Torn (Deep 8, #5)

44. Roger

FORTY-FOUR

Roger

The seconds tick by like hours as the gravity of this mission sinks in. My heart pounds like a war drum, each beat echoing the reality I’ve long avoided. It’s like Iron Man’s suit clicks into place for protection—something shifts within me, a steely resolve hardening my soul.

Everything I’ve ever suspected about my father but chose to ignore is true. Harlow hinted at his self-importance and shady meetings from the beginning, but seeing is believing.

He stands there, a cigar in one hand and a drink in the other, dressed in a crisp white suit, wearing a smug grin. I don’t say a word, letting him make the first move in this chess match.

He moves toward me and leans forward. "Your acting skills are impeccable. There is no shock, no surprise. I thought I would astonish you with the breadcrumbs I left, leading you on a goose chase. I’m the mastermind behind the operation. Maybe I underestimated you." He puffs on his cigar, his eyes gleaming with arrogance.

"Shocked isn’t the word I would use to describe utter disappointment. Also, confirmation would be another good word." My voice feels detached like it’s coming from somewhere else.

His frown deepens, not comprehending my disdain. "You’re a narcissist, pure and simple. It’s about you at every turn—power-hungry and self-absorbed, a wonderful combination." My words are laced with venom.

For the first time, there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. I’ve never spoken to him like this, and I’m not backing down this time. I’m calling it as I see it.

"If you mean that I’m the smartest man in the room, founder and head of Deep 8, and I’ve gotten exactly what I deserve, then yes, I suppose I am." He steps closer, his breath hot and acrid with cigar smoke as I remain unmoved. "Understand that I hold all the cards, so you better decide whose team you are on. Pick wisely." He blows smoke in my face.

I smile but say nothing. There is a quiet determination in me, a knowing of what I need to do. I will play his game and then turn it on him. He’s not the smartest man in the room. Behind me, I hear a scuffle, and Harlow appears with one of his guards dragging her by the arm. I don’t make a move toward her, watching Lucas’s reaction.

"Aren’t you going to save the love of your life?" Lucas laughs with a sinister sound. "How could you resist falling in love with her? She’s beautiful and has quite the pedigree."

I don’t look in her direction. "What makes you think I’m in love? Agents often hook up on an op to release some steam, and then go their separate ways. Isn’t that right, Harlow?"

He examines her through analytical eyes and nods to the guard to leave us.

Her eyes dart between us as the pieces begin to fall into place. She shrugs. "I suppose. Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on? I’m a little confused." She’s playing her part to perfection.

"Lucas is the head of Deep 8, so there’s no one for us to rescue. We can go home now. The mission is over." I’m as sarcastic as possible and move toward her.

"Not so fast." He grabs my arm. "We have unfinished business. I need the two pieces, and where the hell is Nick? You were told to bring him."

Harlow glances over at me. "Nick is dead. We thought Deep 8 sent their assassins, and they—you knew he was dead. Don’t you have someone on the inside of ASIO?"

"Nick was my mole and a huge pain in my ass." He stubs out his cigar. His drink shakes in his hand. Pacing back and forth, he rubs his chin. "You're going to need to do something for me. Do you know where they have Nick’s body?"

"No, I don’t. Why do you need his body?"

"We need his blood to make the ComGen work. The mixture of his blood with the chemical inside will set everything in motion." He runs his fingers through his hair. "He made me agree to this, otherwise he would drop out of Deep 8. Damn him!"

His back is to us as he looks out over the ocean, then he spins back toward us. "Where are the pieces? Do you have them with you? You were supposed to bring them."

He’s right where I want him, unraveling.

"What are you smoking in your cigar? There’s no way in hell I would have brought the pieces. I was going to make the exchange for your life," I sneer, hoping I’ve stayed ahead in this game.

"Well, now you’ll make the exchange for her life. Sweetheart, lift your pant leg." He motions with his fingers.

Tears crest in Harlow’s eyes as she lifts her pant leg. She’s wearing a black anklet with a blinking red light. "You have forty-eight hours to get me the pieces and Nick’s blood or body. If I don’t see you on the horizon, she dies in the most heinous of ways." His red face contorts, making him look comical, but he’s deadly serious.

I push him. "I don’t know that forty-eight hours is enough time. Without your precious pieces, you have nothing. Correct me if I’m wrong."

He slams his glass on the table as the liquid spills out, and bellows. "That’s all the time you have. Things have been set in motion and I need everything for this to work in a precise time frame."

I step closer. "For what to work?" My eyes never leave his.

His lips curl up on one side as beads of sweat trickle down from his hairline. "You’ll find out soon enough then you’ll see the light and make your alliance to Deep 8."

"Why would I do that?"

"We will rule the world. Everything from energy, medicines, finances, and food. As the world becomes more technology-based, it leaves itself vulnerable. If you rely on one thing too heavily, you miss the weaknesses. Deep 8 will take advantage of the weaknesses."

"It doesn’t matter what this is. You do not have the power to revolt against the world’s most powerful armies. You will be defeated." I wait for him to counter.

"Who would that be, the U.S., UK, and the EU? Let’s not forget about China and Russia." He pauses, noticing the flicker in my eye. "This isn’t a little old man playing king of the mountain in Western Australia. Deep 8 has massive and powerful allies. No one wants World War III, so NATO will acquiesce, along with the rest of the world as they bow at our feet."

There is nothing more frightening than a madman who believes his own words and will act on them whether they are right or wrong. This makes him the most dangerous man we need to stop.

I use a quote from The Art of War . "’All warfare is a deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away.’"

"Do you think you are so clever?" Spit forms at the corners of his mouth.

"You taught your son well. Let’s see who is the victor." I step closer as I tower over him. "If you so much as touch a hair on her head, I will kill you with my bare hands."

"You would have to find me first." He throws his head back and laughs. "Once you’ve thought about this, you’ll come around, trust me."