Death Echo

“You meant it when you said you were in a hurry,” Mac drawled as he looked at the controlled frenzy.

“The boat’s gotta sail tomorrow,” Amanar said. “First light. We’ve already been delayed by losing a captain. We asked for more time and didn’t get it. We’ve been running double shifts and then some, but she’ll be ready. You’ll have to do sea trials along the way.”

Mac didn’t point out that he hadn’t been hired. All he said was, “New owner must have lots of green if he’ll underwrite that fast a commissioning.”

“The perfect customer,” Lovich said. “Cost is no object.” He ran his hand over the close-cropped, graying beard on his chin and looked around. “Let’s go to the office.”

“Whatever,” Mac said mildly, even as he slid in the knife. “We’re in kind of a hurry ourselves. Taking my boat out for a week or so.”

Let Amanar chew on that.

Frowning, Amanar looked at Emma. He started to say something, then shrugged and led the way up the ramp to the Blue Water dealership office. Lovich followed.

Stoneface watched them from the dock.

Both brokers were unusually quiet until they were inside the office with the door closed behind them. Amanar stood behind the desk, keeping an eye on the activity on the dock. Lovich pulled the tabs on three cans of light beer. He set one each in front of Amanar and Mac, then took one for himself.

Apparently Emma was invisible.

“Thanks,” Mac said, pretending to drink. He hated light beer. “Getting Autonomy ready is thirsty work.”

He tilted the can toward Emma. She sipped, made a throaty noise, sucked, and licked her lips like a porn star with a bratwurst.

“What’s on your mind?” Mac asked Amanar.

Amanar looked over Mac’s latest girlfriend.

Emma admired her freshly painted fingernails. She’d learned that the ropes-lines-ate manicures, but there was the image thing to uphold. A dumb piece of ass without scarlet finger-and toenails? Ain’t happening.

“We want to talk business,” Amanar said curtly. “Lose the candy.”

“Her candy is my business,” Mac said. “She knows when to close her mouth.”

“Over your cock,” Lovich muttered.

Emma leaned harder into Mac. The tension snaking through his body reminded her of just how strong he was. It also told her that he didn’t like her being the target of trash talk.

“Are they talking cash?” she asked Mac, just loud enough for the other two men to overhear.

He looked at Amanar and Lovich. “You talking cash?”

The cousins looked at each other. Neither liked it, but they were getting the game plan. Play with the candy or play without a captain.

“Yes,” Amanar said. “Twenty thousand, up front. Twenty on delivery. Expenses are on you.”

At that pay rate, Mac wasn’t surprised. “How long, which boat, where, and when?”

“Blackbird. Tomorrow before dawn. You head up the Inside Passage toward Broughton Island. You’ve got five days to get there. If the buyer can’t take it over somewhere along the way, you’ll get more instructions.”

Mac lifted his black eyebrows. But he didn’t say anything. The brokers knew just how unusual the cash assignment sailing to nowhere specific was.

Amanar’s lips thinned when Mac didn’t grab the money and kiss him on all four cheeks.

“The new owner is involved in negotiations to sell one of his businesses. His schedule is hour-to-hour, so yours has to be, too,” Amanar said impatiently. “That’s why the boat will be in your name, in case things fall through and you have to bring Blackbird back here. It all depends on the negotiations. The money’s good, so what’s your problem?”

“I was looking forward to some time off,” Mac said easily. He tucked Emma closer to his side. “But we can take a ride on your boat instead of mine.”

The broker snatched up a colored pencil and started drumming the end on the desk blotter.

“Look,” Amanar finally said, “just drive Blackbird north, follow directions, fly home when the owner takes over, and then take your pussy cruise.”

“If money was all I wanted out of life, I’d be working another job,” Mac said. “See you around, boys.”

Holding Emma close, Mac headed for the door.

“Hey, ease up,” Lovich said quickly. “You want to take some cock-rider along, we don’t care.” He stared at Amanar. “Do we?”

“C’mon, Mac,” Emma said, pouting. “I have a passport. I’m between jobs, between husbands, between everything. I just want to finally have a little fun.”

“Your family won’t mind?” Amanar acted like he had just noticed that Emma was in the room.

“You talking to me?” she asked.

“Am I looking anywhere else?” Amanar retorted.

“Babe,” she said, smiling and stretching slowly, “I’m here because I don’t want a steady man, don’t want a steady job, don’t want two kids, and don’t want a white picket fence in the ’burbs. You feeling me?”

The two cousins looked at each other. They spoke quickly in the old-country language.

All Mac understood was the word Temuri, because it was repeated several times, in a louder voice each time.

A curse? A name? Stoneface, maybe? Mac wished he knew, but languages hadn’t been his area of expertise.

Emma looked bored, but the tension in her body told Mac that she was listening to every word. He hoped she understood more than he did.

“I hear you,” Amanar said finally to his cousin, “but I don’t like it.”

Lovich nodded and looked at Mac. “You in?”

“If you’re smuggling anything to Canada, tell me now,” Mac said.

His voice said that this demand wasn’t negotiable.

“Nah,” Lovich said. “We leave that to the Indians.”

“Bullshit,” Mac said. “I grew up here, remember?”

“Hey, we changed,” Lovich said. “Money’s not as good, but we sleep a lot better.”

“If I find any extra cargo,” Mac said, “it’s going to the bottom.”

“Blackbird is clean,” Amanar said. “You want to go over it, you’ll have plenty of time before you hit Canadian waters. How you use your time is your problem.”

Mac thought about it, then nodded. “I want twelve thousand now, eight thousand when we board tomorrow. For expenses. I’m not signing off on any fuel slips for a yacht I don’t really own, haven’t chartered, and haven’t been hired as a transit captain on.”

Amanar smiled at Lovich, who headed for the office safe.

“Cash is smart,” Amanar said. “The new owner is the eccentric kind. Wants his privacy. So don’t be hitting the bars tonight, bragging about this job.”

“Men in bars are looking for women,” Mac said. “I’ve got mine.”

Emma stretched up and nibbled on his ear. “Sure do, babe.”

Mac returned the favor, with interest, as Amanar counted out the money Lovich had fetched. While Mac counted bills, Emma went back to her invisible act.

The bills were hundreds. Nonsequential, used hundreds, anonymous as dirt and a lot more valuable.

The hell they’ve cleaned up, Mac thought.

But he kept his mouth closed, finished his own counting, and stuffed twelve thousand dollars in hundreds into his front jeans pocket. After the round of mutual nibbling, it was a tight fit.

When he was done, Mac put his arm around Emma, her hand returned to his back pocket like a homing pigeon, and they headed for the door as a unit.

“Before first light tomorrow,” Amanar said.

“Eight thousand on the dock,” Mac said.