He held up one finger. “That great pig up ahead is throwing a ten-foot bow wave.” A second finger uncurled. “The Coast Guard patrol boats would be on us like stink on a cat box. After 9/11, they lost their sense of humor about bending the rules.”

No news there for Emma. “You saying it can’t be done?”

“Depends. How bad do you want to swim or go to jail?”

“Not so much, thanks.” She let out a long breath and reminded herself that impatience was a quick way to die, and she was chasing nothing more dangerous than luxury yachts.

At least she had been, until Alara appeared like a puff of darkness.

“I can wait until the tugs are nudging that ‘great pig’ against a dock,” Emma said.

“If you’re working on a really short clock,” Josh said, “I’ll be glad to take a run at the Lotus right now.” He grinned suddenly. “It beats my usual gig-hauling seasick tourists out to chase whales.”

She thought about it, then shook her head. “It’s not life or death.”

I wish.

She laughed silently, bitterly. That was why she’d quit the CIA and taken an assignment from St. Kilda to investigate yacht thefts. No alarms with this job. No adrenaline exploding through her body.

No blood.

No guilt.

And best of all, no corrupt politics.

Guess again, she told herself. Then get over it.

“Back to shore?” Josh asked. “Not yet. Keep the Lotus in sight while you give me a sightseeing tour of the famous and beautiful Elliott Bay.”

“Legal distance maintained at all times?”

“Until I say otherwise.”

2

DAY ONE

ELLIOTT BAY

AFTERNOON

Standing on top of seventy-foot-high stacks of containers, with only the unforgiving steel deck below to catch him, MacKenzie Durand wrestled with the cargo sling that would lift the yacht off Shinhua Lotus. He looked up to the glassed-in cab of the deck crane, where the operator was waiting for directions.