Page 52 of The Librarians
Monday
Because of their two years together in high school, Jonathan has always thought of Maryam as soft and cuddly.
FaceTiming her first thing in the morning does not greatly alter his opinion.
She is still rubbing sleep out of her eyes and yawning behind her hand, her old casual and approachable self.
Even as he narrates what he’s learned about the people and circumstances around Perry Bathurst’s death and her eyes turn grim, it remains a conversation among old friends.
But once they get on Zoom and bring in the others, she becomes all business, cool and assertive.
She grills Conrad for close to forty minutes and Hazel for at least a quarter hour—recorded—and only then turns off the recording and asks, “Okay, I know you didn’t offer me your accounts solely out of the goodness of your hearts. What is it you want from me?”
Jonathan, the only person who has a prior relationship with Maryam, swallows and begins. “We—we’ve been working since last night to set things up so that the murderer will come to us.”
He lays out the plan as cogently as he can, calling on the others for backup when he needs something explained in greater depth.
As he speaks, some of his anxiety drains away.
They will be taking a risk, of course, but their plan is logical and not too complicated, and they have made careful preparations along the way.
When he finishes, a resounding silence greets him.
Maryam’s resounding silence, as everyone else is already on board.
She raises a brow, and he suddenly feels like a seventh grader who forgot to do his social studies homework.
“You want to do what ?”
Jonathan clears his throat and repeats carefully, “We would love for you to arrest a trespasser at the library, who will most likely also turn out to be the one behind Perry Bathurst’s murder.”
“No, I mean, you expect me to put a civilian’s life in danger?” Maryam says with a frown.
For the first time in his life, Jonathan connects the word “formidable” with her and feels little beads of perspiration gather on his nape.
“No, no, not at all! Hazel will come through the front entrance and go into the storage room.
But then she will immediately exit the storage room from the back.
“She won’t leave the library, because she might be observed, but it will be dark inside the library. From the back of the storage room, she can slip into the meeting room, or even the passport office, without being seen.
“We tested it last night. From outside the library, even advanced infrared sensors cannot detect the movement of a person through the walls—so Hazel’s whereabouts, once she’s inside the library, should be completely hidden from the would-be trespasser.”
The furrow between Maryam’s brows is deep enough for planting seeds, but she waits for him to continue.
Jonathan takes a quick breath and hurries on.
“That is point number one: Hazel will not come into direct contact with the trespasser. Point number two: We will place several small cameras outside the library, to achieve advance warning of anyone approaching. Point number three, Conrad and I will be there, one of us outside the library, the other in the building with Hazel.”
“Oh, great, more civilians to put in harm’s way.”
“Come on, Maryam, you know I was a Navy SEAL.” They lost touch a few years after high school, but when he’d first made it into the elite forces, he’d told her and she’d sent congratulations.
“Fine, so you’ve had some relevant training. But Mr. Fancy Clean Energy Investor here?”
Jonathan did not know, until this morning, that Conrad had already met with Maryam twice before, first on Friday, at the behest of Perry Bathurst’s family, then again yesterday, as soon as he landed, before he paid a visit to Madeleine, his PI.
It so happened that on Saturday, when Conrad stepped into Peng’s Noodles, where Jonathan and Hazel unexpectedly ran into him, he had indeed been bound for the airport, for that afternoon’s direct flight to London.
He turned around and flew back to Austin immediately with Perry’s phone, which had been left behind in Perry’s flat in London and found by his parents, who then sealed and signed the package in front of witnesses before handing it over to Conrad.
“I would hardly label what I do fancy—most of what we support is established technology that needs to be put into practice more widely,” says Conrad.
He is in a crisp, blue button-down, looking slightly better rested than he was last night.
“But I was a marine for a bit—mandatory military service in Taiwan.”
Hazel, who attends the call from a somewhat nondescript bedroom—the neatly made bed is right over her shoulder—looks surprised. Maryam purses her lips, an okay-you-win-this-round expression.
Jonathan presses on. “As I said, all we need is reinforcement for when the trespasser shows up. But if the APD is willing to join us, we are more than happy to defer to your expertise and modify our plans.”
Maryam narrows her eyes.
“It’s true that we might net nothing at all, that what we think of as a nice trap is just a bunch of sticks on the ground that wouldn’t catch a rat, let alone a fox. But if it does work, you’ll solve not one but possibly three murders in one fell swoop. Don’t you want to stick it to Hagerty?”
Maryam’s expression loses all humor. “I will have you know, Jonathan, that Detective Hagerty is a man of unimpeachable personal integrity, respected and admired by all his colleagues.”
Shit! Jonathan wishes he could travel back in time to ten seconds ago to shove a sock in his mouth.
“Not to mention,” continues Maryam, “we are working closely together. For what you are proposing, the approval process has to go up the chain of command, and I will be sure to inform Detective Hagerty before someone else does.”
Jonathan listens meekly, feeling again like a homework-deficient seventh grader.
“But I’ll still be one up over him.” Maryam relaxes into a slight smile. “Opportunities to stick it to Detective Hagerty are few and far between and I will never forgive myself if I fail to exploit this one to the fullest.”
After the end of the Zoom call, Hazel texts Conrad. If you have time, I’m ready to see the footage.
She isn’t ready at all, but she will never be less unready so she might as well do it now.
Conrad replies, Driving right now. Give me about 20 minutes.
Twenty minutes later, she glances again at the phone. Nothing yet. She walks to the front of the house and looks out—this is typically the time Nainai’s exercise buddies drop her off from their Monday morning Zumba class.
Nainai is back, in her windbreaker and athleisure, admiring what looks like a Porsche Taycan while talking to a man in a slightly slouchy, caramel-colored suit, a large gift bag in his hand.
Conrad.
After the chaos and upheaval of the past few days, by the time she finally returned home at two o’clock this morning, she thought she had no idea how to feel about him anymore.
Was she standing in the rubble-strewn remnants of Tokyo after an incursion by Godzilla, with him as Godzilla?
Was Kit the rampaging beast and Conrad but a fellow plaster-covered survivor, trying to find his bearings?
Or has she been Godzilla all along, heedlessly stomping through these men’s lives in her immense privilege, leaving a trail of destruction that barely registers on her awareness?
But the moment she sees him, she rushes toward the front door, remembering only at the last second to strip off her housecoat and put on a jacket.
At her running approach, Nainai turns around. “Hazel, you didn’t tell me your boyfriend was in town.”
Hazel skids to a stop.
Conrad holds up his free hand. “I just said we know each other.”
But he does not appear displeased by that appellation.
His suit, worn over a white tee, is the kind that men in Milan, Tokyo, and New York might wear to buy a pack of cigarettes at the corner store—and get photographed by chroniclers of street fashion.
In a city as casual as Austin, it should be considered much too formal, especially for this early in the day.
Yet on him it feels exactly right for a first meeting with her family elder.
And he even comes with a pretty correct gift—inside the gift bag is a large Fortnum she used to have good taste in men and then lost it.”
Hazel cocks her head. “I…actually can’t argue with that.”
Nainai cackles some more. “Let’s go inside. We are just about to have some breakfast.”
Over steamed bao and congee, Nainai extracts biographical data from Conrad.
Hazel learns that right before he began his military service, he dumped most of the funds his mother had set up for him in an investment vehicle into two friends’ cybersecurity start-up, intending to lose his shirt, only to have the opposite happen.
He bankrolled several more ventures by those same friends and then needed a meaningful way to deal with his windfall.
She also learns that he’s never dated an Asian woman. “It wouldn’t have been fair to them—to be compared to Hazel. Actually it wasn’t fair to the women I did date, but I didn’t realize it at the time.”
By the end of breakfast, Nainai appears completely satisfied.
But Hazel knows that she will pass on what she knows to Hazel’s mother—her former daughter-in-law, with whom she remains close despite the death of her son.
And then her family in Singapore will find out about every last parking ticket he’s ever been issued—and of course his father’s scandal.