Death Echo

67

DAY SIX

WEST SIDE OF VANCOUVER ISLAND

5:12 P.M.

Emma searched the Pacific Ocean beneath her through binoculars. The slanting light and broken clouds-and her weary eyes-made shadows that looked like black-hulled ships.

At her side, Mac searched between the plane and the ragged black line of shore. Waves that surged rather than broke against cliffs flashed white against the darkening land.

She saw a shadowy black hull, lifted the glasses enough to rub her eyes, and focused again. The hull was still there.

Then it wasn’t.

With fingers that wanted to tremble, she refined the focus. The silhouette of a ship settled into the clear viewing field of her binoculars. She wanted to use the computerized zoom feature, but was afraid to lose contact with the shadow in any way.

“Mac.”

The huskiness of her voice brought every nerve alive in him. “Here.”

“About two-thirty. Out to sea. When you find it, zoom in.”

He found the ship quickly, zoomed in. “Hello, Blackbird. Or Black Swan. Aren’t you a beauty.”

“ID positive?” she asked.

“Unless someone built a triplet, that’s our baby.”

The certainty in his voice was as unmistakable as the elegant silhouette sliding down the side of a wave.

“Want me to circle?” the pilot asked.

“No,” Emma and Mac said as one.

“Just keep on like you’re flying in to one of the remote resorts on the west side,” Mac said.

“When we’re out of sight of the boat, go straight to Tofino,” Emma added.

“Roger.”

The plane kept on a course that angled slowly away from the boat. Before it was out of sight, Emma was on her special phone.

Grace answered immediately. “Anything?”

“We found a ship identical to Blackbird going down the west side of Vancouver Island,” Emma said.

“Thank you, God,” Grace breathed. “Above or below Tofino?”

“Above.”

Grace sighed more thanks into the phone. Then her voice became precise, efficient. “I have permission for you to repossess a ship of Black Swan’s description.”

“Repo? As in steal?”

“Stealing is illegal. Repossessing is part of a legal process.”

“Um, right,” Emma said, feeling an absurd kind of laughter tickling her throat. “So we go to the local cops and-”

“We’d rather you didn’t,” Grace cut in. “The insurance company paid off Black Swan, which means that they legally own the ship if and when it is found. However, it would be a much smoother ownership transition if you simply hijack the bitch and run for the border.”

“Possession being nine-tenths of the law.”

“Faroe knew you would understand.”

Emma laughed.

“We’ve arranged for a rental car,” Grace continued, “and silent water transportation.”

“Come again?”

“Kayaks.”

Emma made a strangled sound.

“According to your files, both you and Mac have some past experience with them,” Grace said.

“Past being the operative word.”

“Would you rather do an underwater approach? In the dark?”

“Kayaks it is,” Emma said, remembering the look of the water north of Nanaimo. “Unless Mac objects.”

“He won’t. This kind of kayak is easier to get into and out of than diving gear. The rental car papers, necessary personal items, cash, and repossession papers will be at the airport.”

“We’re on a float plane. Water, not paved runways.”

“Joe assured me that your plane does solid as well as liquid landings,” Grace said. “Call Steele when you control Black Swan masquerading as Blackbird.”

“What if-”

“Then call me.”

Grace disconnected.