Torn (Deep 8, #5)

48. Roger

FORTY-EIGHT

Roger

We watch the dashcam as Dean and Mac speed through the streets of Perth, the weight of the world in their hands as they retrieve Hank. Meanwhile, I pace the floor like a prize fighter before a match, battling fear and anticipation.

Beck’s hand lands on my shoulder, his upper-crust British baritone voice grounds me for the moment. "You’re going to make yourself crazy, mate. Have a seat." I don’t miss the etch of worry in his eyes.

I collapse onto the couch, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. "I’ve got a bag of shit dealt to me in the last twelve hours I don't know how to deal with," I mutter through gritted teeth.

The couch dips under Beck’s weight as the tent billows in the wind. "That’s why you and Harlow have us. We have your back, and your team camping out on the other side of the hill has your back. They’re an impressive bunch, top-notch. They only gave us their code names."

"Standard operating procedure. They are the best of the best and highly trained. It should make me breathe easier, but it doesn’t. Harlow’s life is in jeopardy if we don’t come up with something. If my fa—Lucas gets caught in the crossfire, so be it. He manipulated us this entire time and thought he was getting everything we retrieved for him. I’ll take the fall if I have to, but he is not getting the program."

"He’s not getting a lot of things. When we put our heads together, we’ll have him where we want him. My understanding is the U.S. government wants him alive." Beck gives me a side-eye.

"I’m not sure I can guarantee that will happen." I look him in the eye. "There’s a lot of history between us, too much to get into now."

"I know a thing or two about family history." Beck nods, slaps my shoulder, and leaves the tent.

The anger running through my blood has nowhere to go, but searches for an outlet. I’ve got to hold it together long enough to see this through and get Harlow back alive and in one piece.

A slight wind blows the tent in and out as if breathing, requesting me to breathe. It’s inconsistent and without a set pattern, following the rhythm of this op.

We are a small group of men and women compared to what we are fighting for and will die for on this earth. Our names will never be mentioned whether we succeed or fail. The governments will cover it up. The purpose is always greater than us.

Beck pops his head in. "They’re back."

Fear and anxiety grip me. We could fail and this would be Lucas’s final proof that I can’t succeed, no matter what I do. The thought " Don’t surrender" propels me forward. I’m determined to make this work by sheer will. I will not let him win.

I enter the command center tent and a huge man towers over Pippa as he points at the screen. Pippa looks over her shoulder at me and he turns as well.

"Roger, this is Hank. Hank, this is our contact to the inside of the place they’re holding one of our own." Pippa’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

I hold out my hand. "So, you’re the Terminator. The name fits. The likeness is remarkable."

He smiles as his wire-rimmed glasses lift on his cheeks. "I won’t bore you by quoting from one of his films. We have more important things to discuss." He turns toward the screen. "From what we can tell, this program will destroy everything Deep 8 has built, but we need to get it into the mainframe as the program is loading."

"How do we know it will destroy their program?" I question, looking at a screen full of code.

"It’s called ComGen exit," Pippa replies.

"I say we storm the place and catch him off guard. While we create a diversion, you can get the drive to the mainframe. Easy-peasy." Dean suggests.

Everyone turns to look at him. "What?"

"If only it were that easy." I rub the back of my neck as tension builds in the tent.

"I have another idea," a voice with a recognizable Southern accent says from behind us.

"Enlighten us," Pippa responds to Peter without looking at him.

He flips open his laptop. "The floor is configured for people to step on it. Each person is weighed and tagged. What the program was not designed for is someone rolling across the floor. Why would he ever hire a cripple? That’s where I come in." He looks up and gives his megawatt smile.

"I hate when you say stuff like that," Pippa mumbles.

"You’re brilliant." It’s our first sign of hope. "How do you plan to pull this off?"

"We’re guessing the supercomputers are on the lower level, maybe subterranean. It’s easier to keep them cool. Hank was thoughtful enough to bring us plastic weapons." He bats his eyes at Hank, who rolls his.

"You’ll go in under the guise of delivering the program in exchange for Harlow. You’re going to bring some men with you. According to our calculations, the satellite they need is over Australia close to zero thirty. You will need an Academy Award-winning performance to convince your—Lucas that we want to switch sides to bring about world order under Deep 8. In other words, you better channel your inner King Lear. You’ll tell him your team detected a problem with the program. You’ll introduce me as the man who can fix the problem with the code the way it is currently written."

"Won’t he want to try it first and figure out it works?" I ask.

Pippa continues, "That’s where Hank comes in. Harlow’s dad developed the code using ASIO resources. They have been working with this code for a while. Damian Pierce had Hank work on it without anyone knowing. Hank made a couple of changes making it ineffective. If Lucas has his techs there, they won’t be able to fix it because we attached a little bug. This will give Peter his in. Lucas won’t think twice about a techie in a wheelchair. Sorry, Peter."

"Do you see how this set of wheels works to my advantage every time?" Peter responds. "Perception is in the eye of the beholder." He winks.

"I want to make him sweat it out. We’ll arrive at midnight tomorrow. Defeat is best served in the dark." I clench my teeth. "He can’t do anything without these pieces of the program."

Everyone looks at each other and then back at me. "What about Harlow? She doesn’t know what’s going on," Dean says.

"She’s smart and will catch on quickly. I want to get her out of there before this plan gets rolling. I don’t know how she made that phone call, but I’m sure Lucas made her pay for it." I stare at the floor as my fingers dig into my hip bones.

"Do we have backup plans in case this goes south?" Mac asks.

"From where I’m sitting, we need to get in there and get Peter to the mainframe. Once they realize what we’re doing, all hell will break loose. There’s no telling which way this is going to blow. Speaking of blowing things up, Declan, are you ready for some fireworks?" Sean asks.

Declan nods and the room goes silent.

"This is our toughest mission yet for many reasons. Everyone needs to be on point. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. We’ll take the day to get ready and triple-check everything." Sean walks out.

Mac stares at the floor. His wife and daughter are back in New York City. "You okay, mate?" Dean asks.

"I am. If I die tomorrow, my family will live in a better place, and I will have done my job. I don’t know how to do it any other way. This is for the greater good, as it is with most of our jobs. This one happens to be bigger with significant consequences if we don’t succeed. If you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make." He turns and walks away.

The air becomes heavy, but we know what we signed up for a long time ago. Each of us will pray to our god, whoever that might be, and ask that our loved ones stay safe. Rituals will be followed from start to finish and maybe more than one time. In my mind, there is only one way this can end, no matter how many obstacles get in our way.