Death Echo

8

DAY ONE

MANHATTAN

11:30 P.M.

Ambassador Steele turned away from the wall of television screens in his office/home. A quick push with his hands sent his wheelchair humming across the polished tile floor. He had a motorized wheelchair but preferred the modest exercise he got rolling himself around his large office.

He hit the button blinking on his phone and spoke so that the microphone could pick up his voice. “Steele.”

“Emma Cross, as requested.”

“Thank you, Dwayne.”

In the next room, his assistant transferred the call and went back to talking in a low voice into the headset he wore.

“You requested information on MacKenzie Durand, called Mac,” Steele said, forcing himself not to look at his watch.

“Yes.”

“I’ll tell Grace as soon as we’re finished, but I wanted you to know right now that Durand could be a valuable ally or a lethal enemy. Until five years ago, he and his Special Ops team were deployed into some of the world’s nastiest places. On the last op, he was the only survivor. He quit and never looked back. Rumor is that the CIA hung his team out to dry with bad intel.”

At the other end of the line, Emma drew in her breath and stared out over the marina parking lot. “Mac wouldn’t be the first that happened to.”

“Or the last. The political back-stabbing among American intel agencies is St. Kilda’s biggest recruiting boost. That and the built-in lack of competence that comes from political hacks being appointed to high office.”

Emma wanted to laugh, but it hurt too much. “Amen. Been there, got screwed without being kissed, didn’t go back for seconds.”

Steele’s laugh was as unexpected as sunrise at midnight. “As I said, St. Kilda is more than happy to pick up the talented survivors. You’re one of them. Durand is another. As much of his background as I could get without ringing alarms is in a file waiting to be downloaded to your computer.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I want you to recruit Durand. You have all the skills.”

Emma blinked. She indeed had been trained by the Agency in recruiting locals. She had been very good at it.

And she had hated it.

“What if he doesn’t want to be recruited?” she asked.

“Buy him.”

“From what I’ve seen of him, I doubt that would work. He’s too self-confident, not needy or greedy.”

Steele let the silence lengthen before he said, “If Blackbird leaves port, you’ll have to follow. Durand is a transit captain. Connect the dots.”

“Yes, sir,” Emma said through her teeth.

Steele laughed again. “Why am I hearing echoes of ‘screw you, sir’?”

“Good ears?” she asked dryly.

“Don’t be surprised to see Grace and Annalise with Joe.”

“Family vacation,” she said. “Always heartwarming.”

“Joe loves the Pacific Northwest when it isn’t raining,” Steele said. “Ask anyone who knows him.”

“Fickle man. I hear it rains a lot here. That’s how it got so green.” But Emma understood what hadn’t been said-Faroe was traveling with his wife and daughter under cover of a vacation.

“Research is still digging,” Steele said. “We’ll get back to you.”

He broke the connection.

Emma rubbed her forearms, feeling chilled. She hoped it wasn’t her grave St. Kilda was digging.

She settled into the cold Jeep, booted up her laptop, and began reading-keeping one eye out for Mac to reappear. Living aboard a boat was illegal at the marina.

According to Mac’s file, he had a little cottage in town.

All she had to do was freeze her butt off waiting for him to go home.