Meanwhile, across the city at the business end, the bright morning sun reflected off the curved, titanic structure of the Steele Complex.
The dome looked stunning and imposing as always. But more importantly, down in the shadowed privacy of the parking bay, inside his glorious Aston Martin, there was tension in the air.
Darren Steele sat on the plush leather seat, his legs crossed. He wore dark glasses today as the sun was the harshest it had been in a while.
Beside him, Mr. Caldwell looked like a man who had aged ten years in a single night. His usually ruddy face was pale, his hands trembling slightly as they rested on his knees.
"So…" Darren spoke, going through his early morning messages with Ava Monroe. "What do you have for me, Caldwell?"
