“Sit right down on the edge of the bed,” Madeline Carmichael instructed Nolan Weston, emphasizing the seriousness of her command by keeping her gun pointed directly at his chest.

Nolan slowly shuffled into position and sat down.

“It is Madeline, isn’t it?” Nolan repeated. “Or is it something else?”

“I’m Madeline Carmichael. Just like you were Tucker St. John. And Anthony Hancock. Marcus Fickner.”

“You can stop now, I get the point,” Nolan responded after listening to “Madeline Carmichael” list three different aliases Nolan had used during various assignments in his career. He couldn’t fathom how anybody would have access to that information, especially from memory.

“Canaan Titan is who I want. Tell me how to find him, or I give you right back to some people who won’t be nearly as nice as I am.”

“Well, if you consider ambushing someone at gunpoint to be ‘nice’, I’d hate to see nasty,” Nolan replied. “I know where Canaan is. Or was. But if I don’t make contact with my friend outside soon, I won’t know where any of them are. They’ll assume I walked into a trap, which seems to be the case, and they’ll disappear. They’re very good at it. You’ll never find them. Do you mind putting the gun away?”

“I do mind, actually,” Madeline answered. “I’m sticking my neck out to find Canaan. I’m in greater danger than any of you if I’m found out.”

“Let’s take a walk,” Nolan suggested. “Once my friend sees me, that I’m safe, maybe we can work out a way for you to see Canaan.”

Madeline considered Nolan’s plan, and saw no other way to get what she wanted.

“Alright. Let’s go see your friend. Don’t make me shoot you.”

“I can assure you, I have no interest in being shot today,” Nolan assured Madeline.

“Go ahead and walk out. I’ll be behind you, close enough that I can’t miss, but far enough away that you can’t reach me,” Madeline reminded Nolan.

Nolan nodded his understanding and walked out the door, down the stairs, and back around the front of the building, and onto the street. Madeline followed at a discreet distance.

Annalise was more or less where Nolan had left her, although she was being accosted by a local lothario who was trying to converse with her in broken German, their one shared language.

As Nolan approached, he heard Annalise say “Mein Ehemann,” or “my husband,” and the muscle-bound youngster looked Nolan up and down before shrugging his shoulders, grabbing his own crotch, and saying something in Bulgarian. Annalise reached across, put a hand on the stranger’s shoulder, and drove her knee ferociously up into the man’s groin, causing him to gasp, go pale, and crash to the ground.

Annalise looked over Nolan’s shoulder at Madeline, who she could see was concealing the pistol in her hand within her billowing dress.

As the man rolled on the ground, dry-heaving, Nolan took Annalise by the arm and guided her off the street, between buildings, where they’d have more privacy.

“My friend Madeline here,” Nolan pointed with his thumb to the woman standing behind him. “Would like to speak with Canaan.”

“Does she intend to shoot him?” Annalise asked.

“I doubt it. She’s got to be the one who’s been talking to Atlas. She’s a pro. Rather elaborate just to take Canaan out.”

“Enough whispering, you two,” Madeline hissed. “Where is he?”

* * *

Canaan and Carlton, still hiding in the woods just past the last motel in town, spotted Nolan emerge from around the corner just before Annalise did her best to rupture the testicles of the man who was hitting on her. They both cringed at the force with which she delivered the crushing blow.

Looking back up, however, they noticed a fourth person in the scene, walking behind Nolan. Wearing a summery white sundress that clung to her swaying hips was the girl who’d rocked Canaan Titan’s world: Madeline Carmichael.

Canaan raised up out of hiding to get a better look, but Carlton pulled him back down. “Easy, mate! It’s not time yet. They’ll give the signal.”

“I know, but it’s her. The redhead. I know her. I just met her, but I know her. I was afraid something may have happened to her, then my brother said he’d heard from her, and…I’m just surprised. And relieved.”

“She looks in one piece from here. Better than I can say for the chap on the ground there.”

As they watched from hiding, Nolan disappeared into the alleyway with Madeline and Annalise walking toward them. Checking the street for cars or curious eyes, she gave a prearranged signal for Canaan to emerge from hiding.

“Looks like you’re up, Yank,” Carlton said. Canaan rose and jogged back up the road, out of sight of the resorts, before emerging and crossing the road. Seven minutes later, he rounded the corner and walked toward the alley where he’d seen Nolan and Madeline. Annalise crossed the street in the direction of the beach and pretended to be fascinated by a bulletin board covered in advertising and flyers, most of which she couldn’t begin to decipher.

Canaan reached the alley to find Nolan facing the wall and Madeline standing on the opposite side, a gun in her hand not immediately visible from the street.

“Canaan!” she declared, cracking the first smile Nolan had seen from her as he chanced a glance back over his shoulder.

Canaan smiled as well, but when it became clear to him that his friend was under threat of a gun wielded by Madeline, he froze in his tracks.

“Madeline, what’s going on?” Canaan asked.

“It’s… complicated,” Madeline responded. “But we need to talk. We’ve got to get off the street.”

“Okay, yeah, sure,” Canaan replied. “So it was you e-mailing my brother. But how…”

“That’s not important,” Madeline insisted. “You three must be starving. Here, Nolan, take this.” Madeline peeled money off a roll of bills that she produced from somewhere inside a dress that looked like it contained nothing but exquisite feminine perfection. “There’s a café two blocks down the street, down by the beach. Stop by the Royal Sands first and tell the woman you need the Bergkamp Suite. There are clothes in the dresser. Dress and go eat. Don’t disturb us.”

Nolan considered her words, then gave Canaan a serious look. “What do you say, Canaan?”

Canaan made eye contact with Madeline, and he saw the same warmth there he’d seen when first they met. His body reacted to her as well, his cock stirring in his pants like a snake looking to escape the confines of its cage.

“Yeah, I’m okay with that,” he insisted.

Nolan shrugged and walked across the street to inform Annalise of the plan.

Canaan walked alongside Madeline back in the direction of the Royal Sands. “I’m totally lost,” he said.

“It’ll all become clear soon, I promise,” Madeline insisted.

* * *

Carlton waited in the woods, watching his sister walk away with Canaan Tian while Annalise gave him the signal to join them. Carlton Fox— aka Quintus Brentford— stood and stretched, stuffing the handgun he held down the back of his pants and rechecking the assault rifles he’d concealed with leaves and branches. He had the shot, and considered taking out Weston and Rubidoux where they stood, before they could react. He could melt into the woods and rendezvous with his sister later, after she’d concluded her business with Canaan Titan. He didn’t understand what she was doing in Elenite, or where the entire plan had gone wrong, but his cover was not yet blown, so he decided to stay patient a bit longer.

He jogged up the street, past where Canaan had left the forest, and after waiting for two cars to drive past, he emerged and walked down the road into town, head down, hands in his pockets.