Death Echo

the warmth of her family. She gave her daughter’s hair a final stroke.
    Before Grace could shift to her feet, Faroe gently scooped up their daughter, put her in the portable bed/playpen, and covered her with her favorite snuggly blanket. She sighed and blew bubbles into the fuzzy, zebra-striped cloth.
    â€œIf Temuri’s family had swung the Putin way,” Faroe continued, “Shurik would probably be in the top tier of Russian government or industry or crime. Same thing, a lot of the time.”
    Grace went to the tiny dinette table. “What are two homeboys like Lovich and Amanar doing hanging out with that kind of international weight?” she asked between bites.
    â€œBusiness,” Faroe said, sitting next to her. “The black kind.”
    â€œBig duh moment. Is Alara still ‘helping’ St. Kilda with information?”
    â€œReams of it, from every U.S. intelligence agency, named and unnamed, plus a few that Steele hadn’t heard of until now. Problem is, she isn’t giving us much that we couldn’t have found out on our own, even in the time we have.”
    Grace shrugged. “We knew she would hold back. Or have peopleholding back from giving her necessary intel until the last possible instant—if they give it away at all.”
    Faroe wished he could argue with her, but he couldn’t. He’d gone to jail for a politician’s photo-op. Nothing personal. Just the way things were. Until there was no other choice, politicians and bureaucrats would rather bury the dead and have live-broadcast Senate committee investigations of nothing useful than put their own assets on the line.
    Public theater, the politicians’ way to get around campaign spending limits. Ring the publicity bell with TV and Internet instant coverage, all in the name of public service, of course.
    â€œI gave Lane the go-ahead to enter some closed databases,” Faroe said as he loaded eggs onto his own toast. “We should know more soon.”
    â€œSometimes I worry about what we’re teaching our son.”
    â€œYou mean what I’m teaching him.”
    â€œYou, Steele, me, and now he’s got a thing for Mary.”
    â€œSt. Kilda’s Mary? Our very own long-gun specialist?” Faroe asked.
    â€œAka sniper,” Grace said.
    â€œReally? Since when?”
    Grace gave him a startled look. “Earth to Joe. Mary has been St. Kilda’s sniper since before I—”
    â€œNo, I meant Lane. Since when?”
    â€œSince she’s been training him on the gun range.”
    â€œHuh.”
    â€œShe says he’s a natural shot. Steady hands, great eyes—yours, by the way. Hands, too, come to think of it.”
    Faroe grinned. “That’s my boy.”
    â€œHas your temper, too.”
    â€œNope. Can’t take credit for that one. I’m even tempered.”
    Grace gave him a dark, sideways look. “Yeah. All bad, all the time.”
    â€œIt’s a miracle you married me.”
    She smiled over her coffee cup. “It’s all in your hands.”
    â€œAll?”
    â€œWith our daughter in the room, I only talk about your hands.”
    â€œYou finished with breakfast?” Faroe asked.
    â€œAlmost. Why?”
    â€œGot some handwork I want to show you.”
    Grace smiled and ate faster. In this world, she had learned to take her desserts whenever they were within reach. Life’s only guarantee was that no one got out alive.

30
    DAY FOUR
JAMES ISLAND
5:45 A.M .
    M ac fired up the winch and lowered the small anchor into the dark, restless water. When the sun made a swift appearance among the low, racing clouds, fir trees were reflected in rippling green lines on the surface of the water. In the background, the engine-room blower whined as it cleared heat away from the big diesels.
    When he was sure the anchor would hold for as long as it had to, he turned his attention back to Emma, who had been watching closely his every move. If she had to, he’d bet that now she could do a creditable job of setting a lunch hook.
    â€œSo Stoneface—Temuri—doesn’t think a lot of you?” Mac asked softly.
    â€œPretty much,” Emma said, her voice as low as his. There were other boats nearby on the water, and sound carried way too well. “To call me female plumbing with two feet and three openings comes close.”
    Mac made a choked noise.
    â€œBut his accent is different from his