Torn (Deep 8, #5)

25. Harlow

TWENTY-FIVE

Harlow

The plane touches down in Sydney with a jolt, shattering the fleeting euphoria about our recent triumph and gaining the second piece. Reality's harshness envelops us, and a foreboding silence cloaks our group as we disembark and trudge across the tarmac. The Australian sun bears down on us, but it does little to warm the icy dread in my heart.

Inside the terminal, the atmosphere is heavy with exhaustion. Traveling to Australia can be long and arduous, so the atmosphere lacks tourist joy, replaced by yawns and groans. The line for customs moves slowly, each of us mechanically handing over our passports and answering the perfunctory questions. Dean’s shoulders slump with his head bowed.

We pass through with flying colors until Dean steps up. When he steps up, the air around us grows tense. The customs agent eyes his passport, scans it, and then scrutinizes him with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Dean, ever the loose cannon, can’t keep quiet.

"Is there a problem? I am an Australian citizen," he snaps, his voice taut with suppressed anger.

"Give me one minute, Mr. Wagner." The agent walks away with Dean’s passport as our collective breath hitches.

Two police officers emerge from somewhere and flank Dean. "Sir, I’m afraid you will have to come with us. We have further questions for you," one officer says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Instead of complying, Dean bolts. The officers chase after him with their weapons drawn. "Stop or we’ll shoot!" One of them shouts, but Dean doesn’t stop as he leaves a wake of screaming tourists behind him.

Instinctively, I move forward, but a firm grip on my arm holds me back. "We have to get out of here," a voice hisses. The scene unfolds before me in agonizing slow motion. One officer tackles Dean to the ground while the other strikes him with the baton. They zip-tie his wrists and haul him up by his arms.

My vision blurs as memories slam back from secondary school. Images of Hope being shoved to the ground and kicked come back to me in vivid colors. My knees buckle, and I collapse to the floor. I clutch my chest, finding it hard to breathe as panic takes over.

Dean’s voice cuts through the chaos. "You told me I would be cleared to come back. You lied!"

His words are aimed at Pippa, whose eyes shine with unshed tears. Her mouth forms the words, "I’m sorry." The officer’s gaze moves in her direction and that’s our cue to scatter.

Roger hoists me to my feet and drags me with him without looking back. My name echoes behind me over and over again, but I can’t respond. This feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from. When I open my eyes, Roger is kneeling in front of me, his hands gripping my shoulders. We’re hidden in a corner of the unisex bathroom.

"Are you okay?" The pain in his eyes is enough to snap me out of it.

"Yes, I think," I whisper, resting my head in my hand. "I had a flashback. It felt so real."

Roger nods but doesn’t ask any questions. What a stark contrast between yesterday and today. Sitting on top of the world one minute and plunging back into my past the next day.

"Where is everyone?" I ask, trying to regain my composure.

"We split up to avoid being questioned," Roger explains in a quiet voice laced with anxiety.

"We have to go back for Dean. He needs us. I won’t leave him behind." I plead with him, my voice breaking.

He shakes his head. "We need to meet up with the rest of the team and come up with a plan."

Defeat washes over me. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. I stand on shaky legs, knowing I’m no good to Dean in this condition.

We exit the bathroom and grab two baseball hats at the nearest store. We keep our heads down to conceal our faces. When we step onto the sidewalk outside the terminal, we’re greeted by the rest of the team and Sean.

The cool winter chill in the middle of July has us rubbing our arms for heat. Sean has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder with aviators and his blond hair sticking out everywhere.

"Why are you here? I thought you were at home waiting for the baby," Roger asks, surprised.

"Our baby came early. His name is Liam Wilander Knight. Jess and he are doing well. The president congratulated me on the birth of my son and then told me to get my ass on a plane. So here I am. Sounds like we have some assholes to take down." He grins, thriving on the adrenaline rush of the battle.

Relief surges through me to see our fearless leader back in charge. Roger could have done the job too, but Sean has been investigating Deep 8 from the beginning. He has tapped into how they operate.

"Our priority is getting Dean back." My voice breaks.

"Dean will manage. He’s been in worse accommodations than behind bars in Australia. We need a place to crash out of sight." Sean turns to Declan. "Do you know of any places nearby? You seem to be the king of safe houses."

Beck clears his throat. "There’s only one king."

"I’ve got a guy," I interject as their heads turn in my direction. "He’s shady, but I can trust him. I know him from my days of working undercover."

Sean hands me his encrypted phone. "It’s a secure line. Hook us up."

I have Johnny’s number memorized. I take a deep breath. slipping into my homegrown Aussie accent. "Hey, Johnny, it’s Harlow. I’m in town and need a place to crash with some friends. We need a big place out of the way between Sydney and Canberra."

"It’s been a while, Harlow. Heard you were out of the country." Johnny’s words slither through the phone.

"Had some heat on me and needed to lay low," I answer, keeping it vague.

"Yeah, what kinda heat?" He wants more information.

"I’ll make this worth your while. I have plenty of cash. You gonna help me out or am I taking my business somewhere else?"

"Okay, okay. I’ll text you the address and meet you out there. It’s about an hour’s ride." He clicks off.

I hand Sean his phone. "We’ve got a place. I don’t know whose place it is, but it’s safe." They nod and read between the lines. "We’ll contact Dean’s father tomorrow. He’ll be our best chance of getting him out."

Something niggles in the back of my brain. Dean had left Australia before me, and I never heard anything about a bounty on his head. I’d worked undercover on a team overseen by Nick Wagner, and he didn’t mention anything about Dean being out of the country. Being undercover on the streets, I would have heard about the hit on an ASIO agent. In fact, Nick didn’t mention Dean at all. No one did.

Since landing in Australia, things have become foggy without clear lines or direction and we’re missing a teammate. It’s about to get worse before it gets better.