Death Echo

fishing.”
    Demidov didn’t bother saying that it wasn’t enough for him. He checked the numbers again, then nodded abruptly.
    â€œWhat?” she asked.
    He glanced at her, then back to the charts.
    Blackbird wouldn’t be sailing up the Inside Passage right away.The yacht had gone into Nanaimo harbor, to check in with Canadian customs. Even if it was the usual cursory inspection, there would be time for him to set up the interception. After that…
    After that, it depended on Blackbird ’s captain.
    â€œTaras?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”
    â€œSomething is always wrong. It’s just a matter of finding out what and where and when,” Demidov said. “Your boat. Is it ready to use?”
    â€œAlways. That’s how I make my living.”
    â€œCome, you will show me about this living.”
    â€œNow?”
    â€œNow.”

38
    DAY FOUR
NANAIMO
12:05 P.M .
    M ac let the boat idle for a moment, feeling what the tidal currents and the wind were doing to Blackbird. The brisk northwest wind was strong enough that even the yacht felt its push and pull. The customs dock and its claustrophobic modular shed waited for them. It didn’t look like there was anyone in the small office yet, but someone was strolling down the long ramp that went up and away from the water to much larger headquarters.
    Mac tapped the battery-operated headset he wore. The microphone was the size of a bumblebee hovering just beyond reach of his lips. Low tech compared to what he’d used in war zones, but it got the job done.
    Ate nine-volt batteries, though.
    â€œReady?” he asked.
    â€œNo, but I’m awaiting detailed instructions.”
    Though they couldn’t see each other, the headphones they wore made it seem like they were standing side by side.
    â€œYou have your PFD cinched tight?” he asked.
    Emma fingered the straps of the flat life vest she wore. It wouldn’t inflate unless she hit the water, which she really didn’t want to do.
    â€œI’m good,” she said. “The lines are all coiled and ready to go.”
    â€œThis landing is going to be different,” Mac said. “Bowline first, then stern, then forward spring line. Don’t worry about pretty or efficient. Just get it done. Step off onto the dock when I bring her alongside. Ready?”
    Frowning, she thought through the steps.
    â€œUnless you want to take the controls?” he invited.
    â€œPod drive?”
    She’d learned to like it in the few minutes he’d let her play with it before they got into real traffic near the harbor. Then he’d made her switch to old-fashioned throttles for control. The pod drive was sexy and easy, but it wasn’t something he really trusted.
    â€œNope,” Mac said.
    â€œThen it’s all yours,” she said.
    After a few moments he heard her counting, “Three, two, one—I’m on the dock.”
    He saw the flash of colorful shirt and long legs as Emma took the bowline and brought it partway back on the dock before she went to tie off. Using a wooden bull nose to tie off on rather than a big metal cleat threw off her rhythm, but she secured the line with the double half-hitch knot Mac had taught her.
    â€œI like cleats better,” she said, tugging hard on the line.
    â€œSo do I. Easier on the lines. But when in Canada…”
    â€œDo as the Canadians,” she finished.
    Despite the headset that kept wanting to fall into the water every time she leaned over, she got the bow tied off.
    â€œSecure, Captain,” she said.
    Wind gusted across the dock, catching Emma by surprise.
    â€œYikes,” she said. “The wind is trying to shove me off the dock. You, too. The boat’s butt—stern—is too far away for me to reach that line.”
    â€œIt won’t be.”
    The bow came up against the line that was already tied off to the dock. Gently Mac applied the throttle. Despite the wind and tide,the stern swung majestically back in line with the dock. He didn’t even bother to use special thrusters. He wanted to know how Blackbird would act if some of the fancy electronics cut out.
    As Emma watched the big boat snuggle against the dock, she had a gut understanding of the multiple forces at work, and the elegance of Mac’s skill. He could have used the pod drives so that he could hold the boat against the dock and handle the lines himself.
    But he loved the