Page 86 of The Librarians
She couldn’t handle the cauldron of emotions; she had to channel her dread and confusion into concrete action, however stupid.
Silence.
He closes his fist around the bullet, the goddamn bullet. “What did your husband think of this idea of me?”
He didn’t bat an eye when she mentioned that she’d been married. “Do you—did you know my husband, by some chance?”
“Never met him.”
Never meeting someone is not the same as not being aware of someone’s existence.
And if he knew of Kit…“Did you know who I was before Saturday?”
He drops the bullet into a pocket of his black tactical pants. “If youmean whether I knew you’re Bartholomew Kuang’s granddaughter before we ran into each other in the noodle shop yesterday, yes, I did. I’ve known for a while. Not in time to create drama at your wedding, I’m afraid, but yes, for some time.”
How? How had he found out?
Then again, such a discovery is far from inconceivable. She’s always kept the lowest of low profiles, but from time to time she does show up in group pictures on other people’s social media, from attending weddings, birthday parties, and other such rites and rituals.
With his mother’s ties in Taiwan and his stepfather’s sphere in Hong Kong, it’s more than possible that they or someone in their circle might have business dealings with her family. Business relations turn into social relations. People scroll through their feeds and show others nearby what they are looking at.
What had passed through his mind—and his heart—when he saw her? Had he felt any surge of wonder and hope? Any pang when he realized that she was already married?
He studies her—and betrays little of his thoughts other than a stark wariness.
The same wariness that has characterized his demeanor ever since their reunion.
“Youdothink I have something to do with Perry’s death,” she whispers.
In the Far East, the idea exists to this day, culturally, if not legally, that if a single member of a family perpetuates an act counter to the collective good, then the entire family is—at least partially—at fault.
Her grandfather, as head of the family, has long been considered fair and wise—or at least fair enough and wise enough. And the Kuang clan, consequently, enjoys a relatively unsullied reputation as ethical in business and decent in personal dealings. But every barrel has its rotten apples and Hazel has one second cousin who has been officially disowned and another skating on thin ice for his gambling problem.
She struggles, however, to connect their localized malpractice to Perry Bathurst.
And then a ghost wraps its ice-vapor hands around her spine and yanks it right out of her back.
Her fingertips, without anything to hold on to, quake. “Are you implying that my husband is—was—involved somehow?”
Conrad’s lips curve in a mirthless smile. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to say.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“How?” The question escapes Hazel before thoughts can form in her head. Then all at once ideas coalesce. “Was Perry involved in my husband’s schemes—or a target of them?”
Dear God, the entire time they sat across from each other in that cupcake shop, Conrad had viewed her with suspicion, while she’d beamed heart eyes at him like a love-drunk Sailor Moon.
“Both, you could say. Kit convinced Perry to sink three million pounds into what he was doing, and Perry never saw the money again.”
The value of the pound has cratered in the last ten, fifteen years. Still, three million pounds come to about four million dollars. The Bathurst family is well-off, but nowhere close to counting their money in billions. According to Astrid’s web spelunking, their net worth is estimated to be somewhere between fifty and seventy million dollars. And of that, a good chunk must be land, manor, and production facilities. In other words, highly illiquid assets.
“Perry had that much of a cash position?”
“Good catch. No, but with your husband’s help, he secured a short-term loan with the family Picasso as collateral. It was supposed to be a quick investment, ten percent return in ninety days, but—”
“Ten percent return in ninety days? Kit was promising an APR of more than 40 percent and Perry believed it?”
“We’re in the era of casino capitalism. Perry wasn’t always immune to its siren call.”
