“Good call?” he mused, studying his fingernails.
“That was Dr. Carol Thorne on the phone. She is going to pay us five thousand dollars to accompany her to the transfer. She will be there to authenticate the book and see if she can persuade the new buyer to put the book on loan to the museum. Isn’t this great? We get to go, and get paid for it. Carol said that this might lead to additional work for the museum and more fees, too.” She raised her arms in a Peyton Manning touchdown celebration with one finger pointed to the ceiling, her dressed rose, too.
“Alright, we’ll go,” he said. But Banyon had that nagging concern again. Carol Thorne had not been sent one of the e-mails.
Chapter Eighteen
Banyon was sitting in his empty family room. Soft music was circulating from somewhere in the house. He had a vodka and tonic in one hand. He needed the boost to give him the courage to complete the task before him.
He’d spent the rest of the day with Loni. They’d had a power lunch and spent time at the mall. Loni needed new shoes for the Friday night gala and Colt needed the company. When they returned to the office, Loni tried on the shoes and made Colt swear that they were perfect for the occasion. She then opened her small safe and took out her guns. She immediately went about the task of cleaning them. She knew that she could not take them to the transfer, but she liked to be prepared and decided to store them in the car. She never stopped talking and assured Colt that she had checked out Carol Thorne. Banyon knew that Loni was efficient, so he let it go. He had returned home just before dinnertime.
Banyon took a long pull on the drink and felt the icy-cold liquid pass his heart and head for his stomach. He then spoke. “Wolf, are you out there?”
“Of course.” The reply was immediate.
“How is it that the Japanese men with the book had my name?” Banyon asked, going right to the heart of the matter.
“I gave it to them,” Wolf replied.
“So you can talk to other people, then?”
“Those that I have talked to so far, other than you, see me as a scary ghost. I mean to motivate them.”
“Why motivate them now?”
“There isn’t much time. The old men would have died soon and the book would have been lost forever.”
“Why am I looking for this book?”
“There is much good and evil inside,” Wolf answered. “I already told you that.”
Banyon was confused by the reply. “Am I looking for the good or the evil?”
“Neither,” replied the voice.
“You never give me a straight answer.” Banyon waited for a response, but none came. He then realized that he had not asked a question. “Why don’t you ever give me a straight answer?”
The silence was deafening. Banyon was suddenly panicked that the voice was gone. I need to backtrack, he thought. He now knew that he had to think out each question. The wording was the important part.
“Why did you say neither?”
“You know what is expected.” Wolf had reacted to the right question.
Banyon pondered this and asked, “Do you want me to find the rightful owner of the book?”
“Yes, that is your goal.”
“But why?”
“The answers are inside the book.”
Trying a different tack, Banyon asked, “How will I find the rightful owner?”
“The picture tells the story.”
“What picture?”
“You shall see.”
Colt had one more question. “Wolf, are you in control of this situation? I mean can you see the future or have you planned the future?” He remembered how Wolf had staged every move during the last caper.
“I can’t foresee or control the future. I can only tell you what exists. There is danger ahead.”
“How do you know that? I thought that you could not look into the future?”
“No, but I know some of the characters that you might meet. Be prepared, Colton.”
Chapter Nineteen
The FBI had used variations of Operation Eyesore before. They sent out invitations to wanted criminals telling them they’d won a prize. It was kind of like winning the lottery. All the criminals had to do was come to the Hilton at the airport in Chicago and pick up his or her prize. They were promised a meeting with a game show host, dinner, and additional cash giveaways. When the criminals showed up, they were sent to a conference room. As they entered, they were arrested.
This operation was going smoothly. Agent Kriss had FBI men posing as bellman, cleaners, and a very helpful concierge, and had seven men in the conference room. He also had agents in the room next door, where video monitors could track the route specified for the bidders to follow to the conference room. There were expecting four bidders and the seller, all arranged to come at different times to insure that the agents had a superior force to detain those involved. The Japanese sent a police detective to arrest the seller. He would return to Japan on the next plane, using a fugitive warrant to pass through customs and with the seller in tow. The FBI would get to interview the remaining bidders in the hopes of finding terrorist connections. What was to become of the book was not their concern.
Chapter Twenty
Hal Jones sat at a table in the open concourse area of the Delta terminal at O’Hare airport. He was sipping coffee, staring at his companion, and wondering if he could trust him. The arrogant lawyer was rotund, loud, spoke with a stronger Southern accent then was necessary, and never looked directly into Hal’s eyes. Hal had called him several days earlier and told Billy Bond that an original copy of Mein Kampf was for sale on eBay. The lawyer, who vaguely remembered Jones from meetings, quickly noted that he was aware of the auction, and asked why he should hire Jones to bid on the book since many of the Web sites that he frequented were abuzz with the information. Jones retorted that the book held a secret that could significantly help the cause. Billy Bond then told Jones to pack a bag. Tickets arrived within two hours and a limo drove him to the airport for the short flight to Atlanta. He stayed with Billy throughout the auction and then insisted that they collect the book together. Jones never told Billy that he already had half the secret. He didn’t trust anyone, especially lawyers. His plan was to grab the codes and tell Billy that half the information was gone. Jones would then return to Florida and slip away to get the money. He felt that he was in complete control of the situation.
Jones showed his arrogance by asking Billy, “What are you going to do with your half of the money?”
Always the negotiator, Billy replied, “Well, after you pay me back for the auction, that’s two hundred and fifty thousand, and expenses, of course, I’ll use my half to better the cause. Also, the book will go to the cause, you understand.”
“I could care less about the book. It has bad memories,” Jones replied as he relived all the lonely time he had spent waiting for a sign.
“You know, I could set up a trust fund for you. I would administer it, and you would never have to worry about money again.”
“Sure, and you would have your hand in my pocket forever,” Jones smiled as he replied.
“Hal, you have to trust me. I am your lawyer, you know.” The fat man smiled as he said it. It sent a chill down Jones’s back.
“That’s what bothers me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Banyon arrived at the LCH office at about six o’clock and found Loni already there. He hardly recognized her. The normally sexy Loni had on a modest business pantsuit of medium gray with a white blouse and black flats. Her hair was curled up into an unattractive bun. The biggest shock was the large oval glasses that seemed to engulf her entire face. There was a neck chain on the glasses.
“I didn’t know that you wore glasses,” he quipped.
“I don’t, silly,” she answered. “These are plain glass. I wanted to impress our curator, you know, make her feel at home.”
“Loni, you have stereotyped the curator. Your profile may be way off base. You are repre
senting someone that you definitely are not.”
“Oh no, have I been impulsive again,” cried a very concerned Loni. Banyon realized that she suddenly was taking everything that Colt said to heart.
“Yes,” replied Banyon. “But, don’t worry about it. Lose the glasses and let your hair down. Put it in a ponytail if you want. You’ll look fine,” Banyon lied.
As Loni was adjusting her look in the bathroom, the front door opened and a thirty-something woman entered. She had very short, spiked, orange hair. The outfit she wore looked expensive but very manly. She was slightly husky and wore no makeup. She approached the unsettled Banyon.
“I’m Dr. Carol Thorne, the curator from the museum. Loni Chen is expecting me,” she said in a deep voice.
“Colton Banyon, I’m a partner in the agency. Nice to meet you,” he added. Banyon noticed the metal stud that was set in the middle of her tongue. So much for the profile, he thought.
“Is Loni Chen here? I expected her to take me over to the Hilton.”
Banyon was about to give a smart-ass retort when Loni came out of the bathroom and said, “This better?”
“It certainly is,” replied Thorne. She moved like a cat on the prowl over to Loni and took her hand. Banyon thought that she looked at Loni like she was sushi in high heels.
“I’m Carol. You must be Loni,” she purred. “So nice to put a face to the voice.” There was a hint of a leer on her manly face.
“Eh, hi,” replied a confused Loni.
“You have beautiful hair,” Carol noted. “You shouldn’t keep it cooped up in a ponytail.” Carol reached out with one hand and stripped off the hair tie as if she had done it before. She immediately began to fluff out the hair. Loni looked at Banyon like a schoolchild who was being scolded.
Banyon immediately responded. “Carol we need to get going. There is the matter of the retainer.”
“It is Dr. Thorne to you.” It was a vehement reply.
“Of course,” said Banyon. “Do you have the money?”
Dr. Thorne reached into her bag and pulled out a certified check. She handed it to Loni, who handed it to Banyon. He noted that it was drawn on a local bank and was the same as cash. There would be no way to trace it.
“Thanks,” he said. “We can leave as soon as our fourth member gets here.”
Both women looked at him like he was crazy. Banyon had not shared with Loni the conversation he’d had earlier in the week. She would not have approved. So he decided to wait until it was too late to fight about it. Banyon had called Agent Kriss to inquire if the FBI knew anything about the Thorne woman. No e-mail had been sent to her, yet, she called Loni minutes after the bidding ended. Banyon wanted to know why. Agent Kriss acted as if he didn’t know anything, but Banyon persisted. Agent Kriss then asked Banyon to hold and shortly, Greg Gamble came on the line.
“Well, you got yourself a firecracker there,” he drawled without preamble.
“So, you know her?”
“Let’s just say that we have used her before. She wouldn’t have been my choice, but she does know her stuff.”
“If she is working for you, why hire us? What do we bring to the table?”
“You are reading too much into it, buddy. The museum is paying her and you to authenticate the book. There is nothing mysterious here.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” retorted Banyon.
“You take care of yourself,” Gamble replied and then hung up.
The conversation left Banyon even more confused. He at least hoped to make a copy of the materials in the book. But it occurred to him that Dr. Thorne may have a different agenda. He decided that he needed some help. He needed someone who could read German, knew about artifacts, and would be loyal to him. He knew one person who fit the job description. He placed a call to the University of New York at Stony Brook.
Four eyes glared at Banyon. He calmly grabbed a magazine and sat down to wait for the fourth person.
“Banyon cut out the crap. Just Loni and I are going to the Hilton,” shouted Dr. Thorne. She stood with hands on her wide hips and tried to challenge him. She was an alpha male in a female body.
“That is Mr. Banyon to you, Dr. Thorne,” Banyon replied without looking up. “And, yes I can and will bring someone else to help.”
He had placed a follow-up call to Agent Kriss and informed him that he was bringing someone who could read German. Banyon didn’t know if Dr. Thorne could read German, but neither did Agent Kriss. It was just a little deception.
As the irritated Dr. Thorne was formulating a response, the door opened and in walked Myra Patel. She, like her sisters, was a stunning woman. Her skin was the color of mocha and her auburn hair reached below her shoulders. She was dressed in a long, silky dress that almost touched the ground. It was, however, tight and showed off her curves. Banyon was just able to stand up before she hugged him and gave him a peck on the cheek. Loni was already jealous and Dr. Thorne was falling in love for the second time in one day.
“It is good to see you again, Loni,” Myra said as she looked about the room. She did not extend her hand.
“What are you doing here?” Loni asked as she sent laser daggers at a smiling Banyon.
Ignoring Loni’s agitation, Myra turned to the other woman. “And you must be Dr. Thorne.” Myra extended her hand and it was promptly engulfed in both of the good doctor’s mitts. “I am here to help you. I understand that you do not read German, and, of course, the book is in German.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Dr. Thorne inquired, but she held a smile on her face.
“I called the FBI,” Banyon responded. “They said that they could use someone who could read German. Now could we please get going? We will be late if we don’t hurry.”
“You drive, Mr. Banyon. Myra and I need to discuss our plan.” The good doctor held Myra’s hand in a death grip. “We will sit in the back.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Loni didn’t say a word in the car on the way to the airport. Banyon could not tell if she was obsessing about her miss read of Dr. Thorne or her jealously of the Patel clan. He decided to tell her that she did not have the right to regulate his life. Over drinks, some time ago, Loni had told him that she hated the effect that the Patels had on him, and would do everything in her power to keep them away from him. He was going to tell her to not butt into his private life, but right now was not a good time.
The two women in the back seat talked all the way to the airport Hilton. Banyon could not hear what they were discussing over the road noise, but he heard a lot of giggles. As he parked the car, they continued to talk in hushed tones. They exited the back seat and followed Banyon through the underground tunnels that led to the hotel. Loni, who usually stayed slightly behind Banyon, was two steps ahead. He reached out and touched her shoulder.
As she turned towards him, he noticed that her almond eyes were red. “Oh, Colt,” she said in a little girl voice. “I keep screwing up, and you keep fixing things for me. I’m so sorry to be a burden.”
“I thought you were mad at me for hiring Myra to help,” Banyon replied.
“No, I know that you did the right thing. The truth is that I should have thought of it myself.”
“Loni, we are a team. Both team members can contribute. Besides, I told you that I have some concerns about the lovely Dr. Thorne.”
“Myra has her eating out of her hand,” commented Loni. “And what is that thing stuck to her tongue?”
“You are not old enough to know about it yet,” he said brusquely.
Chapter Twenty-Three
They climbed the escalator and were immediately greeted by an overly friendly bellman. He directed them to the concierge. The concierge walked them down a hallway and motioned them to enter a closed door. The sign on the door said, “Surprise Contestant Reward Room.” The FBI was not always very creative.
Banyon was the first to enter the room and was quickly pushed against the wall and handcuffed. The three women who follow
ed were also detained. Dr. Thorne was red-faced, angry, and spoiling for a fight.
“Do you know who I am?” she growled. “I demand to speak to the agent in charge.” She was so mad that the words came out with spittle attached.
Banyon turned to the nearest black suit and said, “Is Agent Kriss around? Colton Banyon and his group are here. He expects us.” The agent spoke into a throat-microphone and Agent Kriss soon came through a door in the back of the room. He curtly told the agent to release Banyon.
“Well, well, looks like we captured ‘Charlie’s Angels,’” Agent Kriss said a little too loudly.
“That is a sexist remark,” the red-faced doctor roared. “You are supposed to uphold the law, not break it.” It was plain to see that Dr. Thorne was accustomed to getting her way. Colt wondered if it had to do with her academic accomplishments or if it was a result of her several affirmative action qualifications.
Banyon took a different approach. “So, you do have a sense of humor,” Banyon threw out at the FBI man.
“Banyon, follow me. You are to be out of the line of fire. We will keep you in the room next door until everyone is here,” the agent said, reverting to seriousness. He didn’t wait for introductions.
“I’m in charge here,” Dr. Thorne declared. “Get these cuffs off of me.”
“I’m sorry, madam, but until we determine who you are, you will stay in the handcuffs.” Dr. Thorne clearly bristled at the word “madam.” There was no debate as to who was in charge as they trooped into the next room.
The adjoining room was much larger. Three agents monitored several surveillance cameras that had been set up around the hotel. Several sets of tables and chairs were scattered around the room. Banyon noticed that an older couple was sitting at one table. They were either being debriefed or interrogated by two FBI men. They both wore wrist cuffs and their hands were set on the table.
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