“I left the USA for a period of time when I was a teenager and spent time in Europe. While there, I had my name legally changed. When the war in Europe interrupted my stay, I moved to England, and eventually returned to the USA in 1941.”
He handed the passports over to Gamble, along with the papers that legally changed his name. Canaris was really clever and had forged the stamps of France and England as well as the USA on the passports. They verified the dates that Walter gave the agents.
“At the time, it seemed appropriate to change my name,” Pierce added as Gamble accepted the documents. Pierce watched Gamble study the papers.
Pierce realized the FBI had connected him with Banyon, and that was why they were there. He needed to stall their investigation for just a little while longer. He thought telling the truth was the best route to that. The voices in his head agreed.
“Do you know a Colton Banyon?” The question did not catch Pierce off balance.
“I know of him, but I’ve not seen him since he became a man,” Pierce replied coolly.
“Can you explain that?”
“He was born in this area too,” he replied. “We’re a small community here, especially in the winter. His family is well known, and Mr. Banyon used to work at the restaurant I owned right here on this very spot.”
“All right, fair enough,” Gamble noted. “But can you tell us why you’re having people meet with Mr. Banyon this morning in Chicago?”
“Of course,” Pierce quickly replied as he collected the new information from the agent. “There are two reasons for the meeting. One is to get a copy of Banyon’s view on the future of retailing, and the other is to see if he can identify a picture of someone I believe he knows.”
“And why are these important?” Gamble asked suspiciously.
“On Tuesday, Mr. Banyon is interviewing for a position in one of my companies, although he doesn’t know I own it yet. I wanted to get his viewpoint before the interview, so I would be able to ask pertinent questions. The recruiter I hired to find a new president for my company presented me with several candidates. Banyon was one of them. When I heard his name as a possible candidate for my opening, I decided to jump-start his interview. He could be the one I seek.”
“Actually, I do know he’s planning to be in Manhattan for a job interview on Tuesday.” Clearly, Gamble was fishing.
“At the Hilton,” Pierce filled in.
Changing topics Gamble asked. “Is this the picture your associate will show Banyon tomorrow?” He handed Pierce the picture.
“Why, yes,” the old man exclaimed. “How did you get a copy?”
Gamble ignored the question. “Care to explain why you want him to look at a picture so badly.”
“That is even less complex. I found that picture maybe six years ago when I was cleaning out some materials from my old restaurant. I actually found several pictures, and as amusement I’ve returned them all to my former employees. They all sent me back letters with current pictures of their families. It gives me great pleasure to discover how my old employees are doing. This one picture could not be identified. No one named Lorenzo was in any yearbooks or local school materials for Westhampton. I can show you more pictures if you want?”
Gamble wasn’t buying Peirce’s story. “How is it that you came to hire Joe Kroll then?”
“Who?”
“Joe Kroll, the man you hired to find Colton Banyon.”
“Never heard of him,” Walter Pierce said with a shake of his head.
“Then whom did you hire?”
“I hope I’m not in trouble,” he suddenly said with concern. “There was a fingerprint on the picture. I didn’t know it was Banyon’s. I thought it was Lorenzo’s. I placed many ads in magazines to see if someone could identify the print. You know, mercenary magazines — they all promise their readers to find people. Anyway, Michael Dean, that’s his name, Michael Dean answered the ad, and told me he could find the person whose fingerprint was on the picture. Since I didn’t hear from him, I figured he’d just taken my money. Then he suddenly called after a year and said he knew to whom the print belonged. Amazingly it belonged to Colton Banyon. It’s been another year since then. Dean did not make contact with Banyon, so I contacted Banyon myself and set up the meeting. You know, kill two birds with one stone. Have I done something wrong?”
“How well do you know Michael Dean?”
“Just by talking to him on the phone — is this about him?”
“All right, just one more question. Do you know where the picture was taken?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do. It was taken on my land near the high point.”
Gamble reserved the most important question for the end of the interview. “Do you know why that marker is in the background of the picture?” he pointed to the metal stake in the picture.
“No, not really,” the old man replied with a smile “Maybe it’s the marker for Captain Kidd’s treasure.”
Chapter Fifty
That same morning, Teddy parked in Dean’s driveway at 10:00 a.m. and entered the house through the backdoor. Dean was seated at the small table in the kitchen, and didn’t even bother to look up. Teddy went straight to the refrigerator and got out a beer. Michael Dean always kept it stocked with cold beer. He allowed his friends to get drunk so he could manipulate them and plant seeds in their dysfunctional brains.
“Michael, we have to talk,” Teddy started as he sat down at the kitchen table, and took a long pull on his bottled beer.
“I’m listening,” Dean said with disinterest.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night, and I think we’re being set up. We can’t trust Joe Kroll.”
“You’re telling me? Remember, I was in the military with him,” Dean replied. “I’ll bet he has some nasty plan to get rid of all of us as soon as he doesn’t need us anymore. There are a lot of guys out there who would like our positions in the church.”
“You could be right about that,” Teddy agreed as he pointed his beer bottle at Dean. “Got any idea where and when he’ll try?”
“It’ll probably happen in the woods, right after we finish digging up the tablet,” Dean said as he planted the thought.
“Yeah, that’s what I’d do,” Teddy responded, and finished his beer with a belch. “What are we going to do about it?”
Dean was ready with his answer. “We need to make certain we have some extra guns for protection when we get to Long Island.”
“How are we going to do that? If we carry extra guns, Joe will notice them,” Teddy asked as he headed back towards the refrigerator.
“Let me worry about getting some extra guns,” Dean replied.
“Okay, but how you gonna get them?”
“Teddy, you forget that I was stationed in New Jersey for a while when I was in the army. I made a few friends there — I’m going to call them and make some arrangements.”
“Okay, well count me in then,” Teddy said in between gulps.
“Don’t tell the other guys yet,” Dean said with an evil smile on his face. “We’ll let them know when we figure out how many guns we will have.”
“Yeah, it would be a shame if some of them got caught in the cross-fire.” Teddy said as he finished his second beer.
***
Officer Lopez was one of the two policemen sent by Heinz to watch Dean’s house the night before. He and his partner were drinking coffee in their unmarked patrol car around 10:00 a.m. when he noticed Teddy’s car entering the driveway of Dean’s home. He immediately reported it to the station house, and was told to personally call Detective Heinz. He was told that Heinz was already on a stakeout at the Marriott, but was available on his cell phone.
“Chief, this is Officer Lopez. We’re at the stakeout at the Dean house, and there appears to be someone home. Also visitor just arrived.”
“Dean’s in his house?” Heinz was at least happy that someone knew where he was located, but that had not been the instructions. “You
’re just calling me now?”
“He must have slipped in late last night, sir. It must have been after we left.”
“When did you leave last night officer?” Heinz demanded.
“Sir, we were here until 3:00 a.m. and no one came by so we went home for a few hours of shuteye.”
“When did you return to the stakeout?”
“We returned around 8:00 a.m. I thought you told us that Dean was away in Wisconsin.”
“I told you to stay at the house until relieved. Maybe that wasn’t clear enough,” Heinz said angrily.
Lopez paused. He wasn’t accustomed to Heinz chewing him out. None of the other officers would be prepared for it either. “Do you have any instructions? He’s one of us.”
“Lopez, listen to me carefully, and always do what I tell you. If you have any questions, you should ask them right away, not when it is convenient. Got it?” Heinz wanted to rant more, but in truth, he had forgotten to send relief.
“Yes, sir.”
“Listen, Michael Dean’s been implicated in several crimes, and is now considered armed and very dangerous. I need to know his movements and who he meets. Can one of you get close enough to hear what he’s saying? Make sure you identify the visitor too.”
“I think we’ll call the station and get a mike out here. The FBI must have someone there to man it. The station’s only five minutes away.”
“Do it, and don’t call me back. I’m undercover right now. Use your judgment, and I’ll call you when I’m done here.”
“Okay, Chief.”
Lopez hung up the phone before Heinz could tell him to not call him chief.
Chapter Fifty-One
Colton Banyon was scheduled to meet Agent Loni Chen at the police station around nine o’clock. From there they would drive to the rendezvous to meet Judy Kroll at the Marriott. Earlier, Banyon had gone back to his home to change clothes, and to print out an outline of a speech he had made about retailing. He also grabbed two high school yearbooks.
The twins dropped Colt at the station door. After parking, they went inside to check out Agent Chen’s outfit. She was dressed in a severe business suit in pink with a white camisole top. She wore a not-too-short skirt. Her hair was all rolled up into a bun, and she wore glasses. The twins approved, but did comment to Banyon that pink was not Agent Chen’s best color.
They watched with great concern as Agent Chen attached a mike to Banyon’s chest, ready to take over if she showed any attempt to fondle their toy. Agent Chen was stoic, and said nothing even when the Patel twins joked with her. When the procedure was complete, they were all smiles and decided to go out for breakfast as Banyon and Agent Chen left the building.
Agent Chen had arranged for an unmarked police car. Banyon couldn’t help but notice her shapely legs as she hiked up her skirt to allow for better leg movement as she settled into the seat.
“Loni, you look very nice today,” he said as a compliment.
“I’m seeing someone,” she replied tersely without looking at him.
“I know that; you and Carl make a great couple,” he responded. “Maybe when this is over, we can be friends.”
She looked at him strangely. “Why would you want to be friends with me?” She seemed stunned by the remark. “What do you want from me? I told you I was taken.”
Banyon laughed, he was in a good mood. “You can never have enough friends. My gut tells me you’re a very honorable person and clearly intelligent. Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with you? Don’t worry, I’m not after your body, and besides, you are too young for me anyway. I just thought you might like to have a friend who didn’t have any demands on you other than to know you. I do have experience with Chinese women, you know.”
“I’m not Chinese. I’m a second-generation American, born in Hawaii of Chinese parents,” she said officially and sternly. “I don’t make friends easily.” The way she answered him bothered Banyon.
“Forgive me for saying this, Agent Chen, but I’m trying to be your friend,” he said with a little annoyance in his tone. “You seem to have a huge chip on your shoulder. I used to have one too. Finally I decided it was better to treat people at face value and accept what happens. If someone betrays me, I see it as their loss, not mine.”
“It’s different for you. You’re older and have done many things. I haven’t accomplished anything in my life yet. I have no right to expect people to treat me as a friend.”
“Why would you say that? You are very bright, attractive, clearly in good shape, and you are an agent with the Illinois state police. I think those are wonderful accomplishments.”
“Are you trying to flirt with me by complimenting me? I really don’t know,” she said questioning his motivations.
“Wow, you are really a hard one to get to know,” he replied, and looked out the window.
“What about the flirting thing?”
“Actually, I like to make people feel comfortable around me. If flirting does that, I’m happy to oblige. Like I said, I have no expectations. My life has been full for a long time; ever since I realized the only one to control my life should be me. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to understand motivations in people, and my instincts are pretty good. You would be a good friend if you could get past the lumber on your shoulder.”
“Do you always make so much sense?” It came out as a whine.
“Only to my friends,” he quickly replied.
She said nothing for a long time, and then blurted out, “I have this problem of always jumping into a task to beat everyone else. It’s inbred. It has gotten me into trouble in the past. How do I fix that?” She asked it like she was looking for a formula.
“You’re a compulsive person. I’m one myself,” Colt said. “We have to learn to channel our compulsions to achieve longer-term goals. I can help you. Being compulsive probably has to do with your background. Want to talk about it?”
“Are you going to psychoanalyze me now?”
“There is a reason why you are so compulsive. There is always a reason. It usually is something that goes back to your childhood.”
“My parents wanted a boy,” she quickly replied.
“Maybe that’s why you are so reckless. You want to prove that you’re as good as a man,” Banyon said.
***
They reached the hotel and left the car in the lot. Their conversation had stopped as they neared their destination. On the way in, Agent Chen suddenly thrust out her small arm to halt Banyon in his tracks. It happened just outside the building.
“You can call me Loni,” she said officially.
“And you can call me Colt,” he responded.
“Okay, I’m going to be your friend. But let me warn you, I’m very high maintenance and I might embarrass you on occasion,” she said with a smile.
Colt replied, “What real woman isn’t high maintenance?”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Pierce’s doorbell rang for the second time in less than an hour. The voice at the gate told Walter his car had arrived. Pierce opened the gate and instructed the driver to drive up to the house. Pierce was starting his new adventure. He would begin it with a trip to his lawyer’s office. He hoped his lawyer was prepared.
Pierce had enjoyed the three FBI agents who left his house ten minutes ago. They were so polite and correct, often addressing him as sir. It must take a special person to do that work, he thought. The FBI took the letters that he had written to his former employees and seemed to believe Pierce’s story about Michael Dean. Pierce thought that it was easy to stay one step ahead of everyone. All it took was good planning.
***
Walter Pierce arrived at his lawyer’s office. Trent Rogers had been Pierce’s personal lawyer for over forty years. The lawyer greeted him at the door.
“Walter, you look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?” He said with concern.
“Too much sex — you know how it goes.” Pierce said with a smile. He was being cagey.
Trent Ro
gers knew him well. “What I mean is you are changing everything. You’ve changed your will; you’ve virtually giving your companies to your employees, and you’re suddenly more generous than you have ever been. Either you’ve suddenly found religion, or some bug has found you. Which is it?”
“Trent, I’m not dead yet. I’m just taking some precautions. I have a few surprises for you too,” Pierce said with a Cheshire smile. “Is everything ready?”
“Yes, of course. We’re set up in the conference room, just as you requested. It’ll be just you, me, and the tape recorder. Shall we reconvene there?” Trent Rogers waved his arm to show Pierce the way.
They walked down the hall to the conference room. The decoration of the office was comfortable and well-appointed. Laid out on the table were all the papers Rogers had prepared for Pierce to sign. He did this without reading the details. What would be the point? Rogers had been his close associate for many years, and he believed Rogers would not attempt to fool Pierce. There was honor and friendship at stake.
Finished with the legal papers, Pierce prepared himself, taking out some notes and papers from his briefcase. He also lined up all his medals in front of him. He handed the surprised Rogers a recorded tape.
“I recorded my life up to 1930 last night. Please make sure that it is included.” Rogers nodded yes.
Pierce then indicated for Rogers to start the recording device.
Part Seven
Walter Pierce
Chapter Fifty-Three
“My name is Walter Pierce, long-time resident of Westhampton, New York, and this is my story.
“For more than sixty years, I have been living a lie. Walter Pierce is an assumed name which was given to me by the Abwehr back in 1936. I am and have been a spy for the former Nazi German government. I am, however, an American citizen, and born on American soil. My real name is Wolfgang Becker II.”
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