Colton Banyon Mysteries 1-3: Colton Banyon Mysteries (Colton Banyon Mystery Book 20)

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “Anywhere, anytime, Chief.” She said with a broad smile.

  “Don’t call me Chief,” he blustered and immediately apologized for his outburst. “I’m sorry Loni, but I’m not the Chief.”

  “Anywhere, anytime, Carl,” she replied and batted her eyes.

  “Good, we’ll make up later then,” he mumbled. “Hey, are you very busy right now? I need your expertise.”

  “I’m always going to be available for you Carl,” she replied in a provocative voice. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, right now I need to find out how Seith Paul managed to get a cell phone into the lockup out back and who he was calling. Can you do that?”

  “In a heartbeat,” she replied excitedly. “I will also find out who the phone is registered to and do a background check on them as well. How about I meet you in your office in about an hour? Is that alright with you?”

  “Looking forward to it,” he blithered. I don’t think I’m real good at intimate small talk, he decided as he went towards his office. I hope she got the message.

  The phone was ringing as Heinz entered his office. It was Patrolman Lopez. He recapped what he had discovered.

  “We followed Dean to the Schaumburg Airport, where he and four others took off in a private plane headed for Long Island — destination is the Francis.S. Gabreski Airport. It’s located just outside Westhampton Beach, New York. According to the flight plan, they are scheduled to land there in two hours and six minutes.”

  “Good work,” Heinz complimented his officer. “That’s exactly where we thought he was going. Anything else to report?”

  “We met up with two FBI guys here at the airport. They were tailing two other gang members. Joe Kroll and three friends got on the private plane along with Dean. The agents think they may have smuggled handguns aboard.”

  “I wonder who is meeting them in New York?” Heinz said out loud as he rubbed his chin and decided he needed a shave.

  “Sir, I checked,” his officer said. “They also rented a van in Westhampton. I have the information. What do you want me to do now?”

  “Okay, return to the station for a new assignment.”

  “Yes, sir. What should I tell the FBI agents?”

  “Can you put one of the FBI agents on the phone?”

  “Yes, sir. They are both right here.”

  “Hello, Agent Krist here,” came the new voice from the phone.

  “Agent Krist, this is Detective Heinz. When you reported in, did you get any further instructions from Agent Gamble?”

  “I haven’t called him yet,” the agent replied sheepishly.

  “Why not?” Heinz asked in surprise.

  “I wanted to lock up all the loose ends here first,” Agent Krist explained. “I will call Agent Gamble after this call. He’s in the area where the plane is headed.”

  “After you do that, what is your next move?” Heinz was searching for information. He believed the FBI would shut him out if they could.

  “My instructions are that we’re to get ready to raid the church in Aurora, probably tomorrow,” the agent told Heinz.

  “Good. Tell Agent Gamble that I’m coming out there. One of those men is a cop from my department. I want first crack at him?”

  “I’ll tell him, but he won’t like it. This is FBI jurisdiction.”

  “Just tell him I’ll speak to him in person when I get there.”

  ***

  About an hour later, Loni entered Heinz’s office along with Agent Krist who had returned from the field. She handed him a sheet of paper. It listed all the calls made by Paul, the actual owner of the confiscated phone, and the list of the phone numbers that were called. There were six calls to Billy Brown, three calls to the station house switchboard, one to a bank offshore, and one more call. Heinz stared at the name in amazement. It was to Walter Pierce’s cell phone.

  “What the hell is going on here?” He roared. “Everyone is talking to Walter Pierce,” Heinz yelled out.

  Loni suggested he call Billy Brown and find out what he had to say. Heinz dialed the number, and Brown answered on the first ring. He put the call on speakerphone.

  “Billy, this is Detective Heinz from the Streamwood Police Department. We have put a statewide APB out on you. It would be best if you came in voluntarily to discuss your role with the Woods gang.”

  “Nice try, Heinz,” Brown replied. “For your information, I’m already out of Chicago, and not coming back. You do what you want with Seith Paul — the sleazebag deserves it.” There was a sharp click.

  “He’s on the run,” Loni said and nodded her head.

  “We’ll probably never find Brown,” Heinz said to the others in the room. “My hunch is he cleaned out some bank accounts. Maybe even some of Paul’s accounts, and is heading to someplace warm. What do you think?”

  “I agree,” said Agent Krist. “But I’m really confused about this call to Pierce. How does Paul know him? And how did he get the number?”

  “Hmm,” Loni let out.

  Before Heinz could answer, the phone rang again. He put the call on speaker.

  “Gamble here,” the burly agent rumbled.

  “Good thing you called,” Heinz said. He proceeded to fill him in on what they had learned from the cell phone.

  “That’s interesting,” the agent replied. “But right now I’ve got a bigger problem. Pierce may be in big trouble. The Kroll gang will be here in about an hour, and they might try to contact Pierce and take whatever it is that Pierce is hiding. I don’t know what Pierce’s game is yet, but I don’t want him hurt. We know these guys are not nice.”

  Heinz suggested calling his cell phone to tell him that the gang would be early.

  “I’ve tried the number he gave me, but it has been disconnected. We can’t even track him,” the agent lamented.

  “I bet he gave you a wrong number so you couldn’t track him down,” Loni quickly said.

  “You could be right about that. He seems to be a rather clever old coot,” Agent Gamble drawled back.

  “I have his real number right here,” Heinz said as Loni handed him the digits on a piece of paper. “Why don’t you call this number?”

  “Hmmm, good idea. Give it to me.”

  ***

  Gamble was angry with Pierce but decided to not let him know it. He dialed the new number and spoke. “Walter Pierce, please.”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “This is Special Agent Gamble from the FBI. We met this morning. Do you remember me?” He spoke calmly.

  “Of course, Agent Gamble,” Pierce replied. “But, tell me, how did you get my … never mind — you are the FBI, after all.”

  “Right. Have you recently spoken to a lawyer named Seith Paul?” Gamble was trying to get Pierce off guard.

  “I don’t know any Seith Paul. The only unknown call I received today was from a reporter with some rag newspaper. He wanted an interview. Of course, I declined.”

  “I see,” said Gamble, somewhat confused. “Mr. Pierce, where are you? We went back to your house, and found you were gone.”

  “I have urgent business around town, my friend. Don’t bother to stake out my house. I won’t be home tonight. And by the way, when I bought this phone I had them disable the GPS tracking device. You can’t find me.”

  “Mr. Pierce, we believe you are in danger.”

  “If you are referring to Michael Dean, I already know he’s heading my way. Don’t be concerned. Dean can’t find me, that is, he can’t until I want him to. I am adequately protected, my boy.”

  Changing subjects, Agent Gamble asked. “Mr. Pierce, we found a body in the ground on your land. What do you know about it?”

  “A body, you say?” said a surprised Pierce.

  “Yes, that is correct. It had been in the ground for some time.”

  “Agent Gamble, I own a lot of land, and I haven’t killed anyone on my land. I’m just a businessman. But, let me ask, where did you find the body?”

  “It
was found near the marker in your picture, sir. Care to explain that?”

  “No, I can’t,” the old man lied. “We can discuss this on Wednesday if you like; I’m going to be free then.”

  “Sir, I strongly urge you to turn yourself in today. We have an APB alert out on you, and if we find you, you will be arrested.”

  “I am sorry, my young friend, but your questions will have to wait.” With that, he hung up the phone.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Mitchell Banyon waved to his father and the Patel twins as they approached the luggage area at the MacArthur Airport terminal. He was a strapping young college graduate with a slightly receding hairline. The girls were fascinated, and circled around him like they were buying a new car. Previne analyzed the younger Banyon as they stood waiting for their luggage. “He doesn’t really look like you Colt, but he has your savoir faire. He’s a little taller than you and several pounds lighter, but he’s your son all right. He talks like you do too.”

  “Mitch, can I talk to you for a second?” Banyon asked and walked off out of hearing range of the twins.

  “Sure, Colt,” he replied and set off after him.

  “It’s Dad to you, Mitchell,” Banyon chided his son.

  They moved outside so they could talk without the girls listening. “Mitchell,” Banyon started. “You’ll need to watch yourself with these two women. They’re all flirt and more, if you know what I mean.”

  “Good job, Dad. These girls are my age. How do you do it?”

  “I don’t think I did anything. They are very aggressive, and I don’t think they have been completely honest with me. Don’t make a fool of yourself, okay?”

  “Yeah, like you never did.”

  “We are not talking about me here — we are talking about you.”

  Mitch saw the girls coming through the doors with the luggage. “Let me help you with that,” he offered. “Which twin are you?”

  “I’m Previne and she is Pramilla, and we do so love the Banyon family.”

  When they got to the car, Mitch suggested that his father do the driving. He threw his father the car keys and climbed into the back, a little too eagerly to suit Colt. The two girls slipped into the backseat too, one on each side.

  Chapter Seventy- Five

  Meanwhile, there was already activity in the woods owned by Walter Pierce. While the other groups were traveling or working on plans to visit the dig site, Robert Spitaletta of the New York State Crime Commission, or the NYSTCC, was already on the scene.

  Through a phone tap on some local mobsters, he had discovered a possible crime was in the offing. His plan had been laid out in Manhattan some eight hours earlier. The commission had determined from the phone call that some Chicago thug had called the local boss to get two shooters for a hit. It was to take place in the woods of eastern Long Island. The caller had instructed the shooters to go to a remote location off of the Speonk-Riverhead Road and wait for a whistle. The shooters were to take everyone out except for some guy named Michael Dean. This was an opportunity the NYSTCC couldn’t ignore.

  Six veteran New York State Crime Commission agents were now hidden in bushes below the peak of Pierce’s marker. Crouched behind a tree, Captain Robert Spitaletta was eyeballing the shooters.

  “What’re they doing?” inquired of his brother Richard through his ear piece microphone.

  “They’re just sitting against some trees and eating doughnuts,” replied Robert. “Bruce, what do you see?”

  Bruce Conn was their good friend as well as a sharpshooter. Conn had a keen eye and lightning reflexes. The three friends had been on the task force almost ten years, and had been through all sorts of adventures together. They often pawned themselves off as local businessmen, going to shows, having dinners with accounts, and even golfing a little now and then. No one realized they were undercover cops, not even their families. They were relentless in their pursuit of Mafia thugs with a good success record, and had spent many nights on stakeouts. From experience, they knew how to hide in plain sight.

  “The fat one can really eat donuts,” Conn replied. “Don’t see anyone else so far.”

  The six members of the task force blanketed the woods, surrounding the shooters. They were waiting to see who would show up. They could arrest the shooters for carrying submachine guns, but the shooters would be back on the street before the task force could get coffee. The success of the present venture would rest on timing and fast moves. All the men were on nervous edge as there were two shooters with machine guns, and very little cover for the task force.

  Due to the nature of their business, they couldn’t trust anybody. The Mafia had big ears and deep pockets. As a result they neither sought help from nor notified any other government agency of their stakeout, including the FBI. They worked on their own.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  High in the sky, Joe Kroll talked to the other Aryans on the plane. “Right after we land, Teddy, you get the van and we’ll get the luggage. It will be after six o’clock there, and I don’t know exactly how far it is to the site. I don’t want to be there in the dark, so we need to move fast.” He asked Dean if he still had the directions.

  “Got them right here, Joe,” Dean assured him happily.

  “When we get to the site, follow Michael; he’s been in the vicinity with Pierce before. You morons could get lost in those woods, and really screw things up. Once we get to the site, we’ll need to dig fast and get the tablet. Everybody agree?”

  “We have to buy some shovels,” Teddy warned.

  “Won’t Pierce be pissed if we dig up the box? He’s promised us a lot of money and valuable land. We don’t want to screw that up, do we?” Gary, the bartender, asked the question without really expecting an answer. Kroll was known for being bullheaded.

  “I want the tablet now,” Kroll said, a too little fiercely with fire in his eyes. He then quickly changed tactics as everyone looked at him with confusion. “That’s the beauty of my plan,” Kroll explained. “We’re going to bury the box again, but not where Pierce thinks it is. That way we can get him to sign all the papers, and we’ll have leverage. Keep in mind that he’s a fanatic and wants nothing more than to complete his mission. What could go wrong?”

  ***

  At the same time, the FBI was mobilizing in the lot behind FBI headquarters in Riverhead. Agent Gamble was in control of nineteen agents, all outfitted with bulletproof vests, flak jackets with “FBI” stenciled on them, and baseball hats. They had at their disposal a high-elevation helicopter with look-down infrared radar, headset communications, detailed maps of the area, pictures of the known church members, complete plans for location of cross-fire sites, and even a coffee container for the boys. They were in readiness, down to the last detail.

  “When will we leave for the dig site?” Agent Booth asked.

  “We are going to wait until we are sure they’re headed for the woods,” Agent Gamble replied. “The guys at the airport will call us. Then we’ll move into our positions while they are digging because they won’t be able to hear us.”

  ***

  Loni and Detective Heinz made their plans while driving from MacArthur Airport. They had left the police station shortly after Banyon, and took a commercial flight. They decided to piggyback with the FBI. Their only goal was to arrest Michael Dean since Heinz wanted Dean to be interrogated and arraigned in Streamwood. Heinz called Agent Gamble to get filled in on the stakeout. The FBI agent told him everything was quiet but if it changed he would call them. He suggested they head for the hotel for the night.

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Back in the woods, there was a noise. Captain Robert Spitaletta whispered into his mike, “What’s that?”

  “It’s a cell phone ringing in the woods,” Richard answered.

  “The fat one’s talking on the phone,” Robert overheard Conn say. Conn was located in a tree, about a hundred feet away from the shooters. “Oops, he just hung up. I think they’re getting ready to move
out.”

  “Everyone, stay put. Let’s see where they’re going. Rich, you take point. Don’t let them out of your sight.”

  “Roger,” he replied.

  The warm late summer air was wet with humidity; the shadows were lengthening. The task force crept stealthily through the woods, all on the lookout for enemies behind every bush. The shooters weren’t hard for Spitaletta to follow. The fat one could only waddle slowly. As a result, it took them ten minutes to reach a new location. Then Captain Spitaletta dispersed his men. Conn climbed up another tree, affording a view of the surrounding area. With his face black and dark clothes, he easily blended into the foliage.

  ***

  Joe Kroll was now seated in the front passenger seat of the van at the airport. “Let’s go, let’s go,” he urged Gary the driver. “We want to get there before dark. I want to hold the tablet while I still can see it in real light.”

  “Which way?” Gary asked nervously as he came to a highway.”

  Michael Dean held the map in his hand. “Turn right,” he ordered. He was also anxious to reach the dig site, and witness the elimination of all his competitors. He knew Teddy expected all the other men to be killed except him. But Dean’s first shot would be to the head of Teddy.

  Suddenly Kroll was agitated. He screamed, “wait, Gary, turn around; you idiots forgot the shovels.”

  ***

  Agent Gamble was in the lead Ford Blazer as they headed for the dig site. The two agents from the airport had called, and said the thugs were on the move towards the dig site. His cell phone unexpectedly rang again.

  “Kroll and the gang have turned around and are now headed into Westhampton,” one of the agents following them reported.

  “Continue to shadow them and let us know when they head back to the dig site,” Agent Gamble ordered tersely and ended the call.

  “Should we pull over and wait?” the driver asked Agent Gamble.

  “What do you think? Are they doubling back to lose any tails?” The big agent asked everyone in the Blazer.