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“A lot of things,” Juliette grumbled. “Did you find the address?”
Kathleen made a motion with her head that resembled a half nod. “Sort of. I’ll have it in a few days.”
“Good enough,” Juliette muttered. “I’ve got the masquerade to worry about until then anyway.”
A headache was starting in the space behind her ears. She was trying to plot her next move
, but it was hard to decide where to look. There had to be a reason why Madame had heard what she heard. There had to be a reason why the Communists had said what they said. And if it was naught but a rumor, then Juliette could only put her suspicion to rest when she had exhausted every avenue to do with Zhang Gutai.
Juliette perked up slightly. Her hand reached into her pocket again, touching the drawing. She had yet to exhaust everything.
A whistle came from the front door then, interrupting Juliette’s silent brooding. She looked up to find a Scarlet messenger hovering in the foyer space, gesturing at her with one hand and fixing the fit of his shoe with the other.
“Pass me that parcel beside you.”
Juliette looked to her side. Indeed, a parcel was lying on the circular table beside the sofa she had chosen to collapse on, but what did this messenger think he was doing asking her to fetch him something that he could simply come get himself—
It clicked. The qipao. The Scarlet gangsters had become accustomed to shortcutting their association of her to glittery, beaded dresses and pomade in her finger-curled hair. As soon as she dressed in Chinese clothing instead, they saw right past her.
Juliette breathed in and found her lungs to be horribly tight. Could she never be both? Was she doomed to choose one country or the other? Be an American girl or nothing?
The messenger whistled again. “Hey—”
Juliette yanked out the knife sheathed at her thigh, right above where the slit of her qipao ended, and threw it. The blade embedded perfectly into the front door with a deep, sonorous thud. It drew a single drop of blood from the messenger’s ear, where it had cut through.
“You don’t whistle at me,” Juliette said coldly. “I whistle at you. Understand?”
The messenger looked at her—really looked at her now. He reached up and touched his ear. The bleeding had already stopped. But his eyes were wide as he nodded.
Juliette took the parcel in her hands and stood. She walked right up to the messenger and passed it to him quaintly, as if she were delivering a lunch box to her friend.
“While you’re at it,” she said, “I need you to do something for me. Go to the Bund and interview the bankers who work along the main strip. Ask whether they’ve seen anything funny lurking about.”
The messenger’s mouth opened and closed. “All of them?”
“All. Of. Them.”
“But—”
“Juliette, hold on,” Kathleen called, rising from the couch too. “Let me.”
Juliette raised an eyebrow. Kathleen waved a hand at the messenger in a shooing gesture, and the messenger took the opportunity to flee, closing the front door after him with the knife still embedded within it.
“You want to waste your time on this?” Juliette asked.
“It is not wasting my time if it is useful information you need.” Kathleen reached into the coatrack by the door. “Why are you chasing after it?”
“I can send any one of the other messengers,” Juliette continued, wrinkling her brow. Ordering her own cousin around didn’t sit well with her. A specific task with specific goals was one matter, especially if Kathleen had contacts that benefited the mission. Sending her on a wild-goose chase was another matter entirely.
“Juliette—”
“I was mostly trying to frighten the messenger. It really is quite all right—”
Kathleen grabbed her cousin’s wrist and squeezed, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough for Juliette to know that this was serious.
“I’m not just doing this out of the kindness of my heart,” she said firmly. “In some few years, this gang is either under your hands or someone else’s. And knowing the other contenders…”
Kathleen paused. Their heads both went to the same people: Tyler first, then perhaps the other various cousins who might have a fighting chance only if Tyler mysteriously disappeared. They were all terrible and ruthless and hateful, but Juliette was too. The minuscule difference was that Juliette was also careful, intensely controlling with how much of that hate she let slip out to guide her hand.
