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microwave, refrigerator, freezer, CD, DVD , and all the other expensive toys are added in the commissioning yard.”
    She glanced at him. “So what kind of navigation system are you using to get to Rosario?”
    “Paper charts and experience.”
    He gestured her into the main salon.
    “How long will the final work take?” she asked, looking around at the covered furniture—and the open panel on the breakers.
    He shrugged. “Depends on how jammed up the commissioning yard is. Why?”
    Emma stuck to the role she had developed over the last year on her St. Kilda assignment. “Have you ever worked for someone really, really, really rich?”
    “No.”
    “That kind of money makes people impatient,” she said. “My client wants a yacht like
Blackbird
and he doesn’t want to wait a year or more for it. That’s how long the list is. A year, minimum, no matter what kind of money you have.”
    “So he’s going to make the owner an offer he can’t refuse?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Nothing that physical. Just a lot of green. Bales of it.”
    Mac decided it was barely possible that her story was true. “Nice finder’s fee for you?”
    “You bet.” She wandered toward the open panel. “The boats I’ve handled have been from one to eight million.”
    “Relatively modest, for the kind of wealth you say your employer has.”
    “He has five other boats,” Emma said, running her hand over the beautiful teak wheel. The cover story came easily to her lips. All those years of lying for a living, people dying, everybody lying, and no one gave a damn. “His wife saw a picture of a boat like
Blackbird
in a yachting magazine and decided that she had to have it. Yesterday.”
    “Why?”
    “Blackbird
is small enough for the two of them to handle alone. Roomy enough for a captain if she changes her mind. And luxurious to the last full stop. You can get bigger boats for the money, but you can’t get better.”
    Emma crouched down, rubbed her hand over the glorious teak, and glanced casually at the electronics panel.
    The scratch was right where it should be, which meant
Blackbird
‘s twin was still missing.
    Good news or bad?
    Both, probably. Luck seems to go that way.
    Mac said nothing while Emma straightened and moved on to the galley. He decided he could get used to watching her.
    “I doubt that
Blackbird
would go for much more than two, maybe three million after she’s commissioned,” he said. “Depends on the electronic toys and the demand in the marketplace.”
    “And on how stubborn the present owner is about selling.” She shrugged, then faced Mac. Nice wasn’t getting the job done. Time for something else. “Price isn’t my problem. Getting the boat is. So just who owns
Blackbird
and how do I get hold of him? Make my life easy and I’ll see that you get paid for your time. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Sell your time?”
    Her eyes were clear, green, patient, cool.
    Stubborn.
    Mac’s smile was thin. He knew all about stubborn. He saw it in his mirror every morning. The razor edge of her tongue didn’t bother him. He’d been insulted a lot worse for a lot less reason.
    But it meant that he didn’t have to play the amiable and easy game any longer.
    “Yeah, that’s what I do,” he said, smiling. “Sell my time.”
    This smile was different. It had Emma wishing the gun in her backpack was in her hand.
    “How much time do you have on your clock?” she asked.
    Blackbird
moved restlessly, responding to a gust of wind. Mac didn’t have to look away from Emma to know that the afternoon westerlies had strengthened. The overcast was now a faint diamond haze.
    Time to get going.
    “I’m delivering the boat to Blue Water Marine Group,” Mac said. “Today.”
    “In Seattle?”
    “Rosario. San Juan Islands.”
    That could be checked. And would be.
    “Is Blue Water Marine Group a broker?” she asked.
    “Sometimes.”
    Emma throttled a flash of impatience. “Do they own this boat?” He