Death Echo

of the salon. As he let go of Temuri, a big wave slammed into the boat, sending Blackbird reeling. Reflexively Mac tried to brace himself and nearly passed out when his injured wrist smacked the edge of the dinette. He tried to bite back a hoarse sound of pain, but wasn’t entirely successful.
    Temuri might have been slowed by seasickness, but he had been as vicious a fighter as Mac had ever gone against.
    â€œYou’re hurt!” Emma cried.
    â€œKeep on my intersection course for that tanker,” he said, pointing to the radar overlay on the chart.
    Every breath was a fight for Mac. Every heartbeat was a stab of pain. He had to take advantage of adrenaline while he had it in his system. Bracing himself with his legs and wedging his back into a corner behind the pilot seat, he used his good hand to yank out the cell phone that was gnawing on his neck.
    â€œTemuri’s dead,” he told Faroe. “We’re banged up, but nothing fatal. I’m heading out into the shipping zone miles offshore, but something’s wrong with Blackbird. I’ll see if I can find out and get back to you.”
    â€œAnything useful on Temuri’s body?” Faroe asked.
    â€œHaven’t had time for treasure hunting.”
    â€œDon’t throw him overboard until you do.”
    The sound Mac made was too cold to be a laugh. “Wasn’t planning to. As soon as I wrap my wrist, I’m going to the engine room to check some things.”
    â€œYou can’t use your right hand,” Emma called out, loud enough for Faroe to overhear.
    â€œIf I find anything,” Mac said into the phone, “Emma will call.”
    â€œWhat happened to you?” Faroe demanded.
    â€œBroken wrist.”
    â€œShit.”
    â€œThe left one works fine.”
    Mac disconnected. He didn’t need Faroe to add to the distraction of the pain pulsing through his arm with every heartbeat. Adrenaline was a primo painkiller until it wore off.
    It was wearing off.

75
    DAY SIX
WEST OF VANCOUVER ISLAND
8:09 P.M.
    W e’ve got to splint that wrist,” Emma said.
    â€œSteer.”
    â€œSplint. You’re no good to anyone if you pass out from pain.”
    Mac couldn’t argue with that. There were bones grinding in his wrist, and each time it happened, the pain wrenched his stomach and blurred his vision. He’d had compound fractures before, so he knew it would get worse. A lot worse.
    The stab wounds in his left thigh had joined the chorus. Temuri hadn’t gone down without exacting a blood payment. Mac was still paying, and would until he could get stitches.
    That was one son of a bitch who lived up to his advance publicity, he thought unhappily. And I’ve lost more of my edge than I realized.
    But his willpower was still intact.
    He eased out of his small backpack, yet still almost blacked out when one of the straps snagged his wrist. He hissed a savage word between his teeth.
    â€œI’m putting the wheel on auto,” Emma said.
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œAt least wear these so we don’t have to yell.” She slid his fragile-looking headset into place and spoke softly. “Can you hear me?”
    â€œYeah.”
    It was more a rasp of sound than a word.
    Mac’s backpack made a small thump when it hit the floor. He put his foot on it and yanked at the waterproof opening with his good hand. After a few moments he threw a med kit and a roll of duct tape on the pilot seat.
    â€œRemember the machine space?” Mac asked.
    â€œWhere the tools were on the first Blackbird ?”
    He breathed through clenched teeth and ignored the agony that was his wrist. “See if there are tools down there now.”
    â€œIf I’m looking for splints, I’ll be happy to do it. If you’re planning a spot of boat repair, forget it.”
    â€œSplints,” he agreed finally, and reached for the wheel. “If you see ear protectors lying around, put them on.”
    Emma slid out of the way, pulled a small flashlight from her belly pack, and went to the middle of the salon. She held on to the overhead rail while a wave of dizziness surged through her. Her head felt like it had been slammed into an anvil.
    Think about something else. Like getting home.
    She hesitated, then left the tiny headset in place. If the noise bothered Mac, he could take off his own.
    Temuri’s body lay at the far edge of the hatch. She could open it without having to touch him. She