“According to St. Kilda’s investigation, an unknown transit captain will pick up the boat in Port of Seattle. We have no assurance that the yacht aboard the container ship is the same one that originally was loaded aboard the Lotus. We won’t have that assurance until someone finds a way to get aboard either the container ship or the yacht. I’m sure our would-be ‘client’ has the resources to covertly conduct that search.”

“Had,” Alara said. “Past tense.”

“You have a leak,” Emma said bluntly.

“Always probable,” Alara said. “St. Kilda has carefully and repeatedly distanced itself from any traceable connection with any U.S. intel agency. The targets won’t be looking for you. They sure as bloody hell are looking for us. We don’t have anyone on the ground who isn’t being followed.”

Emma kept her mouth shut because she hated agreeing with the other woman. Nothing personal. Just past experience. The officers and agents she had worked with all over the world had been decent people…at the lower levels. The further she went up the food chain, the less trustworthy the bosses became. Again, nothing personal. Just the Darwinian facts of survival in a highly politicized workplace whose rules changed with every headline.

“Do you have anything else you can tell St. Kilda?” Steele asked.

“Not at the present time,” Alara said.

Emma made a rude sound.

Steele didn’t bother.

“You aren’t required to help,” Alara pointed out.

“But it sure is hard to do business in the U.S. when everyone who works for St. Kilda is audited quarterly,” Emma said, “when St. Kilda personnel are stopped at the border, or their passports are jerked, or their driver’s license is revoked, their spouse fired, and every business that approaches St. Kilda is warned not-”