Twisted Linen (3 page)

* * *

5

The Prince Spa

The ambient sound of running water echoes
within the lavish Prince Spa in the Parco dei Principi Hotel. It’s
a dimly lit spa-and-pool area within the lower levels of the hotel.
The area is private and hidden from the outside world and reserved
for only the elites’ enjoyment. The ceiling of the spa is covered
with tiny LED lights, like stars flickering in the night sky,
creating a shimmering reflection in the water below.

At this moment there is only one man enjoying
the Prince Spa’s luxurious accommodations, Mr. Yiguan. He is a
plump man, frolicking naked in the water with his two younger
mistresses. The spa is an artificial paradise for Yiguan to
pleasure his flesh, and he doesn’t care that it’s an imitation of
the real thing.

Simon and Grace wait patiently in an
adjoining VIP lounge. There is no “bubbly” being served; this is a
business meeting. Simon sits tensely in a cross-legged position,
his designer shoe bouncing a bit over his knee. The small box of
importance lay open on a teak lounge table separating them from
their Chinese clients.

Simon and Grace watch intently as their
clients inspect the rare item, a tiny porcelain cup adorned by
ancient Chinese artwork. One client is an exquisite Chinese woman,
serving as the translator in this meeting. The second is a
meticulous art expert pointing out the details of the artifact in
hand. They will soon be joined by the third client, Mr. Yiguan, the
boss.

Mr. Yiguan finally ends his antics and wades
over to the pool’s ladder. As he laboriously climbs up the steps,
his mistresses turn toward each other with stifled giggles. After
climbing the ladder, Yiguan covers himself with a waiting robe.
It’s a lavish robe, burgundy in color but certainly not flattering
to his plump appearance. He blots the water from his face using the
long sleeve of the robe as he enters the lounge and approaches the
table where Simon and Grace wait. The Chinese woman and the art
expert assume a firm posture of attention as Yiguan takes his
seat.

The Chinese woman gently utters something in
Mandarin to Yiguan about the tiny cup. The mood is stiff and
awkward as the three Chinese convene. Finally the confirmation
comes in the form of an almost imperceptible head nod from the art
analyst. Mr. Yiguan turns to the Chinese woman and pompously
dictates a statement for translation. Then she conveys the message
to Simon and Grace.

“Mr. Yiguan thanks you for your efforts. You
have proven yourself to be valuable to his needs.”

Simon responds in a business-like manner.

“He is most welcome. Tell him not to sell the
cup for at least two years.”

The woman starts to translate what Simon said
but Yiguan laughs before she gets more than a few words out. It is
obvious Yiguan understands English, and more importantly, he
doesn’t need Simon’s advice on how to hide wealth from a desperate
world. Yiguan interjects and addresses his response to the Chinese
woman. After a pause to find the right words for her translation,
she conveys the message to Simon.

“Mr. Yiguan only liquidates currency, not
genuine stores of wealth.”

Simon and Grace quizzically gaze back at the
Chinese woman. A moment later Grace breaks the awkward silence.
“And the remainder of our agreed payment?” she asks, pushing their
transaction forward.

“Of course,” the woman says as she picks up a
briefcase and lays it on the table.

Grace looks at Simon as if to hint, “This
can't be gold.”

The case is much too small, too light in
weight. Grace opens the case, and as expected, it's full of only
Chinese cash.

“I am sorry, but we specifically agreed on
allocated bullion. Fiat currency is not acceptable.”

Grace closes the case and pushes it slightly
back toward the woman.

“Mr. Yiguan was unable to secure the
remaining gold, so he graciously doubled your payment,” says the
woman, as she gently pushes the case back toward Grace.

Grace asserts, “Our contract was very clear,
so with all due respect...” But before she can finish Yiguan
angrily interjects in broken English.

“Wood yu wrather get pay in dead US
dollar!”

The gravity of Yiguan’s interjection is
obvious to Simon, and he tries to diffuse what may become an
explosive situation.

“May I remind you, we had an agreement and we
delivered on our part of the deal?” he calmly remarks with hands
held out in a manner of peace and respect.

Grace has had enough. She reaches for the cup
and declares, “The deal is off.”

The Chinese woman’s soft face turns deadly as
she snatches a handgun hidden under the tabletop.

“Our deal is closed!” she says, pointing the
compact SIG .45 pistol at Grace.

“Easy…” Simon pleads.

The situation is rapidly unraveling like a
runaway spool of twisted linen. In a calm manner, Simon reaches for
Grace’s arm and slowly stands, gently lifting her to her feet. He
then slides the briefcase off the table and accepts the
payment.

“We thank you,” Simon says with a head nod to
Mr. Yiguan. Then with a nod to the Chinese woman he continues, “And
we will accept your payment.”

Grace is livid and Simon knows it, so he
slightly squeezes her arm, signaling his desire to abort. Grace
responds with narrowed eyes, a clear but nonverbal challenge to his
decision.

Simon turns to offer Mr. Yiguan a final
farewell, closing their transaction with an ancient Chines proverb:
“The emperor may be rich, but it will not buy him one extra
year.”

Mr. Yiguan grows a haughty smile in response,
but it quickly changes into a sneer as he ponders the translation
and then wonders if Simon is mocking him. The proverb proclaims
that your business and money are not the most important things in
life; they are temporal things that will all be left behind at
death and all your wealth, if you could take it with you, would not
buy a single paving stone in the streets of Heaven.

Simon and Grace leave at gunpoint while a
wary Mr. Yiguan reclines in his chair, propping his feet up on the
lounge table.

* * *

6

Fiat Currency

Simon and Grace wait just outside the Prince
Spa for the elevator to arrive. Grace can’t take the silence any
longer.

She prods with a sarcastic question, “The
emperor?”

“
It’s a
Chinese proverb,” Simon responds.
“Given the situation, I
thought it was fitting.”

Grace is obviously not impressed so Simon
tries to ease her frustration.

“We’re going to figure this out,” Simon
assures her.

BING! The elevator door opens and a
frustrated Grace barges in ahead of Simon.

“But this puts our ‘bug-out’ to Tahiti on
hold,” Simon adds.

“Oh, no. We’re going, but you might not get
your yacht.”

Simon sympathizes with Grace’s
disappointment. They took great risk to acquire the precious cup,
and now all they have to show for it is a briefcase full of paper
money. As the world sits today, cash is a depreciating asset. It
can lose half its value in a month, sometimes a week. It became
this way almost overnight following the collapse of the United
States.

Now, simply called
paper
, it must be
spent immediately. Paper is used to pay for things but not for
savings. The difference between paper currency and “money” is that
money serves as a store of value. Currency is just for transacting.
In this new normal, only physical assets are stores of value; they
are real money.

In this double-cross Mr. Yiguan had simply
peddled off a bunch of quickly depreciating
paper
currency
in the form of the cash. When the faith in paper money failed, the
world resorted back to using physical assets as money. Now gold and
silver and other precious artifacts hold their intrinsic value and
serve as money.

Simon tries to console Grace, “Why don’t we
put this cash to work? Find a place to have dinner and rest. Maybe
a pretend bug-out here in Rome.”

Grace doubtfully responds, “You’re willing to
spend it all on one night? All of it on a five star hotel and
dinner?”

“If it’s with you, and it’s what you
want.”

Grace appreciates the gesture, but she knows
there is no point. They need to obtain a significant amount of real
money in order to purchase a yacht and live independently away from
the mainland. They need to find a way to some place safe, some
place self-sustaining, some place remote, just the two of them.
Tahiti sounds as good as any place right now. It’s a long-shot, but
the dream of it keeps them going.

“I have another idea,” says Grace.

“Oh?”

“It was my backup plan, just in case,” she
continues.

“A backup plan?”

“Yep, and now look at us.”

Simon pulls her in close, snuggling her in
his arms.

“That is what I love about you, Grace…you’ve
always got my back.”

Simon kisses Grace on the top of the forehead
and she pulls back to look into his face.

“Let’s make this our last job, Simon. We’re
running out of time.”

Simon nods and seizes the moment to finish
the kiss rushed earlier in the car. It’s a much needed and intimate
moment that relieves the stress of what could have happened in the
spa moments earlier.

The dispassionate
ding
of the elevator
interrupts them, and Simon and Grace begrudgingly separate from
their embrace and step out of the elevator just before its doors
close again.

They make their way through the empty hotel
lobby, toward the exit.

“What’s the job?” Simon quietly inquires.

“A religious artifact of some kind. I don’t
have the details yet.”

Simon is cautious considering the lack of
details and Grace’s haste. Grace senses it and gets to the
point.

“They're offering 49 million in Special
Drawing Rights,” she adds.

That captures Simon’s interest. “They're
paying in SDRs – they must be well connected.”

Special Drawing Rights (SDRs) are the new
currency of choice. It was created by the elite class after the
currency wars, and physical wars destroyed people’s faith in paper
currency. It, too, is simply paper currency, similar to the dead US
dollar and all other dying world currencies, but unlike those, the
SDR holds value from its backing.

When faith was lost in the world’s
currencies, a financial collapse quickly followed. Those in power,
with assets of value, structured a new currency, the SDR, and
backed it with their physical assets: gold, silver, platinum,
palladium, oil, natural gas, and whatever else they agree is a good
store of wealth. That is why the elite trust
paper
SDRs,
because it can be redeemed at any time for the stable value of the
asset backing it.

The doorman opens the lobby door for Grace
and she walks through, followed closely by Simon.

Just over her shoulder, Simon whispers, “You
have my attention.”

Grace continues, “It gets better. I asked for
a 25% deposit up front and in physical.”

“That sounds too good to be true,” Simon says
as he waves down the valet holding his car keys.

“We'll soon find out. They agreed to provide
the deposit at our meeting.”

The valet approaches and hands Simon the car
keys. Simon and Grace separate at the front of car, Simon toward
the driver’s side and Grace toward the passenger side
. Chirp,
chirp!
The car alarm is disabled.

“How’s that going to work?” asks Simon.

“We meet, we agree, they provide the transfer
code, and the bank moves it to our vault.”

Simon’s eyebrows arch with uncertainty.

“I want to know more,” he demands.

* * *

7

A Dual Life

Simon and Grace drive toward the garage where
Grace left her car. Overhead, small remote-controlled drones called
Heaxcopters occasionally pass by. These little flying machines
continuously survey the streets below, monitoring the civilian
population for threats. The mini-drones do their job without
question and without compassion.

The city streets are under constant
surveillance now, and the mini-drones use facial-recognition
technology for real-time tracking of citizens. The drones connect
to the cloud and run imagery through a DD (Deep Learning) database
of neural networks. The technology has done nothing to stop crime,
however, because those behind the surveillance have neither
interest in law and order, nor suppressing crime. They are more
interested in letting the population cull itself through an
insidious and merciless agenda concerning global depopulation.
After the initial phase of self-extermination runs its course, the
next phase in the “great cull” will be enacted: the targeted
removal of the unworthy and resisting.

As Simon scans his surroundings, he prods,
“Who are they?”

“I don't know yet,” Grace replies
matter-of-factly.

“How long have you been in communication with
them?”

“Since yesterday. The job request came over
the wire yesterday and I jumped on it.”

Simon is very suspicious. “Really? Well, I
want to talk about it more when I get home tonight.”

Grace finds it irritating that Simon has some
place more important to be. What could be more important than
getting the money they need to buy a yacht and flee Rome?

“Where are you going?” she asks in
frustration.

Simon pulls a hard right turn into the
subterranean parking garage and responds, “I've got to meet with
Genovi.”