CARLSON sat in the dimly lit garden, the evening breeze ruffling the collar of his shirt. He exhaled a slow drag from his cigar, watching the smoke curl into the air. The silence of the past few weeks gnawed at him. He was waiting for Queen's update, but she hadn't called yet.

That woman was taking too damn long.

The crunch of footsteps against gravel pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced up as his father strode toward him. Carlson recognized that look on his father's face, the kind that meant something big had happened.

Stanley stopped in front of him, hands tucked into his pockets. He didn't waste time...