The dunking board hadn't looked intimidating. Neither had the tank beneath it. At least not until I'd dipped my fingers in the water before climbing up the side of the dunk tank. But as soon as I'd sat my bum onto the slippery board and looked down, I started shivering just at the thought of plunging into the frigid liquid. Mark wound up to throw. If he hit the target, I'd be dunked. And yes, that too, the word that rhymes with 'dunked'. Mark, my partner, had already missed the target twice. We were undercover. Viktor, the subject of our investigation, was standing tall in the small audience which had gathered around the dunking tank. He liked seeing women in wet clothing. Viktor's eyes made me shiver almost as much as the thought of plunging into the water below. Mark wouldn't keep missing forever.
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