Death Echo
parking lot had tourists and boat owners coming and going. At the moment, nobody was walking nearby.
Most important, Blackbird was still at the dock.
People were still busy ripping things out of the yacht and putting other things in. Binoculars had told him that everything being installed on the boat came from a legitimate commercial source.
The bug in Blue Water Marine Groupâs office had told him the same thing. Even so, heâd checked every name on the boxes. His computer told him that each was a common supplier for Blue Water boats.
His ribs vibrated again.
Demidov reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the cell phone. Since only one man had this number, he knew who he would be talking to.
âYes?â he said in quiet Russian.
âI need more time. Get it for me.â
âHow much?â
âThe boat canât leave until after tomorrow, at the earliest.â
âNothing of interest has been put on board yet,â Demidov said. âEven at night, when you would expect it. They have the ship lit up like a stage. It would take a fool or a very, very clever man to sneak by while anyone could be watching. Temuri is not that clever.â
âMy source tells me the exchange will be made in Canada.â
âWhere?â
âIf I knew that, fool, I wouldnât need you to follow the ship. Make sure Blackbird does not leave until Thursday. Friday would be better.â
Demidov bit back a curse. He was safer working aloneâno one to betray himâbut being alone on a job this complex wasnât easy.
âThen I will sabotage the boat soââ
âNo! Too unpredictable. Blackbird must fly. Later than Saturday isnât acceptable. Earlier than Thursday isnât acceptable.â
The connection ended, leaving Demidov alone in the sun-struck, stinking van. He didnât notice the smell or the heat or the random Blue Water Marine Group office noise bleeding through his ear bug. Like a computer programmed to find certain words, he wouldnât focus on the bug until it said something interesting.
Thinking of various ways to make certain the Blackbird didnât leave the dock until Thursday, Demidov dozed, catlike, both resting and alert. For a man working alone, death was the most reliable way of carrying out a mission. The only question was whose death would get the job done.
14
DAY TWO
RESERVATION OUTSIDE ROSARIO
11:57 A.M .
E mma drove into the casinoâs parking lot in the same silence sheâd maintained since Mac had invited himself into the Jeep. She still hadnât decided whether to slug him for his attitude or hug him for making her mission easier.
She turned off the engine and faced him.
âDealerâs choice,â she said. âFor now, youâre the dealer.â
Mac smiled slowly. âYou decided that two seconds after I opened the door. Why the silent treatment?â
âPoor baby. Are you used to nervous chatter?â
âI wonât get that from you, will I?â
âIâm told the food is edible here.â She opened the door and got out. âBreakfast or lunch.â
Mac slid out and faced her over the top of the Jeep. âFood is better at the bowling alley.â
âA localâs place?â
Mac nodded.
âI donât do local when Iâm working a small town. I donât fit it in.â
He nodded again, as though heâd expected the answer.
âI havenât been to the casino,â she said, âbut Iâm guessing I wonât be all that unusual.â
âGood-looking women are always noticed.â
Emma took a mental inventory of herselfâjeans, a loose T-shirt, rugged sandals that would have been at home on a hiking trailâand said, âIn this outfit, Iâll pass without a second glance.â
âProbably. I liked the crop top better.â
Ignoring him, she locked the Jeep and headed toward the casino entrance, leaving Mac to follow or not, his choice.
He followed, smiling to himself. Ms. Emma Cross didnât like having the initiative taken out of her hands. He could understand that. He felt exactly the same way.
Mac caught up with her before she reached the casinoâs double doors. Unlike Nevada casinos, this one lacked the clamor and clang and razzle-dazzle of slot machines. Without that kind of relentless, come-and-bet-your-life atmosphere, the casino echoed like the nearly empty warehouse it was. The only
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