‘Yeah, well, if he’s as rich as you say, Drew wouldn’t have just one exit plan.He’d have a dozen.Some stashed in capital cities.Some offshore.All of them quiet.’
‘Seriously?’
He glanced at her.‘Drew wouldn’t run.He’d tighten his tie, smile for the cameras… and vanish in a fancy suit like it was all part of the schedule.’
‘Well, then, we’d better ruin his schedule, huh?’
Stone’s voice cut in over comms: ‘A jet has just been picked up on my radar… I’ve got eyes on it.Circling.Pilot hasn’t dropped his landing gear yet.’
Taryn’s mouth thinned.‘That’s not Drew’s ride in—it’s his backup.He’s not on that plane.He’s sending someone else in to collect the freight, and to clean up loose ends.You said those names, what were they?The only others who knew about this quarry?’
‘Clancy and the pilot.’Finn’s brow tightened.
She tapped her screen again.‘I bet Drew’s split the trail.A smuggler’s trick.Leave one flight obvious, and let the real one vanish in the noise.’Her mind reeled.‘Just like there’s nothing on paper about Drew ever visiting Elsie Creek.’
Finn looked at her as the weight of it sat heavy in the space between them.
Drew might already be gone.
Or he was still coming.
‘Do I have time to text Marcus?He’d have the contacts to send someone to Darwin airport, to watch for that other plane.’She could only hope.
Finn nodded.‘I’ll be fifty-fifty… Drew’s either on that jet, or halfway to a beach with clean boots and cold beer.’
‘Let’s make a bet…’ Taryn smirked as she sent the message to Marcus, who was busy coordinating from the Batcave, with Izzy helping him draft warrants, prepare charges, and trawl through her files for anything they could use to make legal arrests.‘If I’m right, which I am, we’ll find Drew on the other jet, you’ll be learning how to make real coffee.The kind that doesn’t taste like river sludge.Oh, and you’ll be wearing an apron for the tutorial.’
‘Apron?’
‘And a new kettle that whistles.Maybe a new gas cooker for the troopy, too.We’re doing this properly, Sergeant.’
Finn grunted.‘Fine.But if I’m right… you’re giving Cecil a bath.’
‘Absolutelynot!’
‘You made a bet.’
‘Cecil is a water buffalo who tried to eat my hair.’
‘He likes your perfume.’
‘He hunts me with his big wet nose and flower crown like some snorting Valentine’s Day mascot who got the date wrong.’
Finn smirked.‘Cecil likes you, and he deserves a spa day.’
‘First, I never expected the wordsspa dayto ever come from your mouth.’Taryn groaned.‘Second, he’s a water buffalo, not a bridesmaid.’
‘Still counts.Bet’s a bet, lady.’He held out his hand.
‘Fine.’She shook it.
Below, the quarry jet cut through the sky like a scalpel.Its shadow streaked across the cracked basin as it dropped toward the compacted earth, aiming for the rough runway where Red and Bob waited for their escape.
Finn held her hand a second longer than seemed necessary.
Taryn felt the spark dart up her spine like a live wire.The words were there, right on the tip of her tongue, ready to be said.
Then Taryn’s phone buzzed.
