Death Echo

he loved being left behind.
    Quickly she relayed Mac’s request, and added, “I’ll be sending jpgs ASAP and will want the people in them identified double-ASAP.”
    Lane grunted, sounding so much like Faroe that she couldn’t help smiling. If she could have a kid like Lane…well, the idea of a family suddenly appealed. She wondered idly how Mac felt about it.
    â€œProcessing boat ID as we speak,” Lane said. “Want me to call back with the info?”
    She looked out over the bow of Blackbird. They were closing quickly with the smaller boat.
    â€œOnly if it’s in the next two minutes,” she said. “After that, send to my computer. Or Mac’s. Whatever. Just get it to us.”
    â€œGotcha. Dad’s line just opened. If he has any questions, he’ll call in the next two minutes.”
    The connection ended with an abruptness that reminded her of Faroe all over again.
    â€œFaroe’s son is running the boat’s name for us,” Emma told Mac.
    â€œHe any good?”
    She stared at him, then realized he’d been part of St. Kilda foronly a few days. “He’s as good as our researchers. And that means really good.”
    All Mac said was, “Get your camera and be ready to shoot through the window. If that isn’t close enough, show yourself. They might not like it, but they can hardly object. If they’re legitimate.”
    Emma went to the canvas purse she had brought aboard. While Mac cautiously maneuvered closer to the other boat—and then closer still, until Emma held her breath—she turned on her camera. She felt like a witness watching two trains slide toward collision.
    Silently she hoped Mac was as good as she thought he was. Otherwise it was going to get ugly for the little boat.
    Not to mention unhappy for Blackbird and its crew.
    She stood in mid-cabin and focused through the least spray-washed window she could find. The figure of a woman braced next to the small outboard jumped and jittered in the focus.
    Emma switched to the electronic motor drive, hoped her battery could take the hit, and did her best to keep one or another of the two people in the field of focus. The clicking sound that told images were being taken came so close together it was like a single ripple.
    She switched off motor drive, braced her feet farther apart, and reviewed the photos. No single one was good, but there were enough separate parts in focus with all the shots that a good ID program should be able to work its electronic miracle among St. Kilda’s huge databases.
    â€œI’m sending the jpgs,” she said.
    â€œMake it fast. I may need you on deck.”
    â€œMaking it fast, Captain, sir!” she shot back.
    He grinned.
    With practiced motions she plugged her camera into her computer, created a new file, downloaded the photos, and sent them MOST URGENT to St. Kilda. In the background she heard Mac try—and fail—to raise the Redhead II.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” she asked, closing up the computer and putting away the camera.
    â€œThey’re not answering.”
    â€œMaybe the electronic problem took out their radio.”
    Mac made a sound that could have meant anything. “You have your good deck shoes on?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œSee if you can shout across to Redhead II .” A wave sprayed against the port windows. “Unless you’d rather sit here holding station with Blackbird ?”
    She looked at the scant yards separating the gunwales of the two boats and said, “No, thanks. It’s all yours.”
    â€œYou’ll need a jacket.”
    â€œI’ll be fine, Mom.”
    Mac shut up and concentrated on keeping enough, but not too much, separation with the other boat. He could have used the joystick. Probably should have. He just preferred the old-fashioned way. New toys meant new problems as well as new solutions. For now, he’d take the devil he knew.
    He opened the pilot door to let Emma out. The outside air was beyond fresh and bracing. It was cold. The damp edge of salt spray didn’t help.
    Emma ignored the temperature. She braced herself on the railing, remembered her arm-candy role, and called out, “What’s up with your radio?”
    The woman steering with the kicker said nothing, simply looked at her companion. The man stepped up to the rail of the Redhead II . For the first time Emma got a clear look at his whole face.
    I’ve seen