Death Echo

fish.”
    â€œProcessed by factory ships on the high seas, ships fed by trawlers clear-cutting the ocean bottom far away from shore,” Mac said. “Out of sight, out of mind, the way clear-cutting forests used to be.”
    As he spoke, he kept a wary eye on a nearby sailboat struggling with the Pacific Northwest’s famously fickle winds. But he couldn’t decide if it was the on-and-off wind or the captain’s inexperience that was causing the bigger problem.
    Then there were the young kayakers larking about in chunky, wide-bottomed plastic craft, ignoring shouted directions from the leader of their colorful little flock.
    Not to mention the aluminum workboat that thought speed limits were for tourists. It was leaving a wake steep enough to cap-size a careless or inexperienced kayaker.
    Emma had also noticed the sudden complications of her life as newbie captain. Trying to figure out where the sailboat, kayakers, and speeding workboat would/might intersect with Blackbird gave her a headache.
    â€œI just surpassed my pay grade,” she said. “The wheel is yours.”
    â€œSure?”
    â€œPositive. It’s not an emergency, so I’m outta here.”
    She switched places with Mac.
    After a few moments she got twitchy. To everyone else, she and Mac looked like a couple on an autumn vacation, but they weren’t on vacation. The gap between appearance and reality kept smacking her in the face. She just wasn’t used to the double game. Or triple. Maybe more.
    â€œWhen I was in training,” she said, “we spent hundreds of hours preparing for border crossings. Potentially, they’re always the most dangerous part of any operation.”
    â€œYou aren’t crossing from Casablanca to Lisbon, sweetheart,” he said, doing a reasonable impression of Humphrey Bogart.
    She smiled in spite of her restlessness. “You’re saying the natives really are friendly? Even after Steele’s heads-up call?”
    â€œOh, we’ll probably get tossed, thanks to the FBI ass clown who put a flag in the Canadian customs’ computer.” Mac’s dark eyes checked gauges. “But I doubt if it will be a rubber-hose experience. America as a nation may be genially despised, but our money is always welcome.”
    â€œIf the government isn’t the problem, why did Lovich and Amanar send you on Blackbird ? Why didn’t they just take the boat themselves?”
    â€œSame question Faroe asked. And I asked,” Mac said.
    â€œAnd the answer is?”
    He shrugged and adjusted the throttles so that the sailboat and the most foolish kayakers could get tangled up without him. The workboat was little more than a frothing, receding wake, throwing small craft around like wood chips. Somehow the kayakers had managed to stay human side up.
    â€œI think Blue Water wanted to establish an unremarkable profile for Blackbird in Canada,” Mac said.
    â€œNew owner and new girlfriend taking new boat for a cruise?”
    â€œPretty much. Nothing special. Nothing different. Nothing unexpected. Absolutely nothing to notice.”
    â€œAmanar didn’t expect the FBI to say that we’re smuggling inenough champagne for a party of two hundred,” Emma said, thinking about Steele’s call. “If we don’t get through Canadian customs…” She hesitated. “I can’t figure out if that’s good or bad. It’s certainly a game changer.”
    Mac eased through the kayakers without upsetting anyone. The sailboat had lowered yards of flapping cloth and gone back to good old diesel power.
    â€œBut since we don’t know what the game is,” he said, “we don’t know if this is opportunity knocking or an IED ticking by the roadside.”
    She winced. “I don’t suppose Alara gave any hints to Steele. Beyond the champagne charade.”
    â€œYou don’t suppose correctly.”
    She started to say something, then looked at him. “Was that grammatically possible?”
    â€œDid you understand me?”
    â€œYes. Frightening, but true.”
    â€œThen it was possible.”
    Laughing, enjoying his quick mind, Emma put her head against Mac’s shoulder. And bit him.
    He gave her a look that went from startled to smoky in one second flat.
    â€œShouldn’t we go through the border protocol again?” she asked as though nothing had happened.
    â€œThere are a lot of things I’d