PARIS—2:45 A.M.
Rachel, Nick, and Colette huddled in the backseat of the Range Rover as it sped toward Carlton’s location. Sitting in silence, Rachel gazed out at the mostly empty boulevards of the Sixteenth Arrondissement, the streetlamps illuminating the elegant fa?ades with that particular golden hue only to be found in Paris. She thought about how best to handle Carlton in his current state and wondered whether they would even get to him in time.
Suddenly they had arrived at avenue de Malakoff, and the chauffeur gestured toward the lone garage that seemed to be a hive of activity. Rachel stared in astonishment as the full extent of the race operation that had been months in the planning finally became clear to her. Through the partially raised garage door, a team of mechanics bustled around a carbon blue Bugatti Veyron Super Sport*3 as if it were being prepared for the Formula One final, and several guys she recognized from the party stood outside the garage smoking. Rachel whispered to Nick, “Can you believe this? I had no idea it would be this much of a production!”
“You’ve seen how the women in this crowd spend their money; this is how the guys spend it,” Nick commented discreetly.
“Look, look! There’s Carlton standing over there with Harry Wentworth-Davies. Ugh, I should have known that wanker was part of all this!” Colette said.
Rachel took a deep breath. “I think it’s best that I try to talk to Carlton on my own. He might be more receptive if the three of us aren’t ganging up on him.”
“Yes, yes, we’ll just stay in the car,” Colette anxiously agreed.
Rachel got out of the car and approached the garage, and Carlton suddenly looked up and noticed them. Grimacing, he staggered out to the middle of the street and blocked Rachel from coming any farther. “You guys shouldn’t be here. How did you even find me in the first place?”
“Does it really matter?” Rachel said, studying her brother with concern. His left eye was blackened, he had a bruise on his jaw, a nasty cut on his bottom lip, and God knows what other injuries under his racing overalls. “Carlton, please don’t go through with this—you know you’re not in any condition to race tonight.”
“I’ve sobered up—I know what I’m doing.”
Like hell you have, Rachel thought. Knowing it was useless arguing with someone who had clearly had too much to drink, she tried a different tactic. “Carlton, I know what happened tonight. I can totally understand your anger, I really can.”
“I don’t know how you could possibly understand at all.”
Rachel grasped his arm encouragingly. “Look, you have nothing to prove to Richie anymore! Can’t you see that he’s already lost? He’s been totally humiliated by Colette. Can’t you see how much she loves you? Be the bigger man and walk away from this race now.”
Jerking his arm away, Carlton said gruffly, “This isn’t the time to big sister me. Just get out of here, please.”
“Carlton, I know about London,” Rachel said, looking him in the eyes. “Colette told me the whole story…I know what you’re feeling.”
Carlton looked taken aback for a moment, but then his eyes narrowed in anger. “You think you know everything, don’t you? You come to China for two weeks and you think you’re the expert on all of us. Well, you don’t know a thing! You have no idea how I really feel. You have no clue how much trouble you’ve caused me, caused my family!”
“What do you mean?” Rachel looked at him in surprise.
“You don’t even know the damage you’ve done to my father just by coming to China! Can’t you get the hint that he’s been avoiding you like the plague? Haven’t you figured out why you’re staying at the Peninsula? It’s because my mother would rather die than let you set foot in her house! Do you know I’ve been spending time with you just to piss her off? Why can’t you mind your own business and leave us alone?”
His words hit her like a ton of bricks, and she took a few steps back, feeling momentarily winded. Colette sprang out of the car, stomped over to Carlton in her black-and-gold Walter Steiger Unicorn heels, and began yelling right in his face. “How dare you talk like that to your sister! Do you know how lucky you are to have someone like her looking out for you? No, you don’t. You take everyone for granted and only love feeling sorry for yourself. What happened in London was a tragedy, but it wasn’t just your fault. It was my fault, it was Richie’s fault—we were all to blame. Winning this race isn’t going to bring anyone back from the dead, and it’s not going to make you feel any better. But go ahead, get into your car. Go and race Richie. The both of you can go measure your dicks and crash your million-dollar sports cars into the Arc de Triomphe for all I care!”
Carlton stood stock-still for a moment, not looking at either of them. Then he yelled, “Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” before heading back toward the garage.
Colette threw up her hands in resignation and started to walk back to the SUV. Unexpectedly, Carlton sank down onto the curb, clasping his head as if it were about to explode. Rachel turned and looked at him for a moment. All of a sudden, he seemed like a lost little boy. She sat down on the curb next to him and put her hand on his back. “Carlton, I’m sorry for causing your family so much pain. I had no idea about any of this. All I ever wanted was to get to know you, and to get to know your father and mother better. I won’t go back to China if it’s been that hurtful to you. I promise you I’ll go straight home to New York. But please, please don’t get in that car. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. You’re my brother, goddamit, you’re the only brother I’ve got.”
Carlton’s eyes brimmed with tears, and bowing his head, he said in a muffled voice, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me. I didn’t mean to say those things.”
“I know, I know,” Rachel said softly as she patted his back.
Seeing that things had calmed down, Colette approached the two of them gingerly. “Carlton, I called off Richie’s proposal. Will you please call off this stupid race?”
Carlton nodded wearily, and the women glanced at each other in relief.
* * *
*1 Mandarin for “prick.”
*2 Shanghainese for “bastard with shrunken testicles.”
*3 The Veyron, also proclaimed “the fastest street-legal production car in the world,” set a top speed of 267.856 mph. Park one in your garage today for $2.7 million.
PART THREE
Behind every fortune lies a great crime.
—HONORé DE BALZAC
1
SHEK O
HONG KONG
“Oh good, you’re early,” Corinna said, as Kitty was shown outside to the table by the butler.
“My God! The view! I don’t even feel like I’m in Hong Kong anymore,” Kitty exclaimed as she stared at the sparkling azure waters of the South China Sea from the dramatic cliffside terrace of the Ko-Tung villa at Shek O, a peninsula on the southern coast of Hong Kong Island.
“Yes, that’s what everyone always says.” Corinna nodded, glad to see that Kitty was duly impressed. She had arranged the lunch here today specifically because she knew she needed to do something special to make up for the whole Stratosphere Church debacle.
“This is the most beautiful house I’ve ever been to in all of Hong Kong! Does your mother live here?” Kitty asked, taking her appointed seat beneath the arch at the outdoor dining table.
“No. No one lives here full-time. This was originally my grandfather’s weekend retreat, and when he died he very cleverly left it to the Ko-Tung Corporation so that his children couldn’t fight over it. It’s shared among the whole family—we use it like our own private club, and the company also uses it for very special functions.”
“So this is where your mother hosted the ball for the Duchess of Oxbridge a few months ago?”
“Not just the duchess. My mother threw a dinner party here for Princess Margaret when she came with Lord Snowdon in 1966, and Princess Alexandra has visited too.”