“That bitch has to pay,” he screamed at his tortured face. He went off to call Billy.
“Damn, we sure got us a communication problem, brother,” Billy sarcastically answered the cell phone.
“I’ve been busy,” Duggan answered.
“I’ve spoken to the Jacksonville Police Department. They tell me that poor Mr. Jones died in a house fire last night. Ain’t that something? They said it was of suspicious origins and Jones got all burned up. Autopsy won’t do no good. ME signed the death certificate. They are looking for a big bald man with a tattoo. Know anybody like that?”
“Cut the crap,” Duggan warned. “When are you getting your boney ass down here so we can hit the safety deposit box?”
“I’ll be on the nine o’clock flight tomorrow. You pick me up, but don’t come inside. I’ll come out. Will I be able to recognize you?”
“My mother wouldn’t know me,” Duggan answered.
Chapter Ninety-Five
Loni didn’t hear him come out of the bedroom. She was busy working on her computer in a shirt and panties, when he touched her shoulder. It was like a jolt of electricity to her.
“I feel better now,” Colt said.
She turned in the chair to look at him, but he put his hands under her armpits and easily lifted her high in the air. He wanted her to know that he had fully recovered and a display of strength seemed appropriate. He nuzzled her flat stomach, causing her to laugh. He held her with his arms extended and used his teeth to pull up her shirt. He started kissing her naked flesh. She was in ecstasy and made no move to dissuade the attention he bestowed on her. She could feel that this wasn’t lust. It was someone demonstrating his love for her. Her man was back, big time. Then he carried her over to the couch and laid her flat on it. He sat on the coffee table.
“You are the most gymnastic woman I have ever met,” he said with admiration.
“And you are so strong that you can bend me anyway you want,” she replied. She was completely relaxed now and her eyes had that satisfied look Colt wanted to see.
“Loni, I’ve been thinking. We have to talk.” He was serious now and she caught the body language.
“Colt, what is wrong? Have I done something wrong? You still love me, don’t you?”
He realized that he was too serious and tried to lighten up his posture. “Loni, you are the woman for me, forever. Who would take care of me like you do? Besides, you are my best friend. Who would I discuss these things with, if not you?”
“Oh, okay, but don’t make me sad, Colt.”
“I have been thinking about the recipe. Other than you and me, no one on earth has any idea about the potential of the recipe. No one owns it. Everybody is dead, and we have the missing key. Once we get it, what should we do with it?”
She lifted her leg straight up in the air as she reclined on the couch. It was her way of saying that it was an easy problem to solve. She could do yoga exercises and think at the same time. “We use it for good, of course,” she answered.
“It’s not that easy,” he said. “The recipe is very valuable. I’m not talking about millions of dollars. I’m talking about billions of dollars. I’m talking about private jets, servants, and invitations-to-the-White-House rich. I’m also talking about no privacy, evil people trying to grab what they can from us, lawyers, financial advisors, and the media watching our every move. We will become prisoners in a world of opulence.”
Her straight leg had now moved ninety degrees further and her knee touched her forehead. “Yuck, I hate lawyers,” she said. “So, why don’t we give it away? You know, to the right organization.”
“That would be a bad move. The amount of money that we are talking about would corrupt just about anyone. Soon the organization would be charging high prices. The poor would be pushed out of the programs, and only the rich would able to beat alcoholism.”
Loni was now arching her back in the crab position and walking towards her feet with her hands. “Well, how about the government. No wait, that’s a bad idea. Colt, you decide. I investigate. I can’t comprehend what you think about. You are already rich, and all I want is to be with you. No cameras, no publicity, no servants, and most of all, no lawyers.”
“I’m glad you think the same way I do. I had to find out what you thought of being very rich. I think we should, you and me, that is, copyright the recipe and start a new organization dedicated to helping the poor. It would be non-profit and we can license anyone who wants to help, but the treatment would be free. They could charge for rooms and fancy getaways, but the tea would be free for all. We would call it ‘The Eva & Sofia Kerns Institute.’”
She had both legs behind her head as she spoke. “But I thought that we couldn’t trust anyone, and we don’t want any attention.”
“Loni, there are three people other than you that I trust in this world. They are my sons. They will run the institute. We will be behind the scenes.”
“That’s brilliant,” she said as she sat up. “But we also have the codes and locations of all that Nazi money. What should we do with all that?”
“I think the Nazi money belongs to the people they took it from. There are people and organizations that have dedicated their lives to tracking that money. It must go to them. But first, I want to use the locations to catch the man who killed Hal Jones and hurt me. If we don’t, he will surely come after us again.”
“Okay, now we’re talking about my strength,” she announced. “Let me set the trap. Give me a few hours to come up with a plan.” She headed to her computer. Colt hesitated a few minutes and then called her back to the couch.
“Loni, can you think of anyone you might have told about our destinations? Did you perhaps tell Carl?” He was being very delicate.
“Of course not,” she answered indignantly. “I only told you and Dr. Thorne because she was paying us.”
“So, you did tell someone,” he pointed out.
“Oh my God, why would she tell the Yakuza anything?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “But you investigate, don’t you?”
***
Loni worked at the desk. She was on the phone and typing at the same time. Colt sat on the couch making notes on his little pad of paper. He made a list of the things they had accomplished:
Found “rightful owner” of book.
Helped solve Sofia Kern’s murder.
Found missing ingredient for recipe.
Found old Nazi.
Found location codes for Nazi money—already have accounts/passwords.
Secured waiver for museum.
He then made a list of things that needed to be done:
Solve Hal Jones’s murder.
Find out more about Dr. Thorne.
Get recipe from book.
Turnover codes and accounts to right organization.
Find out why Yakuza was following us.
Stop white supremacist group.
Uncover the true secret of the book.
He had one more thing to add to his list, but didn’t want to write it down. He got up and told Loni that he was going to the bathroom. Once inside, he addressed Wolf.
“Wolf, did you find any connections between spells and curses?”
“They are not the same.” The eerie reply filled the small room.
“What is the difference?”
“A fellow traveler explained it to me. With a curse, the spirits stay with you all the time. They get to know everything about their assigned person or object. A spell is less organized. People who are under a spell marshal local, unattached spirits to do their bidding. The results are less consistent.”
“Does the person under a spell know they are under a spell?”
“Usually, they figure it out. Sometimes they feel they are lucky; sometimes they just accept things as being normal. When they think about something related to the spell, it just appears.”
“Is Loni under a spell?”
“Why would you ask me that?”
“She has this uncanny ability to produce objects at will. They just show up in her hand. They are always to our benefit and usually can be explained as good organization, but it is bothering me. So, is she?”
“I have detected nothing so far, but will look further into it for you. Her feelings are genuine. Otherwise, I would have noticed other spirits around you.”
Colt thought about this for a while, and then asked, “What should I do now?”
“Go home, Colt. The answers will be there.”
***
She looked up at him as he walked into the room and stopped just short of the desk. He now wondered what mysteries were trapped in her pretty little head. She sure made his blood race. He wanted to let all doubts go; she meant more to him than anything. After all, he talked to ghosts, and she didn’t complain. She searched his face to understand what he wanted. Her body language told him she was ready to do whatever he required. Just tell me, I’ll do it, it screamed.
“I want to go home,” he said, “tonight.” She seemed to accept it as an order and began to close down her computer.
“Do you mean to your house?” she asked in her small voice. It almost broke his heart when he realized she wasn’t sure what he meant.
“To our house. You live there now. Loni, I need you right now.” She leaped up and hugged him with all her strength.
“I’m going to make you so happy,” she announced. “There are planes leaving every hour until midnight. We will have to change planes in Atlanta, but they have many flights to Chicago. We can be home tonight, my love.”
“Great, you can call the airlines from the car,” he said. “I just need something to cover the bandage on my head.”
“Wait, I have something for you,” she said. She sprinted into the bedroom and returned holding a blue, New York Yankees baseball hat. It was Colt’s favorite team. She placed it on his head, ignoring the shocked expression on his face, and stood back to admire her work.
Colt’s stomach turned over. “Where did you get this hat?”
“I’m a witch. Didn’t you know? I conjured it up,” she smiled.
Chapter Ninety-Six
The next morning, Billy Bond waddled out of the Jacksonville airport terminal. He wore a seersucker suit of blue and white and a red bowtie. He all but dragged a large, beat-up, brown briefcase to the curb and looked for Duggan. He’d taken the first flight to Jacksonville and was anxious to get to the bank. He carried all the proper papers that guaranteed his access.
A car pulled up to the curb and a large black chauffer, wearing a hat which was way too big for his head, spoke to Bond.
“Get in,” the black man ordered.
Billy looked into the car and saw that the man had an eye patch on his right eye. “Get away from me,” Bond ordered.
“Billy, it’s me, Duggan,” the man said.
“What?” Billy spat out. He looked into the car again. “I do declare. You’re right. Your momma wouldn’t recognize you dressed like that.” Billy got into the car threw his briefcase into the back as they sped off. As they left the airport, Duggan explained that it was best to hide in plain sight. He’d gotten the suit and the face-black at a costume retailer. It was an effective disguise. He would just be one more big black man.
“You gonna tell me the address or do I have to guess?” Duggan asked. He had his silenced pistol in his jacket and wanted to get rid of the lawyer as soon as possible. There were a lot of marshes around the airport and he could save himself some driving time if he could kill Billy Bond close by. It was an hour’s drive to downtown.
“You drive, James. I’ll tell you where to turn,” Bond replied. He didn’t have a gun—couldn’t get it on the plane—but he did have some very effective poison.
“Yes, master,” Duggan joked.
“Want to stop for some coffee?” Bond asked.
“Let’s just get this done, okay?”
***
They arrived at the bank at nine-fifteen. Billy walked into the branch and demanded to see the manager. Duggan trailed two steps behind. Billy cajoled the manger into believing they should have access to the Hal Jones safety deposit box. He had all the right papers and Duggan showed him the key. The manager noted that it was a shame about Mr. Jones. He had just secured the safety deposit box a couple of weeks ago. Duggan shook with anticipation as they walked down the hallway. They entered the vault and the manager opened the box.
They were shown to a private sitting room and waited for the manager to leave. Billy rubbed his hands together and threw open the box. Duggan gathered in close. Inside the safety deposit box was another box. It was a child’s metal moneybox. There was no key.
“Gimme that,” Duggan demanded. He flicked open a switchblade and immediately went to work on the lock. The lock held for about thirty seconds before Duggan broke it and flipped the lid. Inside was another box, wrapped in a bow. Duggan sliced the bow with a quick motion and lifted the cover.
“What the hell,” Billy said. The small box contained several condoms and something only a woman would have. Duggan grabbed the smooth, pink cylinder. There was very small writing on the dildo. It was too small to read with the naked eye. Billy hurriedly rummaged through his case for a magnifier. He pulled the cylinder close to his face and tried to read the message.
“It says, ‘Open at bottom.’” He quickly unscrewed the base and a piece of paper fell out. They both grabbed for it and nearly tore it in two halves. Billy prevailed. He could see several addresses written in German. The writing was also very small and required the magnifier. He counted off nine addresses and then noticed a sentence on the bottom, written in English. He strained to see it and read it aloud. “It says, ‘Now insert a battery into the dildo and stick it up your asses.’ This is a fake,” he moaned.
Chapter Ninety-Seven
Colt woke up in his own king-sized bed. It seemed like ages since he last slept there. Some things had changed. He turned his head and took in the large clump of hair that was Loni. She was sleeping with her back to him. She’d used some apparatus to put her hair in a bun last night. It was the first time she hadn’t left her hair down when preparing for bed. He wondered if she would be different in other ways, as well.
They had gotten home around two o’clock in the morning. He had not been bothered by the changes in air pressure or the bumpy flight. But he was exhausted and wanted to go straight to bed. Loni wanted food, a glass of wine, and a bath.
While he prepared two omelets, she scurried around the house looking into closets and opening drawers. She hung her clothes from the trip on hangers in the empty closet. She was staking her claim. She showed up in the kitchen in his robe. It dragged on the floor, but she didn’t notice. After eating and drinking her wine, she went off to splash in the bath. He heard the Jacuzzi run several times and finally gave in. When he entered the bathroom, bubbles were pouring out of the tub.
“I didn’t know that you shouldn’t run the Jacuzzi with a bubble bath,” she exclaimed. Bubbles were stacked up at least a foot above the tub. She had bubbles on her nose and a shower cap on her head. Colt didn’t remember owning a shower cap, but he let it go.
“You look like you’re having fun,” he said.
“It would be more fun if you were in here, too. I need my back scrubbed.”
She giggled with happiness as he climbed in, clothes and all.
***
The next morning he awoke and turned onto his side. He pulled up the sheet and peered at the lovely creature sleeping with her back to him.
She began to rustle and rolled onto her back with her legs slightly apart. Colt was afraid to move a muscle. He wanted to take in all of her. He was in heaven.
She opened one eye and said, “I’m still sleeping, but if you want to play with me go right ahead.”
***
It was lunchtime when they finally got out of bed. They showered together. Then Loni announced that she needed to pick up some clothes from the office where she was currently staying.
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“Are you going to talk to Carl today?” he asked.
“I need to think about what I want to say to him,” she replied. He took that as a no.
He sat down at his desk and went to work as soon as she left. The first thing he noticed was a message from A. Kim to Loni with a copy to him. It had been sent late yesterday afternoon. He opened the e-mail and pondered its contents. Detective Kim wrote in the clipped style that most Asians seemed to learn. Sentences were not complete and plurals were the same as single nouns. Banyon had to fill in some of the blanks to make sense of the communication. Nonetheless, he immediately understood.
The man who killed the old soldiers and the man who killed Sofia were cousins. They both belonged to the same Yakuza clan. Juro Nara, one of the old soldiers, belonged to the same clan. Kim didn’t know that Binh Handa had been out of the country, but it now made sense to him. Jin Kurima, who had murdered the old men, had confessed to the crime yesterday morning, right after his uncle visited him, which was about two hours after Sofia died. Kim believed the murder of Sofia and the confession by Jin Kurima were connected. He also knew why.
With the Yakuza, it is always about money, he wrote. The money path started with the old men. They were both rich and had a part ownership in a gold mine in the Philippines. When Detective Kim looked into their heirs, he found the recent wills. Juro Nara and Akio Suzuki had left everything to each other. Nara’s will had a codicil which said that if he died last, his nephew, Soh Handa, would inherit the estate. However, there was also a codicil to both wills which said that all the money would go to the rightful owner of the Mein Kampf book if the owner claimed it within ninety days of the death of the last soldier. Soh Handa was Binh Handa’s uncle. The Yakuza now stood to inherit all the money.
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