The Voss Coin

by A B Alexander

Kevin went silent. In those short words he felt terror unlike anything he’d known before. In an attempt to save his own life, he’d jeopardized the lives of Lucy and the boys. He placed his face in his palms, suffocating the painful gasps emanating from the darkest depths of his soul. A culmination of guilt, grief, pain, terror, and panic struck him like a hammer blow to the head.

  “Kevin, are you there? I think I lost you,” Lucy asked naively.

  He swallowed hard, composing his instincts, “Baby, let me speak with my colleague, please.”

  A few moments later, he instantly recognized the eloquent British accent and squeaky voice of the British Yakuza. “Good evening, Mr. Voss, or should I say good morning. I wanted to . . .”

  Kevin interrupted him blurting out in desperation, “Don’t you dare touch my family, they’ve nothing to do with this! I’ll do whatever you want. You guys can kill me as retribution for my actions, but for God’s sake, leave my family alone. Please, I’m begging you, they’re my life.” He pleaded in a way he had never before, desperate, sobbing into the phone, unable to bear the inevitable consequences.

  The British Yakuza responded coldly, “You’ll receive a phone call shortly with instructions. Goodbye, Mr. Voss.” The line went dead.

  The plane’s engines were in full throttle and ascending rapidly. Kevin grabbed his head and dropped down onto the leather couch, thoughts torturing his mind.

  What the fuck did I do, I’m a coward. I should’ve known there was no escaping these people. I should’ve let them kill me.

  He looked out the window, the plane was engulfed in the white wisps of smoky clouds. He was so close to freedom, yet so far. They had gone a few steps beyond recapturing him physically. They had stripped him of his reason to live, a dead man walking.

  Hell is a place on earth.

  10

  The Stake

  “Oh my God! Mr. Voss, are you OK?” Jenny screamed out in panic, entering the jet’s main cabin. He lay sprawled on his back on the leather couch, eyes staring blankly at the cabin’s ceiling. He looked like he’d suffered a stroke. She hastily grabbed a glass of water and crouched down beside him, slowly lifting his head. He was oblivious to his surroundings, drowning in emotion. If anything happened to his family, it would be a fatal blow. He was strong mentally and could deal with anything except losing his family. He considered that a special kind of unbearable eternal hell. She assisted him to gently sit upright and take a few sips of water. His mouth was parched and the cold water soothed him.

  Bing Bing Bing. The on-board satellite phone beeped into life. Kevin leapt to his feet and grabbed the phone. “Jenny, I need you to excuse me for a minute,” he said as he walked into the adjoining office.

  “Sure, no problem,” she responded, surprised by his sudden burst of energy.

  He paced back and forth in the high-tech mobile office, phone beeping in his right hand. He struggled for words and braced himself for the news. “Hello?” he croaked, his entire body shaking violently.

  “Hello, Mr. Voss,” said a man with a distorted voice. It was the same kidnap-style machine voiceover that Kevin had heard in Tokyo. “You tried to double-cross us by escaping. Now your family is at our mercy.”

  Kevin sobbed into the phone, “No please, don’t hurt my family. I’ll do anything you want, please!”

  The man continued, “You escaped from the temple because we let you escape. The skills you learned and your escape were planned beforehand. You needed this experience to answer paradoxical questions about yourself and your life. I like to call it enlightenment. You’ll require that unique state of mind in order to achieve our objective and develop the Voss Coin. It’ll have more power than all the world’s atomic bombs in one room. I’m sure that you now realize that we’ll find you anywhere on the globe. If you even think of double-crossing us again, your beautiful blonde wife and cute little kids will be tortured and killed.” The man went silent, letting Kevin absorb the cruel reality he was in.

  “Your family is safe for the moment and you’ll see them soon. You’ll instruct the pilots to fly directly to New York. When you return to your office at Intelias, the protocol will be in your drawer. You have six months to complete this project. If we’re not satisfied with your work, your family will die. Now that we’re clear on what’s at stake, good luck.”

  The phone line immediately went dead. He threw the phone into the conference room TV, shattering it to pieces.

  “I’m their fucking puppet for life,” he shouted in exasperation. He crumpled into the beige leather armchair, resolved to his fate. He no longer needed to contemplate or plan his next move; this time it was simple. His family was at risk and they owned him. He would execute their objectives to the best of his ability. But the question that still disturbed him the most was who exactly were THEY?

  He was completely in their control, so he reasoned for all intents and purposes that they were like God. An unknown all-powerful force that existed beyond his control or understanding. He thought he was the master planner of his life, but they had played him perfectly. He would not only do what they wanted but he would become who they wanted him to be. He pressed the red flight attendant button and within moments Jenny appeared. Her face the epitome of horror, eyes scanning the scattered shards of broken glass and mangled plastic.

  “Shit, what happened here? Are you OK?”

  He got up and walked purposefully toward her. “Tell the pilots to change route. We’re flying to New York.” He brushed past her and said over his shoulder, “Oh, and tell HR to send me the bill for the phone and TV.” He headed directly for the luxurious on-board master bedroom. There was nothing he could do; for the moment his family was safe and he was coming home. That was all that mattered. The severe state of shock and panic had taken a toll on his body, he was weak and nauseous. He flopped onto the king-size Vispring mattress, his tensed muscles loosening like spaghetti in boiling water. The window was open and sunlight filtered onto the bedsheets. He could see the clouds below, scattered like a herd of sheep. The endless sea-blue sky reflected his inner feeling of hopelessness.

  He awoke gingerly, his naked body smothered in the sleek cotton sateen sheets. The first signs of daylight were coming over the horizon, signaling that he’d slept most of flight. He glanced at his watch. They were less than two hours from landing at JFK. He clicked on the bedside intercom and said in a hoarse voice, “Jenny, please make sure that breakfast is ready in thirty minutes.”

  He got in the shower and thought about what to tell Lucy. She was a smart, determined woman and raised their boys courageously. But he had always cocooned her from his daily struggles throughout their relationship, creating a naive and sheltered environment. That was the best way to raise the children, and he didn’t want to rock the boat. While the hot water relaxed his aching muscles and soothed his injured shoulder blade, he resolved that he would tell Lucy nothing.

  By the time he sat down for breakfast, they were approaching New York City and he caught a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty. It was the first time that he actually took a moment to gaze at it, appreciating its beauty and symbolism. It stood tall and aloof, the proud symbol of the city. He now managed to truly internalize the meaning of liberty: without it everything else is meaningless. He switched on the TV and flicked through the financial channels. It was impossible to miss John Lukach, with his sleek silver hair and tailored suit. He was doing the early morning interview before the opening bell on Wall Street. Kevin tucked into his breakfast of omelette, bacon, and fruit juice, attentively listening to John discuss the Intelias third-quarter profit projections. He was a master tactician, elegant hand gestures showed peaks of his brilliant Gold Patek watch that complemented his confident persona. He was being interviewed by the typical financial news reporter, a smartly dressed bespectacled brunette. John threw around some very bullish profit predictions, but it was normal for him to take the offensive stance. The company had showed steady year-on-year growth over the last decade and it was mainly d
ue to his highly demanding management style. Since he was appointed CEO he hadn’t tolerated any inefficiencies throughout their corporate food chain.

  The headline popped up below John’s interview, “INTELIAS STOCKS RALLY THIS WEEK TO AN ALL-TIME HIGH.” Kevin’s fork fell from his hand in a loud clang, he stood up and raised the volume.

  John was smiling confidently. “Our market share has exponentially grown in Asia and this has attracted major interest from the region. In general, our stock has grown in appeal to foreign investors. We’ve consistently demonstrated that our technology is efficient while not compromising on security.”

  The reporter nodded approvingly and turned toward the main camera. “Thank you for joining us this morning, Mr. John Lukach, Intelias CEO. Now for our other top performers this week on Wall Street, we have . . .”

  Kevin switched off the TV and slumped in his seat. He moved his plate aside, he was no longer hungry. The sudden stock rally seemed odd to say the least, even though John had reasoned it off logically to the public. He feared that his Japanese captors were buying up the stock, responsible for the unnatural price peak. “Five minutes for landing,” the captain announced through the on-board speaker. He tightened his seat belt mechanically, lost in thought, drilling down the reasons for the stock rally.

  The plane bounced off the tarmac, interrupting his thought process. An immediate sense of relief and joy washed over him. He had arrived home and not in a body bag. He desperately needed the warmth and love of his family to recuperate mentally and come to terms with the task at hand. The plane rolled into the allotted parking area and he quickly arose to collect his stuff.

  Jenny entered the main cabin to assist him. “I hope that you enjoyed the flight, seems like you were pretty exhausted. I hope that Intelias doesn’t make me work that hard.” She laughed. In her hands she held boxes of a miniature Intelias-branded G5 model airplanes. “These two are for your little ones, and this bigger one is for your office. It’s just a small gift from Intelias. I remember you telling me that you bring the boys something after every business trip, so I’m sure it’ll come in handy.” He smiled warmly and grabbed the boxes on his way out.

  Finally, a gift that’s not going to fuck me.

  He scrambled down the jet’s staircase and onto the breezy tarmac at JFK airport. Tony, his trusted personal driver, was already waiting for him. He was a plump, bald, middle-aged New Yorker with a pudgy face and flabby, rosy cheeks. He greeted Kevin with an honest smile. “Good to see you and welcome home, Mr. Voss.” They shook hands like old friends and Kevin jumped into the black limousine.

  “Take me home as quickly as possible. I don’t care if you have to drive crazy,” he instructed him. “You bet, sir. I got you,” Tony responded and stepped on the gas. Unlike his Japanese counterparts, he was well versed in tearing up the roads. He weaved through the dense New York traffic, beeping and hollering like a maniac. Within forty minutes they arrived at the entrance to the Olympic Tower. Kevin hurriedly jumped out, thanked Tony, and left his stuff with the porter downstairs to bring up to his apartment later. The only thing he took with him was the two small airplanes for the boys, holding them behind his back. He studied himself in the mirror under the bright lights of the glossy golden elevator. He no longer looked like a demon—his long sleep and hot shower on the flight had rejuvenated him and returned color to his cheeks. He was almost his old self, except for his clothes that were at least half a size too big. He’d shed more than a couple of pounds in Japan.

  Finally, the elevator doors slid open and he dashed eagerly for his apartment with one hand behind his back, clutching the small planes. He stopped abruptly before reaching the front door. It was slightly ajar; something was amiss. He pushed the front door fully open with his right palm and quietly entered the apartment, his eyes instinctively drawn to the trail of blood splashed on the white marble floor. He screamed out in horror, “Lucy, Luuuuuuccyyyy!!”

  He heard a faint sound of sobbing coming from the kitchen. He turned and ran toward the sound, sneakers squeaking on the marble floor. He stopped a few feet short of her, his mind unable to process the horror that lay before him. Lucy sat cross-legged on the marble kitchen floor, sobbing hysterically, her back leaning against the built-in dishwasher cabinet, her hands and pink sweater drenched in blood. In front of her lay their beloved long-time maid Amalia. Her plump body was sliced wide open from the neck right down to her groin. Her internal organs were missing; she’d been brutally gutted.

  “Oh nooo, dear God, what the hell happened?” Kevin screamed out, belching from the revolting sight. He dropped to his knees and crawled through the pool of blood to hug Lucy.

  She looked up at him, her eyes swollen from crying. “She was like a mother to me,” she said in a cracked hoarse voice. He hugged her tightly, pressing her head against his beating chest, softly stroking her bloodied silky blonde hair. She sobbed inconsolably.

  He whispered gently, “Shhh, it’ll be OK, baby,” rocking her in his arms.

  Amalia was Lucy’s maid ever since she was a small child. An elderly Latino lady, with an abundance of charm and an infectious energy, they all loved her dearly. She was part of their family. After Lucy’s mother passed away, she’d moved in with them as their live-in maid. The twins spent so much time with her growing up that they started calling her Granny Amalia.

  He continued to gently rock her and kiss her smooth forehead. With his free hand, he slipped the phone out of his pocket and pressed the speed dial for emergency services. He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder and waited for a response. Within seconds he heard a woman’s voice on line, “Hello, this is nine one one, what is your emergency?” Kevin cleared his throat, trying his best to maintain an even voice. “There has been aaaa mmmm--” he stuttered badly, unable to describe the brutal scene.

  “Sir, you need to tell me what’s going on, please try to stay calm.”

  He opened his mouth and uttered what he could muster, “Murder, Voss residence at Olympic Tower.”

  He hung up the phone while the woman rattled off a flurry of questions. He felt he’d said enough; the emergency services would arrive shortly.

  “Baby, where are the boys?” he asked her softly. She was still sobbing uncontrollably but she answered him between sobs, gasping for air.

  “I dropped them off early at kindergarten. Amalia made the boys pancakes for breakfast. Oh my God. How could this have happened?” She cried and sobbed wildly, struggling for words. “I came back home and found her like this, I can’t believe it. What kind of animals would do this?”

  He hugged her tightly and wiped the tears from her eyes. “The worst kind,” he said solemnly.

  Within minutes, their apartment was like a scene from an episode of CSI. Paramedics and police officers were everywhere. He hugged Lucy on their opulent sofa; she was shivering uncontrollably. A robust black man with a stern face, wearing an FBI jacket, approached them.

  “Hello, my name is Agent Walker. I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but I have to get a statement from you, Mrs. Voss.”

  She nodded and began to agonizingly relate the events of that morning. Kevin hugged her, softly rubbing her back throughout, trying his best to keep her calm. Suddenly, his phone rang. Lucy paused and Agent Walker shifted his gaze toward him.

  “I’m sorry I have to take this call,” he excused himself uneasily. He walked toward their bedroom and reached for the phone in his pocket. The call was from a private number, and he knew what to expect. He sat down on the edge of the bed, bracing himself for the call. He answered gingerly “Hello?”

  The line was silent.

  “Who the fuck is this?”

  “Welcome home, Mr. Voss. You didn’t really think it was going to be that easy, did you? You killed one of our men in the temple. We have a strict code of honor and retribution that is always swift and just. We don’t rely on the corrupt justice system, where a good lawyer could loosen your sentence. You were judged accordingly and have been foun
d guilty. It was decreed that your wife would be murdered today as retribution for your actions. Luckily for you, since you’ve been assigned a larger objective, your maid’s death was regarded as sufficient. Don’t screw up again, justice will not be so kind a second time round.”

  The line went dead. The phone dropped involuntarily from Kevin’s hands. He hunched over and stared at the floor, disgusted and horrified with himself. He was now responsible for the death of two people.

  11

  The Dark Side

  “Daddy, you’re home!” screamed the boys, charging toward him. He hugged them tightly, their smell and energy filling him with joy and renewed hope. He placed a hand on each of their little shoulders and kneeled down. He measured his words carefully, looking them evenly in the eyes, “Amalia is very sick, so she had to go and stay in the hospital for a while. It’ll take a long time for her to come back, and Mommy is very sad. So you guys have to be on your best behavior over the next couple of days and give Mommy the time she needs.”

  The twins nodded solemnly, their cheerful smiles wiped away from their sweet innocent faces, battling to grasp his words. It broke his heart, but he conjured up the strength and produced an authentic grin to lighten the mood. He swung his arm slowly from behind his back, revealing the miniature G5’s.

  “Look at what I brought you boys,” he said enthusiastically.

  Their angelic, naïve faces lit up. “Wow, awesome! Thanks, Daddy.” They shrieked in joy and ran off to play with their new toys.

  He turned toward Lucy’s closest friend and shook his head in frustration, “It’s really tough for Lus what happened today. I think she’s still in shock and will need a couple of days to recover. I’ll ask her to give you a call when she feels better. Thanks, Jess, for dropping off the boys.”

  They hugged each other goodbye and he closed the front door behind her. He walked into the kitchen grimacing, the gruesome visual images of Amalia still fresh in his memory. Everything looked normal, no trace of the morning’s gruesome scene. The police collected all the required forensic evidence and the cleaners did an immaculate job removing the blood stains from the marble floor and solid wood cabinets. He gazed at the spot where Amalia had lain earlier, expecting to feel an overwhelming sense of grief. He was saddened, but nothing more. It was her life instead of the lives of Lucy and the boys. He had very quickly come to terms with that fact. Collateral damage occurs in every war, and if he wanted to be victorious he couldn’t afford to shed even one tear for her. On the other hand, Lucy was in shambles, justifiably unable to fathom how this monstrous murder had occurred in their household. He wondered if she knew the truth whether she would feel better or buckle under its burden. She was suffering, and the truth could alleviate that momentarily. He abandoned the notion, not willing to risk ruining her future.