Without looking away from Alara, Steele said, “Emma, summarize the facts as they were presented to us.”

Emma’s light green eyes watched her boss for a moment. Then she began speaking quickly, without emotion. “As given to us, no questions asked or qualifications offered. Ms. Alara’s department or departments have been following various overseas entities. One of those entities is suspected-”

“Known not suspected,” Alara cut in.

“-of stealing and reselling yachts,” Emma continued without pause. “One of the stolen yachts was specially modified to hold contraband-chemical, biological, and/or radioactive. Motives, whether the actors are state or nonstate, weren’t part of Alara’s presentation, which will make finding and stopping who or whatever is the enemy before time runs out just this side of impossible.” She looked at Alara. “No surprise the bureaucrats and politicians want to dump this steaming pile on St. Kilda’s doorstep.”

Steele almost smiled. Emma Cross had a pretty face and a bottom-line mind.

“The excuse for said dumping,” Emma continued, turning back to Steele, “is that St. Kilda has an agent who has been investigating missing yachts for an international insurer. The yacht, Blackbird, which I have been tracing, is a dead ringer for the stolen, refitted, and purportedly dangerous yacht pursued by Alara’s department. Or departments. The person, group, or entities responsible for theft of the nameless yacht weren’t identified. At all.”

Alara’s still-black eyebrows rose, but she said nothing about Emma’s coolly mocking summary. The older woman simply sat in her crisp business suit and pumps, looking like an employee of a middle-management team, back when women were called secretaries rather than administrative assistants.

“Satellite tracking and other intel confirm that a yacht believed to be Blackbird will be off-loaded from the container ship Shinhua Lotus at approximately fifteen hundred hours Pacific Coast time,” Emma continued.