but small pieces of shell behind. Then she wiped her hands, took her plate to the galley sink, and drank her fifth sip of wine while she finished her salad.
“It’s getting too dark to watch
Blackbird
from the motel window,” she said, reaching for her small purse. “Unless you brought night-viewing equipment?”
“We’re on vacation,” Faroe said. “But if you need it, I’ll get it. So far they’ve kept the dock lit up like opening night.”
Mac said, “Don’t worry about
Blackbird.
She’s not going anywhere until tomorrow.”
“How do you know?” Faroe asked.
“Common sense. And her transit captain told me.”
Faroe didn’t move, didn’t shift his expression, but suddenly Mac was the sole focus of the other man’s attention.
“Why?” Faroe asked.
“I’ve known him since first grade,” Mac said. “The common sense took a lot longer.” He wiped his hands as he met Faroe’s hard green eyes. “And I pushed.”
“Are transit jobs usually secret?” Emma asked.
Both men said, “No.”
Emma waited.
Faroe asked, “Is he smuggling?”
“Why would I tell you?” Mac said. “I’ve barely known you for an hour.”
She watched them exchange level looks and wondered how badly this “interview” was about to end.
“If it’s weed or cigarettes,” Faroe said, “I’ll kiss your friend on all four cheeks and wish him bon voyage.”
Mac looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Tommy didn’t mention smuggling to me. That doesn’t mean he isn’t carrying hot cargo. It just means he didn’t talk about it with me.”
“Would he?” Emma asked.
Mac shrugged and looked at her. “Usually, yes. He always talks about his next run like it will be the answer to all his problems.”
“It never is,” Faroe said. Not a guess.
“No, it never is.” Mac sighed and ran his hand over his short hair. “Damn, I don’t want to get Tommy into any more trouble than he’s found all by himself.”
“St. Kilda isn’t looking to hang the errand boy,” Faroe said. “We don’t fish for minnows.”
“Not even to use as live bait for bigger fish?” Emma asked, thinking of her own childhood.
Mac looked at Faroe and waited. “We work very hard to limit any collateral damage,” Faroe said. “But we’re not perfect.”
“Nothing human is,” Mac said. “But some things sure are more imperfect than others.”
“You want to investigate St. Kilda before you sign up?” Faroe asked. “If we talk long enough, we’ll find people who know people who know other people.”
“I already did. ‘Merry’ Marty Jones sends you this.” Slowly Mac raised the middle finger of his right hand.
Faroe almost fell off his chair laughing. “Good to know the son of a bitch is as mean as ever. If he wasn’t pushing eighty, I’d harass his ass into signing on with St. Kilda.” Then Faroe’s smile vanished. “You in or out?”
“I’ve got a few more calls that I’m waiting to be returned.”
“Don’t wait too long,” Faroe said bluntly. “This op has a real short clock on it. Call the instant you decide.”
Mac gave Faroe a long look before he nodded curtly.
Faroe headed for the door, with Emma right behind him. She paused at the open door.
“What if we have to contact you?” she asked Mac.
“I have your cell phone number.”
Emma bit back what she thought of Mac’s response, turned on her heel, and followed Faroe. They had a lot of intel to go over together and damn little time.
There was never enough time.
18
DAY THREE
ON THE REZ
1:35 A.M.
A stiff breeze blew through the mixed forest, making needles whisper and leaves rattle. Demidov was just another shadow moving among shadows, sliding between the scrubby trees with an eerie kind of grace. It had taken him an hour to discover the overgrown dirt lane leading into the forest. The “address” he’d found in the Blue Water Marine Group’s office was more of a general direction than any specific guide.
The
“It’s getting too dark to watch
Blackbird
from the motel window,” she said, reaching for her small purse. “Unless you brought night-viewing equipment?”
“We’re on vacation,” Faroe said. “But if you need it, I’ll get it. So far they’ve kept the dock lit up like opening night.”
Mac said, “Don’t worry about
Blackbird.
She’s not going anywhere until tomorrow.”
“How do you know?” Faroe asked.
“Common sense. And her transit captain told me.”
Faroe didn’t move, didn’t shift his expression, but suddenly Mac was the sole focus of the other man’s attention.
“Why?” Faroe asked.
“I’ve known him since first grade,” Mac said. “The common sense took a lot longer.” He wiped his hands as he met Faroe’s hard green eyes. “And I pushed.”
“Are transit jobs usually secret?” Emma asked.
Both men said, “No.”
Emma waited.
Faroe asked, “Is he smuggling?”
“Why would I tell you?” Mac said. “I’ve barely known you for an hour.”
She watched them exchange level looks and wondered how badly this “interview” was about to end.
“If it’s weed or cigarettes,” Faroe said, “I’ll kiss your friend on all four cheeks and wish him bon voyage.”
Mac looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Tommy didn’t mention smuggling to me. That doesn’t mean he isn’t carrying hot cargo. It just means he didn’t talk about it with me.”
“Would he?” Emma asked.
Mac shrugged and looked at her. “Usually, yes. He always talks about his next run like it will be the answer to all his problems.”
“It never is,” Faroe said. Not a guess.
“No, it never is.” Mac sighed and ran his hand over his short hair. “Damn, I don’t want to get Tommy into any more trouble than he’s found all by himself.”
“St. Kilda isn’t looking to hang the errand boy,” Faroe said. “We don’t fish for minnows.”
“Not even to use as live bait for bigger fish?” Emma asked, thinking of her own childhood.
Mac looked at Faroe and waited. “We work very hard to limit any collateral damage,” Faroe said. “But we’re not perfect.”
“Nothing human is,” Mac said. “But some things sure are more imperfect than others.”
“You want to investigate St. Kilda before you sign up?” Faroe asked. “If we talk long enough, we’ll find people who know people who know other people.”
“I already did. ‘Merry’ Marty Jones sends you this.” Slowly Mac raised the middle finger of his right hand.
Faroe almost fell off his chair laughing. “Good to know the son of a bitch is as mean as ever. If he wasn’t pushing eighty, I’d harass his ass into signing on with St. Kilda.” Then Faroe’s smile vanished. “You in or out?”
“I’ve got a few more calls that I’m waiting to be returned.”
“Don’t wait too long,” Faroe said bluntly. “This op has a real short clock on it. Call the instant you decide.”
Mac gave Faroe a long look before he nodded curtly.
Faroe headed for the door, with Emma right behind him. She paused at the open door.
“What if we have to contact you?” she asked Mac.
“I have your cell phone number.”
Emma bit back what she thought of Mac’s response, turned on her heel, and followed Faroe. They had a lot of intel to go over together and damn little time.
There was never enough time.
18
DAY THREE
ON THE REZ
1:35 A.M.
A stiff breeze blew through the mixed forest, making needles whisper and leaves rattle. Demidov was just another shadow moving among shadows, sliding between the scrubby trees with an eerie kind of grace. It had taken him an hour to discover the overgrown dirt lane leading into the forest. The “address” he’d found in the Blue Water Marine Group’s office was more of a general direction than any specific guide.
The
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