The Voss Coin

by A B Alexander

  The youthful Japanese chauffeur pressed the gas and they raced off toward the exit, tires screeching on every turn. They sped out of the building and onto the busy streets of Osaka. They drove for less than a mile until they hit the dense rush-hour traffic. The driver leaned into the passenger seat and opened the glove compartment. The unmistakable glint of the silver Wesson revolver shimmered under the early-morning sunshine. The driver removed a bottle of water from the compartment and sipped it slowly. Kevin avoided any contact with him. Kevin wasn’t sure whether the driver knew his boss or not, so he decided to keep his mask on and, more important, keep quiet. He watched the surrounding high-rise buildings and the rivers of suited men and women that dictated the fast-paced Osaka life.

  The driver slowly began to tap his gloved fingers on the steering wheel as they inched along the roads. He gently hummed a Japanese folk melody under his breath, glaring at Kevin through the rear-view mirror. He was getting tense and Kevin was losing patience. The traffic combined with the overcast haze of polluted fog was suffocating. The engine of the Mercedes hummed like a tamed beast stripped of its ferociousness.

  He stared intently out the window, screening the streets for the store. Suddenly its bright neon lights flashed at him. “STOP!!” he shouted desperately.

  The Mercedes skidded to a sudden halt. He sprung out the door and started running as hard as he could without looking back. He imagined the driver reaching for the revolver and bracing to fire. Any second now he would hear the loud BANG that would send a bullet through his spine. He threw off his mask onto the busy street, it was no longer necessary and he needed the air. Blood rushed to his aching limbs, desperately pumping away on the tarmac. Just a few more meters, and he would be obscured by the densely populated alleyway. BANG BANG BANG rang through the air and instantly he was thrown to the tarmac. He felt like he’d been hit by a baseball bat in the upper shoulder and he shrieked out in pain. He rolled around on the pavement and struggled to his knees. He had to keep moving. People dispersed in all directions, screaming in panic. He crawled on the floor between the sea of colorful shoes that surrounded him, inching toward the direction of the alleyway. The shock and adrenaline suppressed the pain.

  The alleyway was full of restaurants, bars, and a large number of pachinko parlors. The sound of the slot machines shrilled in the air as people continued playing, unperturbed by the panic outside. He wearily rose to his feet, deep in the alley, satisfied that he was sufficiently obscured by the mass crowd. The store was just a few meters to his right. His shoulder blade burned like he’d been poked by a hot rod, fresh from the furnace. He instinctively stretched his hand to his back to feel the wound, nothing. There was no blood, no hole in his jacket and nothing to indicate the bullet’s path besides the searing pain. He heard the gunshots, that was unmistakable, and he was definitely hit by something. He removed his hand from the wound. He would worry about it later. Ignoring the pain, he stormed into the store with the large flashing neon sign of a phone.

  An elderly Japanese man sat behind a glass counter which displayed a sufficient array of mobile phones. “Konnichiwa, give me that Huawei, please,” Kevin said hastily pointing to the phone. The old man nodded and reached to retrieve a new boxed version. “I also need sim card and data credit,” he said tensely.

  The old man moved like an ailing tortoise and every second that went by diminished his chances of survival. It was a race against time, and if he was to have any possibility to complete his plan he needed to move fast. The old man finally laid on the counter the new boxed phone with a sim card credit pack. He reached for a calculator and began punching in the numbers.

  Fuck, I don’t have time for this.

  Kevin reached for the Louis Vuitton wallet in his pocket and placed it on the counter. He removed a few bills for himself, he would need it later. He swiftly grabbed the box and the sim pack and bolted out of the store. “You can keep the wallet and all the cash that’s left,” he shouted back, bursting into the alleyway.

  He rushed into a nearby pachinko parlor, weaving between the slot machines and constantly looking over his shoulder. He ripped the wrapped box open with his teeth and scrambled to insert the sim card. He struggled, his sweaty hands trembling under pressure. He sat down on the floor of the parlor and inhaled deeply. The gamblers around him were so fixated by the slots, they paid him no attention. His breathing gradually slowed, and he focused his thoughts like he’d done in the temple. Once he felt his muscles loosen, he tried again. This time he managed to smoothly insert the sim and rapidly charge it with credit. He opened the mobile’s browser and searched for the Intelias head office phone number in Tokyo. He clicked dial and the phone rang instantly. He estimated it to be between eight and nine in the morning.

  For sure somebody should pick up.

  He crawled on his knees behind one of the slot machines and listened tensely for an answer. A polite female voice came on the line, “Konnichiwa, welcome to Intelias, how may I assist you today?”

  Kevin gasped in relief and answered swiftly in a rugged voice, “This is Kevin Voss, I need you to connect me to the mobile of Mr. Daichi Sato. This is an emergency!” The woman hesitated, “I cannot do that, sir, I must put you through to his office first so that his secretary can screen the call and schedule an appointment.”

  He racked his brain for a solution and responded fast. “No wait, shut up and listen to me. Check the security protocol, the keywords are Trojan One.”

  The woman fell silent like she was taken aback by his aggressive response, but she rapidly clicked away on her computer and responded professionally. “Your call is going through right away.” Immediately he heard the dial tone of Daichi’s mobile. He clenched his teeth, his life depended on Daichi’s answering the phone.

  Daichi answered after a few rings with his normal standoffish hello. Instantly Kevin rattled out instructions, “Daichi, this is Kevin, I’m in some deep shit and I don’t have time for questions. I need you to fly one of the Intelias Tokyo jets to Osaka right now. Tell them to fuel the jet, from there I’m flying to Hong Kong straight away. Listen carefully, go to the Four Seasons right now. My room is seven hundred and eight, get my passport and wallet from the safe. The code is nine, eight, four, nine followed by hash.” Kevin gulped for air, he didn’t pause to breathe. Daichi went silent on the other line, digesting the detailed request.

  “Daichi, you got my request? Do it now! If the jet is not here by 10 a.m., you’re fucking fired! Oh, and for God’s sake don’t say anything to your new secretary, this is highly confidential.”

  He hung up the phone and dragged himself to his feet. This wasn’t his way with people, but if he was dead, Daichi wouldn’t have a job any ways. The Intelias security could be easily overrun by his captors and they would probably settle for that as a plan B if their project didn’t come to fruition. Daichi needed to know what was at stake here, he would explain to him everything if he got home alive.

  He sprinted out onto the busy alleyway, cramming his way through the packed crowd and nudging people along the way. He finally surged onto the main road and scanned the street for a taxi. An old black Toyota with a small taxi sign on its roof waited outside a shopping mall just down the road. He dashed toward the taxi driver, who had already spotted him and started in his direction. He jumped into the taxi while it was still moving and said hurriedly, “Kansai International Airport.” The driver nodded and they sped toward the highway leading directly to the airport. The traffic had slightly eased up, but it was still dense. At this pace he figured that by the time they pulled into the airport, the Intelias jet would already be waiting for him. He assessed his situation, adrenaline still pumping hard. He had two main obstacles ahead of him. The first was getting through passport control. There was a high probability that the body at the temple was already discovered and an APB for his arrest was issued. The second was that the jet was actually there and waiting for him. He was calmer regarding the latter, after many years of work experience with
Daichi. He could trust him to get things done, especially if his job depended on it.

  The traffic got gradually lighter up ahead, but the taxi driver was dawdling behind a truck instead of weaving through the jam. Kevin reached into his pocket and handed him all his remaining cash. “Go fast, Hayaku, Hayaku!!” The driver burst into a toothless smile, grabbed the cash, and instantly stepped on the gas. Kevin leaned back in his seat; the burning shoulder pain had morphed into a dull ache. He let out a deep sigh, staring out the window at the cars that whizzed past. He had done all he could do, now it was out of his control. Suddenly a red eighteen-wheeler pulled up beside the taxi on Kevin’s side. It was bizarre, they were travelling in the middle lane and the truck pulled up on their left in the fast lane. He looked up at the truck’s window and a man in a Guy Fawkes mask waved at him from the passenger seat.

  “Hayaku, Hayaku!!” Kevin screamed loudly in sheer panic.

  It startled the taxi driver, and he responded by flooring the pedal. Kevin glared through the rear window as the truck faded into the traffic. They were on to him, and he doubted whether the airport was a good idea. It was too obvious, either authorities would nab him or these guys would kill him. He opened the taxi’s side window and began to vomit uncontrollably. He was submerged by feelings of helplessness and panic, conjuring up images of torture or death. He needed a backup plan, but he had none. There was nowhere to run.

  Twenty minutes later the taxi skidded into the drop-off area for international departures. He rubbed his face with both palms. This is it, the hour of reckoning. He thanked the driver and cautiously stepped onto the pavement, expecting his freedoms to be gone very shortly. He looked up at the hazy sky and took a deep breath. Throughout his entire life, like most people, he’d taken liberty for granted. In truth, the world had no idea how good it really was to be able to wake up in your own home, with your family and with your future in your own hands. Anything more than that was a bonus. He studied all the people hurrying into the airport terminal and wondered how many them had this appreciation for life. He straightened his body and held his head up high.

  Whatever happens, I go down fighting.

  He headed into the departure terminal and followed the directions toward the private jet lounge. The electronic signs indicated that it was a ten-minute walk from his current location. He was a disheveled mess, walking through the airport in a small tuxedo that was torn and bloodied. People stared at him like he was a complete oddball. He subtly shifted his eyes around the terminal, continuously scanning for police or potential threats. He resolved not to surrender easy. He would run even if it cost him his life.

  He approached the jet-lounge counter, expecting the worst. He looked nervously at the attended and stammered, “Hello, my name is Kevin Voss. There is supposed to be a plane waiting for me.”

  To his surprise the attendant, a young redhead, smiled warmly and said in a courteous tone, “Yes, hello, Mr. Voss. We’ve been expecting you. Your passport is with us, and it’s already been approved by border control. So you’re set for departure. Please pass security to the right and then you can proceed straight ahead to the lounge and enjoy all the amenities. Just let us know when you’re ready to leave and the limousine will take you directly to the plane. Here is your passport and personal belongings as you requested. Your luggage is already waiting for you in your suite. Have a pleasant and safe journey.”

  Kevin was flabbergasted. This didn’t make sense; something didn’t add up. From his experience whenever things seemed too good to be true, they usually were.

  She asked him gently, “Is everything OK, sir?”

  He nodded, collected his stuff, and headed toward the security scanner. The private security check went through without a glitch and he proceeded directly to the elegant charter lounge. A personal concierge greeted him with a glass of champagne and guided him to the exquisite private cabana. The room’s modern design was the very best of Japanese craftsmanship, not compromising on heritage. He unzipped his luggage, revealing his immaculately folded clothes. Daichi thought of everything; he was glad that he had trusted him. The site of his clothes triggered thoughts of home and his family. Overwhelmed by a sense of longing, he desperately wanted to hear Lucy’s voice. He exhaled profoundly, banishing any thoughts that would lead to instinctive action. He had to stick with the original plan and contact her from the plane with exact instructions. He clenched his teeth, the gnawing pain in his shoulder an incessant reminder of the danger he was in. He rushed into the large en suite marble bathroom and began to rip off his clothes. The large glass mirror, above the oval Italian basin, was bordered by a LED frame that emanated a warm glow around its edges. He stared in the mirror, sickened by his reflection. The square LED light reflected perfectly in his dilated pupils. He had lost a lot of weight and his skin color waned to a pale yellow.

  Jesus Christ, I look like a fucking zombie.

  He slowly turned his back and lowered his shoulder, afraid of what he might see. A dark purple circle about the size of a baseball glared back at him. Relieved that no bullet had penetrated his body, he realized that he’d been shot with a rubber bullet. Another anomaly that worried the shit out of him.

  He showered and got dressed in haste. He wore a casual white polo shirt, blue jeans, and white sneakers. After spending so much time in the monk saffron robe and in someone else’s tuxedo, he was relieved to finally feel like his old self. Despite the familiarity of his clothes, something inside him had changed. He prayed it was for the better, but that’s not how it felt.

  He pressed the concierge button and commanded, “I’m ready to go, make sure the driver is outside in two minutes.”

  He checked his mobile, it was 9:40 a.m. He estimated in New York it would be 8:40 p.m., a good time to speak with Lucy. The boys would already be sleeping. He exited the private terminal straight onto the tarmac, waiting anxiously for the limousine. He flipped on his brownish Tom Ford shades and stared at his mobile. He was itching to call her, excited to tell her that he was coming home and more important explain to her exactly what she needed to do. He forced himself to wait; impulsive action was responsible for most misfortunes. He had to be certain he was finally free before making the call.

  The limousine eventually appeared and a sharply dressed chauffeur casually got out of the driver’s seat to open the door. “Stay in the car, please, I can do it myself. I’m in a terrible rush.” Kevin said with urgency. He jumped into the supple leather seat and they sped off toward the jet. The Intelias G5 was parked not far from the runway. The company logo, intercrossing letters of I and T, splashed across its tail and body. He dashed up the jet’s relatively short ladder. The interior resembled a luxurious condo with a state-of-the-art office more than a highly sophisticated airplane. Designed to perfectly combine productivity with exceptional comfort. A tall, skinny middle-aged Japanese lady was the main steward on board and she eagerly welcomed him with a warm smile, “Konnichiwa, Mr. Voss. May I get you something to drink or eat while we wait for take-off?”

  He shook his head and said coolly, “Just make sure we take off quickly.”

  She acknowledged his request and headed for the cockpit to speak with the captain. He stared out the window, looking up at the sky, lost deep in thought. The clouds were symbolic of his freedom. The moment they were airborne this ordeal would be over. Whatever the future held in store for him, he would plan the battle and survive it. He first needed to get out of Japan.

  Her unmistakable British accent broke the silence, catching his attention.

  “Hello, Mr. Voss, so nice to see you again so soon. I joined the crew for Intelias corporate flights in Asia and North America and this is my first day on the job. Nice to see a familiar face.’’ She smiled warmly, giggled, and continued. “Since we work for the same company now, you could say we’re colleagues.”

  He was speechless.

  Fucking Jenny from American Airlines.

  “Congratulations on the new job . . . Good to see you agai
n,” he stammered, trying to sound authentic. He wondered what the odds were, this was one long-shot coincidence. He couldn’t pin any significance to seeing Jenny. There was no logical link or potential threat, but it definitely perturbed him. She thanked him tactfully and left the main cabin. The G5 finally roared to life and rolled steadily toward the allotted take-off runway.

  The captain’s voice boomed over the speaker, “Five minutes for take-off.”

  Kevin smiled broadly; against all the odds he’d done it. It was time to call home. He grabbed the on-board Iridium satellite phone and quickly dialed his New York apartment. While the phone rang, he thought about the stress and anxiety that Lucy must have experienced since his disappearance. Up until this moment, he was preoccupied with staying alive and executing the plan, but he wasn’t oblivious to her suffering. It filled him with rage that his family was involved. These bastards went to unthinkable extents.

  Lucy’s sweet, gentle voice filled his ears. “Hello?”

  Tears welled up in his eyes and he answered with a choked voice, “Lucy baby, oh thank God it’s you. So good to hear your voice. Missed you and the kids so much. Are you OK?”

  He expected her to burst into a flurry of tears and swear words. Instead she just answered casually, “We’re good, baby. We missed you so much. I hope you finished your crisis mission at work and we can finally have our vacation. Your colleague from Japan is here at the house, he came by for a visit. It was nice of Intelias to fly him over to explain the confidentiality of your work. But you’re not CIA, Kevin . . . What’s hap--”

  He cut her off mid-sentence. “Lucy, wait, which Japanese friend are you talking about?”

  She hesitated slightly in her response, “Hmm, I didn’t catch his name. It sounded very Japanese. I believe he worked in your London office, he has a British accent. He also has some strange tattoo covering his neck, which seems a bit odd.”