Damien was in his office at the new AIST headquarters, browsing through his various e-mail accounts trying to separate the gems that actually needed his attention from the dross that could be delegated, when an alert prompted him of a new e-mail in his Brainstorm account.

He pulled up that account on the Olympians server. He was confused because he'd already sorted through and handled that account hours ago. There shouldn't have been any activity this soon, especially since he'd updated the filters to re-route and dump anything that could be handled elsewhere.

"I checked him out after getting your message.  Daniel Lee's file is owned by the Pentagon.  My clearance level doesn't come close.  All I can tell you is the few brass that would talk to me about him tell me the same thing I hear from my defense industry friends: be careful dealing with Lee.  They say he's good to his word but not above arranging the pieces on the board as it suits him, and he's always ten moves ahead of where you think he is."

"One thing that I was able to find out ought to peak your interest, though.  Daniel Lee is the sole trustee of the New York Knights Perpetual Trust.  He's in charge of all their property and assets.  Everything, including the Pier, is his to administer."

Flying commercial wasn't the thrill it had once been. Leah remembered the thrill of excitement she always got at take-off when the jet finally raced forward, hurtling down the runway, inertia pushing her into her seat. And the moment when the rumble of tires across asphalt ceased and the whole airliner tilted for a steep ascent into the sky. There had been few thrills to match it. Now--it couldn't compare to flying under her own power, with the wind in her hair. It was never going to be the same.

"Okay... okay..." 

Mykola mumbled to himself as he looked around his warehouse home. 

"What I am needing... What... what... Ah, yes, of course."

There was a pile of colorful boxes on a shelf near an old refrigerator.  The Ukranian's finger traced along the labels until he found what he needed.  He grabbed the box and walked over to his computer bench where he turned the container over and made a little pile of fruit-shaped candies next to the mouse pad.

"Now, I am being ready."

Even after he swung off his bike it felt like he was still riding. The wind off the ocean was up today and it was blustery enough to keep his hair pinned back as he walked towards the Windmill’s surf-side entranceway. Stone took a deep breath of the salty air before pushing open the door.

The staff working behind the counter looked up at the door chime and immediately went back to what they were doing. A tall guy, young, Stone thought his name might be Josh, asked him, “The usual?” to which Stone simply replied with a nod. He was a well-known quantity now, at least here. He’d brought just about everybody on the team here at one point or another and it was also his favorite place to go and think, but that’s not why he was there today.

August 6, 7:45PM

Ahhhhh.

I crushed it at work yesterday so I could coast today, but it still turned out to be a busy day.  Didn't stop me from bailing at 3:00 PM.  I beat the Shore traffic home and took the family to Barnacle Bill's.  No lie, they have the best cheddar burger anywhere.  I'm going to have to remember to take Vic there when he visits.

Got home and donned the swim wear.  All four of us - me, Chris, and the girls - spent some time in the pool relaxing.  Emerson swam without her floatie! First time!  You go, girl!

Kids will be in bed soon and then it's mojito time with my wife.  *waggles eyebrows*

The opening music to the television coverage of Cubs-Diamondbacks game floated across the living room.  Joe had three job interviews this week and even though they weren't construction jobs he'd felt so good about it that he'd splurged on a pizza and a six-pack for the four-thirty game. 

The open beer sat on the endtable next to the couch, nestled on a coaster.  The pizza box was open on the low coffee table between the couch and the television stand and a slice was steaming delightedly on a paper plate in his hand.  The Star Spangled Banner was playing.  Joe was happy.

"Did the game start yet?"  Heather walked through the living room on her way from her bedroom to the kitchen.

The coffee machine hissed and gurgled as it went about its business, the sound and smell of fresh coffee welcoming the slanting rays of early morning sunlight that slipped through the window over the sink and splashed across the flowery print on Heather Grasso's dress.  The tween girl placed a delicate hand over her mouth as she yawned, pausing in the act of fetching a large navy blue mug from the cupboard.

The garage lights were off.  A spark from Stone's lighter sent scattered shadows scampering along stretched diagonals towards the corners and behind rolling tool boxes.  The flame, reflected in his lenses, caused the shadows to twitch and undulate for the few seconds it took to light his smoke.

There was a hanging work light with a switch on its cord tied to Stone's workbench.  He found the switch and flicked it, creating a small circular pool of light above the object of his efforts these past few months.