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The line went dead.

He walked out of his office and said to his secretary, “I need you to book a flight to Darwin for me. As soon as possible.”

She nodded and picked up her phone.

He walked back into his office and looked at his inbox. Sure enough, an email from Lena’s contact was already there. He read it over, raising his eyebrows as he did.

Darwin, Australia

A bearded David and Henry walked down the aluminum gangway and stepped onto dry land for the first time in over two weeks. It felt funny, not pitching and rolling anymore. David looked over his shoulder at the tugboat. The tug captain, Nathan’s friend, tipped his hat at them from the bridge.

David nodded. It was an extra precaution, not coming in with the trawler, but one that Henry and David thought was prudent.

Henry said, “Well, it was very kind of Captain Nate to give us cash for lunch and a cab.” He looked down at his Rolex and sighed. “I’m going to miss this watch. After I sell it I’m going to need a stiff drink.”

“We should probably do the phone calls first before drinking.”

“Of course. It goes: pawn shop, get phones, get hotels, make phone calls, and then happy hour. I wonder if they’ll have a pool bar. Do you know if Australian girls tan topless?”

David gave him a weak smile. The stress was getting to him. A lot would be decided today. And there was more than one phone call he needed to make. David was so close to hearing his wife’s voice. So close to letting her know he was safe. They would be reunited soon. He would take Lindsay in his arms and embrace his three-year-old, Maddie. He would hold his youngest, Taylor, and laugh at her gummy smile. He wanted this all so much and it was almost within reach. Just a bit longer…

* * *

A mile away from where the tug had pulled in, Philippe stood smoking a cigarette on a similar dock. He watched a blue-and-white trawler as it inched closer and closer to its berth. He looked up at the large “19” posted on the wooden beam adjacent to the boat. This was the right pier. No other fishing boats pulling in. This trawler was the one. This was where the email had originated.

He threw the cigarette onto the ground and squashed it with his foot. Then he walked toward the trawler. Two of the men were setting up the gangplank. They were almost ready to get off. From what the manager at the fishing company had told Philippe, they had been at sea for several weeks. A long time. But the size and quality of the tuna were worth the trip, the manager had assured him.

“Is your captain available?” Philippe held open his wallet. “International Criminal Police Organization.”

A young man in his early twenties yelled, “Uncle Nathan, the International Police are here!”

A tanned man of about fifty, wearing dungarees and steel-toed boots, came down a ladder and held out his hand. “Name’s Nathan. I’m the captain. How can I help you?” He looked nervous.

“Good day, Captain. I am Philippe Shek with Interpol. I would like to speak with you and your crew for a few moments.”

Shek held up his phone so that the captain could see the screen. “Do you recognize the men in these photographs?”

Nathan’s face turned red. Behind him, Byron said, “Hey, Nathan, it’s the guys we rescued! David and Henry.”

Philippe grinned. He said, “And where might they be now? Still on board? May I speak with them?” He looked down the pier toward the two black sedans. His men would wait for his order. Philippe preferred to do this part by himself. It created less suspicion.

Nathan said, “I’m sorry, but may I ask what this is all about?” He was looking at the sidearm holstered at Philippe’s waist.

“I’m afraid that the details are confidential. Are the men in these pictures on board? I just want to speak with them and ask them a few questions.”

Nathan looked at Byron and then back at Philippe. He looked like he had done something wrong.

* * *

Henry took half the cash that Nathan had given them and stuffed it in his pocket. He left David a few blocks from the pier, then took a cab to an open-air marketplace.

The market was charming. Fresh fruits and vegetables in baskets. Tourist trinkets and hometown artists hawking their work. The sun was shining and the air was warm on his face. He had never felt so free. It was almost lunchtime, and Henry was pretty hungry. There was one man selling sizzling chicken skewers. Henry took out the small wad of cash that Nathan had provided, careful to guard it from view. He handed the man a few bills for the meal. Delicious.

The pawn shop was one street over from the market. His first stop. Second, if you counted the chicken skewers, which Henry didn’t. It was a big place, with everything from crossbows to lanterns to jewelry lining the walls and under the glass. The owner looked Chinese, which under the circumstances almost made Henry turn right around and walk back out the door. But the cab driver had told him that this was the only real pawn shop in Darwin proper, whatever that meant. Henry figured he would let the ethnic prejudice slide. Captain Nate had given them fifty dollars Australian, which was very kind — but it wasn’t going to get them very far.

“I would like to sell you this,” Henry said, removing the very expensive platinum watch from his left wrist.

The Chinese man behind the counter peered at the watch. He said, “Do you mind?” He had an Australian accent, which Henry found funny.

Henry handed it to the man and he looked it over. The man said, “How much you want?”

“Well, I got it for seventeen thousand dollars US. So I guess I would like to get that much back.”

“No good, no good.” He looked like he was mulling over what to say. “This is not real.”

“Like hell it’s not real. That’s the genuine article, buddy.” Henry hated pawn shops. “Look, just make me an offer and let’s get this started.”

The pawn shop owner scowled and said, “I’ll give you three thousand Australian.”

Henry wanted to strangle the man. He said, “Fifteen.”

The man rolled his eyes and took out a calculator from behind the register. He started typing away as if this was going to tell him something new and interesting. He looked up and said, “Five thousand.”

Henry cocked his head and looked around the store. He saw a section for pistols. Hmm. “You need a license for handguns around here?”

The Chinese man looked around the empty store. He leaned forward. “Depends on the price.”

“I tell you what, how about you throw in one of them pistols over there?”

A few minutes later, Henry left the store with five grand in Australian cash and a small canvas bag with a handgun and a box filled with enough ammunition to “get him through the rougher parts of the Northern Territory.”

Walking to the electronics store two blocks down the road, Henry was quite pleased with the purchase. Now he needed to get phones. Henry entered Darwin Cellular off of Edmunds Street. He purchased three unlocked smartphones, then walked three blocks to the hotel district.

Henry walked through the revolving door in front of the Hotel Norvoel. Captain Nathan had given them the names of the best hotels. From conversations with the crew, they were able to deduce which ones were right next to each other. Most of the hotels on Esplanade overlooked the deep blue water of Fannie Bay. Henry read that name on a brochure in the hotel lobby. Fannie. Silly Australians. They were kind of quirky — like the Canadians of the Southern Hemisphere, but tougher. Probably from fighting all the crocodiles. He hoped he and David could wrap up this China thing soon so that they could meet some of the local female talent. Probably a lot of pretty girls in the Northern Territory. Like this woman here at reception.