All the world was blue and the blue flowed and bubbled and there were sounds in the blue. I think someone hit me once because my head moved but it didn’t hurt. At that point, nothing hurt.

I was under the lake, swimming, looking into the depths, seeing the Buick’s taillights going down, down, down, popping off and leaving me in the dark. Then above me there was light. I shifted and swam toward the surface. I was so weak I didn’t think I could make it.

A dark swift shape came from above, and the shape took hold of me and pulled me up. Then I was jerked back. I looked down. It was Dad, but his face was twisted and his eyes glowed and he was trying to tug me down there with him. But the shape from the surface, from the light, succeeded and pulled me away. I was abruptly on the shore, and the face leaning down to look at me was Ronnie’s.

“Danny,” she said. “Wake up.”

I think maybe she was patting my cheeks. I lay there on the shore of the lake looking up at my mermaid. But she was older, wearing a cop uniform, and I wasn’t on the shore of Moon Lake at all. I was in the dark room with thin, blue cuts of light slicing into it. I could hear angry thunder and it made the huge building vibrate. The air was thick and tasted like burned toast.

I expected Ronnie’s image to fade away, but it didn’t.

I tried to move, but I was too weak to do much. My hands were tied behind my back. Ronnie slipped an arm under my shoulders and lifted me up. My brain slowly un-fuzzed.

“There’s a knife in the connecting room, on the table,” I said, remembering Buck’s pocketknife and that he had forgotten to retrieve it.

Ronnie came back with Buck’s pocketknife. I rolled on my side and she cut my hands free. I looked around the room. No Buck.

I felt weak as a birthday wish. I checked for my pistol, but they had taken it, of course. I decided I could get to my knees, and did, with Ronnie’s help.

“How did you get here?” I said.

“When you didn’t meet me, I thought something was wrong. I remembered your description of the tunnel. The door was open. I had my flashlight and my gun, and I went in. I decided to keep my uniform on. I’m the law.”

“See my friend Flashlight Boy?”

“No.”

“They’ve got Buck.”

“What?”

I didn’t bother to answer. I knee-walked to the curtain and pinched it open slightly, being really careful this time. I had thought I was sneaky before, but Coolie had seen me and that’s how they had found us. Had to be. This time I opened the curtain just enough for one eye to see through.

Down in the blue room the light was gentle. Music filled the room and floated up. “Memories,” sung by Al Martino.

Always hated that goddamn song, and now I hated it more. I could see Buck down there in the chair. The rope was stuck through the holes in the back of the chair and went around Buck’s neck. Buck’s eyes fluttered, but it was obvious he wasn’t awake. He’d gotten a lot more of the sleepy shot than I had. No one else was in the room.

The door opened and a blaze of buttery light crushed the blue velvet in the doorway. A procession began.

Coolie pushed Judea’s wheelchair into the room. Judea Parker’s head leaned to one side. The plastic mask covered his face, and his oxygen tank was strapped to his chair. His mouth hung open. You could have fired a cannon off next to his ear and danced an Irish jig in his lap and he wouldn’t have been aware of it.

Coolie pushed Judea to a ramp that had been laid out while I napped. He pushed him up it and onto the dais and placed him beside the chair where Buck sat, then he came down. He had slipped a sports coat on over his uniform. They went together like a lion and a mouse. Coolie moved to stand on the left side of the table, his hands folded in front of him.

Jack Sr. came in leaning on his cane and a crutch. A parade float wearing an expensive suit. Behind him came Jack Jr. He was wearing a black robe with the hood thrown back. He looked big and ominous and at the same time as silly as a cheap party magician.

Moments later Kate Conroy entered the room in her motorized wheelchair. She was dressed in black and her hair was blue as steel in the light.

Estelle Parker was walking behind her. She wore a vanilla gown, and she wore it well. Her skin was peach-tinted porcelain, her hair was ripe wheat, and the gown clung to her legs when she walked. She stopped and stood near the door like a theater usher.

Then Chief Dudley came in. He looked tired and his shoulders were slumped. He trudged more than walked. He wore his uniform and his gun and his cowboy hat. No adjustments for him. He probably slept in that outfit. He stood near the side of the curtained window.

Okay, they had my pistol, but I remembered the shotgun. I got to my feet, which was like trying to tack a cheap sailboat in a typhoon, but I did it.

“What are you doing?” Ronnie said.

“Shotgun.”

I moved free of Ronnie and wobbled my way into the file room. The shotgun was leaning where Buck had left it. They had missed that. It had one shot, but at least with a shotgun, I was more likely to hit my target if I got up close. Problem was, there was more than one target.

I came in with the shotgun. Ronnie had peeled back the edge of a curtain, was peeking down. “Jesus,” she said.

I worked my way over and cracked the curtains as well, looked down on what was going on. The music was still playing and now everyone was seated at the table. Jack Sr. and Kate Conroy were positioned on opposite sides, close to the long end of the triangular tip that pointed to the stage. Estelle had joined them. She sat primly on the side of the table closest to the door.

Jack Jr. came up the ramp and onto the stage. Damn, he was big. He had his hood lifted over his head now. His face was a shadow. He paused by Judea Parker, gently removed the oxygen mask from Judea’s face.

Judea gulped big, then made several smaller gulps like a fish out of water. While he did this, Jack Jr. turned off the oxygen and then pinched Judea’s nose with thumb and forefinger and pressed the palm of his other hand over Judea’s mouth.

Jack Jr. yelled out, “For he who has given service!”

“Service” came the voices from below.

I started to move toward the steps that went down to the hallway, the floor below, but Ronnie grabbed me, said, “Give it a minute.”

I thought, Yeah, why not? Judea had reached the end of his usefulness. and my guess was they were all part of this pact, including him. When you were no longer of use, then you added to the success of the others.

Jack removed his hands from Judea’s face and put a hand on his chest, feeling for a heartbeat. A moment later he seemed satisfied that Judea was gone. “Memories” had faded, and an older song started, “In the Mood,” by Glenn Miller. In spite of myself, I almost tapped my toes to that.

Jack was now behind Buck. He took a moment to better position the rope around Buck’s neck.

“The time is now,” I said.

Jack called out, “And I crank.”

And crank he did, grabbing the stick that was through the loops on the rope. The rope tightened on Buck’s neck enough it made him hold his head up. His eyelids fluttered. His mouth opened wide.

“And I crank,” Jack said again as we were moving out the door and down the steps toward the ceremony room.

“It’s now or never,” I said, and I made my way down the steps, trying not to fall over due to the remains of my drug stupor. Ronnie had her service revolver drawn.