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

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “That would make him God,” replied Colt. “Nobody can be God.”

  “Some would say that God chose Grandfather to be an intermediary between people and spirits. You can’t deny that spirits exist. You have seen them.”

  Reluctantly, Colt gave ground, as he had indeed seen spirits—and heard them, too. “Okay, you win. I know there are spirits and that I am receptive to them. Now, tell me about this new curse, please.”

  “That’s better.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Here is what I know. Wolfgang got Grandfather to place a curse on you. The curse would allow you to hear Wolfgang when he speaks to you. But he doesn’t want to harm you. He wants to help you solve mysteries about injustice and specifically about the activities of supremacists, racists, and especially existing Nazis. We didn’t know if the curse was going to work or not. No one did.”

  “Well, I heard from him today. His voice was loud and clear. Tell him to stop.”

  “Only you can tell him.”

  “Well, no one asked me if I wanted to hear spirits or be part of a curse. How do I stop this curse?”

  “From what I understand, you must solve the mysteries to complete the curse.”

  “And what if I refuse? I’m not a detective. I’m a consultant and business owner. I don’t have time. And frankly, it all scares me.”

  “Wolfgang will haunt you until you do his bidding. Spirits can make people do strange things. Do you want that?”

  “Why doesn’t he just stop these injustices by himself? Why does he need me?”

  “A spirit cannot changes events. It can only tell you what’s already there. It will be up to you to change the course of events.”

  “Do I have to solve more than one mystery?”

  “Only Wolfgang knows that. Perhaps you should ask him. Oh, there is one more thing. Wolfgang can only talk to you if you ask a question of him. Remember that; it is important.”

  “So, if I don’t ask him anything, he won’t haunt me?”

  “Well, if he wants to pass on some information, he has ways to let you know,” Previne said. “You will see.”

  Chapter Four

  The old soldiers found in the jungle were named Akio Suzuki and Juro Nara and were finally settled into their respective rooms–adjoining suites, actually—connected by door that they left open. The downtown view was breathtaking. They were settled in suites in a nice hotel, the Dai-ichi Hotel in downtown Tokyo. They had been beseeched by reporters wanting interviews and organizations that wanted speeches ever since they had landed in Tokyo. The old men shunned them all.

  When they’d left Tokyo in the late thirties, it had been an almost rural town compared to what they saw today. They stood on the balcony and pointed at signs that flashed. They saw women who wore skirts so short that you could see their legs, and a fascinating billboard that announced an upcoming series in something called baseball. Neither man ever heard of this competition.

  They had left the island of Mindanao for the first time in over sixty years just a short five days ago. Their captors were very polite and even carried three boxes of gold down the mountain. The gold was now on deposit at the Mitsubishi Bank across the street. Sammy, the guide, was the most helpful of the group that found them. He promised to send them more money after his family purchased the mountain where the gold was found from the local farmers who owned it. The soldiers would own a piece of the property. The old men had met people from the Japanese embassy in General Santos and were flown directly to Tokyo.

  At the Ministry of Defense offices, they underwent intensive physicals, interrogation, and identification procedures before the ministry announced that they were who they said they were: two Japanese soldiers from World War II who had been lost in the jungles in the Philippines. The Ministry of Defense scrutinized their orders from their division commander and determined that the government owed each back pay for sixty years and three months. The money, roughly a million dollars American, was also now on deposit at their bank. They both were wealthy men.

  Further checks were being made to determine if they had any living relatives. They would know the results in the next few days. As they stood watching the sights in brand new suits, they contemplated their future.

  “We should stop this foolishness. Give the book to a library,” Juro said.

  “The ghost promised to get us out of the jungle if we looked for the rightful owner. Do you want to dishonor our pledge?” Akio Suzuki replied.

  “No, but I question if it even happened,” Juro Nara argued.

  “He knew about the book.”

  “It all could be in our heads, you know.”

  “We must pay retribution for our crimes.”

  “You mean that I must pay,” Juro Nara noted.

  Chapter Five

  Later that evening, Akio Suzuki and Juro Nara were seated on the large balcony outside their suites. Room service delivered their dinner and they were surprised by the taste of the meat. Meat had been a rare delicacy for the last sixty years. They both held huge cigars and were sipping rice wine.

  Juro Nara drew on his cigar and turned to Akio Suzuki. “Why do you want to keep up this stupid search? Let’s just sell the book and be done with it. We have enough money and I’m very tired,” He gestured with his hand like he was shooing a fly.

  Akio Suzuki had heard this complaint from Juro Nara before. “Must I remind you that we have one more mission to complete?”

  “How could we ever find the rightful owner? Hundreds of people will claim that it belongs to them. This is an impossible task,” Juro Nara said and again gestured.

  “You’re just afraid to face the owner, after what you did.”

  Juro Nara was stung with Akio Suzuki’s reply. “But, my friend, you were the one who took the book. It should be you that is punished. I was just doing my duty for the emperor.”

  “Your memory is leaving you my friend. We both know what happened.”

  The two men became quiet and thought about the events that had set their course for over sixty years and continued to dominate their future.

  ***

  It was the late fall of 1942. Both men had been assigned to the Shanghai district as infantry soldiers. Their journey started in Manchuria, where they were part of the juggernaut that wiped out Chinese resistance with brutal force. They not only killed all the military personal that they encountered, but they raped all the women they encountered. The children were no exception, except if they were female. Both men had developed a blood lust by the time they entered Nanking. History recorded the “Rape of Nanking” as the single most inhuman act on record. More than 300,000 people died from butchering hordes of Japanese soldiers. Juro Nara and Akio Suzuki developed a lifestyle that complemented their Imperial orders. Each morning, they would leave their residence and patrol the streets. They were looking for buildings to ransack. They killed the men in the building and ordered the women to collect all valuables. Then, the soldiers dragged the women, usually by their hair, to their residence, where they beat and tortured them. If they were still alive at the end of the day, the two men sold the submissive women to the government “comfort stations,” where they would serve Japanese troops as prostitutes.

  Juro and Akio were not considered good soldiers and when the call came from high command to send some men to Shanghai, they were dispatched.

  Shanghai was a different situation. The Japanese could only maintain a small force in the large city. Their new orders were to protect government officials who traveled around the city making deals and taking pleasure. One embassy attaché often visited a beautiful blonde prostitute in the Jewish section of town. Neither man had ever seen a blonde woman with large breasts before. After a number of weeks spent in discussing the woman and bolstered by large amounts of sake, they decided to make a visit to the whore. Juro Nara immediately started to beat and torture her. This raised his lust level past the killing stage. Akio Suzuki stood in shock. He didn’t even get his turn. They quickly grabbed the de
ad woman’s valuables, including the book, and left the body tied to the bed.

  But someone saw them, and they were soon told to report to headquarters. The local commander was furious—not because they had killed a woman, but because they had killed his regular Monday afternoon paramour. A week later, they were on a boat to Mindanao with signed orders to never surrender until the emperor rescinded the current order.

  Chapter Six

  A few evenings later, Akio Suzuki sat in his room and looked at the sheets of old paper he’d pulled from the lining of the book in front of him. He had wondered about the small, paper notes for as long as he’d lived on Mindanao. There was also a picture of two young women. Could one of these women be the one we killed, he wondered? It was so long ago and we were all so different then. The notes were in different handwriting. He could not understand either one. The picture had writing of a third kind on the back. He could tell that the date on the picture was 1942, but nothing else. He never told Juro about the notes, fearing that Juro would have destroyed them. Akio Suzuki saw them as keys to finding the rightful owner of the book. Juro would see them as evidence of their crime.

  It was Akio Suzuki’s remaining ambition to find the book’s owner now that the Defense Ministry had notified him that all his relatives had perished when the atomic bomb fell on Hiroshima in 1945. He was a rich but broken man. Akio Suzuki realized that his longtime companion Juro Nara had begun to shun him and make fun of him. A riff was growing between them. It was over the book. He replaced the notes and the picture in the hidden part of the book. He then decided to write down what he remembered of that day and how he would solve the mystery and seek the truth. He then added the name of the person who would help him to reach his goal.

  But he would not live to see his plan become reality.

  ***

  Juro Nara was in his room. He, like Akio Suzuki, also had heard from the Defense Ministry. The news was both good and bad. Some of his family was still alive. In fact, there were two additional generations of his family living on the island of Hokkaido, the most Northern of the current Japanese Islands. The only problem was that the family had, at one time, held vast holdings on the Kuriles. The ministry representative told Juro Nara that the land now belonged to the Russians as part of the surrender pact from World War II. Juro Nara’s family had resettled in Northern Hokkaido. Juro Nara, who was the son of a war cabinet minister, had always been a racist. He hated all white people and had no respect for the Chinese, either. The fact that his family’s holdings were now in the hands of the slovenly Russians enraged him. He vowed that someone would pay for stealing his family’s land.

  Juro Nara, like his father, was part of a Yakuza clan. Not many people knew this, and those who did, kept quiet about it. The Yakuza had a long bloody history in Japan. They actually had an honorable past, but since the turn of the twentieth century, the Yakuza had been become synonymous with corruption, extortion, and death in Japan and other countries. The Yakuza trusted no one, and no one could trust the self-interested mob. But Juro Nara was family. Juro Nara had already developed a plan and made a call to his relatives. They dispatched a grandson to Tokyo to assist Juro Nara.

  Juro Nara also skillfully convinced Akio Suzuki that since Akio Suzuki had no relatives, Juro Nara should execute his will. He cunningly baited Akio Suzuki with promises that, no matter what, they would find the owner of the book. He suggested that they each withdraw one quarter of their deposits at the bank and keep the cash to use in their search. Juro Nara stared at his half of the money. Soon, he thought. Soon he would extract revenge on those that stole the land of his ancestors.

  But his plan did not turn out as he expected, either.

  ***

  In the last few days, they had drifted apart in their thinking as well as their relationship. One old man had family; the other did not. One had revenge on his mind for the atrocities that had befallen his family. The other was repentant for his crimes. One had remained a racist, while the other wanted to help people. They both had solid plans for the future.

  That was why Akio Suzuki sat at his desk making notes to begin the implementation of his plan. He had just written down the name of the person who would help him complete his new mission, when a bullet disrupted his thoughts permanently. The young shooter calmly picked up the pile of cash that sat on a corner of the desk. He was in no hurry, as he had already shot Juro Nara and had collected his cash. He casually perused the notes and clutter on the desk and spotted a book that might have value. He knew that he could fence it. He picked it up and shoved it inside his jacket. He thus assured that both Akio Suzuki’s and Juro Nara’s plans would go forward.

  Neither old man truly understood the colossal impact their plans could have on humanity. They were no longer part of the process, but the wheels that each set in motion would grind out a classic confrontation of good versus evil. Many people would become pawns along the way. And, almost no one knew that an additional plan had been activated sometime earlier

  Chapter Seven

  The man was just barely old enough to enter the “hostess bar.” Yet, he slouched in a comfortable lounge chair and acted as if he had been a client for many years. He chose an American girl with big breasts for his companion. She talked to him softly as she wiggled on his lap. The hostess bar concept had exploded in Japan in recent years. The overworked and corporate-dominated men of Japan often went to the private clubs to relax and play with the young and beautiful women who worked there. Usually, the men requested the same girl on each visit. The women made huge gobs of money from tips—even though actual sex usually was not on the menu. Mostly, they served drinks and talked with the men. The men found many excuses to avoid going home.

  This club was not one of those, it was a bit seedier, and the young man, Jin Kurima, was not a corporate wage earner. Jin Kurima was adding cash to a stack on the end table as the young girl reached further into his pants. They were very discreet in the dimly lit side room, but the bouncer and the madam were aware of the situation. They knew that pretty soon, the young woman would be down on her knees and the bouncer would have to pull a curtain for privacy. They would accommodate Jin Kurima in every way they could. He was the other type of client that frequented the expensive clubs. He was Yakuza.

  The young girl also knew that Jin Kurima was Yakuza. She could see his tattoos and had heard in his voice the arrogance of someone who didn’t give a shit. Although he was paying her, it was clear that she had no choice in the evening’s events. She went about her work quickly and efficiently. Then she asked him if he would like another drink.

  As the girl went to fetch his drink, Jin Kurima reflected on his good fortune. He’d been told that an old man had been found in the jungle was Jin Kurima’s grandfather. Jin Kurima was to go and visit Juro Nara at a hotel. He was to listen respectfully to the plan that the old man claimed to have put in motion, and then make a decision on how the Yakuza should help.

  Jin Kurima had done as he was told, but he thought that the man’s plan to buy back the family lands was too farfetched. The grandfather, Juro Nara, explained that he had lots of money, and all Jin Kurima had to do was kill the old man in the next room. Juro Nara added that he would inherit all of Akio Suzuki’s money and then he could implement his plan. He offered Jin Kurima a fistful of money as incentive. It was more money than Jin Kurima, a low-level thug, had ever seen in his life. Jin Kurima calmly asked the old man if he had proof that he was part of the clan. When the old man produced the report from the Defense Ministry, Jin Kurima was pleasantly surprised.

  “So you will do it?” the old man asked.

  “That and more,” Jin Kurima replied with icy coolness in his voice. He then pulled out his silenced pistol and shot the old man in the forehead. Jin Kurima was not very bright, but he had figured out that if Juro Nara could inherit Akio Suzuki’s money, then the clan could inherit Juro Nara’s money if he was dead. He then walked over to the next suite to complete the task. The other old man was seat
ed at his desk and did not hear Jin Kurima enter. The shot to the head was accurate and final. Jin Kurima then decided to make it look like a robbery and went about looking for valuables to take. He was pleased when he found a pile of money in the other old man’s room. He didn’t see any reason why his family should know about his extra fortune. He was walking out of the room when he spied the book sitting on the desk with some other papers. As he examined it, he realized that it was very old. I’ll sell this to my fence, he thought. With that, he hung “do not disturb” signs on the doorknobs of both suites, and headed for his favorite hostess bar to celebrate his good fortune.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, Fujiko noticed the “do not disturb” sign on the suite door and felt relieved. She had been slightly distracted as she made her rounds with her cleaning cart. She worked the penthouse floor at the hotel that had been graced with the two war heroes. The problem was that she wasn’t sure how to handle the old man named Juro Nara in the corner suite. That was what distracted her. She noticed that he watched her every move and could hear him sigh whenever she bent over. Her maid’s outfit was short and frilly and she felt naked in front of his eyes. Yesterday, when she was cleaning his room, he suddenly came out of the bathroom with nothing on and called her by name. He told her that he wanted sex right then. She understood that he was an honored guest in the hotel and that he could have her fired. He had told her as much. He even offered her money equal to her weekly salary for the pleasure of her company. The money was sitting in a huge pile on the desk in the room.

  Fujiko was no prude. She dispensed sexual favors to several guests on a routine basis.

  “It is good customer service,” her supervisor said, as she took her cut of the gift supplied by one guest.