Odin and Atlas worked their phones into the night, desperately searching for a clue.

After hours of dead ends, Richard Hunt contacted Atlas.

“Atlas Titan,” the ex-SEAL answered his phone, as was his custom.

“Camilla is safe,” Richard Hunt announced. Atlas cupped his hand over the phone and mouthed the words to Odin, who gave a thumbs up.

“Go on, tell me everything,” Atlas asked.

“She’s at a police station in Paris. She woke up, tried to contact Nolan, and went looking for him. When she hit the street, she was snatched by two men in a van. Some guy on a bicycle saw the whole thing and took off after the van. He got close enough to get a license plate and called the police. There was a high speed chase, Paris’s finest took it down. She’s fine.”

“Do they have anybody in custody?” Atlas asked.

“One in custody, they’re searching for his partner. The one they have is an Algerian national, he claims he was hired by a Russian. They were supposed to take her to a warehouse in Goutte d’Or and hand her over to the Russian there. Police went to the address but it was empty. Forensics are looking at it. They’re treating it as if it was a human trafficking case.”

“Did you tell them about Nolan?”

“Yes, of course, what I could tell,” Richard Hunt explained. “Just that he was missing. I couldn’t exactly give them Nolan’s resume.”

“No, of course not,” Atlas agreed. “Well, I’m glad she’s alright. Make sure she stays in protective custody. Are you going to Paris?”

“I have people going there to bring her home,” Richard said. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything more helpful.”

“Hopefully they can press the Algerian and get something out of him. We’ll keep you in the loop. Thanks, Richard.”

Atlas turned his attention back to Odin.

“Now what? That just raises more questions. Russians?”

“We might need our Ukrainian guy more than ever now. Stay in touch with him,” Odin instructed.

Just then, the quiet of the condo was shattered by the wail of a baby.

“You’re up, ‘dad’,” Atlas joked.

“Two and a half hours. That’s a new record,” Odin declared. “I bet its Emmie.” Odin pulled a bottle of Clara’s pumped breastmilk from the fridge and popped it in the warmer, then slipped into the nursery. Bundled-up Callum was cranking away on his pacifier, fast asleep, while Emmie had managed to completely kick out of her swaddle and was furiously swinging her arms and crying, pitifully. Odin scooped her up and rocked her, to no avail.

He carried her back out to the living room to find Clara, hair piled up on top of her head, wearing one of his old t-shirts, curled up in a recliner next to where Atlas sat on the sectional.

“Hey babe,” she greeted her husband. “Bring me that hungry baby.”

“I was going to take care of her,” Odin said. “You sleep!”

“Atlas told me what’s happening. I want to help. She prefers it direct from me, anyway.”

Odin handed Emmie to Clara, who shifted into a more comfortable position and produced a breast, which Emmie attacked immediately.

Clara closed her eyes and sighed. “That’s it, sweet girl,” she said to Emmie, stroking her daughter’s hair. “Are we safe, Odin?” She’d survived QB’s attack on the Las Vegas safe house, but she still bore psychological scars.

“We’re staying right here,” Odin assured her. “Atlas has security at his house right now, and when Piper and Lea wake up, they’ll be brought over here. Besides, how can you ever doubt our safety with her on the case?” Odin pointed to Abner II, snoring away in front of the door to the nursery, unmoved by Emmie’s cries, a puddle steadily forming beneath the beagle’s open mouth.

Clara laughed, softly. “Abner is a Rottweiler at heart. Can’t you tell?”

Odin’s phone buzzed, and he exchanged a series of text messages.

“That was Duncan,” Odin explained. “The auction was delayed two hours in the hopes that Odin would surface, but now they’re going ahead with it.”

In the nursery, the feeble cries of Callum Titan alerted the group that Emmie’s brother was also hungry.

“He does better with the bottle,” Clara reminded Odin, who went to the warmer and pulled a bottle and a bib for his son. It figured to be a long night staring at phones and caring for newborns.