She had the impression of bullets flying and falling. She brought the gun up, kicking against her shoulder.

Fire came back from the ship, halfway up the steps to the deck. She dropped the rifle, hearing distant, tinny echoes of firing coming back from behind her, reflected from the boxy hull of the Nakodo.

She found the heavy machine-gun, lifted it rattling from the bottom of the Gemini. She supported it as best she could, fired.

The gun kicked against her shoulder, almost throwing her over the stern of the boat. Lazy lines of tracer swung round, heading towards the Nadia, spiralling into the night sky. The Gemini was turning, forced round by the weight of flung metal arching away from her towards the distant ship. Return fire flickered from the ship's hull.

She cursed, dropped forward, hearing splashy pops of bullets striking the water somewhere in front of her. She steadied the big machine-gun on the bulbous prow of the Gemini, swinging the inverted V of its barrel-support into place on the taut rubber of the bows. In the ship's own glow she could make out enough of the steps and pontoon to see where to aim. Light glittered there. By the time the noise arrived she was firing.

The tracer helped. She swung the stuttered trail and raised it, until the trail ended where the firing had been coming from. The Gemini was starting to swing again. The belt of bullets clinked and clattered like a bottling plant beneath her; the cartridges were thrown out to one side, hissing as they hit the waters of the lake.

'Hey! Get — ah! Son of a bitch! The radio came alive again with Dandridge's voice. She paused, and through the radio heard clinks and slaps that died away, and guessed those noises were her bullets hitting the hull of the ship. 'Get over here, you motherfuckers. Ah! Shit! The sound of something thumping and clattering.

She fired again. The chain of bullets ripped its way up into the gun and finished. She spun round, grabbed the ammunition box, found the end of the cartridge belt and snapped the gun open, hauling the weight of articulated belt up, fumbling with the first round until it clicked into place and she could close the breech mechanism again. She fired once more, having to angle out over the starboard bow of the inflatable as it twisted in the water, swung by the recoil. She put the gun's stock down, felt for the AK47 and studied the nightsight. Against the Nadia's hull, a figure limped and fell down the last few steps to the pontoon, threw itself behind the deflated corpse of the black Gemini.

'Hey! Hey! said the radio. 'Come on! Who is that?

'We coming, jefe.

She took the radio up, clicked the button that fell beneath her thumb. 'Mr Dandridge? she said. She leant forward, took up the machine-gun again, shifting it to the side of the Gemini, aiming at the pontoon, dimly seen against Nadia's hull.

'Wha-shee-it! Ms Onoda? Dandridge coughed, laughed. 'Our little yellow friend? That you out there with the heavy weaponry?

She clicked the send button again. 'Hello, she said.

'Jesus aitch, I do believe it is. You still alive?

'No, she said.

The Gemini was still drifting. She took up the AK47 again, scanning the grey view. The Nakodo still showed no sign of life. Le Cercle was hidden behind the stern of the Nadia. She listened for engines.

'Ha, Ms Onoda. The radio cut out, came back. Dandridge wheezed, 'Dead and kicking, huh? Who the hell taught you to shoot like that? She didn't reply. She checked the machine-gun again, put it down and went back to the stern of the boat, restarted the outboard. 'What've you been doing, lady? What you been up to? How come you got a radio? She angled the inflatable parallel with the ship, sent it in the direction of the Nadia's bows, away from the course a boat from either of the other two ships would take. Dandridge had come from Le Cercle, not the Nakodo. The AK47 sight still showed nothing happening on or near the Nakodo.

'Ms Onoda; talk to me. You're screwing things up here. I think I deserve a little explanation. Let's talk.

'Did I hit you? she asked, putting down the assault rifle to talk into the radio.

'Just a scratch, as we say in the trade, Dandridge laughed. 'You don't cease to amaze me, ma'am. Hell, what you got against us? He laughed again.

'You comfortable, Mr Dandridge? she said.

'Hell, never felt better. How about you?

'Same here. She was within fifty metres of the Nadia's port bow. She swung the Gemini round until it was pointing back towards the pontoon. She let the throttle go, killed the engine, and went forwards to shift the machine-gun to the inflatable's bows again.

'Great. Well, look, we seem to have a minor disagreement here, but I'm sure we can talk it out. I just want you to know I personally don't bear you any ill will, you know — she heard him grunt, imagined him shifting position on the pontoon. She took another look through the nightsight. No movement. - but this is a real stupid way to negotiate, you know? I realise you have your own point of view and all, but I want to talk to you for a moment, and I hope you'll do me the honour of listening, right? There are aspects to what we're trying to do here that I don't think you fully appreciate. Now, you don't have to tell me that every, umm, aspect of these guys' behaviour has been everything you might expect under the Geneva Convention and all, but —

She held one of the little metal legs of the machine-gun down on to the pliant rubber with her left hand, squeezed the trigger with the index finger of the right.

The gun tried to leap; it barked and rattled and hissed. Fire trailed out across the water, calm enough to reflect it in places, and raised white feathers of water around the pontoon. She heard Dandridge shout as she paused, adjusted. The gun pulsed against her shoulder again, tracer bowing and falling. She saw sparks, then a ball of flame as the jerrycans on the pontoon ignited.

She looked up. The little mushroom of fire rose rolling, doughnut-like, against the dark hull, gathering itself under and through like a woman hoisting her skirts. Beneath it, a neck of flame throbbed in and out, and fire spilled over the deck of the pontoon, spreading over the waters to either side. She put the gun down.

'Hot damn, Ms Onoda, good shooting! Dandridge shouted from the radio. 'Outstanding! Just when I was starting to feel cold. Well thank you, ma'am.

She felt back into the pile of weaponry in the bottom of the Gemini, found what she was looking for and lifted it. She turned away from the distant light of the burning pontoon and used the cigarette lighter from her breast pocket to inspect the device.

'Jefe —

'Shut up. Ma'am, you have me quite incredibly impressed. You should be on our side, and I mean that as a compliment, I really do. And that's what I want to talk to you about. See, there's things in all this I don't think you fully understand. We are talking about the geopolitical situation here. What I mean is, you actually are on our side, if you only knew it. I mean that. You're a mercantile nation; this is about what matters to you, too. Ah, hell, Ms Onoda, it's all about trade; yes, trade; trade and spheres of influence and… and opportunities; the possibility of influence and power… you still listening, Ms Onoda?

'Keep talking, she said absently, wishing she knew more about the Cyrillic alphabet.

'Good. We have to keep talking. That's very important. I. think that's very important. Don't you think that's important, Ms Onoda?

She lifted the weight to her shoulder, tried a couple of switches. The device whined but the sight stayed dark. She tried different sequences, found a trigger guard and pushed it up and forward. The whine altered its tone.