Death Echo

little buzzed.”
    Mac nodded. He’d taken the Coastguard Cocktail before he’d learned he didn’t need it. Some of the people he’d gone through training with had been sick no matter what meds they had.
    Thank God Emma isn’t one of them.
    So far.
    The water ahead would test any meds.

72
    DAY SIX
SOUTH OF TOFINO
7:39 P.M.
    E mma had her legs braced wide and knees flexed, but she still had to use the overhead handrail that ran the length of the cabin. It was a rough ride to the radar shelter of the tanker, but once in place, Blackbird would be at a better angle to the waves.
    â€œI used to think this was for hanging towels,” she said.
    Mac’s smile gleamed blue-white, a reflection of the computer screen. They were running stealth, no lights but those on the electronics.
    She watched another black mountain rise up out of the darkness, felt Blackbird climb, then slide down and down and down into the trough. The ocean didn’t have anything in common with the Inside Passage except saltwater.
    â€œIf you need a bio break, better take it now,” Mac said, watching all the engine readouts, the charts, and the compass. “We’re at the grinding point of the weather system. The ride is going to get worse when the wind switches to southeast. Then we’ll really be in for a slog.”
    She staggered and grabbed on with both hands as Blackbird lurched suddenly. Cold water slashed against the front windows, a wave breaking over the bow.
    â€œGoing to get worse?” she asked. It looked bad right now.
    â€œOh yeah.” He never looked away from the darkness beyond the bow. “Use the head now. Later you might be on your hands and knees.”
    Clinging to overhead or stair handrails every foot of the way, Emma stumbled toward the downstairs head. When she ran out of rails, she braced herself on walls in the narrow hallway. It was dark belowdecks, but she knew where the head was. The layout was the same as the first Blackbird.
    Both stateroom doors had been locked in the open position. A tiny night light gleamed in each of them. The beds were bare except for a small duffel on each. No suitcases, man bags, or grocery sacks. Lovich and Amanar had been traveling light.
    The door to the head was almost closed. As she struggled to open the swollen wood sliding door enough to lock it in place, a sour smell flowed out.
    Ugh. What is it with men and toilets? A guy can be a world-class marks-man and still miss a toilet when he’s standing right—
    Something surged up out of the darkness and slammed her against the sink. Her head banged into polished granite, then banged again, harder. She kicked and elbowed as dirty as she could, but the blows to her head had made her dizzy.
    â€œEmma?” Mac asked. “Did you fall? Are you all right?”
    She felt a knife against her throat.
    A man’s voice growled into her mic pickup. “Hear me, Captain, or bitch to die.”
    Mac recognized Temuri’s voice. Time slowed as the icy clarity of battle descended.
    â€œI’m listening,” Mac said flatly.
    â€œMove boat. Seattle. Do wrong. Bitch die.”
    â€œI don’t trust your word,” Mac said. “I want to see Emma up here, alive and unhurt. Now. Or else I run this boat aground and hell can have the leftovers. You hearing me?”
    He caught Emma’s hurried translation, then an explosion of invective. Mac smiled savagely. Shurik Temuri was furious.
    And Emma was alive and well enough to translate.
    â€œTemuri doesn’t like your first offer,” she said.
    â€œIt’s my only one. If you get hurt, I’ll sink the fucking boat.”
    She didn’t have to ask if Mac meant it. The sound of his voice was enough to make sweat freeze on her skin.
    Apparently Temuri was hearing the same thing.
    While Russian erupted in Mac’s earphones, he dug out his cell phone, hit the speed dial, and jammed the phone inside the neck of his tight weatherproof suit, close enough to the mic that at least one side of the conversation could be overheard.
    â€œWhere are—” began Faroe’s voice.
    â€œListen,” Mac cut in.
    The phone went silent.
    â€œTemuri is listening,” Emma said tightly. “He’s just not liking what he hears.”
    Mac doubted Faroe liked it any better.
    â€œThen Temuri isn’t listening real good, is he?” Mac drawled. “He has my only offer—you alive and unhurt