“Arrested? Canaan?” Emerson Titan was incredulous. “Tell me everything. Start from the beginning. Actually, hold on, I’m going to get legal in on this call.”

“Sure thing,” Odin Titan replied to his father. Odin had called from his office in Big Bear, California, where he was training for the upcoming London Olympics in the Modern Pentathlon.

Emerson Titan, in Hong Kong on business, returned to the call. “Odin, I have Devon Kirkpatrick from legal on the line as well. Go ahead.”

“I don’t know much. Canaan was in Tashkent with USA Fencing for an international tournament.”

“Tashkent?” Emerson interrupted. “Which one of the ‘stans’ is that again?”

“Uzbekistan,” the voice of Titan Holding senior legal advisor Devon Kirkpatrick indicated.

“Right,” Odin confirmed. “Canaan somehow wound up in Kazakhstan. A buddy of mine with the team told me there was a girl involved. Shocking, I know.”

“Kazakhstan?” Emerson asked. “What the hell? Why would he even leave the team hotel?”

“Like I said, I’m just getting bits and pieces,” Odin replied. “Has he not called you yet? Or has the consulate contacted you?”

“No, nothing yet,” Emerson assured his son. “Devon?”

“No, sir. I’ll have my team start making calls immediately.”

“A girl again? You boys are always following your hearts. It’s going to be the death of me,” Emerson replied, sighing.

“I don’t think Canaan was following his ‘heart’ necessarily,” Odin joked.

“This is no laughing matter if he’s truly been arrested,” Emerson protested.

“I’m sure our ambassador is a golf buddy of yours. Or somebody at the State Department owes you a favor or twenty,” Odin said.

“Vincent Krol,” Devon Kirkpatrick interjected.

“Oh yes, Vincent,” Emerson recollected. “I knew he was in that region. Wasn’t he working in Uzbekistan?”

“Yes, sir. He was formerly our ambassador to Uzbekistan,” Kirkpatrick confirmed. “He’s the perfect man for this.”

“He’s a Duke man,” Emerson joked. “But I don’t hold it against him. I haven’t seen him in years. Since…gosh…Osaka?”

“Not sure, Dad,” Odin replied. “But it sounds like this is something that can hopefully be handled quickly and quietly, whatever it is.”

“Be that as it may, this could put the Olympics in jeopardy for your brother,” Emerson’s voice trailed off, sounding as if he were shaking his head. “I always worry that some enemy Atlas has made will find a way to come after one of you boys. Have you talked to Achilles lately?”

“A few days ago,” Odin replied. “He’s in L.A. He was working on a new sound with some producer who has a pet pig. Ian Ion, I think he called him. He’s supposed to be a genius with electronic music, but he’s branching out into other genres.”

“It warms my heart that all of you are following your dreams, but I’m understandably worried about Canaan,” Emerson answered.

“I can’t blame you for being concerned,” Odin agreed.

“Is Atlas still in the States?” Emerson asked.

“It’s been two weeks, maybe longer, since I spoke to him,” Odin responded. “He was in D.C. then, but he’s working now; he could be anywhere.”

Emerson Titan sighed, heavily. “I look forward to the day you boys settle down and stay in one place. And give me some grandchildren.”

Odin laughed. “Maybe you should have had daughters, Dad. Instead, you had four boys, and none of the apples fell far from the tree. We’re all young, rich, and single. How can you beat that?”

“Touché, Odin. Touché. If you hear anything more through your backchannels about Canaan, let me know right away. I’ll start digging. Let’s talk in an hour or two.”

“Will do, Dad. Arrivederci.”

Odin hung up and stared at a map of Europe on his laptop. He’d never been to Uzbekistan or Kazakhstan, and he wondered what his little brother could possibly have gotten himself into.