They were in.All of them.
And that knot in Finn’s chest… loosened.Just a little.
His voice, when it came, was low and gruff.And very Finn.‘Well?What are you waiting for?An invitation?’
And the ultimate plan to bring down the Commissioner began.
Thirty-seven
At the quarry, the air was thick with heat, as the scent of dry grass and dust tickled Taryn’s nose, when her stomach rumbled, again.
She ignored it.Even though she’d already thrown up breakfast, twice, there was no room for queasiness now—not when Finn was one step away from either justice or a breakdown.
After everything he’d learned about Drew, the lies layered over years of trust, Finn needed something solid to hold on to.Not another secret curled in her tummy that might tip him off the edge.
He needed a win.And she’d do everything she could to help him get it.So, she’d give him this instead.The mission.
From their high ridge lookout over the quarry’s main compound, the team laid low in various areas.Some beneath camo netting, gear prepped, with their comms on a closed loop.All in a position to watch for dust kicking up along the main entry points.
Porter’s voice crackled through the radio.‘I’ve got a visual on the target vehicle.It’s them.Stolen Warraga Downs truck—two on board.’
Finn shifted beside her, his binoculars fixed on the vehicle and all but snarled over the radio, ‘It’s them.Hold your positions.’
A full-sized stock truck—not a road train, but big enough to turn heads in the city—roared into the quarry.Its faded green sides were dented and sun-aged, with a heavy tarp stretched over the livestock bay for shade.
Bob was driving, with Red slumped in the passenger seat, head bandaged, looking like the lucky loser of a crocodile-wrestling contest
Bob didn’t waste time.Before the dust had settled, he’d leapt from the truck, then disappeared inside the demountable.Before the front door had even swung shut, he burst back out, carrying a duffel bag with clothes hanging from the zip.
‘Everyone, watch for their freight,’ Taryn said over the comms.Because they didn’t just need Bob and Red.They needed Drew.And the cargo.
That was the stuff to seal the deal.
They watched Bob toss his duffel bag into the truck’s cab where Red hardly moved.Bob reversed the truck toward a ragged stack of hay bales.There, Bob started digging through straw like a farm kid after Easter eggs.
And then he hit something.
Tugged.
And out came a blue tarp.
Underneath it—boxes.
Just like Tooley and Mickey had said.Plain cardboard boxes with brown tape, light enough to lift, with small flags on the sides labelledConference Pack.
‘Oh, perfect,’ Taryn said under her breath, as she zoomed in on Romy’s drone feed on her laptop.‘As Mickey, the master of all things grumpy would say,those criminal masterminds of the Territory are about to be undone by a haystack full of flamin’ tourist pamphlets in nappy boxes.’
She blinked.
Nappy boxes.
Nappies.
Was that word going to haunt her for the next two years?When she didn’t even know how to change one, let alone know what a nappy box looked like.
And now here they were, her first visual cue to impending motherhood, came from a smuggling ring hiding stolen prime stock genetic material in what looked like baby bulk buys.
Fan-tastic.
