Broken Storm Part One Page 4
He struck the wall again.
To get this close only to have it taken away from him. This was torture.
His intercom beeped. ‘Mr Harlow,’ his receptionist said in a curt tone, ‘there is a woman here claiming to have an appointment with you. I was going to turn her away, but she showed me a card and it has your writing on the back. Shall I call security anyway?’
Before Chase could tell his receptionist that he wanted to be left alone, he paused.
He remembered. How could you forget? The inside of his car was still completely wet, and that suit was probably ruined, all because several nights ago he had tracked down that Keiko woman in the rain.
Pushing a breath through his clenched teeth, leaning back in his chair, not caring that the back of it pushed hard against his neck, Chase closed his eyes for a second. ‘No, let her in,’ he finally managed.
In the seconds it took his efficient receptionist to show Keiko the door, Chase was sure to pull himself together. He tugged down on his shirt, neatened his tie, and cracked his knuckles hard, hoping the vigorous move would push away the last of his latent frustration.
It wouldn’t. How could it? This was the closest he’d ever gotten to finding a picture of her. Only to have it taken away.
Blinking hard, wondering if there was time to rush over to his dresser, poor himself a stiff drink, and suck it down, Chase got to his feet as the door opened.
His receptionist walked in, her towering heels clicking over the marble entrance. And following her was the curious oddity that was Keiko.
She wore a pair of far-too-loose jeans and a large T-shirt, a cardigan with holes along the sleeves pulled up around her wrists.
It was not the kind of style Chase was used to. She looked like she’d bought the lot from a thrift shop. None of it matched her slim figure, and all of it looked like it belonged in the bin.
Then he looked past the ripped cardigan and saw she was holding something tucked against her chest. A fat manila file bulging with documents.
It set his heart racing, and Chase couldn't help but half jog over to her.
His receptionist raised an eyebrow. 'You have a meeting in approximately 10 minutes,’ she reminded him.
'Cancel it,' he said through a quick breath.
He watched as Keiko made a face at that, her bottom lip wobbling down as she turned a little to the left.
She really was painfully awkward and shy, wasn’t she?
But still, he had to hand it to her, underneath her social awkwardness she had common sense. He couldn't quite forgotten her pointing out to him plainly that she was not going to get into a car with a man she didn't know.
He cleared his throat, it was a nervous and quick move. ‘Please sit down,' he shepherded her towards his desk, pulling out a chair for her.
As she walked, her eyes gazes around his office. She stared at the Picasso, then down at the Ming phase, then over at the statue by the window.
She looked uncomfortable, intensely uncomfortable.
'What have you got?’ he asked far too quickly, his words slurring together. 'Would you like a drink?’ he suddenly added, remembering his manners.
She shook her head, sitting down awkwardly, still holding onto her files. 'I'm not sure if any of this is going to be interesting to you,' she said as she tucked her hair behind her ear.
It seemed like a compulsive move. And her hand shook just a little as she did it.
'Anything,' he sat back in his chair, trying not to stare at the file lest she think he was looking boggled-eyed at her chest.
Eventually she picked it up and placed it carefully on the desk. She opened it, pressing her teeth into her lip as she did.
It was cute.
She tucked hair behind her ear one last time, another cute move. But Chase Harlow hardly ever went in for cute.
'May I?' He gestured towards the documents.
She hesitated for a moment, then finally pushed them over.
And then she sat there, practically twiddling her thumbs in her lap as she looked at him nervously. 'I'm really sorry if it’s a waste your time,' she said several times.
Chase didn't answer.
He flicked fervently through the documents, careful not to rip any, but practically unable to dampen down on his haste.
'I tried to find all the English ones I could, but some of them are in Japanese, I'm sure I could get my grandmother to translate them for you,' she offered in a slight voice.
He looked up at her, one hand still locked over the file protectively. 'It's fine, I can read Japanese.’
‘Oh, you can, I can't,’ she mumbled awkwardly.
For the next five minutes Chase did nothing but read. His breath practically caught in his chest, his heart beat ringing in his ears, by the end of it he'd forgotten Keiko was sitting right there.
Because the information in the documents... it was beyond incredible.
Keiko's grandmother, whoever she had been, had practically devoted her life to studying the wind goddess.
But as Chase made his way to the last document, despite how rich the information had been, his heart sank.
There had been no photo. No drawing, nothing.
No picture.
Because there were no pictures of the wind goddess Aiko. Not anymore.
Which was a fact that suddenly caught his attention. 'I know this is an awkward question,' he muddled over his words, 'but how old are you, and when exactly did you... ah, die?' For a man who usually did not mince his words and had been taught by his father to speak his mind clearly and with precise expression, Chase was having a great deal of trouble keeping his voice even.
Her cheeks twitched for a second. 'I'm 22,’ she managed in a small voice, 'I died when I was seven,' she dropped her gaze, choosing to stare at her hands on her lap instead of looking his way.
Chase stiffened. The hand that still held the damaged manila folder suddenly tightened. His fingers pressing hard into the soft cardboard.
'I don't suppose you have a date, do you?'
'27th of April,’ she said immediately. Though she looked uncomfortable. Intensely uncomfortable.
Could Chase blame her? Here he was drilling her about her own death. It seemed like an unkind and crude thing to do, but he really needed to know.
And at the admission that she had died on the 27th of April, his body stiffened so hard that his muscles practically went into spasm.
'What?’ she asked uncomfortably.
'Nothing,' he eventually managed.
'Why do you need to know that?’ she managed again.
Why did he need to know? He could answer that, he could tell her exactly what he was thinking, but she would think he was crazy.
The world would think he was crazy. But Chase Harlow was not insane.
On the 27th of April approximately 15 years ago something had happened.
Chase had been sitting in his father's office, playing with the one-of-a-kind baseball that had always sat on the end of his dad's desk, thumbing it around in his hands as he’d waited for his father to come back in from a meeting.
It was the day John Harlow had told his son that he would not be following his dream of going to medical school. Instead he would be taking over the company. As John's only son, Chase was expected to take the reins of Harlow Enterprises, not become a doctor.
But it wasn't that conversation or the fact Chase's life had changed from that day on that made the moment stick in his head.
It was what had happened to the statute that had always sat behind John Harlow's desk.
The large one, the incredible one John had brought back from Japan.
Pockmarked and made of volcanic stone, it was beautifully carved, a testament to a master craftsman.
It was not worth a fortune, but it held a special place in Chase’s father's heart, and the woman it depicted did too. A Japanese goddess of the wind, the spirit Aiko.
It had exploded.
At approximately 10:15 in the morni
ng, John had been doing nothing but thumbing the baseball around in his hands, only to suddenly look up to see the thing break into 1000 parts as if a bomb had been stuffed in the middle of it.
He’d hit the floor, but the force of the explosion had pushed the desk forward, and the shards from the volcanic stone had cut across his chest, face, and arms.
He still had some of the scars.
There was one that ran down his shoulder, one along the back of his head, one along his hand.
And right now as Chase looked over at Keiko, he ran his hand over the scar along his knuckles.
He really pressed his fingers into it, letting his skin track over the old wound.
The same had happened to her. Hadn't it?
If she wasn't lying, and he couldn't see how she could be, then Keiko had been caught up in exactly the same disaster Chase had 15 years ago.
He tried to keep hold of his expression, he really did, but he knew that his cheeks were growing slack and that his skin had probably paled several shades lighter.
'Why are you so interested in this?' Keiko asked, straightening up a little. 'I can't imagine that there's much of a market for Aiko,' she brought a hand up and started to tuck her hair behind her ears again.
Except this time Chase paid attention to the move, and he saw what she was really doing.
She was running her finger over that scar. The same one her particularly forward friend had forced her to show at the party. It ran from her ear down to the base of her skull. Long, deep, and Chase could tell it would have come from a life-threatening wound.
He straightened up and cleared his throat, buying time. He had to tell her something, right? 'My father was particularly interested in Aiko,' he said, not saying the name too loud, and as he did, instinctively his gaze locked on the windows to his right.
They didn't suddenly buffet as a gale slammed against them, but just maybe Chase could see the trees far down below bend in a powerful gust.
'Oh,' she brought her hands back down to her lap.
'I'm following in his footsteps,' Chase said. It wasn't a lie. Because John Harlow had been obsessed with Aiko.
In fact, after that fateful day 15 years ago, he had not been alone.
Because it was not just the statue in John Harlow's office that had exploded.
On that day, at that exact moment, every single image of that goddess had disappeared. Books depicting her had suddenly burst into flames, small statues of her visage had cracked and crumbled. Shrines dedicated to her had fallen over. Drawings and sketches had withered, curled up, and become unrecognizable.
There were no longer any pictures of the wind goddess Aiko. No statues, no images, no drawings, no photographs.
Nothing.
It was a fact only a few people knew throughout the world, an elite few, the kind that John associated with. It was a fact worth a potential fortune, and steeped in far more danger than a single man could handle.
A mystery. An incredible mystery that no one had been able to answer.
Some might have thought Chase was crazy, but he wasn't. This was real. He may have spent several years trying to hide from that fact, but after John's death, Chase couldn't do it anymore.
He couldn't deny what had happened to him 15 years ago, and as he slowly stared up at Keiko, he realized the woman before him was in exactly the same position.
Though she, of course, was innocent to the true mystery that surrounded this.
'Are those documents useful at all? I haven't wasted your time, have I?' She brought a hand up to rub her scar.
'You haven't wasted my time; these documents are incredible, thank you very much for bringing them in. I'll have my secretary write you a check,' he mumbled as he looked back down at them.
She made a strange, strangled, gulping sound. ‘Check? You don't have to pay me. You're just looking at some documents.’
He flicked his gaze up, and he tried very hard not to concentrate on the holes in her cardigan. 'These have been very useful, I just want to compensate you for your time,' he brought his hands down, locked them together, and rested them on his table.
It felt a little like he was trying to close a deal. Except a deal where he was attempting to give someone money who didn't want it.
She put both her hands up. 'You honestly don't have to pay me. Like I said, I'm sure my grandmother would just be thrilled to know that there is somebody else out there in the entire world who even knows about Aiko, let alone who wants to learn more about her.'
‘Your grandmother,' he suddenly latched onto that fact, his breath shortening as he did, 'you said she is in a nursing home? Is she close by?’
‘Yeah, it's about an hour away,' she looked confused for a moment. 'You don't want to meet her, do you?’
'Absolutely,' he could hardly hide his enthusiasm.
While the documents were completely fascinating, John got the distinct feeling that he would get so much more by talking to the woman who had collected them in the first place.
Aiko did not look comfortable, and it was not just the general embarrassment and awkwardness she had displayed since sitting down in his office. She brought her hands down and began to rub her thumbs quickly. 'I,’ she trailed off.
'Is your grandmother fit for visitors? She doesn't have dementia, does she?' Chase asked again, faintly aware of the fact his questions were hasty and less-than-polite. He just couldn't help himself. The potential reward here was far more valuable than social niceties.
Still looking uncomfortable, she shook her head. 'She is fine. Just frail.'
‘Could you arrange for me to meet her?' he jumped in, hardly waiting for her to finish.
She pursed her lips for a moment, bring her hand up and patting at her head. 'I,' she trailed off again.
She was clearly uncomfortable, and Chase understood why. From her perspective, this entire ordeal would be confusing as hell. She meets a strange man at a party, he tracks her down in the rain, demands she bring him any information she can on her family's shrine, then up and asks if he can meet her grandmother. Chase was moving very fast, but he didn't care.
He cleared his throat.
He was used to making difficult deals. 'I would be happy to compensate you,’ he tried again.
Once again she put her hands up, her fingers crooked and stiff. ‘You don't have to pay me, Mister Harlow,' she swallowed her words.
‘Just call me Chase,' he finally closed the file before him, fixing all of his attention on her.
She was small, thin, and had a neat, shiny black bob.
She wasn't wearing any makeup, not that he could tell, and from the look of her clothes, it appeared she didn't give a hoot about what she looked like. In other words, she was the kind of girl that Chase Harlow hardly ever came across.
And yet as he stared at her in that moment, maybe he took the time to actually process what he was seeing.
Though she looked awkward, and completely out of her depth, she didn't jump to her feet and run for the door. She just sat there resolutely, still clutching at her hands and somehow finding the courage to look at him.
'Look, I'll ask her, but,’ she started.
‘It's up to her, I understand that,’ Chase lied. Because he didn't understand that. He needed to speak to this woman. He needed to track down every single clue he could find about Aiko.
‘Look, okay, I’ll try to contact her,' Keiko said as she stood up quickly. She looked down at the file just as he did.
Her embarrassment had changed. Now there was an edge to it. A suspicious edge.
Maybe he really had moved too fast and had been too pushy, because right now she was looking at him exactly the way she had when she had told him plainly that she wasn't going to get in his car.
He rushed to his own feet. 'This is really important,' he tried.
She nodded, taking a step back. 'Can I have those files back?’
Chase’s jaw stiffened as he looked down at the documents. He could spend the next several we
eks painstakingly going over each and every one of them. There was only one problem though: they didn't belong to him.
He would have been happy to give her his sports car, or buy her a new bloody house if only she'd give them to him, but he got the impression that was not going to work.
Her eyes narrowed further. 'I guess you can copy them and have them sent to me,' she said as she backed off slightly, her arms pulling up and locking around her middle in a classic move of defensiveness.
'I'll have my secretary give you my direct number. As soon as you talk to your grandmother,' he tried.
She nodded sharply. ‘Yeah, of course, I will call you.' With that she turned around and headed for the door.
Chase wanted to rush over, get there first, and lock his hand over the handle, forcing it closed. But that really would creep her out. And he didn't need to be a businessman to see that he had just lost this deal.
Keiko had gone from being cute, if fantastically embarrassed, to being outright wary of him.
'This is very important,' he mumbled again.
She nodded sharply, grabbed the handle, and yanked the door open.
That she half jogged out.
God damn, that had gone badly.
He tried to catch up to her again, but she just mumbled her goodbyes, said she would call her grandmother, and practically ran for the lift.
And that left Chase Harlow standing there in the atrium before his office, watching one of the precious few opportunities he had ever gotten to track down Aiko run away from him.
'What on earth was that about?' His receptionist came up, her appointment book in hand. ‘Who was that woman?'
Chase didn't answer. He did let out a hearty, frustrated sigh though.
But he didn't give up.
He might have stuffed that meeting up, but this was worth far more to Chase than most people could appreciate.
John had always taught him one thing.
Never give up. Not when something matters to you. If you know you want something, you chase it down, you lose what you have too, whether it be money or dignity, but you get your hands around your desire.
You win.
It was a lesson Chase would never forget, and one he was going to employ now.