Rounding the corner, they came into an even larger gallery that contained only one enormous piece of art—twenty-four scrolls that were hung together to form a vast, intricate landscape.

Nick was taken aback. “Hey, isn’t that The Palace of Eighteen Perfections? I thought Kitty—”

At that moment, Roxanne gasped in alarm and put her hand over her earpiece. “Are you sure?” she said into her headset, before grabbing Colette’s arm. “Your parents just checked in at the guardhouse.”

Colette looked panic-stricken for a split second. “Already? They’re much too early! Nothing’s ready!” Turning to Rachel and Nick, she said, “I’m sorry to end the tour now, but my parents have arrived.”

The group rushed back toward the grand salon, as Colette barked out orders to Roxanne. “Alert all staff! Where’s that damn Wolseley? Tell Ping Gao to start cooking the parchment chicken now! And tell Baptiste to decant the whiskey! And why aren’t the bamboo groves around the central pool lit?”

“They are on a timer. They don’t come on until seven o’clock along with the lights,” Roxanne responded.

“Turn everything on now! And turn off this silly whimpering man—you know my father only likes listening to Chinese folk songs! And get Kate and Pippa into their cages—you know how allergic my mother is!”

Hearing their names, the dogs started yapping excitedly.

“Kill the Bon Iver and put on the Peng Liyuan!”^*3 Roxanne rasped into her headset as she ran toward the service wing with the dogs, almost tripping on their leashes.

By the time Carlton, Colette, Nick, and Rachel reached the front door of the main pavilion, the entire staff was already assembled at the foot of the steps. Rachel attempted to count the number of people but stopped at thirty. The maids stood elegantly in their black silk qipaos on the left and the men in their black James Perse uniforms on the right, creating two diagonal lines in V formation like migrating geese. Colette took her place at the apex of the V, as the rest of the group waited at the top of the steps.

Colette turned around and made a final inspection. “Who has the towels? The hot towels?”

One of the younger maids stepped out of the line holding a small silver chest.

“What are you doing? Get back in formation!” Roxanne screamed, as the convoy of black Audi SUVs came speeding up the driveway.

The doors on the lead SUV flung open, and several men in black suits and dark sunglasses emerged, one of them approaching the middle car and opening the door. Judging by how thick the door was, Nick surmised it was a reinforced bombproof model. A short, stocky man in a bespoke three-piece suit was the first to emerge.

Roxanne, who was standing next to Nick, let out a barely audible gasp.

Seeing that the man appeared to be no older than his mid-twenties, Nick asked, “I take it that’s not Colette’s father?”

“It’s not,” Roxanne said curtly, before stealing a quick glance at Carlton.