The boat carrying Canaan, Nolan, Annalise, and Carlton hugged the coastline, speeding away from QB’s menacing reach. Rounding Cape Emine, sandy beaches appeared in the distance, past mountain foothills covered in thick, green wilderness.

The crew watched as a helicopter soared in over the mansion and followed the unmanned speedboat they’d rigged to head for open water. It wouldn’t take the pilot and searchers long to realize they’d followed the wrong vessel.

The sound of a second helicopter drew their attention back toward the house, but it was short-lived. An explosion rocked the tranquility of the Cape, the helicopter becoming a fireball in the sky.

“Bloody hell!” Canaan exclaimed.

“That’s either a stroke of luck or a sign that we’re in deeper shit than we thought,” Nolan added.

“Let’s ditch this soon and head into those hills,” Annalise shouted to Nolan over the sound of the engine. Nolan nodded.

They’d taken inventory, one cell phone, two assault rifles, three handguns, and two knives. Canaan and Carlton were the closest fits for the dry clothing and boots, leaving Annalise and Nolan soaked to the bone and ill-prepared for a hike through the forest.

The rocky coastline gradually gave way to patches of beach, but they were still miles short of the developed resort area.

“Find me a spot where we can conceal this boat. Throw them off as long as we can,” Nolan requested.

“That first helo will be back any minute now. We’ve got to go to ground!” Carlton called out.

Nolan nodded his agreement and ran the boat ashore near a heavy patch of trees. They disembarked, rushing into the woods seconds before they heard the helicopter overhead.

“Ideas?” Nolan Weston asked the group as they huddled in an area that was completely devoid of any sign of human disturbance.

“Using that phone is like lighting off a signal flare. They’ll access the GPS very quickly. In fact,” Annalise considered. “It’s probably more trouble than it’s worth. So if we have any ideas of who we can call for help, let’s do it now and then ditch it to throw off pursuit.”

“Conserve ammo,” Nolan ordered. “We have whatever we have, and that’s it. There’s no telling when or where we’ll get more. Finding a vehicle is critical. Potable water, food, dry clothes, we’ve got quite a shopping list.”

“Carlton, anything to add, or anybody nearby we could reach out to with our one phone call?” Annalise asked.

“No, nobody in this part of the world,” Carlton answered.

“I’ve been to Sofia, but I think that’s hours west of here. And I didn’t get to know any locals. It was for fencing,” Canaan explained.

“Oleg Drenik?” Nolan Weston asked, shrugging his shoulders.

Annalise nodded her head. “He’d be perfect. But he could be anywhere. Even if he’s home, he’s nowhere near us.”

Nolan extended the phone to Canaan. “Call Odin. Let him know where we are. He has the resources and access to Atlas. If anybody can help, it’s them.

“In the meantime, Carlton, scout up over that ridge. We need the lay of the land. Take a Glock with you. Keep it low-key.”

Carlton nodded his head, checked his weapon for safety, and took off quickly, but quietly, through the woods.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Nolan questioned Annalise about their newest friend. “Think he’s MI6? QB didn’t want him because he was SAS.”

“If he is, I don’t know him, and I know that agency fairly well,” Annalise replied. She’d worked closely with British Intelligence in the past. “He doesn’t carry himself like MI6. Not polished enough. Those guys are usually slick.”

“Agreed,” Nolan confirmed. “Watch him closely.”

Canaan punched in Odin’s number, hoping he’d remembered it correctly; he rarely looked at numbers, just names in his phone.

Odin answered on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Odin, it’s Canaan.”

“How’s Bulgaria?”

“How could you possibly… never mind. I’m with—”

“Nolan and Annalise,” Odin interjected. “We’ve had somebody sending intel to Atlas. We don’t know who. Nice to confirm the info.” Nolan mouthed the words, “Your source is money,” to Atlas.

Canaan was stumped. “How…anyway, you know where we are, sounds like better than we do. Can you help?”

“Good to hear your voice, bro,” Odin replied. “If you know the answer to this, don’t say it. This call is probably being monitored. But do you know anybody who’d call you ‘Canaanus’?”

Annalise and Nolan noticed the look of shock on Canaan’s face. “Yes. I do, but… that wouldn’t make any sense, unless…”

“Think about it,” Odin instructed. “And give the phone to Nolan.”

“Nolan Weston,” Nolan said, in a clipped tone that let Odin know he was in full operational mode.

“Odin here, Nolan. Listen carefully. This might buy you some time, but our friends are listening in, so proceed with caution.”

“Lay it on me,” Nolan responded.

“Don’t say his name, but think of the angriest man you ever saw on a baseball diamond.”

Nolan pondered the request a moment. “Okay, I have somebody in mind.”

“When his hands weren’t too sticky, he liked to play cards at the Venetian. While he was an active player. Got it?”

“I…think so. We’ll do our best to get there. Where’s your intel coming from?”

“Not sure,” Odin responded. “But it hasn’t been wrong yet. It’s somebody who seems to know Canaan. They gave us a code word that he ought to know. Keep your guard up, though, we don’t know as much as we’d like to.”

“Will do. I’ll be in touch. Weston out.”

Carlton Fox scrambled down the ridge and jogged back to the group.

“There’s a road half a mile that way,” he said, pointing southwest. “And a few small buildings the other direction, a bit further in. We have good cover here, we ought to be able to move about. But we’ll need to find or fashion shoes for you two.”

Nolan sidled up to Canaan and whispered in his ear.

“Odin told me you might know where our intel is coming from?”

“The woman I met yesterday. She’s the only one it could be. But I don’t know how she’d know how to reach Odin or Atlas or how she could be mixed up in any of this.”

“None of this has made any sense so far, so why should her involvement? Do you trust her?” Nolan asked.

“I just met her,” Canaan replied. “We had a fun evening, sure, and there seemed to be a connection, but there’s every reason to think it was a trap.”

“What name did she give you?”

“Madeline Carmichael. Familiar to you?”

Nolan furrowed his brow. “I knew a Carmichael years ago, older guy, FBI. But he died about five years ago in a plane crash. Cessna. He didn’t have any kids that I know about. No, that’s a dead end.”

Annalise had kept Carlton distracted while Nolan and Canaan chatted.

“Here’s the plan,” she announced to the group. “Nolan, you and I are going to set up camp deeper in the woods, find a defensible position. Carlton is going to do recon on those buildings, Canaan, you’re going to the road. Stay out of sight, we just need you to watch for vehicles. Number, type, frequency; give us an idea what kind of traffic that road supports. Got it?”

Canaan and Carlton nodded and set out to gather what intel they as Nolan and Annalise took the rest of their equipment and climbed the ridge to find a thicket of thorn bushes and trees where they could conceal themselves.

“What did the Titans have to say?” Annalise asked Nolan.

“Odin gave me a coded message. Best I can figure it; we’re looking for somewhere called the Sands. Maybe the Royal Sands. We may have an ally there.”

A helicopter hovered overhead briefly, then took off back out over the water.

“Wish I could look it up, but anything we do on that phone is doubtlessly being monitored.”

“Oui,” Annalise replied, slipping back into her native French. “We send it out of the area as quickly as possible. Put it in the bed of a truck or something.”

Annalise and Nolan stripped down, wringing out their clothes and hanging them over branches to dry them as best they could.

Annalise admired Nolan’s physique. “The rumor is true, you married Richard’s daughter?”

“I did.”

“That’s a shame,” Annalise replied.

“I don’t think so,” Nolan smiled. “She’s a dream come true.”

Carlton trotted up to his naked cohorts. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Annalise made no effort to cover herself. “No, we’re just trying to get dry. Find any clothes?”

“No, nothing. There’s a small power relay station and two old cabins. Nothing in them worth taking, they’re both pretty picked over.”

Canaan returned, presently. “In fifteen minutes, I saw exactly two vehicles, a small delivery truck and a car, both heading in the direction of the water, nothing else.”

“We hike that road, follow it as far as we can, see where it leads. We know there are hotels and resorts that direction,” Nolan instructed. “Zero body count, if we can help it, and stay completely off law enforcement radar. At some point, we ditch the rifles in the woods and go without. Annalise and I will just have to deal with the wet clothes and bare feet a while longer. May work to our advantage when we get into town anyway. We can pass ourselves of as tourists who lost our shoes on the beach. You two in your all black clothes and tactical boots will have a tougher time blending in.”

The group packed up and made for the road, stomachs grumbling. Once they were within sight of it, they paralleled it through the forest, watching only the occasional car pass by. A stroke of luck sent a pickup truck rolling past, heading out of the area, with beach toys piled up and strapped down in back. Annalise, from behind a tree, threw the phone perfectly into the bed, and it landed silently into a folded beach chair, the occupants of the truck none the wiser.

They reached the outskirts of the resort district and Nolan had Carlton and Canaan stay behind in the woods with the rifles. He and Annalise walked out into the open, passing a small restaurant, a hotel, and some scattered shops before spotting their destination; the Royal Sands.

“How do you know this is the place?” Annalise asked.

“Don’t. Best guess. Stay here where Canaan and Carlton can still see you. I’ll go in alone.”

Nolan strolled up to the resort, two stars at best, by his estimation, and encountered a grumpy gray-haired woman at the front desk.

“English? Deutsch? Espanol?” he asked. Nolan Weston was fluent in several languages and had picked up a smattering over more during his career, but Bulgarian wasn’t among them.

“English is fine,” the woman grumbled in a thick accent that struggled to get past a tongue that seemed by an order of magnitude too wide for her mouth.

“I’ve lost my wallet, my room key, everything, I’m afraid. A few too many drinks, a dip in the ocean,” Nolan turned the charm up as high as it would go, leaning in and smiling. His adversary seemed unmoved.

“Name?”

“Carmichael,” Nolan replied, hoping he’d deciphered all the clues correctly.

The woman filed through a rolodex of index cards. “Room number?”

“I’m afraid you have me at a loss, my wife handled all that. Madeline. Between the vodka and the sun, I’ve, well, I’ve felt better. I really just need to lie down.”

The old woman dialed the room she had on file for Madeline Carmichael, but no one answered. She considered Nolan’s plea and eventually his dimples won the day.

“Room 214. Here is key.” She slid a card across the counter, and Nolan accepted it with a flourish, taking her hand, holding it, and kissing it.

“Thank you so much. You’re an angel.”

“Hrmph,” she replied, eager for the conversation to come to a close.

Nolan exited the lobby and walked back around the far side of the building, passing a pool with six inches of green water in the bottom.

“Royal Sands, indeed,” he muttered. Taking the steps two at a time, he bounded up to the second floor. The curtains were drawn on #214, so he drew the Glock from behind his back and inserted the keycard slowly, holding his breath. When nothing exploded, he slid it back out and entered the room, leading with his weapon.

With no one hidden behind the door, he moved quickly toward the bathroom, checking behind the shower curtain. Empty.

Satisfied that the room was clear, he turned to move back out into the living area and directly into the path of a pistol pointed directly at his face, held by a bombshell of a woman with wild red hair.

“Where is Canaan Titan?” she demanded, reaching over to relieve Nolan of his own gun.

“Hello, Madeline,” Nolan replied, lifting his hands into a position of surrender.