Chapter Eight:

Misaki left early the next morning after making love with Robert. He could tell that she was overwhelmed by the loft. It was a beautifully modern design largely dominated by white surfaces with pristine wooden highlights. The bedroom was on a mezzanine balcony that sat over the main living space and a window the size of a truck covered one entire wall. On the upper level was a studio space comprised of a wide clear bench, beside which stood an unblemished easel. The bathroom contained a long cedar bathtub that smelt subtly of ash and a walk in shower with two heads that rained fat water directly down on its occupants. Robert knew that Misaki wanted to ask how he had taken possession of such a space without her knowing, but her Japanese upbringing restrained her from making such a crass intrusion on his privacy. He figured that it wasn’t worth explaining considering that he planned to give it up once he had spoken to Takami.

After Misaki left, Robert sat on a deep brown couch that looked out over the city and bit his nails. He was nervous about speaking to the impeccably dressed man, and he didn’t like the idea of crossing someone who had the power to invest five million dollars in a stranger. But extricating himself from the job was far better, he figured, than playing a role in whatever they had planned for Quinn Bishop.

The window frosted over and the bright blue sky and grey-green cityscape faded into calming blurs of shape and colour. As Takami’s head appeared, more than a metre in size, Robert reflected on the space around him, admiring its simplicity and functionality. The man wore a grey-check suit that was boldly lined with thin red highlights, he had another leather shoe-string tie dangling smartly from his lapels, and he bore the same serious, piercing gaze.

“Mr Chaff, I pray the Roppongi loft is to your taste. We used the minimalism of your artworks to gauge what you might find most comfortable and I hope that it is to your liking,” he smiled wanly, as though he had all of the time in the world.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, you guys have done a great job. The space, the view… it’s all really something. Mr Takami, I–”

“I’m glad, Mr Chaff. I heard about what happened last night at the opening. It’s truly unfortunate that Ms Bishop was overcome upon meeting you. My employer and I sincerely hoped that you might have seduced her back to the loft without any disruption to your show. But alas. At least we were right about the influence and effect you have on her.”

Robert’s mouth had opened slightly while the man spoke and he slowly sat forward on the couch, his head churning over the information Takami was giving him. 

How could he have known about the girl fainting when they met?

Hearing the disinterested way that Takami spoke of the girl’s wellbeing, Robert felt renewed resolve to end his involvement with the man. Nothing good could come from the job.

“This being said, Mr Chaff, I was glad that you had your Gallerist set up a ‘coffee date’ with Ms Bishop. That was very well-planned. And I look forward to the completion of your work for us later today. I imagine that you would like the money wired into your account as soon as possible, but my employer must be certain that the girl is safely en route before he can release the funds. You are a smart man, Mr Chaff, otherwise your artwork would not so poignantly and insightfully deconstruct and observe human nature, but our reluctance here is merely business. Upon delivery of Ms Bishop to your loft and subsequent confirmation of her identity, you will never have to think of our work together again. Within a matter of hours your pockets will bulge like they never have before, and you might find new resolve to complete the masterwork you have awaiting your distracted attention out in Kyoto.” 

Takami smiled widely, his eyes brightening for a second at the sight of Robert’s surprise. The artist’s stomach churned as it twisted like a sponge being wrung out. The fact that Takami knew of Robert’s Kyoto studio made him very uncomfortable. Misaki was the only other person who knew about the secret retreat that Robert had purchased through a silent partner several years earlier after he sold a series of paintings to private collectors. For a second he considered whether Misaki could have spoken to Takami, but he pushed the thought from his mind before it took hold. He knew her too well to doubt her. 

“I…”

“Oh, Mr Chaff, I did not mean to startle you. I merely felt the need to highlight the importance of my employer’s,” he paused to choose his words, “investment in your services. Five million American dollars, plus an apartment worth,” he raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders, “a large amount, would go an awfully long way in Japan during such trying financial times.”

Robert rubbed his eyes before examining the faultless features of Takami again. “Mr Takami, it’s…” He paused to order his thoughts, scrambling for the best phrasing he could muster. “I have some reservations about what this ‘job’ entails.” 

Takami’s expression darkened perceptibly. His eyes narrowed, and Robert thought that he could see the other man’s lips tighten into a sharp line of colour. 

“It’s just,” he began again, “I… She’s only a child, Mr Takami. You’re talking about her as though she’s an object to be collected, or traded, or… I’m not even sure what you plan to do with her, and that makes me really uncomfortable. I realise that I accepted your offer last week without much consideration. It had been a long night and I wasn’t entirely sober. But I can’t help the alarm-bells that keep ringing in my head. I mean, if what you wanted was completely innocuous then you wouldn’t need me at all… Which leads me to believe that you have something terrible in mind. You said it, five million American dollars is a lot of money in Japan – and that gives me even more questions that I’m not sure I want answered.” 

Robert was looking at the floor, afraid of the piercing expression that he could imagine on Takami’s face. 

“I called because I wanted to let you know that I can’t do what you’ve asked. I–”

“You can’t bring a girl up to your apartment, Mr Chaff? You’ve been more than capable of such tasks in the past.”

“This is different! I would be responsible for whatever happened to this girl!” He stood and took a pace to the left, eyes still locked on the floor.

“Oh! So you’re worried about a guilty conscience? That my employer and I will have ‘bought your silence’ in some dastardly affair? Is that it? Because, Mr Chaff, I can assure you that we mean no harm towards Ms Bishop. In fact, it is quite the opposite. Ms Bishop is not well, Mr Chaff. She is dying of an exceptionally uncommon genetic disorder that my employer believes he can cure. Hence, when you say that you cannot trust our motives, you are condemning this ‘child’, as you put it, to an early grave.”

The other man’s voice was heated as he delivered the words and Robert continued to stare into the polished white floor like a boy being lectured by his father. Was Takami telling the truth? He couldn’t possibly know, but it was such an odd story that it must have contained some facts. In Robert’s experience, when people made up stories they generally focused on bland, nondescript, scenarios in the hope that they might be so general and common that they sounded more plausible and more true. 

“Mr Takami, I’m sorry. Your story sounds noble, but there’s something you’re not telling me otherwise you would just approach the girl directly. You will have to find someone else to play your game.” His voice was quiet and his years living in Japan had given him respect for politeness. He looked up at the screen, at Takami’s fist sized eyes that were slitted and watching his movements incredulously. “I appreciate the opportunity you have given me, Mr Takami, but I graciously decline any further involvement. I will be out of your beautiful loft by the end of the day.” As he said the words he reached towards the window with the intention of closing the call, however the cold expression and the downward curl of Takami’s lips made him hesitate.

“Mr Chaff… How long have you and Ms Tachibana been lovers?”

There was menace in the other man’s tone, a weightiness that pushed Robert away from the window. He stared at Takami’s enormous face with surprise and uncertainty forming a mask over the anger that was bubbling underneath.

“I’m sorry?”

“Ms Tachibana. Your Gallerist, your Dealer. The woman who left your loft twenty minutes ago. You’ve known one another for a long time now. I imagine you are quite close. Would I be wrong to suggest that she might be the only person who truly understands you? She is certainly the only one with an intricate knowledge of your work.”

Takami waited while Robert visibly chewed over the words, his jaw moving ineffectually while he tried to decipher what Takami was implying.

“Misaki has nothing to do with you. The nature of our relationship and my private affairs have nothing to do with you either–”

“You see, Mr Chaff, that is where you’re wrong. Your private affairs are of great concern to my employer, and until you complete the job that you accepted, they are of great interest to me as well. It would be – unfortunate – if something were to happen to Ms Tachibana.”

Robert’s anger got the better of him, his face shifting from the uncertainty and horror it had been cultivating to something more akin to rage. He clenched his fists and glared at the pristine man.

“Are you threatening me?” Robert restrained the insult that loitered on the tip of his tongue. “I have tried to be civil about this, Mr Takami. Consider this the conclusion of our business!” 

He punched the screen to end the call, his heart pounding in his chest. The fist-sized glare of Takami’s eyes flickered on the backs of Robert’s eyelids when he rubbed his face, like the retinal glow left over from looking at a light for too long. He slumped onto the couch with his hand pressed against his heart, feeling the blood being shoved through his body. The sky outside was bright with the promise of heat. Through the vast window, Robert looked out at the great city without seeing it. In his ears he could hear the blood moving with each thump from his chest. 

Without really thinking, Robert climbed from the sofa and found his phone where he’d left it sitting on the kitchen bench. His fingers jittered with adrenaline and he fumbled with the unlock code twice before entering it correctly. Misaki was the only name on the list of recent calls. There was no one else to call. Misaki knew all there was to know about him – all that mattered. He hit dial and held the device to his ear.

“Moshi moshi? This is a surprise, Robert! What have I forgotten?”

“Nothing… Nothing, Misa,” he laughed to himself with relief.

“Well, what is it?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“No, nothing. Really. I just needed to hear your voice again. That’s all…”

“Robert.” He could hear the smile behind the way she pronounced his name. “This is very unlike you! Next you’ll be asking me move in because you can’t bear to be without me!” She laughed and he chuckled with her.

He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t sure if he could live without her, but instead he told her that she was dreaming. On the window, a teal circle began to pulse insistently and Robert felt his jaw tighten with apprehension. He walked across the apartment to the window and stared at the blinking pixels without breathing.

“Robert? Are you there?”

“Hold on a second, Misa.” He pressed the button to put her on hold and reached out to tentatively activate the window.

The teal sphere faded out and the thin line that bordered the rounded-square of the video-call shot outwards from the point where his finger touched the window. Within little more than a second the whole process was complete and Takami’s smug face resolved into sharp focus as the window finished frosting around him. He said nothing, but his expression said everything that Robert needed to know. His brain fought with itself, refusing to accept the idea that was starting to take shape.

“She really is a beautiful woman, Robert.”

His heart leapt in his chest, the sound of it thumping in his ears with a deep percussive thrum. Robert stabbed at the phone with his fingers, turning away from the window and yelling Misaki’s name into the receiver.

“What is it? What’s wrong, Robert?” 

He sighed. “Thank God you’re there.” He glanced back at Takami’s enlarged head to find him turning his face from side to side slowly, solemnly.

“I regret that you have put me in such a position, Mr Chaff.”

“Who’s that, Robert?” Misaki’s voice sounded tiny in the void that seemed to be opening up all around him.

“What?” He stared at Takami.

“Complete the job and she will be fine.”

On the other end of the phone Robert heard Misaki say something loudly. Takami watched him in stony silence.

“Misa? Misa, are you there?”

“I’m here, this guy just bumped into me is all. It’s okay, I’ve just stepped off the main road. It’s quieter here. What’s going on? Who were you talking to? Hold on…” her hand covered the receiver and he could hear her muffled voice switch into Japanese. “Excuse me, I’m on the phone. What are you–? Stop!” The phone clattered loudly against the asphalt. There was a scream that was quickly silenced.

“Misa? Misa!”

Robert’s mouth fell open – slack. He raised his eyes to the calm face of Shin Takami. For several seconds they stared at one another with the silent recognition of people who, for the first time, truly understood one another. Then Takami ended the call.