Torn (Deep 8, #5)

22. Harlow

TWENTY-TWO

Harlow

Timing will be everything if we want the piece and stay alive. Dark clouds shroud the sky, making the house gloomier with the drapes drawn shut.

I pull my robe around me, hoping this deception will work. Roger calls Pippa, giving her precise instructions on what to drop off at the house, but she must come in disguise. If Deep 8 is watching the house, any slip could be fatal.

"You’re doing a great job leading this op. You’ve got everything squared away." Roger comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

My body tenses. The word "leading" gives me pause. I never intended to lead this op, but I saw an opportunity to turn the situation to our advantage, ensuring everyone comes out on top. This isn’t a role I’m accustomed to. I operate best from the shadows, taking orders, and completing missions. Maybe this is the boost I need to step into the light. My guilt hovers over me, but the tide may be turning.

I step away from Roger. "Let’s get ready. We have a long, intense day ahead of us." He squeezes my hand and lets me go without a word.

We restored the power last night and convene in the dining room to review the plan one more time. Roger’s warm hand seeps through my sleeve, reassuring me, and calming my nerves.

We only have one shot at this. Most of us, except Amalia, know how easily things can go sideways on an op, but we keep that tidbit to ourselves. Confidence is key for her to pull off our ruse.

Mac and Campbell left the house before dawn to return to the safe house. They will be our eyes and ears while Pippa prepares to come here with the prosthetic face mask. Dean will be stationed outside the bank. We’re hoping Deep 8’s reach doesn’t extend to the bank, but the maze is dark without clues to the next turn. Otherwise, this game of "Who has the next piece?" ends before it begins.

When Pippa arrives disguised as a food delivery person, she’s hard to recognize. She hands Amalia's butler a couple of bags of groceries, winks, and jumps back in her truck. In the bedroom, I unpack the mask as Roger helps me put it on. An hour later, the mask is in place with a preliminary layer of foundation and concealer.

I knock on Amalia’s door before entering her bedroom. "Come in," she chimes. She turns around and gasps. "My God, you look just like me." She comes closer to inspect the details. "We need to apply our makeup together, so it matches.

Thirty minutes later, we make our way downstairs as twins. The security team does a double-take. The only difference between us is our body types, which we will change at the bank.

Roger exhales sharply. "Uncanny resemblance."

"I hope it’s more than that. We have many people to fool today."

"It’s go time," Dean announces.

The duchess takes her car to the bank with her security team. Roger and I are driven back to our hotel and walk to the bank down the street. He stays outside with her driver until Amalia and I are inside and secured. He stands with his hands crossed, cool and calm behind his aviators. I wish I felt as calm as he looks.

Amalia will walk into the bank and ask the manager, Mr. Laurent, to access her safe deposit box. She has twenty minutes before meeting us in the women’s restroom. This area is the bank’s weakness. There are no cameras in the hallway leading to the restroom. They don’t consider women a threat. We’re about to surprise them.

Pippa will enter the bank at the five-minute mark with a backpack, scan the lobby for signs of Amalia, and head for the restroom. Everyone has ear comms but will use them only for an emergency. The frequency could be picked up, depending on the sophistication of their security system.

Wearing a large sun hat, oversized sunglasses, and a huge bag with a purse, I keep my head down and walk casually to meet her in the restroom for my final transformation. I exhale as I open the door and close it behind me.

Pippa stands ready with the bodysuit. "This is it. Are you nervous?"

"No, I need Amalia to stay calm under pressure. Once we have the piece, we’ll be given the next steps."

She helps me into the suit, and I wait to change into Amalia’s outfit. We await her arrival in the restroom with the piece and to switch bags. Amalia has to change into different clothes, wear my hat and sunglasses, and carry my big bag.

At the twenty-five-minute mark, there is no sign of Amalia. We resist the urge to contact her via our ear comms. Sweat trickles down my back under the rubbery prosthetic and anxiety takes over. Closing my eyes, I use my breathing technique to calm down when the door flies open.

"I’m sorry I’m late. Someone I know stopped me in the lobby on my way here. I couldn’t be rude and raise a red flag." She bends over, catching her breath, and sets down her handbag. When she looks up, she stares at me, eyes pinched. "Is that what my body looks like?"

I take her hand in mine. "We had to match what your body would look like under clothes from photos. So, no, your body does not look like this. You look fantastic."

She undresses and hands me her clothes as I hand her mine. By the time we’re done, I am her lookalike from head to toe. She’s dressed in my baggy clothes, sporting the accessories.

"This Chanel suit is beautiful." I smooth down the front. "It’s showtime. Wish me luck." As we’re about to leave, someone enters the women’s restroom, eyeing us suspiciously.

I’ve watched Amalia walk and try to imitate her proud, straight-backed gait. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Laurent approaching me and calling my name. I’m in the middle of the lobby with nowhere to turn. I try to ignore him, but he persists.

"I’m glad I caught you. I need your fingerprint," he huffs.

I frown, questioning his request.

"It’s a new policy we have in place to prevent fraud." He gestures down to his machine where I’m supposed to put my finger.

Amalia and Pippa bump into me, and my handbag flies onto the floor. Mr. Laurent grabs my arm, preventing me from falling on my face. Pippa retrieves my handbag, apologizes, and leaves with Amalia through the front door.

"Are you okay?" he asks as I nod, trying to figure a way out of this.

He presents the fingerprint machine. My shaky finger presses on the screen, triggering a red warning. No match. This is where things go wrong.

"There must be an error. Please come to my office so we can sort this out."

The minute I open my mouth, he’ll know I’m not the duchess. I stall, hoping the team has a plan to get me out of this. He returns with another scanner, which gives him the same warning.

Roger’s voice crackles in my ear. "What’s going on? Where are you?" I can’t respond, which will raise a red flag.

In a last-ditch effort, Mr. Laurant brings ink and a card to take my fingerprint. This time the clock has run out. I could make a run for it once he leaves the office, but I would jeopardize too many lives. I promised myself I would never do that again.

"Madame, you need to come with me. You may look like the duchess, but you clearly are not. The police are on their way," he scowls.

I stand, raise my chin high, and follow him to a back office. It will be more discreet when the police arrive through a back entrance. I can only hope they don’t find the piece in my handbag. It could be my death warrant.