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

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “How does it feel to be defenseless? If you weren’t on your stomach, I’d kick you in the balls, too.” Her rage was so profound she didn’t see Agent Kriss enter the front door with his gun drawn.

  “Drop the gun, Loni,” he ordered. She turned and looked at him with molten lava in her eyes, but dropped the gun immediately.

  “Agent Kriss, we must hurry. Colt is unconscious upstairs and this Aryan asshole has been trying to kill us. He set the house on fire, for God sakes.”

  “Let me cuff him first,” Agent Kriss said. He moved quickly to the huge man and cuffed his hands behind his back. “Show me the way.”

  They ran up the stairs and into the closet. Agent Kriss noted the bullet holes in the door.

  “What happened here?”

  “He sprayed us with automatic gunfire—that was after the flash grenade. Then he set the fires. I found a shotgun and hit him with rock salt. Please, we need to hurry.”

  They managed to get Banyon upright and half carried, half dragged him down the stairs and out the front door. They both collapsed by the rental cars. Colt moaned and made signs of coming around. Flames now leaped from the top of the house. The top floors were completely engulfed. The main floor had not started to burn, yet.

  “We need to go in and get the big man, too,” Agent Kriss said as he gulped for breath.

  “The bastard tried to kill us, and you want to save him?” She was incredulous.

  “We need him as a witness against Billy Bond. That’s who he works for,” Agent Kriss said as he struggled to his feet. He reached out his hand and Loni took it. They headed back into the house.

  They ran to the hallway where they had left the man, but all that was there was some blood. Agent Kriss produced a handkerchief and wiped some of it up. “DNA,” he explained.

  Loni pointed to the body of Hal Jones. “He’s been dead for a few days already. I think the big man came back to cover up his work. We found him like that. The back door was open.” She wanted to make sure Agent Kriss didn’t have any reason to hold them.

  “We had better leave him. The fire is spreading too fast.” They both sprinted out the front door.

  Agent Kriss made all the necessary calls while Loni tended to Banyon. He was awake now but dazed and confused. Soon fire trucks, police, and an ambulance arrived on the scene. There wasn’t much the firefighters could do for the house. They milled around and poured water on the surrounding woods to prevent the fire from spreading. Agent Kriss collared several police officers and they went off to search for the big man. A paramedic worked on Colt.

  “Try to follow my finger,” the medic said as he moved it in front of Colt’s eyes.

  “Which finger,” he joked.

  “Colt, stop fooling,” a very serious Loni ordered.

  “Who are you, cutie?” Colt flirted.

  “Oh, my God, he can’t remember me. How bad is his concussion? I mean, does he have permanent brain loss? Can you move your arms and legs, Colt? How is your vision…?” She was so panicked that she blathered questions faster than the ear could hear.

  “We’d better take him to the hospital for observation,” the paramedic decided.

  “I want to ride with him to the hospital,” Loni said.

  “And who are you?” the medic asked, filling out a card.

  “I’m his wife.”

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  The sun was high in the sky when Banyon finally woke up. He surveyed the room and realized he was in a hospital. He had little recollection of the previous night. The last thing he actually remembered was Loni yelling, “Closet.” His head hurt. He lifted his hand and was surprised to find a large bandage covering half of his forehead.

  He didn’t remember being admitted. He moved his arms and legs to see if he had any other injuries. Other than some serious bruises, he seemed all right. He suddenly sat bolt upright, and then leaped from the bed and dashed to the closet. His clothes were hanging neatly on hangers. He rifled the pockets, but could not find the snuffbox. Suddenly, his head started spinning and he slumped to the floor.

  When he finally came to, he was sprawled on the floor of his room, with his head against the door. There was a nurse standing over him.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” She stood with her hands on her hips. She was an attractive twenty-something in a short, white nursing uniform. From his position, slumped against the closet door, he could see most of her long legs.

  “I was looking for something,” he croaked.

  “Well, it’s not on the floor,” she informed him. “And it’s not up my skirt. But thanks for noticing.” She smiled benevolently. She shifted an attractive hip and held out her hand. “Let me help you back to bed.”

  He had to get on his knees to stand up and had wrapped his arm around her waist for support when Loni waltzed into the room.

  “What are you doing to him?” Loni spat. She tossed her small present onto the chair and moved over to help Colt stand up. His hospital frock had flapped open and looked like a cape as he stood. Loni quickly covered him up and helped the too-cute nurse walk him back to the bed. Once she had him settled, she turned to the young woman and crossed her arms.

  “Well, what’s going on?” she demanded.

  The now embarrassed and flushed nurse stammered an answer. “Your husband left his bed and fell down by the closet. I walked by and saw him there. I was just helping him up.”

  “You were flirting with him,” Loni accused.

  “Ma’am, I’ve seen naked men before,” the nurse coolly replied.

  “Yeah, but not mine,” Loni spoke through gritted teeth.

  Loni dismissed the nurse with a wave of her hand. “Colt, are you okay? How could you flirt with that hussy?”

  “Your husband?” he asked as a way to deflect her question. “Sweetie, the last thing that I remember was you telling me to go into the closet. I must have hit my head on a clothes bar or something. When I woke up a little while ago, I went to check on the snuffbox and fell down. Do you have the snuffbox? It’s not in my pants.”

  “Colt, I was so worried about you. Have you come back to me?” She started to cry.

  “I’m fine,” he quickly replied and reached out for her. She jumped onto the bed and proceeded to bury her head in his chest.

  “Did we get married while I was out?”

  “No, I told the paramedic we were married so that I could stay with you. You scared me half to death. Don’t you ever do that to me again.” She looked up at him and punched his already sore chest.

  “Do you have the snuffbox?”

  “Don’t worry. I took it from you last night. It’s safe in my purse.” She pointed to the chair.

  “Good, so are you going to tell me what happened last night, or what?”

  Loni continued to cover his chest as she filled him in on the events of last night. She avoided the parts about the danger she’d faced without him. She told him that Agent Kriss had taken over the investigation. They were free to go. “Do you feel well enough to go home?”

  He cupped her rear and squeezed it. “We’d better check with a doctor.”

  Loni quickly located the doctor. He told them that Colt could leave, but told him not to fly for a couple of days. He said Colt would be fine, but he’d suffered a concussion and the change in air pressure might be a problem. He further told him that the cut on his head had bled a lot, but would probably not leave a scar. Colt promised to stay in Jacksonville for two more days and if he didn’t feel better, they would drive home. He signed the release and started to put on his clothes. Suddenly, he noticed the package on the chair.

  “Did you buy me a present?” he asked.

  “I almost forgot,” she said with happiness in her voice. “Don’t look until I tell you.”

  “Okay.” He continued to get dressed.

  “You can look now,” she said.

  When he turned, he saw that she was wearing a nurse’s cap. “I’m going to wear this while I take care of yo
u.”

  Colt suddenly remembered Sofia and her tricks.

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  Loni decided that Colt needed better accommodations while he healed. So she changed hotels and she drove Colt to the Marriott. As he surveyed the suite, he noticed it had two bedrooms. Loni shrugged and pointed out that she didn’t know if he was well enough for her to sleep with him.

  “That would be grounds for divorce,” he said.

  She smiled and tried to lead him to one of the bedrooms, but he resisted. “Colt you need to get in bed and rest.”

  “I’ve spent too much time in bed. I’m going to the couch,” he said with determination.

  “Okay.” She ran to the bedroom and returned with a light robe. “Here, let me help you undress.” She stripped him of his clothes and enjoyed every second of the procedure. She then helped him into the robe.

  “Do you want to sit with your feet up on the coffee table or do you want to lie down?”

  “Feet up and turn on the TV.”

  She fluffed up a pillow and then disappeared into the bedroom. He could hear the shower running and was soon relaxing and watching an old Bogart movie. He started to feel better and his headache had magically gone away. He was not surprised when the TV was turned off by a remote control device that he did not have in his possession.

  “It’s time to have your temperature taken,” Loni said as she waltzed out of the bedroom. She was wearing her new crisp, white, nurse’s dress. She walked over, knelt on the couch, and opened his robe.

  ***

  After lunch, Colt went to the bedroom to rest. Loni got out her laptop and began the process of reentry into the cyberspace world. She had not been on a computer for a day and had started to feel withdrawal symptoms. She and Colt did not discuss anything about the codes they had in their possession or what to do with them. They hadn’t talked about the recipe and they hadn’t talked about the ship or even about their future. He claimed to be tired after Loni used a technique, taught to her by Sofia, to check his temperature. She knew he was a deep thinker and he thought all the time. His mind was active again and that was good. But she didn’t know what currently occupied his think-tank.

  She checked her e-mails and noted several from clients and prospective clients. About halfway through the list, an e-mail from the Jacksonville Police Department caught her eye. She opened it and read it.

  It was from Detective Pellegrino. It said he had repeatedly called their cell phones and left messages that had not been returned. He called the hotel that she’d given him and was told they had checked out. A report on his desk said they were at the scene of a big fire last night and an Agent Kriss from the FBI had told him a murdered man had been found in the burned-out house. The last sentence said, “I don’t believe you are on vacation. Call me immediately.”

  She grabbed her purse and began to rummage inside. She pulled out both of their cell phones and saw they were turned off. She remembered taking all of Colt’s personal property—his wallet, cell phone, and the snuffbox—from him at the hospital. She must have turned the phones off then, she reasoned. She turned them both on and checked hers for messages. There were three from Detective Pellegrino, each progressively more aggressive. But the first one had some news.

  She grabbed the phones and headed for the bedroom. Colt was sitting up in bed with the small pad and pen that was supplied by the hotel. He appeared to be doodling.

  “Loni, I’ve been trying to think some things through,” he said as she entered the bedroom. She still wore her nursing uniform, but the hat was gone, and all the buttons in the front were open. She was naked underneath.

  “Colt, this is really important. Check your voicemail,” she interrupted. “I must have turned the phone off in the hospital.”

  He didn’t comment and opened his phone as she threw off her dress and climbed into bed with him. He gave her a questioning look.

  “I don’t want to wrinkle it,” she answered his silent question.

  He listened to his voicemails and then closed the phone.

  “Loni, do you still have the business card from the Tokyo detective we met at the FBI sting?”

  “I put it in my database,” she replied. “Why do you ask?”

  “I want you to send him a message. Ask him if he can find a connection between Binh Handa and the man who murdered the old Japanese soldiers. Now that Binh Handa is in police custody in Los Angeles and they matched his fingerprints to the inside of the suite door on the ship, we know his mission was to kill Sofia, but I still can’t figure out why.”

  “Detective Pellegrino said Binh Handa has refused to answer any questions. He said Binh Handa implied that if he talked, he died.”

  “Ask Detective Kim if he can give us any reason why the Yakuza might be pursuing the book.”

  “But Colt, we know a Yakuza was the one who stole the book. We saw him in Chicago, remember?”

  “That doesn’t explain why they followed us, why they killed Sofia, and who is feeding them information,” he replied, logically. “For all we know, there may be another Yakuza watching us right now.”

  “Oh,” she said. She clearly felt exposed and immediately jumped out of bed and started to get dressed. She ran to the suite door and made sure the chain was in place. She then returned.

  “But what are we going to do about Detective Pellegrino?”

  “I’ll handle that.”

  Colt opened his phone and pressed the button to return Detective Pellegrino’s call. Shortly, he was connected.

  “Detective Pellegrino, this is Colton Banyon returning your call. Sorry we haven’t returned your call until now. I was in the hospital until a few hours ago and we moved to the Marriott in Bay Meadows. Since we were in the hospital, we turned our phones off. I hope you understand.”

  There was a pause as the detective talked. Then Banyon continued. “Yes, we got the message. Homeland Security did a great job catching him in L.A.”

  The detective started talking again, but Colt interrupted. “I’m sorry detective. But I can’t tell you anything. You have our cards. You know we are private investigators. We are working with Agent Kriss from the FBI. I don’t want to go to jail for violating the ‘Patriot Act.’ Agent Kriss is the only one who can help you.” Colt was stretching the truth a little, but he was sure that Agent Kriss would stonewall the police. “Okay, I’m recovering from a concussion, anyway. We’ll stay in town for a couple more days. Bye.”

  His next call was to Agent Kriss.

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  Duggan was in agony and rage at the same time. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and tried to imagine how he looked to the outside world.

  “I’ll get you, you little bitch,” he swore to the mirror. “I’m going to hang you from a tree and use you as a punching bag. I’m going to fuck you up good.” He was surprised to feel the stir of sexual arousal as he ranted at the mirror. He had fucked up several women before and had taken his time with them when they were helpless and usually unconscious. He decided to not kill her—at least not until he was satisfied. He wanted her to suffer. Suffer like he was doing now.

  The face in the mirror was scary even to him. He had a huge knob on his forehead. His bald head was bright red and three bandages covered most of his facial features. He now wore a black eye patch on his right eye, as well. He knew he had been lucky. He could have lost an eye. But Duggan took no solace in that; he wanted revenge. His blood boiled as he relived the events of last night.

  His goal was to make sure Jones was dead and to burn the house to the ground. He had come by water again and noticed the light from the car headlights as soon as he hit land. He’d armed himself with his trusty automatic, his night vision goggles, and a leather vest that hung from his neck and covered the front of his body. The vest held extra gun clips and a flash grenade that could be used to subdue the old man, if he was still alive. He also had two lighters and two small jars of gas. He would use the gas to light torches and walk aroun
d the house igniting anything that would burn. He always loved to set fires. This was his version of going to an amusement park. The fact that there were additional people in the house only heightened his amusement. Maybe they would afford him the opportunity to get in some target practice, he thought.

  As he’d approached the car, he’d seen that it was empty. He searched for lights in the house and noticed the flashlight beams in the third floor windows. He’d quickly developed a plan. He doused the lights, pulled the pin on the grenade, tossed it through the third-floor window, and ran around to the back of the house. He figured the people would head for the rear of the house if they were mobile. He would be there.

  But no one came running. So he fired up his night vision goggles, with new batteries this time, and went hunting. While running up to the third story, he’d stumbled, and the night vision goggles had flipped off his head and tumbled down the stairs. He knew he had to press on before the people recovered. He’d sprayed the room with satisfying gunfire and emptied a second clip for good measure. Although he couldn’t see anything, he was pretty sure they were at least wounded. No sounds had come from the room.

  He then set fire to the third floor, calculating that anyone left alive would bolt down the stairs. He remembered thinking that this was serious fun. He had finished setting fire to the second floor and had just hit the downstairs hallway when the little chink bitch called to him and then shot him.

  The vest took most of the blast, but he was hit in the eye and the force of the impact had stunned him momentarily. When she came close, he was ready to take her. Then everything went blank. When he regained his bearings, he realized he was handcuffed with his arms behind his back. The pain in his eye was horrible, but it probably saved his life. It made him want to move. He knew how to step through handcuffs and his long arms helped. But his right arm couldn’t stand the strain and was dislocated again. Despite the torturous injuries, he was up and running in seconds. He made it to his boat and back to the medical supplies in his motel room. He spent half the night fixing his injuries and then slept late into the next day.