Death Echo

looked at the seething, snapping mass, like Halloween with ebony eyes and countless orange bodies. “Now what?”
    â€œGrab the head in one hand and the body in the other and twist, like wringing a washrag,” Mac said. “But be careful. Spot prawns have pointy parts that draw blood.”
    â€œSo does Joe.”
    Mac remembered Faroe’s relaxed yet fully balanced moves as he boarded the boat. “That’s why I’m cleaning prawns instead of him.”
    â€œGood choice.”
    Faroe looked from one to the other and shook his head. “Grace was right about you.”
    â€œWho?” they said simultaneously.
    â€œMove over,” was all Faroe said. “I’ll help rip heads.”
    â€œKeep your hands clean and open one of the New Zealand whites I have in the fridge,” Mac said. “Glasses are in the cupboard next to the sink.” To Emma he said, “Put the tails in the blue plastic bowl to your right.”
    â€œThis is going to be interesting,” Faroe said, opening the tiny fridge.
    â€œWhat?” Mac asked.
    â€œYou like to give orders. So do I. Could be interesting when we work together.”
    â€œIf, not when.”
    Faroe ignored him.
    Before they had cleaned half the prawns, Faroe had the wine opened, poured, and was rummaging through the galley for a big pot to heat water in. While the water came to a boil, the men finished cleaning dinner and talked about the joys and drawbacks of boat ownership.
    No one mentioned Blackbird .
    Emma left the men to sizing each other up, took her wounded fingers to the head, and washed them thoroughly. The flesh of the prawns looked like translucent pearl, but the “sharp bits” protecting the succulent flesh drew blood and stung like the devil. She dried her hands and rejoined the men.
    They both cleaned prawns with an efficiency she could only admire.
    After a bare taste of the crisp white wine, she set the table and tore up the salad makings she had found in the fridge. A loaf of fresh bread with butter rounded out the meal.
    When they sat down to the very fresh, just-barely-cooked prawns, she looked at her fingers ruefully.
    â€œI’m still oozing,” she said.
    â€œTold you they were sharp,” Mac said.
    â€œDon’t hire him,” she said to Faroe. “I hate the ‘told you so’ kind of man.”
    Faroe ignored both of them. He savored the succulent delicacy. When he took a break to breathe, he praised the lines and workmanship of Autonomy .
    Despite himself, Mac began to relax. There was little that he liked better than sharing his love of his boat.
    Making small, throaty sounds of pleasure, Emma went through the prawns like a quick-fingered lawn mower, leaving nothing but small pieces of shell behind. Then she wiped her hands, took her plate to the galley sink, and drank her fifth sip of wine while she finished her salad.
    â€œIt’s getting too dark to watch Blackbird from the motel window,” she said, reaching for her small purse. “Unless you brought night-viewing equipment?”
    â€œWe’re on vacation,” Faroe said. “But if you need it, I’ll get it. So far they’ve kept the dock lit up like opening night.”
    Mac said, “Don’t worry about Blackbird. She’s not going anywhere until tomorrow.”
    â€œHow do you know?” Faroe asked.
    â€œCommon sense. And her transit captain told me.”
    Faroe didn’t move, didn’t shift his expression, but suddenly Mac was the sole focus of the other man’s attention.
    â€œWhy?” Faroe asked.
    â€œI’ve known him since first grade,” Mac said. “The common sense took a lot longer.” He wiped his hands as he met Faroe’s hard green eyes. “And I pushed.”
    â€œAre transit jobs usually secret?” Emma asked.
    Both men said, “No.”
    Emma waited.
    Faroe asked, “Is he smuggling?”
    â€œWhy would I tell you?” Mac said. “I’ve barely known you for an hour.”
    She watched them exchange level looks and wondered how badly this “interview” was about to end.
    â€œIf it’s weed or cigarettes,” Faroe said, “I’ll kiss your friend on all four cheeks and wish him bon voyage.”
    Mac looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Tommy didn’t mention smuggling to me. That doesn’t mean he isn’t carrying hot cargo. It just means he