huh."

He used his arms and right leg, and with Ava's help was able to lug himself over the transom, falling onto the rear cockpit seat. He collapsed sideways.

Though physically spent, Ava gently swung Adam's lower body onto the banquette, carefully elevated his left leg, resting his calf on the gunwale. She went below to fetch the first-aid kit.

When she returned Adam groaned, "Slim, get outta here." He took two labored breaths. "Mahmoud."

"Shush, mister. Let me do my thing here."

Ava cut off his pant leg. He was bleeding from entry and exit wounds on his outer thigh. The blood was dark and flowing consistently. Ava was no medical expert, but she knew this was good news: The bullet was out; it was venous blood, not arterial; and he likely had no broken bones. If she stopped the bleeding and kept the wounds clean, Adam should be fine till they got to a hospital. She said, "You're a lucky boy, Adam. I think I can patch you up well enough to make it to a hospital."

"Lucky boy," he echoed faintly.

She flushed the wounds with antiseptic, taped bulky dressings over them, and secured them with layers of gauze wrapped round his thigh. She hoped this would adequately stop further bleeding and a tourniquet would not be necessary –that could complicate things.

While Ava was working, Adam had drifted off again. But he was breathing evenly and she felt relieved. She unfolded the blanket she had brought up and tucked it round his body. Adam had lost a lot of blood. In conjunction with the knock-on-the-head and no sleep for two days he was not in fighting shape. But with rest and maybe something to eat later, Ava was confident he would recover.

As she was re-packing the first aid kit, a twinkle of light caught the corner of her eye. She concentrated her attention about a mile up the coastline and spotted several bobbing lights moving in their direction.

Men on horseback, with flashlights. Mahmoud! Ava knew it could be nothing else... and nothing worse.