Chapter Five: The Shortest Route, the Loudest Slap

He cut through a night fish market, raced onto a departing ferry, and slid down the steel ribs of a bridge under repair. Camera drones followed as a battered scooter lost six black sedans. At last Zhou pulled alongside a garbage compactor bound for the museum. Gu's assistant sat in front with a waterproof art tube in his arms. Zhou tapped on the window. “Coming through.” The assistant stamped on the accelerator. The truck plunged toward a tunnel as its sign abruptly changed to CLOSED. It was the tunnel where Zhou had died three years earlier. His hands trembled on the grips. “Let me drive,” Lin said. “You do not substitute drivers on the shortest route.” Zhou opened the throttle.