Death Echo

6

DAY ONE

NORTH OF SEATTLE

4:15 P.M.

Emma pulled off at a rest stop and sat for a few minutes, pretending to talk into her cell phone. The people in the two cars and one long-haul rig that had followed her off the freeway got out, went into various restrooms, walked dogs, and stretched out cramped muscles. Everyone piled back into the same vehicles and left.

She watched her mirrors and told herself to stop being paranoid. Herself didn’t listen.

She blew out an impatient breath and punched two on her speed dial. The outgoing call to St. Kilda was automatically scrambled, just as incoming calls from St. Kilda were automatically decoded by her phone, which could use either satellite or cell connections. All of St. Kilda’s field agents carried the special phone. In a pinch, it could double as a camera, still or video, with or without sound.

“Faroe’s phone,” said a woman’s voice. “Grace speaking.”

“Emma Cross. Is he around?”

“Annalise has her daddy in a chokehold. Anything I can do for you?”

Emma laughed. “I’d like to see that.”

There was a brushing sound, then Faroe’s voice said, “Where are you and-”

“I’m north of Seattle, heading for a Puget Sound waterfront town called Rosario,” Emma cut in. “The captain is about six foot two inches, rangy, stronger than he looks, unusual coordination, maybe thirty-five, very dark brown eyes, short black hair and beard, no visible scars or missing digits or teeth.”

“Name?”

“MacKenzie Durand, called Mac, no ‘k,’ according to his card.”

“Impression?” Faroe asked.

“Warm smile, cold eyes. Very smart. In the right situation, I bet he’d be damned dangerous.”

Faroe grunted. “Somebody wasn’t happy to find out that Blackbird is the same vessel that left Shanghai.”

“Somebody will have to be happy with the radiation patch and business card I passed off in Seattle.”

“Somebody is never happy.”

“Yeah, I get that. The Blackbird is either owned or brokered by Blue Water Marine Group in Rosario,” she continued. “I’d like a fast run on them from research. Mac is a transit captain. Is the research in on him yet?”

“Still pulling threads. Stay on him and watch your back.”

“How carefully?”

“How many backs do you have?”

Emma closed her eyes. “Right.”

“If research turns up anything useful, it will appear on your computer or as a text on your phone.”

“Faroe…”

“Yeah?”

“I’d swear I was being followed when I left the Belltown Marina.”

“Description?”

“That’s the problem,” Emma said. “I never saw anyone. I just had this feeling I was being watched. I did all the standard things for dumping a tail, both on foot and after I got in my rental. Nothing popped.”

“How are you feeling now?”

“A little foolish for wasting time, but I’d do it all over again.”

“The dumping tail thing?” Faroe asked.

“Yes.”

“Keep it up. Everyone who ever worked with you at the Agency mentioned your good instincts. Some folks didn’t like what you found with those instincts-”

“I’m shocked,” she cut in.

“But that’s why St. Kilda hired you,” he continued. “We’re not politicians. All we want are answers. Get them.”

Faroe disconnected before Emma could say anything.

She sat, staring at the phone, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking.

I left the Agency because I got tired of shadows within shadows within darkness. Every shade of black and gray.

And now all my instincts are twitching like I’m in Baghdad.

Bloody hell.

She snapped the phone shut, started her rental Jeep, and headed north on Interstate 5.