Damien swung his gun toward the gate.
The man with the box dropped down the far side before he could fire.
At the foot of the ladder, the other two had their rifles up on the quay. One of them fired. Damien fired back, and the shot rang off the steel. Out past the gate, his boats were shooting too.
Rémy reached the ladder. He grabbed the rungs and hauled himself up, slow and clumsy, the open cuff swinging from his wrist. Halfway up he stalled. One of the men caught him by the waistband and shoved him higher.
Damien's aim followed them up the ladder.
Then he lowered the gun an inch, put his phone to his ear, and said something short in French.
The firing from the water stopped.
"What did you tell them?" Aria asked.
"Not the son." His eyes stayed on the gate. "That was the deal."
Rémy went over the top. The two men went up after him, one at a time, and the gate stood empty under the lights.
