Death Echo

54

DAY FIVE

DISCOVERY PASSAGE

10:21 A.M.

Seymour Narrows was behind them. It had been a treacherous surge and boil of cold green and nearly black water sucking around Blackbird. They had powered through the rough, heavy currents and tidal whorls without waiting for slack water, something that many pleasure boats couldn’t or wouldn’t do.

It had been an exhilarating ride. Once Emma had realized that Mac was watchful rather than worried, she had enjoyed the feel of Blackbird meeting conditions that changed from second to second. She was discovering that she liked challenging water.

“I keep thinking the boat should feel lighter after you off-loaded all that junk,” Emma said.

“Locator bugs don’t weigh much.”

“Still…Do you think they’re waterproof?”

“I think the plastic bag I tacked below the edge of the dock will get wet whenever a big enough boat goes by.”

“But until then,” she said, “the bugs will send reassuring signals of Blackbird tied to the dock in Discovery Harbor, Campbell River, B.C.”

“Too bad it isn’t true. That was the most fun I’ve ever had in Discovery Harbor.”

She didn’t hide the grin that spread over her face. “No wonder yachting is so popular.”

Mac made a sound of strangled laughter. “Never heard it called that before.”

“My turn,” she said, reaching for the wheel.

“You said that last night.”

She gave him a sideways look. “Turn about and all that.”

“Did I complain?” He turned the wheel over to her.

“Is that what all the groaning was?”

“So I’m noisy. Sue me.”

“I’d rather take you to the stateroom and-” she began.

Both their cell phones rang.

“I’ll get mine,” he said. “Let yours go. This water can shove you around before you know what’s happening.”

Emma eyed the deceptively calm surface of a huge circle of water nearby and kept both hands on the wheel. After the openness of the Strait of Georgia, Discovery Passage was like running upstream against a cold, deep, muscular river.

“Mac here,” he said into his phone.

Emma’s phone stopped ringing instantly. She didn’t like thinking about what might be important enough for St. Kilda to light up both of their phones at the same time.

“Faroe. Is Emma nearby?”

“Yes,” Mac said.

“Put your phone on speaker. It will save time.”

“On speaker…now.”

“Okay. You both hear me?” Faroe asked.

“Yes,” they said together.

“A man called Timothy Harrow-” Faroe said.

“Oh shit,” Emma said.

“-called. I guess Emma knows him,” Faroe said.

“We worked together when I was new to everything spooky,” she said. “We worked real close for a few months, but he didn’t wear well.”

“It took about thirty seconds for me,” Faroe said.

“You’re a man. If he’d been a hot woman, I wouldn’t have been in the same room with him for longer than it took to say good-bye.”

Faroe laughed.

Mac shook his head.

“Did good old Tim tell you anything we didn’t already know?” Emma asked.

“Nope,” Faroe said. “According to him, we have no need to know.”

“Okay. This really is an official cluster,” she said. “What little gems did he share with you?”

“Harrow, who never admitted to being with the Agency-”

Emma made a rude sound.

“-told us that it’s all very hush-hush, Canada isn’t in on the whisper circuit, and there could be some heavy lifting ahead. So St. Kilda is supposed to shut up, get down with the opposition, and report every little fart and burp to Harrow, who, by the way, is now running this op.”

Emma shook her head.

“Bullshit,” Mac said.

“He’s high on the crap quotient,” Faroe agreed. “But he’s in charge.”

“What?” Mac demanded.

“I’ll bet Harrow made an offer St. Kilda couldn’t refuse,” Emma said. “Like Alara.”

“Pretty much,” Faroe said. “When Steele told her about the new player, Alara started speaking in foreign tongues, and I’m betting she wasn’t describing flowers. Steele stuck to Urdu, which means we’re well and truly in the toilet, and someone is fondling the flush lever.”

“Can we trust Harrow?” Mac asked her.

“Depends,” Emma said. “He’s real far up the feeding chain, not like I was. I was a regular mushroom-kept in the dark and fed horse apples. I got tired of it and left the Agency.”

“If Harrow is high on the food chain, I don’t trust him,” Mac said.

“That’s my boy,” Faroe agreed. “Steele is the only Big Man In Charge I trust, period. And some days, I wonder about even him. He’s had a rough day or two. We had a rescue operation go south. Everyone got out alive, but not without blood. Shit happens and all that.”

“Emma, would you trust Harrow as a working partner?” Mac asked.

Silence, then, “He knows where a lot of bodies are buried, and he’s buried a few on our side. If I had a choice about trusting him, I’d keep him in front of me.”

“But we don’t have a choice,” Mac said. “And we don’t trust him.”

“Amen,” she said beneath her breath.

“You can be as touchy-feely as you like with him,” Faroe said, “but he’s giving the orders. He made that deadly clear.”

“What does he want?” Emma asked.

“You and Mac at the following coordinates, and he wants it all yesterday.”

Mac wrote while Faroe read numbers.

“Oh,” Faroe added. “He thinks you’re still in Campbell River.”

“We are,” Emma said instantly.

“I’ve been chasing electrons,” Mac added.

“Any luck?” Faroe asked. “I hear they’re quick little buggers.”

“I’ve caught enough that we can be at Harrow’s coordinates between one and two this afternoon. More or less.”

“Depending on weather, and we won’t know until we get there, right?” Emma added.

“Harrow is going to have a litter of green lizards,” Faroe said.

“Sweet. I’ll make a video and put it on YouTube,” she said.

“Does Steele care how we deal with Harrow?” Mac asked.

“Short of getting caught committing murder, no,” Faroe said. “What do you have in mind?”

“If I tell you,” Mac said, “St. Kilda Consulting will be responsible for my actions. If I don’t tell you, then you have a rogue agent causing you grief, and really, who can blame you for what you can’t control? It’s called deniability. The Agency should understand.”

Emma gave Mac a sidelong look.

“Don’t get caught,” Faroe said, and disconnected.