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

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “Not exactly,” replied Ivan as he shook his head.

  Wesley was now very irritated with the monks and considered calling the whole thing off. “I’m confused,” he stated instead.

  “We want to pull a switch. We want you to take his place on the steamer to South Africa,” Rasputin answered.

  “That would be impossible. The emissary in South Africa knows the professor. Anyway, how would you stop him from getting on the boat?”

  “This is not your problem,” Rasputin angrily replied with a wave of his huge hand. “The emissary has had a hunting accident in Africa, and I’m sorry to say he is dead. No one in South Africa can now identify Professor Wayne. You will replace him.”

  “But why not just follow him?”

  “Ah, good point,” replied Ivan as he once again nervously rolled his hands.

  “The professor is part of a secret society which is both an occult and a protector of White Supremacy. He was going to Africa to attend their secret ceremony. The Black Diamond is being added as part of the ritual. You’ll be a part of the ceremony and replace the diamond with this.” Rasputin produced a large, black diamond from his robe and held it aloft. It sparkled in the dim light produced by the lanterns. It appeared to be real. “Don’t worry, Professor, it is priceless and is genuine, part of the collection of the Czaristia of Russia.”

  “Where did you get it?” a stunned Wesley asked in complete confusion.

  “Alexandra, the czar’s wife, gave it to me, she…uh, trusts me,” Rasputin replied with a sinister grin.

  Wesley knew the Russian czar had a wife named Alexandra; however, he couldn’t understand why she would give Rasputin such a valuable treasure. “How…”

  Rasputin interrupted, “I have helped her on many occasions. She and her son, Alexi, have needed the faith healing only I can provide.”

  Wesley felt his head spinning. Revelations were coming too quickly. He had to think this through. Rasputin pretended to be an honest monk, but too much lay behind his words. He wondered what the real truth was—the real goal.

  “So, how are you going to stop Professor Wayne from getting on the steamer?”

  “Oh, he is already detained,” replied Ivan. He then produced a satchel. He poured it on the small table in front of them. As he sifted through several documents, he selected papers that included the identity of Professor Wayne and a letter inviting him to a secret meeting of the “Society of WSA.” He handed them to Wesley.

  “Society of WSA” was clearly written on the top of the letter. Wesley was sure it meant White South Africa. The letter said someone would meet Professor Wayne at the port. He was to wear a red scarf for identification since no one knew him. Wesley noticed one more thing. It was written on letterhead with the DeBeers company logo.

  Clarity hit Wesley like a ton of bricks. “Cecil Rhodes,” he muttered.

  “You’re quite right,” replied Rasputin.

  “But he died in March,” noted Wesley.

  “This is true. However, his last will and testament established a substantial fund for a secret society that was intended to return England to its former glory. Rhodes wanted to promote apartheid, invade helpless countries in Africa, and promote racism. The WSA was his society, and now they are well financed.”

  Wesley knew that when Rhodes had died, he was the richest man in the world. He was head of the BSAC—British South African Company—which controlled much of Southern Africa. He also had established the DeBeers mining company in 1880, which controlled diamond mining in Africa and most of the world. He was a member of the Freemasons—another secret society—and had invaded and acquired over one million square miles of Africa for England. He was a legend in England, but he had a darker side as well. Several articles had been written about Rhodes after his death included damaging comments which said he had bought newspapers to control the news. The articles said used mercenaries and gangs to do his bidding by intimidating and even eliminating competitors and enemies. He used the BSAC for his own interests. It was even rumored that he was a homosexual.

  “You see, all is prepared. We have left nothing to chance.” Rasputin now sounded like any politician.

  “But,” sputtered Wesley. “How will I be able to pass as Professor Wayne?”

  “Do not concern yourself with the professor. He’s going nowhere until you return,” thundered Rasputin, indicating he didn’t want to hear any negativity. “As to passing as the good professor, your documents have been forged. Of course, it is you, Wesley. You need only to go there and attend the meeting.”

  Wesley felt like a rat in a maze. At every turn Rasputin and his pet, Ivan seemed to have devised a scheme to overcome his objections. “How do I steal the diamond?”

  “You will have help. Our sources in Cape Town have penetrated the meeting site. It is a farmhouse at the edge of the city. The meeting will take place in an underground shelter there. There have been ceremonies there before, and our man has been inside.”

  “Why can’t your man in Cape Town steal the diamond for you?” Wesley uttered a little too sarcastically.

  “He’s also a monk of our church, and he’s black. That’s why he’s helping us. He doesn’t want the secret society to grow. He can never be a member and would probably be arrested or worse if found in the neighborhood of the ceremony, especially when it is in session.”

  “How will he help?”

  “Brother Gabriel—that is his name—will start a diversion outside the house. The society will react as they always do and grab their guns and charge after him. That is your time to make the switch,” Rasputin said as if it was all a routine procedure.

  Wesley thought about that for a minute, then asked, “Okay, since someone from the society will be meeting me at the port, how do I get in touch with Brother Gabriel?”

  “That is very simple. You will go to church.”

  Part Three

  Africa

  Chapter Ten

  One week later, Wesley found himself on a steamer headed for Cape Town, South Africa. He had studied and memorized all the identity documents and had researched the country as best he could. While he was very concerned about his own safety, he was also thrilled to be on a truly unique adventure. The allure of the diamond had tipped the risk–reward scale in its favor. He was very confident about switching the diamond. His only hobby was magic, and he knew how to pull off a slide-of-hand trick. The monks had provided him with a pouch which held an exact replica of the original diamond. He also had learned that the diamond was part of the ceremony, and it would be available for a switch.

  His big concern was what would happen to the diamond after he returned it to the monks. While they seemed to be serious religious followers, they were too fanatic, too political, and too manipulative. While they preached of the need to rescue and hide the diamond, Wesley was sure they had another objective. They had chosen him carefully. But why me? he wondered. He spent much of his time on the steamer writing and updating, from memory, his personal diary about the diamond. He had also brought several books about the occult, South Africa, Cecil Rhodes, and diamonds to read on the journey. He now sat on the top deck of the ship in a recliner, bathed in sunlight, with a warm breeze washing over him as he continued his writing.

  His sense of survival suddenly straightened the hairs on back of his neck. Someone was watching him. He casually stood up and stretched his arms, taking in the people and surroundings. Soon he noticed a young girl, woman actually, pretending to not notice him. He then knew he was being followed. But by whom? Was it Rasputin, or was it the society? Or was there another player in this game? Wesley was always an analytical thinker and decided he needed to find out who she was and why she was there.

  As he studied her from the corner of his eye, she began to rustle about. It was more like a show she was performing than a simple act of standing. The young woman was very beautiful. She sensually rose with a flutter of sheer-white garments. He noticed she stood tall and straight as she fluffed out he
r long blond hair in the slight breeze on the deck. The sun filled the sky directly behind her, which allowed anyone downstream to observe her silhouette. She took his breath away. The outline that blocked out the sun was as sexy and desirable as his imagination dared provide. For the first time in months, Wesley felt a stir of desire. But is she teasing me on purpose? She must know that all the men on deck absorbed her show. Is she teasing me or summoning someone else? Her face and her hair are dark shadows. Is she smiling at me? Completely flustered, Wesley gathered his books and notes. He quickly retreated to his room.

  At dinner that evening, he was once again face to face with the woman. She was different now, completely concealed in a dress of hoops, halters, and bodices. Her hair was actually strawberry blonde and in a bun with hair clips he was sure contained rare, valuable stones. She was a woman of wealth, he decided. He had seen her walk, or rather glide into the dining room and head directly to his table. She stood next to him, calm as a breezeless ocean.

  “Is this seat taken?” she inquired as she fluttered her seductive eyes.

  Before he could think, Wesley replied, “It’s yours for the taking.”

  He immediately stood and pulled back the chair for her. She demurely nodded and sat down. She then smiled up at him with perfect teeth surrounded by full, deep red lips.

  “Thank you,” she said in a throaty voice that reminded him of music. “My name is Anna. I’m traveling alone. How about you?”

  Wesley was taken aback by her boldness, but he kept control of his expression so he would not give her a hint of what he was thinking. “Hello, Anna,” he replied and gave her his most devastating smile. She captured his larger hands in both of hers. They were warm and soft.

  “My name is Jayson Wayne. I too am traveling alone.”

  “You are an American, am I correct?” Her voice was full of excitement and innocence. But was it a sham?

  “Sorry,” he replied as he looked down with embarrassment. “I’m actually British, from London’s south side.”

  “Oh, poop,” she exclaimed through adorably pouty lips. “I wanted you to be an American. I hate the British.”

  “Why do you hate the British?” he inquired.

  “I’m a native South African.”

  “But you speak English without an accent.”

  “I was educated in America, in Boston to be exact. Most South Africans can speak English. Have you ever been to America?”

  “I’ve spent much time in America. Sometimes I think of it as my homeland. It’s also where I studied. And what is your surname? Somehow, I’ve missed your last name.”

  “Van Kleef. I have a house in Cape Town and am returning there. I was in Germany visiting relatives. Why are you going to Cape Town?” She seemed very interested in his answer.

  “I’m a professor of history,” Wesley coyly replied.

  “Oh, so you are very…educated,” she exclaimed as if it was a requirement for talking. She batted her eyes, indicating she was impressed. This rattled Wesley slightly as he wondered if she was attempting to interrogate him.

  “Well, I am a full professor,” he agreed.

  Quickly changing the subject and keeping him off balance, she flirted. “Jayson, what I can’t understand is why you didn’t notice me up on the deck today.”

  “Excuse me?” he managed to spit out as he choked on his drink.

  “All men notice me, and you didn’t. So I’m wondering if you have something to hide.” She crossed her arms, pouted, and waited for a reply.

  “You’re very straightforward, aren’t you?” This charming woman captivated him. “Did you learn your techniques in America? The truth is I did notice you in your white chiffon dress. So there.” He stuck out his chin in rebuttal.

  “Good,” she replied seductively.

  “I hope you don’t think badly of all British citizens?” he said with great concern.

  “I’m South African. Born on the steppes north of Cape Town,” she announced as if she was confessing. “The British have been brutal to us. We have had to learn to deal with many bad things from them in the last twenty years of Boer Wars. People grow up fast in South Africa. My parents were Boers, farmers in the interior. The BSAC wanted our land and came one day and just took it. My parents had to move farther into the interior, and now they’re dead. I’m the only survivor because I was away at school in America.”

  “Your family is dead?”

  “Killed by Zulus,” she emphasized by shoving an invisible spear into her stomach. “It was their land that we resettled on.”

  “But why did the British take your land?” Wesley was truly sorry for this beautiful woman.

  “Diamonds, everything is about diamonds in South Africa. We’d found many diamonds in the stream, near the foothills on our property. My father sometimes sold them to Cecil Rhodes at DeBeers. Rhodes wanted to cut out the middleman, so he just took our land. That is why I hate the British. Many of our friends and relatives suffered the same fate.”

  “My God, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” He was completely flustered and very suspicious as the name DeBeers was suddenly interjected into their chat.

  “When I returned, I discovered that the BSAC blamed everything on the Zulus, who were at war with the BSAC. I was given a small compensation for the land. The BSAC now owns it and is not giving it back. I was lucky. My father had a lockbox in a bank in Cape Town. I’ve sold all the diamonds he had stashed there, and now I’m moving to Germany as soon as I can sell my house in Cape Town. That’s actually why I’m heading there.”

  As dinner progressed, they discussed many things. Wesley found that Anna was very well informed and could carry on a titillating conversation about any subject he broached. Her comments were filled with youthful aggression and sexual innuendo. He began to think more and more about her silhouette and the treasures hidden beneath her current attire.

  “Order some wine,” she said.

  Assuming a waiter-like voice, he asked, “White or red, Miss?”

  “I’ll have whatever is your pleasure,” she seductively responded.

  “Full bodied or dry?”

  “Whatever,” she answered with a flip of her hand, “as long as it has the desired effect.”

  Wesley raised his hand immediately and summoned a waiter. Shortly, a band started to play. Anna turned to Wesley and smiled, her deep blue eyes sparkling with adventure. He knew what to do next.

  “Would you like to dance?” he inquired.

  “I thought you would never ask,” she whispered as she all but leapt to her feet. Grabbing his hand, she led him to the dance floor and threw herself against him. He became keenly aware of the smell of her hair, the fragrance of her perfume, and the warmth of her body. She was strong, toned, and graceful. As they made their way around the floor, images arose in his head of her silhouette on deck. Sexual desire stimulated his senses. He felt a swelling down below and wondered if she could detect it.

  She slowly raised her eyes. He now gazed into a bottomless pool of smoldering desire. “Good, you will be my lover for this voyage,” she said sweetly.

  It was several days before Wesley and Anna emerged from his cabin. They took all their meals through room service and drove the maid crazy by always declining any other service. The exploration of each other was their main interest—body, mind, and soul. Wesley found that while Anna was not a virgin, she was inexperienced, but eager to learn. He was now her professor of sexuality. She was a quick learner, as well as being tireless. Between sexual bouts, they discussed the current situation in South Africa.

  “You British are racists,” she opened.

  Wesley wanted to tell her that he was actually American, but he knew he couldn’t trust anyone, not even the lovely Anna. “Not all of us,” he replied.

  “You want to keep us under your thumb. We have no rights; we must always be submissive.”

  “I like it when you’re submissive,” he answered as he recalled their most recent coupling.

  �
��I’m serious,” she whined. “Thank goodness the evil Cecil Rhodes is dead. Maybe some things will change now. But I’m still leaving South Africa. There are too many problems for me to deal with there.”

  “What problems?”

  “Do you want me to recount the problems?” Anna vehemently sputtered as she counted them off on her delicate fingers. “First, I’m young. No one takes me seriously. Second, I’m a woman. Women don’t account for much on this continent. Third, I’m Dutch by heritage. We have been losers to the British for more than twenty years. ‘The Boer Wars’ they call it. Cecil Rhodes, who controlled the media, trumped it all up. And fourth, I’m also Jewish. Everyone hates the Jews.”

  “You’re Jewish,” Wesley said as he tried to assimilate the ramifications.

  “See, you already think poorly of me,” she wined.

  “I don’t, not the least bit. I’m just surprised you feel your religion is a hindrance.”

  “Oh, but it is in South Africa. We don’t even have a synagogue anymore. When I get to Germany, things will be different.”

  Wesley knew Germany contained many successful Jews and many synagogues. “I’m sure you’ll be welcomed there with open arms,” he proclaimed. Years later, Wesley would regret those words.

  “My relatives are in Bavaria, way up in the mountains. It’s so beautiful there. Will you come and visit?”

  Wesley suddenly realized that his time with Anna was quickly coming to an end. The steamer was to dock in Cape Town in two days. He couldn’t predict the future, but he wanted to see her again. “If you invite me, I will come,” he solemnly replied. He realized that for the first time in his life, he was in love.

  Chapter Eleven

  The steamer arrived at a festive port. Bands were playing, paper streamers were tossed back and forth on the dock, people were cheering and seeking loved ones, and the British army in their red coats, were everywhere. During the last days at sea, Anna had doubled her sexual efforts, and Wesley was near exhaustion. She clung to him as if afraid to be alone. She told him her plan was to leave in two weeks on a steamer back to Constantinople, the same one he had booked. This could have been a coincidence as the steamers only left once a week, but Wesley was still wary. They now stood on the deck, at the railing, waving and laughing, happy to be together, looking forward to planting their feet on dry land.