Banyon turned to her, “What?”
“Never mind,” Loni replied. “You can’t see it.”
Maya commented, “One thing is sure — we have a date with destiny. Pierce asked the media to be here at 8:45 p.m. That was three minutes ago. Let’s go tell them what we found.”
They all headed up to the front porch. Professor Davies carried the Aryan tablet like it was a new born baby.
Chapter Ninety-Two
Outside on the front lawn, Linda Choi had the driver, who was also the soundman, set up a microphone and small podium on the top of the steps of the old house. She watched as the other anchors and news people attempted to get ready to tape footage, but none were prepared like the CCN news group. She was slightly disappointed that the other news groups showed up, but she had an edge. She knew what time the show was to start.
At exactly 8:45 p.m. she told the driver to start the live feed. She stood confidently in front of the camera in the light of the bright floodlights which made her hair shine and her eyes twinkle. She was ready to put on a show.
“This is Linda Choi reporting live from an old house in Speonk, a small hamlet on eastern Long Island. We have been told that in a few minutes, a leading professor of archeology from Stony Brook University, a Professor Raymond Davies, will be appearing at the microphone. From what we can ascertain, he will be announcing that he has in his possession an authentic written history of the Aryan race. As you recall, the preservation of the Aryan race was the basis for the Third Reich. Its principles are still followed today by many fanatic white supremacists. Until today, it was thought the Aryan race did not have a formal written language and had not left any written history of its civilization.”
She noticed the soundman pointing to the steps behind her. “We are ready for the interview. But first, Professor Davies will make a statement.”
Professor Raymond Davies approached the microphone. With him were Colt, Maya, and Previne. He noticed a very petite black-haired woman standing at the bottom of the stairs. Several other people milled around news vans in the distance. He recognized the woman as being one of the best that CCN had to offer. He was ready to speak.
***
Meanwhile, Carl Heinz and Loni Chen dragged Michael Dean out of the basement and through the backdoor. They then headed back to Chicago.
The FBI swarmed all over the old house but could not find Kroll as he was in a secret place. The FBI was within feet of Kroll’s position but couldn’t locate him. Kroll was holding his gun on Pramilla while they stood on the first-floor landing behind the pantry wall, but Pramilla seemed unafraid. He didn’t know what to do next. His cell phone suddenly rang. He thought that he had turned it off after his annoying wife called him but didn’t leave a message. He quickly grabbed it from his pocket and whispered into the phone, “Who is this?”
“Why, Joe, it’s Walter.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m nearby. It’s time, my friend. The media is waiting, and Davies has the tablet. All you need to do is open the door in front of you and use your hostage to walk out the front door. They are on the porch, waiting for your entrance.”
“The friggin’ FBI are all over the place; I can’t just walk out there, you idiot.”
“Joe, don’t come apart on me now, just when all of our dreams can be fulfilled. Are you not the supreme Aryan? Can’t you hear the crowds cheering you wildly? You must do this for your people, and I will help. There is no one between you and the front door. Go now,” Pierce said. “Once the true history is revealed the police can’t touch you.”
Chapter Ninety-Three
On the podium someone was speaking. “My name is Raymond Davies, Professor of Archeology at Stony Brook University. I have in my hands an incredible artifact.” He held the tablet up for people to see it. Many of the news people in the area came running towards the porch.
“It contains the history of the extinct Aryan race. I’ve had the pleasure of translating the inscriptions, and can now reveal the secrets of a race that, up until now, has remained a mystery. This is the only known written history of the Aryan race ever found. We only just finished the translation, and I assure you the tablet contains explosive information about the Aryan race. I want to make some introductions. Then we will open the floor for questions.”
Linda Choi was delighted. This might be the biggest story I have ever covered. She beamed with pleasure as she watched Davies speak.
“Before we start I would like to present Colton Banyon. Mr. Banyon is responsible for finding the artifact in the old house behind me. I’d also like to also introduce Previne Patel and Maya Patel. They are …” He suddenly stopped. There was a commotion behind him. He turned to look.
Joe Kroll suddenly appeared, pushing a stumbling Pramilla out the front door of the house. The gun in her back could not be seen by the small group of reporters now pooling at the bottom of the steps.
“Go on, Professor, finish your introductions,” said Joe Kroll with a fake smile.
“Alright,” he said with hesitation. “Our new members are Pramilla Patel and …”
Kroll lost his patience, and pushed Davies aside. “My name is Joe Kroll. I’m the head of the Aryan movement,” Kroll announced as he leaned toward the microphone. Kroll then spoke quickly into Professor Davies ear.
Davies returned to the microphone. “Yes, as I understand it, Mr. Kroll is here to accept the tablet in the name of all good Aryans.” Kroll pushed Davies to the side. He was drunk with the prospect of achieving his dreams.
“I accept this tablet as the true history of the Aryan race. As the Supreme Leader of the Altar of the Creator Church, I pledge to follow the inspirations written so long ago by the great Aryan race. Hitler could not live up to the standards that my race set, but I will. I’m announcing today that my church has absorbed several other churches, and our membership is now in excess of one million members. I call on all Aryan people to follow my leadership. We are establishing a safe place for our members. The place is to be called Aryanna, and it will be located on the many thousands of acres of land which surround this old house.”
Linda Choi stood at the foot of the steps watching and listening. Joe Kroll babbled on about how great everything was going to be and how he was going to run his regime. She also noted that many FBI agents were pouring out of the old house and standing behind Kroll. This is getting interesting, she thought.
“I’m open for questions,” Kroll said.
Quickly Choi raised her hand. “Mr. Kroll, there was a big shootout a few miles from here. Several people were killed. Is this event connected to the shootout?”
Linda Choi watched as Kroll turned and saw all the agents behind him. Several of them smiled and nodded. She pushed her mike forward as he spoke.
“We were originally led to a secluded place to search for the Aryan tablet. Obviously it was a trap set by the inept American government to prevent me from accepting this historic artifact. The government is afraid the good white people of this country would overthrow them and bring a hundred-year prosperous regime to power. I was, however, not there.”
Choi raised her hand again.
Kroll acknowledged her again.
“A recent news flash on CCN showed a major crackdown in Chicago. The FBI raided a church and several homes. The FBI has arrested more than thirty people, and has warrants for several others. The church was named Altar of the Creator. That is your church, isn’t it? Do you have any comments about that?”
“What, my church? I’ve received no information on this.” Kroll’s voice trembled. “Clearly this is some kind of government sting to prevent me from representing the Aryan people. The tablet proves the strength of our race. We will overcome this insidious attempt by the weak-minded and corrupt government. My church has a long history of helping good white people in need. We stand by our record.”
“One more question,” Choi pleaded. “Can you tell us what the translation of the tablet actually says?”
&n
bsp; “Well, no, I can not, but Professor Davies can. Professor, if you please.” He waved Davies back to the microphone.
Davies muscled his way to the mike. “Certainly, Joe. The tablet is actually written in the most ancient form of Sanskrit. It appears the Aryans had no formal written language so the tablet is written in the dialect of the ancient northern India people where the tablet was found.”
“How were you able to translate it so fast?” Linda Choi sang out.
“The artifact was first discovered in 1936,” he replied. “It was stolen by the Nazis who had the tablet translated,” the Professor explained. “I have a copy of the translation in German, made by people employed by Admiral Canaris, a German officer, and one of Hitler’s inner circle for most of the war. I have compared the tablet to the notes, and can verify the translation.”
“So, what does it say?” Choi pleaded.
The Professor took a deep breath and spoke. “In short, the Aryans were a hostile, corrupt, and sexually deviant society. They stole most of their riches and employed children to run their armies. Their real downfall, however, was the concept that they were so superior that they did not allow their children to marry outside their society. In the end, the word Aryan became known as a joke in ancient societies.”
“Wow! That’s incredible,” Choi choked out.
But Davies wasn’t done. “One more thing: they might not have been white.”
“What? No, you’re a lying son of a bitch Davies. You are sabotaging my dream. This can’t be happening,” screamed Kroll. He filled the airwaves with expletives which later had to be censored from the news recordings before they aired. “This is some kind of a goddamn trick. Pierce told me that everything was set.”
Choi continued to watch the podium as Colt suddenly reached out and grabbed Kroll’s wrist. He twisted it. Since this was also the arm which had been shot, Kroll screamed in pain, enabling Banyon to yank the gun from him. Several FBI agents stepped forward to grab Kroll, throwing him to the ground and cuffing him. He continued to scream in pain and anger. His last coherent words were, “I’ll get you, Pierce.”
Linda Choi was pleased. She might receive a Pulitzer for this story.
While the FBI was collecting Kroll, Pramilla turn to Banyon and said “You were very brave.” There was admiration in her eyes. She grabbed him and gave him a big hug.
“Pramilla, you know it was really nothing; I was just tired of listening to Kroll’s baloney,” replied Colt.
“No, you are a legitimate hero,” she insisted and batted her eyes.
“Come on,” Banyon said cynically. “I saw the gun magazine in your hand. How did you get the gun magazine, anyway?”
“I have my ways,” Pramilla flirted. She then added, “It was Walter’s father; he was with me in the pantry. Kroll couldn’t see him. He took the gun magazine, and also told Walter to call Kroll after he turned on the phone. Quiet now and listen. I have something to say to the press.”
Pramilla stepped to the microphone. “My name is Pramilla Patel. I am a diplomat with the Indian government, and have a diplomatic passport. I claim this tablet for the Indian government. The hated Nazis stole the tablet from a village in northern India many years ago. We want it back. We plan to display the artifact in my sister Previne’s museum in New Delhi. You may all come and visit it. We will leave for the airport immediately.” She stepped back from the mike and hugged Davies, then Colt. The other sisters followed suit with the confused men. With that, Previne, Pramilla, and Maya marched off the steps, and entered the limo that had originally delivered Kroll and Dean to the old house. They sped off to the airport with the tablet in a diplomatic bag.
Davies returned to the microphone just as the other news reporters finally took up stations at the bottom of the steps. Only Banyon and Davies were left on the porch.
“Well, I guess that there is nothing more to add to this story. If there are any more questions, I will attempt to answer them,” Professor Davies said.
Linda Choi heard a faint sound coming from the house. Then suddenly the old house burst into flames. It was as if the entire structure lit up at once. The explosion shot flames from the windows, and fire spewed out the front door. Banyon and Davies were blown off the steps. Banyon found himself lying on top of Linda Choi, right between her shapely legs.
Choi quickly reached for her dropped microphone. “Are you still getting this?” she asked the photographer. She then pushed Colt off her tiny body.
“Are you all right?” Colt asked.
“This is the best time of my life,” she responded as she winked at him.
Everyone had to retreat to the back end of the lawn, where they watched the old house burn to the ground. The other news people were frantically trying to catch up with all the news, while Linda Choi interviewed Professor Davies on a live feed. When it was over, she went to close her live broadcast.
She smiled into the camera. “This is Linda Choi reporting live from Speonk for CCN.”
Epilogue
The next morning, Banyon was pulled from a deep sleep by the ringing of the phone in his motel room.
“Your car is here,” said the clerk. Banyon hurried to get dressed.
He’d almost forgotten about the job interview, so much had happened last night. Many reporters and other people had mobbed him, wanting to interview him. He couldn’t get away. Finally a police officer came to his rescue, and drove him to the motel. It seemed strange to be alone. Banyon had fallen asleep thinking about the Patel clan. He felt a sudden emptiness in his life.
He climbed into the limo, and noticed that it was the same driver who had driven everyone last night.
“You had a busy night yesterday. Do you always work so many hours?” Banyon asked to make conversation. He was nervous about his interview and needed to talk.
“Not usually, but Mr. Pierce was always very good to me,” the driver reflected. “This is my last job for him.”
“You said ‘was.’ Do you know something I don’t?”
“Only that Mr. Pierce bought this car for me, and said it was his parting gift if I took care of the transportation last night and today. My old boss wasn’t too happy when I resigned this morning.” He handed Banyon his card. “Call me anytime you’re in the area.”
***
The limo dropped Banyon at the law offices of Kurt Rogers. Rogers cheerfully greeted him in the lobby. “Well, I see that you made it through last night,” said Rogers as a preamble to their conversation.
“Are you a part of this?” asked Banyon. “I recognize your voice. I talked to you yesterday — it was Dan Broadwater then, wasn’t it?
“I’ve been Walter’s lawyer for a long time. His plan was brilliant, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, if you want to be a pawn,” Banyon said, referring to himself.
“Let’s get down to business, shall we? I have several things for you to sign.” The attorney passed the first document over to Banyon to read. It said that Banyon was now the owner of a fifty-million-dollar business located just outside of New York City. “You also get ten million for working capital,” he added coyly.
“I thought I was here for a job interview?” a stunned Banyon replied, and dropped the pen on the desk.
“Well, the interview is over, Colt. Walter wanted you to own this company. He bought it to give to you.”
Banyon was nearly speechless. “But…But…But why? He hardly knew me.”
“Because he used you for a pawn, and because he has kept tabs on you since you were a little boy. Any other reasons are confidential,” replied Rogers.
“What reasons?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, but the next document for you to sign is a complete autobiography of Walter Pierce. The answers are there for you to read. Walter led a rather colorful life,” Rogers commented.
“This just keeps getting stranger and stranger,” said Banyon scratching his head, but he signed the document.
“Finally, we have the last will a
nd testament of Walter Pierce. You can read it if you like, but I can tell you what it says,” Rogers informed him.
“I’m in his will? So he is dead?”
“Let’s just say that Walter Pierce has ceased to exist. Your sisters and brother are all in his will too. He said you were the only family he had left.”
“But,” protested Banyon. “I never met him until last night. What’s going on here?”
“It’s all in the documents I gave you,” replied Rogers in lawyer speak.
“What does the will say?” Banyon finally asked in frustration.
“In short, the rest of Walter’s money goes to charity, approximately one hundred million dollars. The presidents, including you, now own all seven of his companies, Colt. His house on Tanners Neck Lane and several million dollars go to his housekeeper of many years. Finally, all his land, which consists of over five thousand acres in Speonk, is to be divided between your sisters and brother, provided they can agree on which parts to take.”
Banyon laughed. “You don’t know my sisters — they’ll all be at each other’s throats for the best pieces of land.”
“Colt, you will serve as the arbitrator. If they don’t agree, you can keep it all.”
“Oh,” Banyon exclaimed.
“There is one last thing.” Rogers said. He pulled a small box from a drawer in his desk and handed it to Colt. “Walter wanted me to return these to you.” Inside the box were all of Stan Banyon’s medals.
***
That evening on the plane ride home, Banyon read the document about Walter Pierce. He was in shock, but now understood what had really happened.
He had gone from the law offices to the company that he now owned. He met with the current man in charge and told him that he would stay on. He spent over four hours discussing the operation, and when he left, he made a decision to add three people to the payroll, his three sons. He also decided to open a Chicago office for himself.
Colton Banyon Mysteries 1-3: Colton Banyon Mysteries (Colton Banyon Mystery Book 20) Page 36