climbed in after Olivia while Henriksen had a quick conversation with the Norwegian and U.S. embassy men. Corelli went and stood by him, taking up a position as his employer’s bodyguard. None of them had guns anymore—they couldn’t exactly have asked for them back after denying ownership of the weapons—but Corelli looked like he knew how to hurt people without bullets. Drake assumed the conversation had to do with Henriksen’s gratitude for the diplomats’ intervention and the manner in which his thanks would be expressed. In cash, probably, Drake thought.
Henriksen opened the passenger door and looked in at the driver.
“Get out.”
“Mr. Henriksen,” the blond man said, his accent much thicker than Henriksen’s, “the embassy sent me. I’m to take you anywhere you like.”
Henriksen glanced back at the diplomats on the sidewalk, then looked at the driver again.
“You’ll be paid. But I have my own driver.”
As he spoke, Corelli opened the driver’s door and gestured for the man to get out. The driver hesitated, then shrugged and climbed out, leaving the car running. He said something in Norwegian, calling to the embassy man over the top of the limo. The diplomat nodded tersely, and the driver threw up his hands and moved out of the way, letting Corelli slip behind the wheel.
The driver still stood mystified beside the limo as Corelli slammed the door. Henriksen joined Olivia, Jada, and Drake in the back and shut his door, and moments later they were gliding out into the traffic leaving the airport. Jada and Drake exchanged a glance.
“Have you ever driven in Nanjing before?” Jada asked.
“Never been to China,” Corelli replied. He nodded toward the dashboard. “We got a GPS. How hard can it be?”
“Hand me that,” Henriksen said.
Corelli passed the GPS back through the open window between the driver’s seat and the rear of the limo. Henriksen tapped the touch screen, quickly switching languages, and then keyed in an address before handing it back.
“Thanks, boss,” Corelli said.
“Where are we going?” Jada asked.
Olivia stretched her legs, the leather seat creaking beneath her. Drake couldn’t help noticing how shapely those legs were, straining against the fabric of her pants, and he wondered if she did such things on purpose to draw attention or if it was just a reflex after decades of wanting to be the center of attention.
“We’re going to the hotel,” she said.
Drake frowned, shaking from his musings about her. “I don’t think so. These ninja bastards have Sully. I’m not lounging around in some hotel suite while they’re doing who knows what to him.”
“Ninjas are Japanese,” Corelli supplied from behind the wheel, glancing in the rearview mirror as the GPS gave him instructions in a soft feminine voice.
“Shut up,” Drake snapped. “You think I don’t know—oh, forget it.” He stared at Henriksen. “Listen, I’ve been trying to work out where the labyrinth might be. We need to take a hard look at the China Gate. And we need a subway map.”
He explained his reasoning, and Henriksen listened calmly. Jada nodded in support, but Olivia only stared through the limousine’s tinted glass window at the lights of Nanjing coming to colorful life as night fell around them. The cityscape included a strange mix of gleaming modern office towers and pagoda-like buildings. They passed cars and buses and bicycles, the city teeming with people, but Drake shut it all out. They weren’t here to sightsee.
“I’ve been to the China Gate,” Henriksen said when Drake had finished.
“You’ve been to Nanjing before?” Jada asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Henriksen gave her an amused look. “I do business around the world. I’ve been almost everywhere at one point or another. But the last time I was here, nearly fifteen years ago, I was touring the country with my ex-wife. Mr. Drake’s logic is sound. The China Gate was built during the Ming Dynasty, but its builders included portions of the original city gate, which dates back to the Tang Dynasty in the eighth century. I specifically remember that it was once called the Jubao Gate, which translates as the ‘Gathering Treasure’ Gate.”
Drake felt a chill. “You think that’s a reference to the gold Daedalus’s nephew moved from Thera?”
“It’s possible,” Henriksen said.
“Wouldn’t someone have found it by now?” Olivia asked, her eyes alight with interest now. Eager, she leaned forward in her seat. “It sounds like this gate must get a constant stream of tourists. Even if you assume the labyrinth’s protectors would abduct or kill anyone who found an entrance, they would have to come and go