Death Echo

eye.
    Neither one looked upset.
    â€œThe same source that mentioned suitcase nukes floated the idea that you’d never really left Uncle Sam.”
    Emma got the point very quickly. Someone was trying to separate her from St. Kilda, in trust if not in fact.
    â€œYou have to stop believing the Internet gossip sites,” she said. “Pretty soon you’ll believe that Elvis was Michael Jackson’s son.”
    There was a beat of silence, then swallowed laughter. “Um, I think you have that the wrong way around.”
    â€œActually, I think the sites do.”
    â€œI know they do. St. Kilda backs their people, Emma. All the way to the wall.”
    â€œAnd if you find out you’re wrong?” she asked cheerfully, smiling at Mac.
    â€œWe bury our mistakes under that wall.”
    â€œI hear you, girlfriend. Sounds good to me.”
    Mac and the inspector went aboard Blackbird.
    Emma stopped calling her boss girlfriend. Turning so that no microphone or lip-reader could gather information, she spoke quickly.
    â€œIf the Agency thought there was a radioactive threat moving through Canada to the U.S.,” she said, “they’d add as many layers of deniability as they could, and then they’d flat clean house, no matter which side of which border.”
    â€œThat kind of robust foreign policy is out of favor right now.”
    â€œOnly in public.”
    â€œAlara mentioned something about that,” Faroe said drily. “She’s outmaneuvered the FBI for now, but they really want Temuri. Alara is more polite—”
    Emma snorted.
    â€œâ€”but she’d like Temuri’s ass on a spear. Steele said Temuri’s ass didn’t interest him, but if St. Kilda’s operatives got hurt by any of Uncle Sam’s players, he’d air some political underwear that would make Watergate look like a potluck at a small-town Lutheran church.”
    â€œOkay, I’m impressed. St. Kilda’s version of nuclear détente. Mutual annihilation.”
    â€œYou’re quick. So is Alara. She’s no longer kicking our butt every half hour. And she’s sending less bullshit files. The Cover Your Ass part of the program is over.”
    â€œSo the bloodletting begins,” Emma said under her breath.
    â€œPretty much. Our job is to make sure it’s the bad guys who bleed.”
    â€œWhich ones?”
    â€œIf they get in our way, they bleed.”

39
    DAY FOUR
MANHATTAN
3:15 P.M .
    T he windows of Steele’s office were guaranteed bulletproof, eavesdropping proof, and weatherproof. He liked staring through the oddly tinted glass at the hive below. The surge and stall of traffic, the amoebic warfare between pedestrians and Yellow Cabs, the frustration of sirens wailing and wailing and not moving at all—the whole metropolitan mess amused and bemused him. So much change since humans first painted cave ceilings in reverence and hope.
    Change, yes.
    But progress?
    Steele doubted it. Just as he doubted the phantom, piercing pain from his nerveless legs would evolve into something useful, such as a precursor to true feeling.
    It had been a long time since he’d walked, even in his dreams.
    â€œThe woman formerly known as Alara is waiting outside your office,” Dwayne said, his voice rich with irony. “You’re forty-seven seconds late for her appointment. And counting. Should I let her in, or should I leave you wallowing in your whither-humanity moment?”
    Steele smiled and looked toward the man who knew him better than his starry-eyed, change-the-world parents ever had. “Wallowing is one of the few human activities that doesn’t require legs.”
    Dwayne frowned. “You’re in pain. I’ll call Harley.”
    Harley, the big bodyguard-nurse-caregiver, was as much an extension of Steele in private as Dwayne was in public.
    There was barely a hesitation before Steele shook his head and said, “This one is too important.”
    â€œThey all are.”
    â€œYes.” Steele sighed. “But this one is . Show Alara in. Then, perhaps, some music, a nap.”
    â€œFood.”
    Steele shrugged. “Let her in.”
    Dwayne wanted to insist, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. His boss didn’t have energy to waste chewing out a stubborn employee who was also a friend.
    Tight-lipped, Dwayne went to the locked door of Steele’s office, opened it, and ushered Alara inside. She was