Here's the next bit. Please note that there is really a Ritz Carlton on Central Park, and it really have an Ohmstead Boardroom, but I put it on the top floor instead of the second, just so I could write that elevator scene and also for the sake of grandeur.
PK: yes you're right about the Atlantis project construction. And Nemesis is the one from greek mythology. you're guessing alot right already, lol. And yes, it was originally supposed to be Joe in first person, and Frank in second person. Making the book protagonist Joe, and you the reader Frank. Then I chickened out because I don't really get Frank. How the heck did you even guess that one!
RagnaICE and Jimmy: would you mind pm-ing me with your email? Would like to add you to my story discussion mailing list. Pls read below.
I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night
Chapter 8
It was said that there was power in names. In the old days, it was believed that to know the true name of a person was to have power over them. Perhaps that was the real reason why storms had names. Not because it was easier for meteorologists to remember, especially when there were two or more storms happening at once. But because that storm were named so that man could feel that he had power over them... –Jolly
HBHBHB
14
I woke up with a start.
I knew I had nightmares. Sweat beaded my brow and my hands were wet and clammy.
But I could not remember what it was about. Those wicked dreams eluded my conscious mind, and try as I did, I could not catch even a wisp of it.
And those little flighty wisps teased me mercilessly, flaunting their presence at the very edges of my conscious mind.
I felt like I was drowning in frustration.
15
He was almost trembling with excitement as he alighted from his taxi before The Ritz Carlton Hotel on Central Park. Today, no one would be able to stop one Frank Hardy from legitimately setting his eyes on his younger brother. And if he was lucky, he might even get to exchange a few words with Joe.
He swiftly scanned the invite firmly held in his hands. Schwarz Shipping, Notice of Annual Stakeholders Meeting 2006, it said. And yes, there was a light refreshment reception afterwards, so all the stakeholders could mingle and socialized.
And this year, they would also be getting the chance to know the future director of the company.
It would have been impossible for him to attend this meeting legitimately under normal circumstances. Schwarz Shipping's was not a public listed company, its shares were closely held within a small tightly knitted group of investors. Its annual meetings were highly exclusive and attendees were required formal wear.
Thank goodness he had this suit ready in preparation for his wedding.
And he really owed this to Phil. Phil Cohen, his best friend since Bayport High. They had grown even closer since when he thought Joe died six years ago. Phil, who in an unexpected stroke of luck, inherited a point five percent share of Schwarz Shipping when his grandfather past away a couple of years back. And when Frank had approached him for that huge favor, explaining the need for him to attend that annual meeting, Phil had instantly offered to loan those shares to him. Just like that. The transfer of ownership was organized through Phil's family lawyers, and he soon received the invite in the mail. All Phil said was, to bring Joe home. That was what matters.
He walked through the rotating doors, and headed towards the elevators. The meeting was to be held in the Ohmstead Boardroom located at the top floor of the hotel. It was for both exclusivity, and also for the sake of security.
While waiting for the elevator, he found his thoughts drifting a little guiltily back to the FBI money fraud case. He had not been putting in as much effort as he should have. His report had not been as complete as he could have made it.
Frank shrugged. His brother's case would always take priority over everything else. And it was true that all transfers were terminated soon after he managed to trace the series of them. And he could not track what did not exist anymore. Somehow, they were alerted to the fact that he was onto them. How, he had no idea. But he would figure that out eventually.
He frowned. Actually, that was not quite the full truth to the matter. The transfers had stopped. Then it started again. Sort of. Every now and then, a single transaction would pop up on his radar, and then disappeared. His FBI agent partner had already assumed those were outlier cases. Somehow, something told him it was not. It was like they knew and were deliberately teasing him about it. It was like there was some sort of a message embedded in there just for him to decipher.
Under normal circumstances, he would have tracked it and played that game with them. He would be cautious of the trap at the end of the trail. Of course there would be some sort of a trap at the end. He was not stupid. But not now. Now he got much more important things to worry about and to do.
Joe.
And he had been spending time trying to figure out what the two words 'Trident' and 'SANSL' meant. They had to be important, or Aunt Sarah would not have included that. But he would get to that later. He would need his notes and computer and access to the net to figure that out. For now, he would concentrate on the prospect of seeing Joe soon. And he would make sure he could somehow create an opportunity to speak to his brother. Caution be damned if needed be!
The elevator door opened and he walked in.
He could feel his heart beating just a little faster.
Soon.
His eyes locked on the numbers above the elevator door. They were now at the twentieth floor, and still going up.
He took a deep breath and forced his mind to focus on his breathing. Take the air in through the mouth and feel it move down through to his lungs. Feel the oxygen blend into his bloodstream, and circulate through his body. Up to the brains and down to his toes, before finding its way back to his lungs again. And finally he expelled those used air as carbon dioxide.
He was now at the thirtieth floor.
A well-dress middle-aged man walked in. They exchanged a smile and eyed each other curiously. Frank thought that they might both be heading towards the same meeting.
The lights flashed on the number thirty one, and then on the number thirty two.
It stopped again at thirty three. There was no one there.
Damned!
Thirty four.
He rubbed his clammy hands against his pants.
Thirty five.
His fingers clenched tight to hold in his eagerness.
Finally, there they were, on the thirty-sixth floor.
The elevator door opened. He walked out and followed the signs towards the Boardroom. There before the entry door stood a well-build man.
Frank gave him his invite.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Hardy. Please follow me."
And he was shown to his seat. Before him was a folder, which he knew contained the usual information on Schwarz shipping, its financial statements, and the Annual Report 2006. He ignored them all, and instead casually scanned the room.
His heart pounded in his ribcage even as he struggled to project a calm and disinterested exterior.
The next moment, he stopped breathing totally.
Standing by the podium next to the shipping magnate Reginald Schwarz was his younger brother.
Joe… And damned! Did he look good in Armani!
16
The meeting was over. They were all now in the hall mingling and helping themselves to the light refreshments being served. Not that he was in the mood to eat anything.
He had spent the entire meeting watching his brother. And he was still watching his brother.
How he missed that blond headed blue eye brat who never failed to make his life interesting with his many misadventures! His eyes lovingly traced those features, so much like his mother. And his fingers itched to ruffle up those neatly combed wavy blond hair.
It was so strange to see Joe in such formal wear and in such formal settings. As far as he could remember, Joe had always preferred his NBA T-shirts, denim jeans, and his Nike Air. It was almost as if his little brother was gone and someone else inhabited that body that was left behind.
Yet, as he watched Joe socialized and chatted with other stakeholders, he realized much of his brother was still there. The generous smile that reached the eyes was still there. The eyes still sparkled with openness and passion as he talked. His expressions were animated, his hands gesturing in that same old endearing manner to enhance the effect of whatever he was trying to communicate across. No one could fail to feel the aura of energy and zest for life that he exuded so carelessly and so easily. Frank could see that most of the stakeholders would have no trouble accepting him as successor to Schwarz Shipping.
Yes, that was definitely Joe, his baby brother. And somehow, he's going to find a way to talk to him. Unfortunately, Mr. Schwarz was still bringing Joe around and introducing him to various people. Frank supposed those were the major stakeholders. He sighed and waited a little more. Finally, he saw Joe heading towards the refreshment table alone. And he followed, his mind working furiously for a suitable topic of conversation. His preferred outcome was for Joe to see him and remember. And he knew that was … fat hope. He sighed as he maneuvered his way casually towards his brother, so that it would seem to all like they met accidentally.
Then fate had decided to give him a helping hand. The waitress who had been in between them with a heavy tray of champagne and wine suddenly slipped and would have crashed into the refreshment table if not for their quick action. Their quick action, Frank exulted.
He had reacted instinctively, making a grab for the full and heavy tray of wine glasses, preventing it from falling on top of the waitress and possibly injuring her. He had known instinctively that Joe would take care of the girl. And Joe did just that! While he was making his move for the tray, and then twirling around with it a little to minimize spillage and thus saved all the glasses, Joe had stepped in and broken her fall.
For a moment, the room stilled, and silence reigned and all eyes turned to watch them.
And in that moment, a pair of blue eyes locked with a pair of brown. They stared at each other, eye to eye, for a short long while. And Frank thought he saw something flickered, just to die away in the next instant. And still they stared at each other.
Then Joe moved.
"Impressive move," his brother said, eyeing the tray as he helped the waitress to her feet. "Hardly any spillage at all."
"That was just luck," Frank responded with a casual shrug of his shoulders, as he passed the rescued tray on to the waiter who suddenly appeared next to him.
Slowly, the rest of the room returned to their normal activities.
"Paul Schwarz," his brother introduced himself, "and you are?"
"Frank Hardy," he returned the courtesy, and they both shook hands.
And they still continued to stare at each other.
"Nice meeting you," his brother said, "and I see you are a martial arts practitioner… Karate?"
Frank raised his brow, surprised and hopeful. Did Joe remember something?
"Yes ... I've been practicing that since I was eight … how did you know?" He asked.
His brother laughed. "It's in the way you move, your carriage… and I and Ehlana had been doing Bagua for the last four years…"
"Ehlana?"
"My wife."
They smiled at each other.
"You're young to be taking over such a huge corporation," Frank finally said.
It was just a little something to fill the silence and to dispel the growing awkwardness.
His brother frowned and sighed.
"I had no choice, my grandfather is getting on his years and he had to step back a little, for his health's sake…" And then his brother added in a rather cheeky tone directly fully at him. "And you are rather young too to be mingling amongst us ancient investors…"
Frank laughed happily. That brother of his.
"Never too young to make money, and never too ancient to spend them." He responded wryly.
"That's true," his brother concurred.
"Ah, I see my grandfather heading towards me," his brother winced. "Another endless round of tedious introductions and investor-relations PR with the ancient ones…"
Then to Frank's surprise, his brother passed him a name card and said, "Hey, give me a call… I still have to thank you for saving all those precious wine…"
With a final warm smile, his brother turned and left.
And he stood there watching his brother met up with Reginald Schwarz. He watched them mingled with other investors. He watched his brother for a long long time.
17
A stocky build man with pale grey eyes and thick black hair in his early forties stared at the grandfather and grandson team as they walked away from him. Like them, he was one of the board members of The Consortium. But he had his own agenda. And soon, all the resources of The Consortium would be his for the taking…
"So that was Paul, he had matured very well indeed from since we last met eight years back," he murmured. "A very interesting young man… and he had grown into someone who would make a possibly worthy foe…Lucky Old Man Schwarz."
Yes, things might not be as easy as he hoped, but the end results would be the same.
18
An old lady sat alone in a classy café overlooking Central Park. She knew of the meeting that was taking place up there on the top floor of The Ritz Carlton. And that would soon be followed by the Consortium's annual meeting. So Old Man Schwarz finally announced his successor and heir. Thus the wheel of fate began to turn for The Consortium once more. Which direction would it take in the future forthcoming?
She sighed and started flipping through the pages of the book before her. It was a book about witchcraft and the belief in the power of names. It was an old belief of several cultures that knowing the true name would give one control over the named. It was believed that there was power in names.
And she believed it true, though not in the ways of old. She knew it true because she knew. Was it not true that knowing the right names could do wonders for your career?
She laughed. If only people knew. There was power in the naming of names. Even now, Project Nemesis and Project Atlantis were racing towards completion. Yet how many understood the implication of those names? They could not see the power only because they did not believe.
And she mused while she drank her organic tea, over how would people react to the true name of the Consortium. Would they tremble in fear? Or would they continue happily on with life in blessed ignorance?
God, she was so tired. And a part of her rejoiced in the choice of the heir. She knew his true name. And she knew that with him, she could finally see the end.
18
It was late in the evening, and the Annual Stakeholders' meeting was long over.
Reginald Schwarz sat alone in his personal study in his penthouse and watched the video that his agent passed to him. It showed his grandson in conversation with another young man. And after his grandson left, that young man was still standing there staring.
"So the Hardys' are on to it…" He had expected that to happen eventually. But not this soon. Not this soon at all.
Then again, perhaps he could consider this an opportunity to test out the effectiveness of Project Alice. How much would Joseph remember?
He skimmed through the dossier before him. Frank Hardy, the elder brother. Harvard Law graduate. Additional diploma in computing and mathematics. Excel in athletics. A Karate black belt. Numerous cases under his belt, including a number for the Network, and elite branch of the FBI. Highly intelligent, meticulous, with an eye for details.
Resourceful. Extremely resourceful. How did young Frank manage to get access to the company's shares on such short notice?
That made it twice now that Frank had surprised him. First with the monetary transactions. And now this. No, he would not underestimate that young man again.
Then to compare and contrast to the younger brother, it's no wonder the two made such a good team, the old man thought as he read through the summary of the cases the brothers solved while they were still in high school.
He leaned back into his chair, deep in thoughts as he considered his next move. The Hardys would soon knock on his door, and he would be ready for them. His thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking on the door.
"Come in." He ordered.
Ehlana walked in. "You asked for me?"
"Yes, come here and watched this."
She did.
"I want you to find out from Paul what that conversation was all about."
"Of course, grandpa…"
Please review!
NB: This is possibly the last posting of this story here on ffnet due to a lack of interest in it, so as to focus on my other ffnet HB stories. For future readers, I apologise...
Ragna and Jimmy - good thing there are no other current readers well at least not those already not on my mailing list...anyway, if you email me your email, I'll add you to my story discussion list so you can see the end of this if you are still interested after reading this last bit. I really hope you like it . I would really hate losing my last two readers for this story lol.
sighs. After I finish with my existing stock of HB fanfic, I will also be quitting HB fanfic to move back to my preferred Scifi/fantasy/mystery writing. This venture into HB had been fun, but guess I am not quite doing well here, given my rather eccentric sense and choice of writing. Why did I bother to write this here? lol, only because I knew hardly anyone would be reading. To the few who have enjoyed my short journey into the HB world, a toast to you. And thanks very much for your patronage. All my other HB fanfic will be continued until reviews run out. Cheers.
