Free Death Echo by authors_sort Page A

Water Marine Group was overseeing, shouting and waving his arms. If the billboard could be trusted, it was Bob Lovich himself giving orders. Another man stood nearby—above medium height, stocky build, wraparound sunglasses, and a coat cut to fit over a shoulder holster. He didn’t look like Stan Amanar, also featured on the billboard, but he might have been.
    If Stan had dyed his hair recently. And grown a mustache.
    Plastic sheeting and other protective materials had been yanked out of Blackbird and piled up on the dock. Colored wires were coiled on the deck and what looked like electronics were stacked in boxes inside the cabin.
    She lowered her small binoculars and remembered what the elusive Mac Durand had said about expensive toys and yachts. It looked like Blackbird was being wired to the max.
    Her cell phone vibrated against her waist. She looked at the ID window and almost groaned.
    Faroe.
    All she had for him was nothing. Oh—and a sore back from the motel bed. Hey, that was something, right?
    Too bad it wasn’t anything useful.
    â€œCross,” she said, answering the phone.
    â€œWhere is he?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œDurand.”
    â€œGood question,” she said. “I’ll get back to you with the answer.”
    â€œSoon.”
    â€œWhich is primary— Blackbird or MacKenzie Durand?”
    â€œBoth.”
    â€œThen you better send more bodies,” she said. “I can only be in one place at a time.”
    â€œLost him, huh?”
    Emma took a deep breath and a better grip on her temper. “Yes. He ditched me out on the rez last night. There are multiple exits on the rez, so I got a motel room near the marina and had a bad night’s sleep keeping an eye on Blackbird .”
    â€œDid Durand make you?”
    â€œDefine ‘make.’”
    â€œID,” Faroe said impatiently.
    â€œDoubt it. The Jeep, quite probably. Me, no.”
    â€œSteele is on my ass like a rash.”
    â€œTry baby powder.”
    Faroe laughed. “We’re flying in to meet Durand personally. We’ll be there tomorrow. Sooner if we can manage it without tripping wires and alarms.”
    This going in soft is too damn slow, Emma thought, but didn’t say anything. Faroe knew the time limit as well as she did.
    â€œHave you read Durand’s file?” Faroe asked.
    â€œThree times.” And she’d wondered if Mac Durand had the same kind of nightmares she did.
    â€œSteele wants him. So do I.”
    â€œA hard man is good to find,” she shot back. “I’m working on it. That man you’re interested in is a ghost. He flat vanished into the rez. Early this morning I went by the address in his files. A nineteen-twenties cottage. His truck was in the driveway. By all external signs, he was sleeping at home like a good citizen. Now, I can cover MacKenzie or Blackbird, take your pick.”
    â€œLong night?” Faroe asked.
    Emma made a disgusted noise. “Yeah.”
    â€œAnything happening on Blackbird right now?”
    â€œShe’s swarming with technicians.”
    â€œSo she won’t be leaving the dock in the next hour or two,” Faroe said.
    â€œIt looks that way. Want to bet on it?”
    â€œFor an hour or two, yes. Go track down Durand and make your pitch.”
    â€œYou’re the boss.”
    She closed the phone and reached for the ignition key.
    The passenger door opened. MacKenzie Durand slid into the seat next to her.
    â€œBreakfast or lunch?” he asked. “You’re buying.”

13
    DAY TWO
ROSARIO
11:34 A.M .
    T he vibration of a cell phone against his ribs woke Demidov from his doze. Without moving anything but his eyelids, he looked around. It was hard to see out through the smoked windows in the front of the van, and the rear door windows were even darker. Demidov approved. People had an even harder time looking in than he did looking out.
    The parking lot had tourists and boat