Bad Luck Black Money (27 page)

Chapt
er 39

Prince Nalaheb Naheer, son of King Jaheal Naheer, brother of Prince Abdul Naheer, nervously waited in the lobby of Pluto Moon Technologies. He had told the receptionist that he urgently needed to see Mr. Milton Hopenhammer on an urgent matter concerning his son. The cute, little receptionist, who wore a short, revealing, red dress, assured him the message would reach the president's desk. He took a seat.

Used to wearing the traditional, flowing robes of the Middle East, Prince Nalaheb found the silk tie of his Western business suit a pain in the neck, literally. As he loosened the tie, he noticed that his shirt was getting sticky from nervous sweat. His brother, Prince Abdul, was better in dealing with people, but this part of the plan had fallen upon his narrow shoulders.... The pathway to heaven wasn't supposed to be easy.

It wasn't long before the cute, blonde receptionist sashayed over to Prince Nalaheb, and then led him up to Boss's office. The receptionist walked a couple of paces ahead of Prince Nalaheb, inadvertently giving him an up close view of her perfect ass. Nalaheb was of two minds. An uncovered female working along side of men theologically repulsed him, especially while dressed like a whore. But he did enjoy watching her butt cheeks fight each other like two dodge balls trapped inside of a popcorn popper.

"Knock, knock," rapped the receptionist upon Boss's door with one of her small, manicured hands as the other slowly pushed it open. "Boss, this is Prince Nalaheb."

"Prince Nalaheb!" exclaimed Boss as he walked over to the prince and hugged him. "Any son of King Jaheal is like a son of mine."

Prince Nalaheb was in a near state of shock at Boss's greeting. He was expecting a cool, calculating businessman and here the man was acting like his long lost friend.

Glancing around the spacious office, he saw the beds and obvious sexual contraptions hanging from the ceiling. Nalaheb also got one last look at the receptionist's ass as she left, closing the door behind her behind. It was clear that this infidel was a spoiled hedonist, just like every other American.

"How is King Jaheal doing?" asked Boss.

"... He is... well," Prince Nalaheb answered hesitantly. "How do you know his Majesty?"

"We're good friends. We met earlier this year and just hit it off. Which son did you say, you were?"

Prince Nalaheb was shaken. This man knew his father better than he did. This turn of events jeopardized the mission. "I'm Prince Nalaheb Naheer. My mother, Jasmine, is one of the king's royal wives.... Uhm, I need to make a phone call. I had to leave my phone at the guard station. May I use a phone?"

"Yes, of course," said Boss. He went to his desk, pulled open a drawer, and dug out a cell phone. "Here, use mine," Boss said as he tossed it to Nalaheb, who somehow managed to catch it after batting it around in the air a few times.

"I'm going out into the hallway for a moment, if that's alright with you?" asked Prince Nalaheb.

"Sure, take your time," answered Boss, as he plopped down in a chair behind his desk.

When Prince Nalaheb was out of the door, Boss smiled at the Prince's naiveté. Did he really think that he could make a private call on a phone belonging to P.M.T.?

Boss tapped awake his computer and released a program which would translate and transcribe Nalaheb's conversation. Boss put his feet up on the desk and waited for the prince's phone call to dance across his screen in real time.

"Yes," answered Prince Abdul.

"We have a problem, brother."

"And what might that be?"

"Hopenhammer knows our father. He knows him better than we do. We are dead!"

"Calm down, Nalaheb. This changes nothing. Proceed with the plan."

"Abdul, don't you understand? Hopenhammer makes one call to his Majesty, and father will have us beheaded!"

"... We knew the risks before we started this. It's too late to back out now. Do your job."

"I didn't sign up for a beheading! Fuck you, and fuck the plan. I am leaving."

"Nalaheb, my brother, were do you plan on fleeing to? The Amazon jungle? A deserted island in the South Pacific? Wherever you go, they will find you and kill you.

Do you think these terrorists are playing? When they track you down, they'll use a rusty knife to slowly saw your head off. Ask yourself, will that be better than a quick swing of a sharp sword by the king's executioner?"

"Abdul, you are frightening me."

"Remember your reward in heaven if you die a martyr for the cause. Endless virgins, rivers of milk and honey, life everlasting. You should be so lucky as to die."

"They will come for you, too."

"Let them, my brother. I welcome release from this world. I have had too many women, drank too much wine, and sang too many songs. Life is becoming more of a chore than a pleasure.... I welcome the sweet release of death."

"Good for you, Abdul. But I like living. I don't want to die."

"Who says it will come to that? We are not going to hurt Hopenhammer. We are actually helping him, when you think about it.

Through us, he will be reunited with his long lost son. And if that wasn't enough, I've arranged for the hottest nurse in all of Russia to sex him up. It will be like a grand vacation for him, and all he has to do is give us the Day-2-Night Scrambler."

"I don't think it will be that easy," Prince Nalaheb worried aloud.

"Don't think. Just do," Abdul said, as he hung up the phone.

Rather than analyze the situation to death, Boss acted on his gut feelings and fired off a series of rapid emails to his security force. It was one hell of a time to be in transition between security chiefs. Major Elliot was the interim leader of his security team. Boss didn't doubt the man's ability, but he'd still have felt better with Sarge in charge or even Karen Sculley.

Before Prince Nalaheb had a chance to re-enter the room. Boss picked up a hardline phone and called Milton, who answered on the first ring.

"Hello, Father," spoke Milton.

"Listen, son," said Boss, while frantically typing on his computer. "I don't have much time. I'm going to be away from the office for a few days, and your mother is on some freaking tropical island somewhere, so I need for you to run Pluto Moon Technologies for awhile."

"Wow, I'm honored, Dad."

"Don't make any drastic changes. Don't try to impress me. You already have."

"Thank, you, Father. I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything. The paperwork you need to secure corporate power is in the bottom drawer of my desk at home. I've got to run. Goodbye."

Boss was going to play along with Prince Nalaheb and see where the fool would lead him.

Prince Nalaheb decided that it was time to take the bull by the horns. He marched into Boss's office, pointed a bony finger in Boss's face, and said, "We have your son."

"I don't think so," replied Boss, rocking back and forth in his executive chair.

For a moment, Nalaheb was dazed and confused. "... Yes, we do. He is safe in my family's desert compound. But if you want to see him alive again, you will hand over the Day-2-Night Scrambler, and come with me."

"How do you know about the scrambler? It's classified, top secret."

"We have our ways," proudly stated Prince Nalaheb.

"Let me take a wild guess. The guy, who worked on that project, who talks like you and looks like you and has the same religion as you, ... he's the mole. Everyone says to not judge a book by its cover, but ninety-nine percent of the time, you can."

"I do not care about your human resources problems," whined Nalaheb, who was becoming more frazzled by the minute. "Do you want your son to live or die?"

"Well, which son are you talking about? I have more than one."

"Milton Van Hopenhammer, Junior! Your namesake!"

"... Yeah, he's not really my favorite. How about you keep him? I haven't talked to him in like twenty years."

Prince Nalaheb sunk down into a chair. He didn't know what to do or say. And he was visibly shaking.

"I'm just fucking with you. Of course, I want my kid returned in one piece....

Look, I'm going to have R&D bring over the prototype. Is that cool with you, Prince Nalaheb?"

"... Uh ... I ... I think so. But we need you to come show us how to work it and how to make more of them.... Is that permissible?"

"Not really," said Boss. He got up and then helped Nalaheb up, since he seemed to be rooted to the spot. "But hey, you're the kidnapper, right? I have no say in the matter."

"... Yes, yes, if you say so," answered Nalaheb, who followed Boss out the door and down the hall to the elevator.

"Demonstrating the D2NS will be simple enough," Boss said, as he pressed the down button. "Making copies is a little trickier. We're not just dealing with terabytes of data. We're talking about replicating some state-of-the-art hardware, too."

"I ... see," lied Prince Nalaheb, who couldn't follow what Boss was talking about.

They stood around in uncomfortable silence in the lobby until Major Elliot came in through one of the side doors, pulling a suitcase-sized device on wheels behind him. Handcuffs locked the Major to the device.

"Boss, sir, here is the D2NS that you requested," said Major Elliot, freeing his wrist from the restraint.

"Very good," Boss replied.

"I need you to sign off on the transfer, sir."

"Of course," Boss said, as he took an electronic tablet and stylus from the Major and began writing.

Elliot stepped in-between Boss and Nalaheb, then began talking to the Prince. While he was making small talk, he effectively blocked Nalaheb's view of the tablet, allowing Boss to write orders in private.

After handing the tablet back to Elliot, Boss pulled the case behind him and walked outside with Prince Nalaheb right on his heels. A golden limousine pulled up beside them and a hulking, bearded man jumped out to open the limo's back door. The bearded chauffeur popped open the trunk and reached for the Day-2-Night Scrambler.

"Wait, one second," ordered Boss. "That's a delicate piece of equipment. You break it or let it bounce around in the trunk, that's on your head not mine."

"Idiot!" Prince Nalaheb scolded the big manservant. "It goes in the back with us."

"Yes, Prince Nalaheb," said the large chauffeur. "I humbly apologize."

Chapt
er 40

While on their way to a private landing strip, Prince Nalaheb wanted to learn more about the machine, which he'd broken countless U.S. laws to acquire. Boss explained that what made the Day-2-Night Scrambler so valuable was its ability to foil all attempts at interception of communications. The D2NS could send a message anywhere in the world and neither the NSA nor any of its flunky agencies had the ability to trace its origins. Basically, it greatly reduced the threat of dying in drone strikes.

The gold limousine pulled up beside a customized Boeing 747 with Arabic lettering on it. Prince Nalaheb and Boss entered the plane with the chauffeur gently carrying the heavy D2NS behind them. The interior of the airplane was fit for a king, since it belonged to Prince Nalaheb's father, who was a king. Boss was thinking how garish and ostentatious everything looked when he spotted a tall, blonde goddess in an old-timey, short, nurse's uniform.

"This is Svetlana. You will be in her care for the duration of your stay with us. Don't be worried; she is clean. She hasn't lain with a man in over two years. Please, go with her to your cabin in the rear of the plane."

Boss had to make a swift decision. The D2NS was being secured with nylon straps to a chair, which was bolted to the fuselage. He could run over to it, press three buttons simultaneously and out would spring two, .45 caliber, semi-automatic pistols with extended clips.

He thought that it would be great sport to shoot everyone on the plane in the head. (He'd been practicing his shooting to impress Karen and had become an excellent marksman.) But then again... Svetlana was hotter than hell on a Sunday morning. And he did want to find out if King Jaheal had a hand in any part of this. So, he followed the gorgeous nurse to the back of the plane, which was decked out like a flying, furnished apartment.

"Take off your clothes, please," ordered Svetlana.

"Say again?" Boss said, who couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

"Your clothes, take them all off."

"And why should I do that?"

"Because we cannot leave runway, until I've done thorough examination of your person for tracking devices."

The thought of getting naked in front of the beautiful Russian was not an unpleasant one. But Boss wasn't used to taking orders. It rubbed him the wrong way.

Then Boss asked, "What if I refuse?"

"Then I'll make you," Svetlana stated. She moved close to Boss, almost touched her nose to his and said, "I was in Spetsnaz, Russian Special Forces. I am bigger than you. I can beat you, easy. You want fight?"

"... No, that won't be necessary," responded Boss. He noticed for the first time that Svetlana was almost four inches taller than him and had the ripped body of a workout fanatic. A vision of mounting the giant, Russian Amazon sent a tingling sensation running down his leg.

"Are you shy?" Svetlana asked, as she took the initiative and began unfastening the buttons on his shirt.

"Not really."

"We'll have more fun if you are shy.... I will ask again.... Are you shy?"

"... Yes, I'm terribly shy."

"Then Svetlana will be extra gentle, sweet pie," she said. Slowly she worked her fingers over every inch of his exposed chest, occasionally, kissing and nipping at his skin.

When thoughts of Esmerelda entered his mind, Boss had to suppress feelings of guilt. He rationalized that it wasn't really like he was cheating behind her back. Although he was enjoying Svetlana's attentions, technically, he was being raped. Everybody knew that rape wasn't sex; it's violence. While his logic was self-serving, it eased his conscious enough to feel thrills when Svetlana twisted his nipples.

The Russian nurse took off Boss's shoes and socks and mused, "Is it not more better to have beautiful woman doing this to you than gay, airport security, homosexual?"

"I've never been subjected to airport screenings. That's for the cattle. They need to be kept in their place, and the strong hand of the T.S.A. reminds them of how pathetic and helpless they are.... I'm not one of the herd; I'm a man."

Svetlana took her time unbuckling Boss's belt and taking down his slacks. She casually let her hand brush against his new, improved manhood inside his shorts and said, "And what a man you are. Or maybe, you are demigod?"

"Drop the 'demi' and you'd be correct."

"I have never had a god inside of me before. You make demigod baby with me, yes?" asked Svetlana as she yanked his boxers to the floor.

He wanted to say something clever and pretend it wasn't any big deal to be standing buck-naked in front of the exquisitely beautiful Svetlana. But words refused to come into his mind or out of his mouth. Boss stood still as blood rushed to his cheeks and penis.

"Oh, ha ha, you really are shy," teased Svetlana as she dropped to her knees and began feeling his left calf muscle, slowly working her way up his leg.

"It is sweet that you embarrass so easy," Svetlana said, while massaging his lower thigh and creeping, ever so slowly, higher. "Do you know what this is called?"

Boss cleared his throat and responded, "I don't know. Intense massage?"

"No, silly. It is called CFNM, covered female nude male. I see on Internet. Men like this, yes?"

"Ummm... I... uh," Boss managed to mumble, before Svetlana grabbed him by the testicles. Then he had to concentrate on breathing and controlling the volume of his involuntary groans and grunts. Somehow, he managed not to accidentally splouge like a fourteen-year-old, virgin boy feeling a breast for the first time.

"That was not so bad, yes?" asked Svetlana.

"It was definitely an experience that I'll never forget," said Boss reaching for his underwear lying on the carpeted floor.

"Nyet!" snapped Svetlana, as she stomped down on Boss's boxers with one of her white, high-heeled shoes.

Boss stood up straight and looked at the nurse's face, which had a devious smile upon it.

"You think my examination over?" Svetlana asked. "Shame on you. We have not yet searched your hiney."

"Whoa!" exclaimed Boss. "I'm kind of freaky, but not butt-stuff freaky. You need to back off, now."

"Shhhh," whispered Svetlana with one of her long fingers pressed against her bright red lips. "Let me tell you a secret."

Svetlana pressed her hard body, hard against Boss's nakedness. She rested her head on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "If you do not stop being bad, little boy then I tell camel jockeys about your box. I bet it sends signal to satellite. They will be much angry, yes? Now, bend over side of bed and spread legs wide apart. We have more fun now, yes?"

There wasn't any way out. His hornyness had gotten him into this predicament. And now, a Russian Amazon was about to go wrist deep up his poop shoot. Still, all in all, it was better than breaking rocks underneath a hot, summer sun.

"You are butt virgin?" Svetlana asked, as she pulled a pair of latex gloves from a drawer.

"Not exactly," answered Boss, who was trying hard to act cool and not spaz out.

"Not... exactly..." repeated Svetlana, while pulling up a glove, which snapped tightly against her wrist when she let go of it. "What means, 'not exactly'? Your wife, she put fingers up there?"

"No."

"Only when doctor feels your prostate, yes?"

"... Yes."

"I see," Svetlana said as the other glove tightened around her hand. "Then you never had prostate massage, nyet?"

"Nyet," answered Boss, watching as his nurse picked up a jar of lubricant and then pulled a condom from a box. "What, what is the condom for?"

"You do not listen very good. Do you, sweet pie?" said Svetlana, as she leaned over the other side of the bed to look Boss in the face. "You will give me, baby. Maybe, I am not ovulating today. You will fill condom. I put in medical cooler for later, just in case, yes?

Since you are butt virgin, I explain it to you. During prostate massage, the man, he ejaculates. No shame, all men have to. It is inevitable, like volcano erupting.

... You are ready, yes?"

There was nothing he could say, so he said nothing. Boss felt like a wild-eyed dog on a veterinarian’s, stainless steel, examination table.

He remembered a quote from Onassis: "If you're going to get raped, you might as well enjoy it."