The blast shook Alice’s feet from the ledge, and the drop beckoned below as she slithered down the container. She clung to the cable, rested her face against the cold metal hull, and dragged herself up. She understood now why Xavi had taken such an odd stance; his pelvis and legs had absorbed the gun’s recoil to push him across the greasy surface. His aim was true; twenty feet in the air, a tiny drone was spitting fire and blue smoke. A buzz rose in pitch as a glittering white flash seared her retina and smoking fragments pinged across the metal deck.