Christopher Golden - Uncharted - The Fourth Labyrinth

“You followed us,” Drake said.

“Of course,” Henriksen said, giving a small shrug, blue eyes shining in the illumination from the flashlights. Several of the thugs carried them, and the corridor was lit up brightly now.

“You had a chance to talk to Welch before our mysterious hooded men snatched him away,” he went on. “And we knew you had Luka’s notes. The Russo woman was helpful at the Temple of Sobek, but she had to bring in others to interpret the writing there, and we couldn’t wait for her and track you at the same time. It was a gamble, but we put all of our faith in you.”

His smile made Drake’s hands ball into fists.

“I’m glad we could help,” Sully said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You want to point that thing somewhere else?”

Henriksen glanced down at his gun as if he’d forgotten it was there. “This? Not just yet.” He gestured with the barrel. “What I’d like is for the three of you to take out your own weapons and set them on the floor, then back away slowly. We wouldn’t want anyone to get shot.”

Drake frowned. Something in the man’s tone surprised him. It almost sounded as if Henriksen meant it. Quickly glancing around, Drake noticed the easy stance of the other men. They might be thugs and even-particularly in the case of the one with the buzz cut and the stumpy musclehead-killers, but they didn’t look ready to kill. Not at this moment. Certainly, if Drake went for his gun, that would change, but these guys seemed way too relaxed for men who had tracked down prey.

For the first time, he wondered if they had somehow gotten it all wrong.

“Guns,” Henriksen repeated, because none of them had moved.

As Jada reached delicately for hers, Drake stopped her, a hand on her arm. Every one of the gunmen shifted to aim at him.

“I don’t think so,” he said, studying Henriksen’s face. “If you’re going to kill us all the same, you might as well get it over with.”

Henriksen arched an eyebrow. “You’re an enigmatic man, Mr. Drake. Most people don’t volunteer to be shot.”

“I’ve been shot before. I’m still alive. Not that I really like the idea. The food on this island is amazing, and I had my heart set on the lamb special tonight.”

With a grim smile, Henriksen nodded. “That does sound enticing. And truth be told, I have difficulty with the idea of murder. You’ve all been so useful in helping me reach my goals. I wonder, perhaps, if you could be trusted to continue that usefulness under a more formal arrangement.”

“I’d rather die,” Jada said, and this time when she reached for her gun, it was not to surrender.

Drake grappled with her for a second, stripping the pistol from her hand.

“Whoa, whoa,” Sully said, standing up to fill the space between Jada and the gunmen, putting himself between his goddaughter and death. Then he glanced at Drake. “What’s your play here, Nate?”

“I’m working on it,” Drake replied.

“Are you kidding me?” Jada shouted. “There’s nothing to work on. This son of a bitch murdered my father.”

Henriksen looked affronted. “I did no such thing.”

“Then you paid to have it done,” Sully said.

The gunmen shuffled aside to make room as another figure emerged from the darkness of the left-hand fork. Olivia looked lovely as ever, her hair golden in the electric light. She gazed at Jada with something resembling true sadness.

“He’s telling the truth,” Olivia said.

“Where the hell were you hiding?” Sully asked.

“It’s a little crowded in here,” she said, and then dropped her gaze. “I don’t like any of this. Guns and tight places. This isn’t a life I ever dreamed for myself.”

“You’ve been in on this from the start,” Jada said. “Admit it! You show up at our restaurant in Egypt playing damsel in distress. The grieving widow-”

“I am grieving!” Olivia shouted, tears springing to her eyes. She wiped at them. “I loved your father. He had his suspicions about this research, and he withdrew from the project. He might’ve ruined everything, and I know how it looks. But I can promise you, Tyr had nothing to do with his death and neither did I. Who does that? The way he was-mutilated…”

Her voice trailed off. Her shoulders shook as she tried to contain her grief, and Henriksen put a comforting arm around her.

“You told us you thought Henriksen had killed him,” Sully said.

“I would not do such a thing,” Henriksen said. “And if I had, why would I have done such a grisly job of it and then left him out in public in a way that would cause such an uproar?”

Drake hated to say it, but someone had to. “It’s a fair point.”

Jada looked at him as if he’d betrayed her.

But Sully nodded. “Nate’s right. I’m not convinced Henriksen would’ve let his secret project fall apart, but when you’re trying to keep a lid on things, you don’t draw that kind of attention. Whoever murdered Luka, they were trying to send a message.”

“I think we know the message,” Drake said. “We got it in the parking lot outside the restaurant back in Egypt.”

Jada looked at him, eyes alight with reluctant understanding. “ ‘Go home.’ ”

“In New York, we caught a glimpse of the man who killed Maynard Cheney. The guy who cut the video feed before doing the deed. Did he look like any of these goons to you?” Drake asked.

The goons in question stiffened, some of them intelligent enough to be insulted, but Henriksen gestured for them not to react, watching Jada. Drake studied him, knowing that nobody would have the patience to stand and listen to this if he intended to commit triple homicide.

Jada pointed a shaking finger at her stepmother. “You told us you were afraid of Henriksen! That you thought he’d killed Dad!”

Olivia seemed ashamed, glancing away.

“My suggestion,” Henriksen confessed. “We wanted to know what you know. We wanted Luka’s journal.”

Drake stared at him. He doubted the man had chased them down with murder in mind, but he had a hard time buying the level of innocence Henriksen was attempting to cloak himself in.

“So now what?” he said. “We’re here. You’re here. Maybe the answers you’re looking for are here. Maybe you can figure out the location of the fourth labyrinth-if Daedalus even designed one-and find the treasure you’re after.”

Henriksen frowned. “Treasure?” Then he blinked, smiling, and his eyes lit up. “It would be nice.”

Drake shook his head. Something was off. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Say you find it,” Sully put in. “What happens then? You try to hurt Jada and I will kill you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Henriksen said. “And you have my word. We have no intention of killing any of you.”

Sully glanced at Drake and Jada. “Strangely, I don’t feel comforted.”

Neither did Drake. There were pieces that didn’t fit. The hooded men might have murdered Luka and Cheney. They might even have set Luka’s apartment on fire. But the van full of guys with guns who tried to kill all three of them at the site of that fire in New York? That wasn’t the spooky ninja dudes’ style-not at all.

Drake glanced at Jada, then at Sully, and he had a feeling they were putting it together as well. Maybe not specifics, but he figured they had their suspicions. None of them was in a frame of mind to join forces with a guy who had sent a hit squad after them, not to mention the thugs who’d tried to abduct Jada in Egypt. All along they had wanted the journal and whatever information Drake and Sully had helped Jada gather. Whether Henriksen had ordered Luka murdered and hacked apart didn’t really matter in the end.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Drake told Henriksen. He smiled at Olivia, making sure to put as much of a chill in his expression as possible. “Thing is, we’re not interested in partnering up. We’re doing this for Luka. And whatever we find at the end of the rainbow, it’s not going to end up in your pocket.”