The Voss Coin

by A B Alexander

  Indeed, the wind was howling and change was forthcoming.

  How ironic?

  The park’s many attractions were completely engulfed by a dense wintry darkness, the lush green culture hub replaced by an intensely cold, deserted blackness. Earlier, in clear daylight, he’d scouted the route in order to be able to navigate it in total darkness. He calculated the exact time it would take him to walk from the entrance to the observatory, punctually timing his arrival. He didn’t account for the weather deteriorating so sharply. The black cloak clung to his body, pelted by sharp sleet. He glanced at his watch: it was five minutes before midnight. He felt like he was walking upstream on the bed of the Moskva River, battling against the wild current. Steadily, he shifted from a fast walk into a jog. His breathing increased rapidly, his mouth emitting puffs of fog into the night sky. Moments later, the small, silver-domed observatory peeked out from within the darkness. It was a domed red-brick construction, wrapped by an intermittent white column facade. Concrete staircases on either side of the dome led to the entrance.

  He held onto the black staircase railing and hurriedly scaled the stairs. He tightened the ribbons of his grotesque Bauta Venetian mask, which was historically worn at political events, where voting anonymity was required. It was densely gilded with a large, pointy nose, bony ridge, and protruding beak-like chin. It provided the wearer with complete anonymity, and he found it particularly suitable for the occasion. He removed his black leather gloves, balled his hand into a fist, and banged on the iron door.

  “CODE WORD!”

  A beastly guttural sound emanated from within.

  “Tradere!” Kevin shouted back anxiously.

  The thick iron door jolted open. He was startled by a thickset man with a hooded skeleton mask, motioning for him to enter. He wore a similar long, black cloak with a Tanto sword clipped to his waist. The Tanto, a traditional Japanese short sword, was used as a type of highly efficient dagger.

  The interior of the dome was illuminated by a few Warosoku candles, the same traditional candles from the Kii Mountain temple in Japan. Besides a few Zeiss refractor telescopes, the open, circular space was empty. The skeleton man proceeded to hurriedly lock the iron door. He turned toward Kevin and growled, “You’re late.”

  Immediately, he pulled the dagger from its leathery sheath; the fiery glint of candlelight shimmered off the silver blade. He strode purposefully toward him, with brisk, even strides. Kevin started to step backwards, there was nowhere to run. He would fight him to the death, despite being physically much smaller and unarmed. He had come too far. Beads of sweat stung his eyes. The mask felt like a respirator, he struggled for air. It was suffocating.

  The skeleton man stopped in the center of the room, just a few feet from Kevin. He raised the fearsome blade in the air and dropped down to his knees.

  THUCK, THUCK, THUCK.

  He stabbed through the grout between the large tiles.

  Kevin watched in awe and partial relief, apprehensive of the unknown. The skeleton man stopped and inserted the dagger between the tiles. He gripped the handle with both hands and pushed it down horizontally, lifting up the large, greyish tile. He groaned from exertion as he shifted it away, revealing an underground circular opening barely big enough to fit an average-sized man. He swayed his arm wildly, motioning for Kevin to descend quickly. Kevin watchfully descended through the extremely narrow, winding staircase. The dungeon-like tunnel was illuminated by evenly distanced candles on the damp stone wall. It spiraled downward endlessly, resembling a snail’s shell. He tried to move faster, but with no handrails, any misstep would result in calamity. The concentration, physical exertion, and fear tweaked his vital signs to full capacity. He sucked in air like a scarce commodity. He could hear his thick boots thudding off the stone stairs. He had lost count of time and the number of stairs, creating the illusion of an alternate reality deep within the earth’s core: a dark, dangerous place from where he’d never emerge.

  Eventually the stairs spat him out smack-dab into the center of the small rounded enclave. The domed marble ceiling and walls contained engravings of Latin scriptures. On the stone floor was engraved the large eagle coat of arms of the Et Decem. Through the vague candlelight he could see nine men wearing cloaks and hoods seated on chairs carved from stone in a circular arrangement. Each man wore a distinct type of grotesque Venetian mask, all looking ominous. Behind each chair stood another tall, cloaked man with the same skeleton mask as the guy at the entrance. They were also all armed with a Tanto sword.

  These guys are massive, they must be at least seven feet tall. They’re probably some kind of specially selected security personal.

  He was impressed by their size.

  There was one chair available, and he hurriedly strode to the seat. On the cold stone backrest was inscribed X BRIGADE.

  This was the seat meant for Steven. The chosen scapegoat from the tenth brigade.

  He glanced behind the chair and acknowledged the armed skeleton man behind him. He wasn’t sure what to make of it—whether to rejoice that he had some kind of protection or fear a sinister purpose. Nobody said a word. It seemed like all the masks in the room were fixated on him. He wondered about their identities.

  Probably the most powerful people in the world are seated right here, possibly even the President of the United States or Russia. Maybe even the real Satoshi?

  The hair on the nape of his neck tingled in fear and anticipation. He had worked out a detailed plan that depended on a lot of second guessing. His mind, a logical calculative machine relying solely on facts, doubted his success. His gut didn’t.

  After a few lingering moments of silence, a diminutive man stood up from the stone seat directly to Kevin’s left. Since they were seated in a circle, it was evident he was from the first brigade. His frail posture hinted at his numerous years. The man spoke with a Churchillian voice.

  “There has been treachery within our organization. For the first time in our long history, a member of the Et Decem, the sacred Ten, has deceived the rest of the members. Ironically, this member is from the tenth brigade. He has defrauded all of us by not sharing the true value of the Voss Coins in the possession of the tenth brigade.”

  The masks menacingly turned to face Kevin. He squirmed uneasily in the cold, hard seat. The elderly first brigade member continued in the same tone.

  “However, this member has agreed to abide by our ancient code and present himself for an honorable punishment. Hence this meeting of the special council will be logged by the Latin name Tradere, meaning the handover. The punishment for this crime is self-inflicted death, represented by the red ball, or life imprisonment, represented by the black ball. The vote must be unanimous, or else life imprisonment will prevail. We’ll now proceed directly to the vote.”

  Kevin glanced down at the two colored golf ball–sized marble balls. They lay inconspicuously within a carved hole in the armrest of his stone chair. He hadn’t noticed them until now. Without hesitation the first brigade member flipped a red ball onto the coat of arms in the center of the room. It landed with a loud, stony thud. In clockwise order, each member upon his turn threw a ball into the center. The voting went by quickly; they were all red. Everybody stared at Kevin in silent anticipation. The choice rested with him. The special council had made their will known. Deep down, he appreciated this form of penalty. Let the guilty decide for himself. Either to choose a life of suffering or a swift, honorable death. He mulled over the decision. He knew that whatever he chose, it would be final. He picked up the black ball with great hesitation. The perfectly rounded marble felt smooth to the touch. He swiveled it in his palm.

  No, it doesn’t feel right. I’m going to return the favor.

  He laid down the black ball. In a swift motion, he picked up the red ball and hurled it to center. All eyes remained on him. Immediately, he heard the swishing sound of the blade removed from its sheath. The massive skeleton man positioned himself before him, kneeling on one knee with the b
lade resting on his outstretched, elevated palms. Kevin stared at it in disbelief. The moment he was waiting for had arrived. He expected it to feel surreal, but it didn’t. The end felt more real than anything he’d ever known before.

  He studied the blade, which was no bigger than thirty centimeters. It was so short that it seemed more like a long, deadly tactical knife then a sword. He stood up slowly and lifted the double-edged dagger by the handle. It gripped neatly in the palm of his hand, like a sharp extension of his arm. He strode past the kneeling skeleton man, measuring each step toward the center. He stood over the coat of arms, the fiery flame of the candlelight reflecting on the blade and in his pupils. He raised the blade high in the air.

  For Lucy and the boys!

  The room was eerily quiet, not a single movement or sound could be heard besides his shallow breathing. The air thick with tension, the angel of death had arrived.

  33

  Vengeance

  Kevin pointed the blade at the man seated directly opposite him and cleared his throat.

  “Gentlemen! Indeed, we have a traitor in our midst. He is the brain child of the Voss Coin Protocol, the most valuable resource and invention in our modern age. Therefore, he did not deem it fit to share this resource with you. This man is currently seated in the chair of the fifth brigade, but he is really the commander of the tenth.”

  Loud gasps reverberated around the room, the council members all scrutinizing each other. Kevin continued to speak, now with more confidence.

  “Your traitor found out the identity of the fifth brigade special council member, exploited him, and then had him executed. He is now seated in his seat at the council. I was ordered by this man to attend the special council meeting in order to represent the tenth brigade and be falsely executed, thereby misleading the rest of the special council that the traitor had been handled. Don’t be fooled: he planned to gradually replace every member of the special council with a member of the tenth brigade under his command!”

  A loud, panicked debate erupted between the members.

  “SILENCE!”

  The first brigade member shouted. He warily gathered himself to his feet and faced Kevin.

  “What proof do you have of these allegations?” he said in his natural historic Churchillian accent.

  Kevin pointed the blade at the traitor.

  “Say your agent ID!” he barked.

  The man stared ahead, without saying a word.

  “Say your agent ID now!” Kevin screamed, this time more forcefully.

  Suddenly, the man leapt to his feet and charged toward him. The exit staircase was a few feet behind him. Within seconds, the traitor was upon him, trying to shove past with his arms. Instinctively, Kevin lifted the blade and slashed at his outstretched arms. A loud, beastly scream bounced off the walls. Kevin gritted his teeth and aimed for the bowel area. The blade penetrated so smoothly that if it wasn’t for the unmistakable deathly groan, he would’ve thought he’d missed and only sliced through the cloak. The traitor grabbed his stomach with both hands, choking violently. Kevin twisted the blade, and blood spewed from the traitor’s mouth and nostrils. He slowly withdrew the blood-soaked blade and let the stiff body drop to the floor with a horrid thud. The other council members gawked in silent disbelief. Kevin let the blade slide from his bloody palm and onto the floor with a clang. He let out a roaring prolonged primal scream.

  “AAAAAHHHHH!!”

  He bent down and ripped off the traitor’s mask, not out of curiosity but as an act of vengeance. John’s lifeless eyes were wide open, but they no longer glared at anyone, his lantern jaw and sharp cheekbones caked in blood that still trickled from his mouth and nose.

  Kevin heaved deeply, partly in disbelief. John was the mastermind of a genius plan. He had vision to develop the Voss Coin by exploiting him and the Et Decem, with the ambition of monopolizing the financial markets, which would turn him into the most powerful man in the world. It was not enough for him to be part of the top of the pyramid; he wanted to be the pyramidion. The idea was his, and he was never going to share that money or power with anybody. Once he got the Voss Coin plan up and running, he was going to rule the Et Decem. He exploited and killed the Buddha monk, guaranteeing the fifth brigade leadership and taking that seat for himself at the special council. He then set up Steven as bait once they caught wind of his financial treachery. There was one recent detail that saved Kevin’s life; John had failed to know that Steven was no longer alive. That meant that nobody within the tenth brigade knew. Steven received direct orders from John, only possible for members of direct lower rank. If something happened to John, Steven would be in command. Kevin straightened his posture and looked around the room, carefully eyeing the members one by one. He spoke with a booming voice.

  “The traitor is now dead. I’ll command the tenth brigade per our ancient code. From now onwards full transparency will be restored and all resources pooled.”

  He read Steven’s agent ID out loud so that it could be logged that he was now in charge. All the remaining members of the special council nodded in agreement; he’d proven to them that he was more than a capable leader for the tenth brigade. He turned and headed for the staircase.

  34

  Satoshi

  Tears streaked down her smooth, rounded cheeks. Her delicate hands tightly gripped the yacht’s stainless-steel railing while she stared out into the endless blue. She feared for the safety of her husband and her children. Ever since he’d left, she was inconsolable. Her life had turned upside down, she was falling fast into a bottomless pit. She closed her eyes and thought of him. He was her anchor, the only person she could truly count on. She loved him dearly. “Lus.” She heard his distinctive serenading voice. She kept her eyes closed, afraid to return to the reality of the barren open ocean. She dreamed about him constantly. “Lus, baby.” Again she heard him call out to her. She remained frozen, taking deep, salty breaths of the fresh ocean air, letting her imagination run wild. She savored hearing his voice even if it was the product of her imagination.

  She felt a firm hand on her shoulder that twisted her body around. She opened her gleaming, tear-filled eyes.

  “Are you OK, baby, you made me worried. Didn’t you hear me?” Kevin said, concerned.

  She let out a shriek of joy.

  “Oh, thank God you’re back.” She sobbed and hugged him tightly. She could feel his pounding heart, each beat sent vibrations through her chest. It felt like their souls blended into the same body. Their lips instinctively fused together into a warm moist sensation of dedicated love. He whispered in her ear, “It’s over, baby, we’re going home.”

  “BRRING BRRIINGG BRRRING.”

  They were both startled by the sudden ring of his mobile. Kevin glanced at the screen. It was Agent Walker. He let go of her.

  “Baby, I have to take this call. I’ll be back in a minute,” he said gently.

  He composed himself and walked to the other side of the yacht.

  “Hello?” he answered warily.

  “Voss, you made it! Incredible. I can’t believe that you’re still alive,” Walker said in amazement.

  “Walker, I was sure you were dead. Are you OK?” Kevin said.

  “Yeah barely, the paramedics managed to revive me. I’m recovering, but it’ll take a while until I can get back on my feet. Listen, Voss, I think this goes much further than what I originally thought. Carter is gone, but I’m sure there’re more agents working with them. I wanted to warn you.”

  Kevin smiled. He wouldn’t believe the story even if he told him the full truth.

  “Walker, get better fast, we have work to do.”

  “KEVIINNNNNN!” Her sudden scream pierced the tranquil sound of the crashing waves. The panic in her voice sent a cold chill through his body. He instinctively hung up on Walker and sprinted toward the yacht’s bow. He slowed as he neared her, almost retching from fear. Lucy was on her knees at the edge of the bow, facing the open ocean. Tears streamed like a waterfall
across her cheeks and onto the deck, her eyes wide with deathly terror. Her pupils dilated into an empty stare, refusing to fathom reality. A Glock was pressed against her right temple. An assassin wearing black tactical pants, military grade boots, a zip-up jacket, and a balaclava over his face hovered above her.

  “Don’t come any closer or I blow her fucking brains out.”

  Kevin froze, consumed by the unexpected terror.

  Oh, my God, please nooooo. I can’t lose her. What did I miss? Who the fuck is this guy?

  BEEP. BEEP.

  Kevin’s phone beeped twice indicating an incoming message.

  “You better take a look at that,” said the assassin.

  Kevin fumbled in his pocket, his right hand trembling uncontrollably. He gripped the phone with both hands in order to steady the shaking and be able to read the text. It was from Alice:

  THERE IS A LITTLE BIT OF SATOSHI IN EVERYONE ISN’T THERE KEVIN?

  The phone dropped from Kevin’s hands onto the deck with a loud metallic clank. Blindsided by the truth, the price was unbearable.

  “No, please don’t do this. I’m begging you. Oh my God, PLEAAASEEE.”

  The assassin steadied himself and tightened his grip on the Glock, pressing it firmly against Lucy’s temple. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  BANG.

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