The Voss Coin

by A B Alexander

  “Hello, Mr. Voss, we meet again. It’s good to see you in America. The land of the free and the home of the not so brave anymore,” said the Buddha monk before erupting into maniacal laughter.

  Kevin shook his hand firmly, doing his best to maintain composure in front of John. “Well, bravery is found in unlikely places. Welcome, Mr. Nishikawa.” He forcefully smiled and took a seat in the available leather chair next to the Buddha monk. He studied John’s demeanor, he had his head bowed, eyes lowered at his desk. His ageless, unblemished face now showed its years.

  “What’s going on, John?” Kevin asked in trepidation.

  “These people entered my home last night and kidnapped my wife. They threatened to kill my entire family if I go to the police. I didn’t listen, Kevin. I headed to the station, in any case. I got their call on the way and they urged me to talk to you first, so please tell me what the hell is going on?” John cried out in desperate anguish.

  The Buddha monk leaned back in his chair, smiling contently, his face and oval brown eyes contorted like the expression of a bull that just gored the matador.

  “Listen, John, I’m still not sure who these people really are. What I do know is that they’re extremely dangerous and you must do as they say. They killed Amalia and Bill and they tortured me during my stay in Japan. I’m begging you, do not make any rash moves. That will get us both killed.”

  The Buddha monk blurted out, “Not convincing enough, Mr. Voss!” He reached into his pocket and threw a dazzling diamond-encrusted eternity ring on the table. Spinning on the desk, Kevin could clearly see its identically cut diamonds were smothered in blood. John jumped up and yelled, “You piece of shit, that’s Alice’s ring, what did you do to my wife?” The Buddha monk stared at him fiercely, his dark brown eyes volcanic with rage. “Sit down or else you’ll get one of her vital organs mailed to you. We cut her fourth finger off, punishment for disobeying our instructions. She’ll be returned to you today and you can take her to hospital for treatment. You’ll say that it was a gardening accident and nothing more. You see Kevin’s wife and children are still walking around whole because he is doing what he’s told. Of course, if he slips up, he’ll be solely responsible for the consequences and so will you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  John nodded, his face buried in his hands.

  The Buddha monk continued, “That’s good. You must understand, John, that you and I are just pawns in this cycle, nothing more. Our task is limited and even though it may seem that we have some power, we don’t. We must do as we’re told because we are purely creatures of instruction. Mr. Voss, however, is a knight. He has an important task and is therefore respected by the king. He has the power to change the face of the game, and his every move must be calculated in advance. Like in chess, you always attack with the knights first and then the pawns. Your time will come to receive instruction and execute your move. You belong to us now. Nevertheless, my main purpose of this trip was to pay a visit to my dear friend, Mr. Voss. He has evolved from a knight to a bishop. He sees this evolution and now dreams to be king.”

  The Buddha monk turned to face Kevin and placed his bulky hand on his shoulder. “You’ll hear from me shortly.” He stood up and strode out of the office, his plump legs thumping against the wooden flooring.

  John outstretched his arms onto the desk and flopped his head on his forearm. Kevin could hear him gasping for air, there was nothing left to say. He knew exactly how he felt, he’d been through the same emotional roller coaster of pain, guilt, fear, panic, and tragedy. He got up and headed to his office. He had work to do.

  Kevin checked his Rolex. It was already 7 p.m., time to go home. He had completely lost track of time working on the Voss Code. He had made significant progress and estimated that at this pace, he would be done in four months or less. He was aggrieved for John and his wife, but in some profoundly selfish way he knew that it benefited him. His captors were clearing all the obstacles in his path so that he could focus on the most important goal. The Voss Coin would bring him fame, wealth, power, and recognition beyond his wildest dreams. Even though the means would be wrong and it would most definitely be short lived, this deeper, darker part of him, the one he could no longer suppress, was excited for the experience. He suddenly felt a burning desire to know what it means to be king of the castle, even for one day. Most people live their mundane lives without ever lifting their head above water. He would touch the sun even if it was just once.

  Nothing lasts forever.

  Seeing the Buddha monk had triggered something inside him. There was an air of mutual respect. He could comprehend their culture, as if on the same brain wave. The memories and emotions of his experience in Japan resurfaced. Despite them being most painful, he grew brave by reflection. He had changed and for the better. He had answered all the paradoxical questions about himself and felt enlightened. Very bad things had happened, but in this world the line between good and bad was very blurry. In war good people did very bad things for the greater good. He wondered whether this was the case here. Was the current financial system of crony capitalists, greedy bankers, and corrupt politicians the good side? He wasn’t convinced. One thing he did know for sure, he was working on the most revolutionary project in modern times. The financial system would be shaken to the core much like the impact of the industrial revolution in the nineteenth century. The thought of it endowed him with a unique sense of fulfilment that he hadn’t felt on any previous project. He was a dreamer and had always wanted to be part of a critical phase in human civilization. He hoped that this was his chance, for better or worse. He packed up his stuff and drove home.

  14

  The House of Love

  “Hi, Lus, it’s been such a long day.” He kissed her luscious lips. “Mmmm,” he moaned out loud—she tasted sugary. Her succulent red lips glittered with an evenly applied lip gloss. She was dressed to the nines with Louboutin high heels, a tight, revealing evening dress, and the diamond pendant he gave her for her birthday suspended perfectly in the valley of her voluptuous breasts. After all these years, he still desired her.

  She smiled and said, “I saw your name on the news today, sounds like an interesting project. Well done, baby, I’m proud of you.”

  She hugged and kissed him again on the lips, this time slipping her tasty tongue into his mouth. She gave him a seductive look with her sparkling eyes. She tasted so fresh and knew exactly how to arouse him.

  “You can tell me all about it tomorrow because I’m going out with Jessica for dinner, I haven’t seen her in a while. The boys are asleep and the babysitter is here, so you have the evening to yourself for a change. Love you, baby, and see you later.”

  He watched her shapely behind sway out the door, the single strand pearl lace G-string peeking through her semi-transparent white dress.

  He looked at his watch, it was almost 9 p.m. and he was exhausted. He placed his briefcase on the kitchen’s black granite countertop and flopped onto the sofa. He closed his eyes trying to ease his mind, it operated like a runaway train with no braking system. He knew the brain was the most important muscle in the body and he’d severely overstrained it. He breathed in through his nostrils, attempting to lull himself into a trance-like state. His eyes grew heavy, he didn’t have the energy to go shower and get into bed.

  Fuck it. I’ll sleep here.

  He steadily let himself go. His mobile abruptly ended his hypnotic state, vibrating and buzzing in his pocket. He reached for it with a tortoise-like motion, keeping his eyes closed. It’s probably Lucy.

  He placed the phone to his ear.

  “Hello, be ready in thirty minutes. I’ll be waiting for you in a car up front, we’re going out to celebrate. Dress smart.”

  Kevin’s eyes shot open, the Buddha monk wasn’t mucking about. They indeed had something planned for him during this visit. “Great, I’ll be ready,” he answered groggily.

  Exactly thirty minutes later, he exited the main entrance of the Olympic Towe
r opposite Rockefeller Center and stepped onto the littered pavement. The cool late-evening breeze rushed through his torso and resuscitated his mind. A black Mercedes screeched to an abrupt stop directly in front of him. The passenger door flung open.

  “Get in,” ordered the unmistakable voice of the Buddha monk. He jumped in the back seat and shook his portly warm hand. He was taken aback by the strong smell of cologne and the Buddha monk’s starkly contrasting appearance. He wore a flowery button shirt covered by an embroidered Bordeaux velvet jacket. What really stuck out was his white snake-leather shoes. He looked more like an Asian gangster than a monk, a stark contrast to any of his previous attire.

  Well, what did I expect, for sure this guy is part of the Yakuza.

  As if reading his mind, the Buddha Monk responded, “The state of enlightenment is solely in your head. The body is just a vessel for our soul. The way you decorate that vessel is irrelevant once you’ve achieved the correct mindset and are no longer a slave to your endless desires.”

  Kevin smiled uneasily. “Sure, sorry, was just a little surprised. Where’re we headed?”

  The Buddha monk turned to the suited man in the front passenger seat. “Watashi ni Kokain o ataeru,” he said in Japanese. The man handed him a small silver tray that contained three immaculate rows of fine white crystalline powder. The Buddha monk gave Kevin a golden straw-like tube, pointy at the top and round on the bottom. Kevin stared at it in disbelief.

  “The pointy part goes in your nasal cavity.”

  Kevin turned his face away, “No fucking way I’m touching that stuff.”

  The Buddha monk smirked and placed a hefty hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. When our mind is inhibited, we need nature’s help. You’ll need this to really enjoy yourself tonight. Don’t worry, this is pure natural stuff and we’re just celebrating life. Now take the tube and snort all three lines. If you don’t, that Yakuza guy in the front seat is going to inject you with that syringe.” The man in the front seat flashed him a golden-toothed smile. He revealed a large syringe containing clear fluid and a long hypodermic needle. Kevin was now aware of the man’s chopped pinkie and overdone tattoos.

  How the hell did I miss that detail earlier? These guys aren’t fucking around. Anyways I always wanted to try coke, now I have an excuse to do it. I don’t have a choice, do I? Fuck it, here goes nothing.

  He shoved the pointy end of the golden tube into his nose, leaned down toward the powder with the rounded side, and snorted hard and fast. He hit all three lines in one go. Instantly the rush of powder accumulated in his sinus cavity. He leaned his head against the headrest, gripping his nose, a strong sense of discomfort in his nostril overwhelmed him. “Arrghhhhh,” he yelped, a burning substance trickling down his throat. It felt like he’d ingested a tablespoon of wasabi. The roof of his mouth, throat, and nasal canal were completely numb. Before he’d even straightened himself, he was buzzing. All his senses sharpened, he was energized.

  “So, how do you feel?” The Buddha monk asked, laughing. “You see, it’s no big deal, just like drinking two or three Red Bulls in one go, except this shit really gives you wings. No fake advertising.”

  Kevin laughed and flapped his arms like a bird. “Yeah, it’s never good to overthink it, I expected the rush to be stronger.”

  He suddenly felt a sharp stabbing pain in his arm. He looked down in horror and glared at the hypodermic needle protruding from his vein. In less than a second, the Buddha monk emptied the contents of the syringe. Kevin instinctively yanked the needle out of his arm and screamed out in pain.

  “Sshhhh, relax, Mr. Voss. The three small lines were just an aperitif. You’re strong-minded, so that shouldn’t affect you more than a strong cup of coffee. I want to be sure that you have the time of your life tonight. So I’ve injected you with liquid cocaine, straight to the bloodstream. This is the real McCoy . . . blah daba gaga blah blah blah . . .”

  Kevin could no longer discern what the Buddha monk was saying, the words flowed like gurgle. A cold minty chill shot down his spine, trickling down to the extremities of his limbs. Instantly, an unspeakable rush of pleasure flooded every single one of his senses. It was so intense that it put the strongest orgasms of his life to shame. The pleasure center of his brain was cranked up to the maximum. It was beyond surreal, he surfed wave after wave of physical and emotional euphoria, flooded by a sense of contentment and pure optimism about his life like never before. Even thoughts about his current predicament painted a favorable outcome.

  I’m the fucking man. This project is going make me richer and more powerful than any person on earth. Even these guys won’t be able to stop me, fuck ’em. I’m untouchable!

  For the first time in his life he understood what all the fuss was about. He would never judge junkies the wrong way again.

  The Mercedes came to a halt. He noticed they had stopped somewhere in the meatpacking district, a trendy commercial area on the west side of town. He followed the Buddha monk along the area’s cobblestone streets. They passed many hip restaurants and bars that were blaring loud music. Up ahead, there was a massive queue building up for a swanky nightclub called Victoria’s. Every guy in the line was dressed chic and had some serious arm candy. He assumed this place was their destination, but the Buddha monk just walked directly past it. They were getting further away from the nightlife spots and deeper into the industrial area. Eventually, the Buddha Monk turned right and entered a deserted meatpacking plant. The air was damp and the place still reeked of animal flesh. He nearly puked from the smell. The plant consisted mostly of rusty abattoir slicing and dicing tools. Multiple hooks and chains were suspended from the tin-roofed ceiling, reaching just above shoulder height. It was dark and deserted. The Buddha monk stopped squarely in front of a large stainless-steel door and knocked three times. He put his plumpish arm over Kevin’s shoulder. “You’re going to have a good time tonight, my dear.”

  A manly American voice shouted through the door, “What do we seek?”

  The Buddha monk instantly responded, “Nirvana.”

  The only audible sound was the cranking of different locks and bolts. Each jolt sent shivers down Kevin’s back.

  Some spooky fucking setting for a party.

  He was high as a kite but not deluded. He knew full well what these people were capable of and that by the end of the night, he could end up an organ donor like Amalia. The exhilarating euphoria shifted to a tormenting paranoia. Eventually, the door opened with a loud thud. He was surprised to see a young American man dressed finely like a sommelier of a Michelin-star restaurant. The handsome young man spoke cordially. “Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to la Maison de l’amour. Please leave your phone and wallet at the reception to your right. We have a credit card on record for you gentlemen, so please feel free to request whatever you may desire.”

  Kevin’s French was pretty shabby but he got the gist that the place was named The House of Love. He relaxed slightly.

  It doesn’t sound like a violent place.

  They were instructed by a mountainous doorman, like the keeper of the gates of the underworld, to remove their belts and anything from their pockets. He then motioned them to walk through an airport-style metal detector. “You’re good, go ahead,” he instructed.

  They headed to the reception, a small room consisting of an entire wall of metallic safety-deposit boxes and a lacquered black countertop. They were greeted by a scantily clad hostess who safely stored their belongings.

  “Right, gentlemen, you may head on down. Have an enjoyable evening,” she said in a sultry voice.

  They proceeded down the narrow, dimly lit staircase. The walls were carved out of ancient stone, resembling a castle dungeon. The sound waves of electro-house music bounced off the staircase walls. Kevin’s bowels stirred from the bass, it was deafening. The deeper they descended, the more intense it became, like it was emanating from the earth’s core. Finally, they entered the wonderland of L
ED lights, sexy dancers, and finely manicured hands flaunting exotic cocktails. His pupils dilated, everything seemed brighter and better. He found himself swept away in the sea of grooving bodies. Instantly a mass of silicon breasts and smooth feminine skin rubbed against his torso. He put his hands up in the air in sheer euphoria, rhythmic dance beats penetrating his soul. He had never been so wasted in his life and it was fucking great. Tonight, he had no boundaries, no values, no socially established limitations, he was free like a bird.

  The Buddha monk motioned him toward a private table in the VIP section. They were greeted by at least six girls swilling champagne in skimpy dresses and high heels. The decor was dark, upscale, and masculine. A few bottles of Balvenie fifty-year-old whiskey lay in waiting on a rounded crystal table.

  “I hope that you’re not disappointed,” the Buddha monk asked, smiling from to ear to ear.

  At $30K a bottle, that ain’t going to disappoint.

  Kevin picked up a bottle and poured them a wine-size portion.

  “To the Voss Coin,” he saluted.

  They clanked glasses and emptied its contents in one gulp. “Damn, that went down smoothly,” he said, bouncing to the house music. They continued to drink like fish, fondling countless numbers of ladies. The Buddha monk’s flabby cheeks gradually turned beetroot, his smile revealing a partially toothless mouth. In some unlikely way, Kevin grew fond of him. He appreciated the skills that he had acquired. Fake monk or not, everybody would be a Buddhist by this guy’s rules.

  The Buddha monk instinctively hugged him, “You’ve been my best and brightest student. You’re ready for this job.” They saluted and downed another glass.

  I’m drinking like a fucking monster, must be the coke.

  The Buddha monk instantly poured them another glass.

  It’ll probably take two or three bottles to get this fat Buddha drunk, he is going to kill me with substance abuse.