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

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “I am now completely confused. What is it that you do?”

  “I’m a spy.”

  Wesley sat with his mouth open. The implications were beyond belief. If he became a spy, he would multiply his chances of obtaining the diamond.

  “I want to be one, too.”

  “But we’ve only started the interview,” Reed replied. There was now some confusion in his voice.

  “I know who you really are. Your real name is Sylvania Morley. You are a professor of archaeology and travel the world, mostly in South America. I’ve seen your picture in many magazines.”

  “My friends call me Vay.” He reached over the coffee table and smiled as he shook Wesley’s hand.

  “My friends call me Adam.”

  “You are well informed, Adam.”

  “Who is the ONI?”

  “We are a division of the navy. The Office of Naval Intelligence is our full name. We’ve been around for as long as there’s been a navy. We originally protected naval ships by gathering intelligence in ports the navy used for docking. Our goal was to protect our ships from being harmed. With the activities inflaming in Europe, we are becoming more proactive. We need some European presence.”

  “I’m your man. I speak all the major languages of Europe and can read them, too. I also have experience in undercover work.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I was actually undercover a few years ago in South Africa. I worked for the Orthodox Church then. I was hired to recover a very valuable artifact—which I did, by the way. Of course, they will deny it, but I was there.”

  Morley said nothing for some time, then made an offer. “We’re starting a camp to train spies. Are you interested?”

  “Just tell me when and where”

  Chapter Forty-One

  It was in the middle of the year 1914, and Professor Adam Wesley, now an American spy, hurriedly packed his few bags. He was being recalled to headquarters in New York. His position as an American language professor at Belgrade University in Serbia had offered him access to much information about the conflict between Serbia and the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Like Bosnia, the empire had decided to annex Serbia. There was just one problem: the Serbians had an army and could actually fight. He had discovered that many of his students had more information about the war than the local newspapers and the official channels. He had diligently collected and passed the information to the ONI. He had also attempted to track the Black Diamond and Anna. This was a big disappointment. Despite Serbia being an ally of Russia, Wesley couldn’t penetrate the Russian sphere. Rasputin had gotten too powerful.

  He was being recalled because the unthinkable had occurred. The emperor of Austro-Hungry, Franz Joseph, had been assassinated in June in the small city of Sarajevo in Bosnia. A Serb was to blame, and a major war had ensued. The Serbs were now fighting the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The Serbs were winning, but now Germany had recently declared war on the kingdom of Serbia. Wesley was to receive new training and orders from the ONI. He was certain the allies of Russia—France and Britain—would soon have to enter the conflict. He also believed that America, despite isolationism, would also be mobilized.

  As he continued to pack, he reflected on the last five years. He felt he had helped the war effort in general and had added to the American need to understand the present conflict. The spy school had trained him well. He had learned how to defend himself if attacked, how to read signals and secret messages, how to question people without them suspecting it, and how to be invisible to those around him. All these skills had been used when he got his first assignment to Belgrade.

  The ONI had arranged for him to teach English as a visiting professor to some of the brightest students in the Balkans. He had excelled. It also allowed him to travel throughout the area and also continue to study Balkan history. He had even managed to visit the home of Dracula, Vlad Tepes. He had been able to visit many villages, ostensibly to search for artifacts, but he also had a first-hand view of the war machines of both countries and provided expert analysis of their capabilities. Because of his extreme language skills, he passed as a native on either side of the battle lines. If only I had been able to enter Russia, he thought.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Wesley returned to his New York apartment to wait for contact. The knock at the door was expected. Wesley unlocked the door and let in his coordinator. Jerry Welsher was not his real name, of course, but it seemed to fit the man who entered the room and sat on the couch. He was medium age and nearly bald. He didn’t weigh a pound over 150 and was average looking. The perfect spy—no one would ever remember him. He had been assigned to Wesley shortly after spy school. They had become friends, if there was such a thing in their world.

  “Would you like a drink?” Wesley offered.

  “Scotch, please.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  “I see you’ve remained healthy. No bullet holes or knife wounds. Put on a few pounds, too.” Welsher noted.

  “The food in the Belgrade always seemed to come with some sort of exotic sauce,” quipped Wesley.

  “And the women?”

  Very saucy too.”

  They bantered for about twenty minutes before Welsher got to the point. Wesley could see Welsher did not want to tell him the news.

  “Adam, we have a new assignment for you. You did great work in the Balkans, but a more pressing issue has arisen.”

  “More pressing than the war?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Well stop beating around the bush. Let’s have it, man.”

  “We want you to go to Russia,” Welsher blurted.

  Wesley struggled to remain calm. This could be the answer to his dilemma. This was the one break he needed. He knew he could not let on that he wanted to enter Russia.

  “Why do you want to send me to Russia?” Wesley replied as he scratched his head. He could hardly contain his excitement.

  “The war is spreading to Western Europe. Millions will die. We will eventually enter on the side of the British and French. Russia is an ally of both. They can provide a second front to reduce the capabilities of the dreaded German war machine. Both Germany and Russia have increased the sizes of their armies, but Russia hasn’t been able to muster much of a threat to Germany so far. There seems to be several political problems that have countered the situation.”

  “What problems do you mean?” Wesley thought he had a pretty good idea.

  “The monarchy is weak. They’ve promised the people a better life, but too many remain destitute. There are fanatics who mean to overthrow the government. They are calling themselves ‘communists.’ They want to redistribute the wealth and make Russia a workers’ state. Revolution is a probability.”

  “And if there is a revolution, Russia will still be at war, but with itself, and useless to the Alliance.” Wesley filled in the rest of the scenario as Welsher nodded his head.

  “We need someone to keep an eye on the situation. If Russia falls, we may have to enter the war before we’re ready. That could be a disaster.”

  “But, I have been blacklisted there,” Wesley countered. “Rasputin will never let me enter the country. I told you I’ve had dealings with him before.”

  “Rasputin will be taken care of in due time. He may already be dead. He’s shortsighted and doesn’t understand the impact Russia has on the war. Some of his ‘comrades’ are the very people who would overthrow the monarchy. Rasputin is working both sides for his own benefit.”

  “That does sound like him,” Wesley acknowledged.

  “Besides, you’ll enter the country as the cultural attaché at the U.S. Embassy. Even Rasputin can’t stop you from entering Russia. You’ll be undercover as a diplomat.”

  “Jerry, back up a second,” Wesley rolled his arms like he wanted a redo. “Did you say that someone has tried to kill Rasputin?”

  “There was an attempt on his life a few months ago, but somehow he survived the wound. Plans are in the work
s to make his wounds more terminal.”

  Wesley was suddenly panicked. He needed to get the diamond from Rasputin before his demise. There wasn’t much time.

  “How soon will he be terminated?” Wesley asked with a little too much anxiety in his voice. He needed to get the diamond before that happened.

  “Hard to say. The British are working on that. They’ll contact you after you arrive in St. Petersburg.”

  “How soon can I leave?”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  It was bitter cold outside the building. Wesley stood in front of the U.S. Ambassador to Russia in his office in St, Petersburg. Russia always seemed cold in more than one way. The ambassador was frosty as well.

  “I know why you’re here,” he announced without preamble as he sat protected behind a huge mahogany desk. He did not rise or shake Wesley’s hand. “I disagree with all this spy skullduggery. We are in the diplomatic corps.” He threw up his hands in disgust.

  Attempting to be diplomatic, Wesley replied, “I’m only here to study the situation and report back to the ONI. I’m not here to commit any form of crime or subversive activity.”

  “I will not protect you if you do. Remember that while here, you follow my orders,” he roared.

  “I get my orders from the ONI and the president of the United States. They were received in the diplomatic pouch a week ago. Your orders are to cooperate fully with me. Is that clear?” Wesley spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Completely flustered now, the ambassador lamented, “First they post me to this godforsaken frozen wasteland, and then they send me a man of intrigue and mysterious background. Now they expect me to kowtow to him as well. I won’t do it.” He slammed his hand on his huge desk. “Be gone, Wesley, before I have the guards throw you out.”

  Wesley was prepared for the outburst. “You will do no such thing, Mister Ambassador,” Wesley calmly replied. “If you do, news of that small indiscretion you had in Egypt while posted there would suddenly appear. You will be chastised and replaced, only to live in shame for your sins.”

  The indignant ambassador exploded. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I would not be responsible, you would. Do I make myself clear?” Wesley had been informed that the ambassador had a problem with drinking and had put a young working girl in the hospital during a drunken fit in Egypt. All the details were supplied to use if needed.

  “That was an accident,” he retorted.

  “That was a cover-up. I have the actual police reports. Now can we get down to business?”

  ***

  His quarters at the embassy were both large and cold. While steam heating had been added to the ancient brick building, the ability of the system left much to be desired. The only truly warm place was the bathroom. It was completely tiled and had a small dressing table on one wall. Wesley made that his desk. He had just finished reading the reports provided by the ambassador and decided things were very bad. A firebrand named Lenin was inflaming the populace. There were others, but he seemed to be the strongest catalyst. His speeches brought huge crowds and sometimes violence. Wesley foresaw a grassroots upheaval that was growing at alarming rates. Why was the monarchy not squelching the tide? He knew the secret police were strong and ruthless, but why didn’t they eliminate the problem? In the long history of Russia, there were many recordings of the monarchy protecting itself and cleaning out troublemakers. In fact, many monarchs had disposed of their own relatives. The country had a violent past. He was pondering Russia’s future when a rap on the suite door gained his attention.

  The page handed Wesley a formal invitation to an exhibit of the Romanov crown jewels. The exhibit was scheduled for that night. Wesley couldn’t believe his luck. He had been in Russia only two days and already had an opportunity to contact Anna. She was the protector of the crown jewels. He hurriedly got dressed.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The event was held at the Hemitage. The Hemitage served as the winter palace for the czar, but also was one of the largest museums in the world, holding more famous paintings than any other museum. Wesley waited outside in a long line, anxious to begin exploring the treasures of the Russian Empire and Anna as well. He finally entered the building and was received by a stern-looking man who checked him off the list. Wesley knew he was one of the many secret police agents who were there for protection and to gather information that might be useful in their fight against the renegade communist riffraff.

  The ballroom where the exhibit was displayed was magnificent. There was gold inlay on the walls, with exquisite drawings and etchings everywhere surrounded by the beauty of fine wood to accent the room. It was also huge, maybe a hundred feet long by Wesley’s estimation. Men floated about the perimeter, dressed in tuxedos, usually each with a cigar in one hand and a drink in the other. These men were the power people of modern day Russia.

  The women were mostly located in the middle of the great hall. It was like they were on exhibit themselves. They flitted around each other, moving with grace and laughing with their heads thrown back, showing off their fine porcelain necks. A small band played classical music, but no one danced.

  He had just accepted a glass of champagne when a curtain opened at the far end of the hall. The exhibit was now open. He meandered toward the display, with his heart hammering in his chest.

  A tall blond woman of about thirty was pointing out various jewels to anyone who was interested. Wesley made a beeline for her.

  “Hello,” she spoke in upper class Russian. “My name is Kara.”

  “Professor Adam Wesley,” he replied, trying to impress her. “I am the cultural attaché at the American Embassy.

  “Yes, I know who you are,” she answered evenly. “You speak perfect Russian. I am impressed.”

  “Languages are my specialty.”

  She nodded demurely. “Can I answer any questions about the exhibit or the diamonds?”

  “I understand that the crown jewels are rarely worn by the czarist or anyone in the family.”

  “Many of these jewels are irreplaceable. There are many who would seek to steal them, especially today. So yes, she rarely wears them. She does, however, wear them in her suite.”

  “I understand one of the diamonds is pure black, very unusual, yet I don’t see it here,” he said as he looked at the displays.

  Kara seemed to be flustered at this point. She didn’t answer, but Wesley pressed on. “I’ve seen pictures of it. It’s about three or four inches long and jet black.”

  Finally she answered, “It’s no longer here. It has disappeared. No one knows where it is.”

  “Lost? Don’t you have someone to protect the jewels?” Wesley reasoned as he took a sip of his drink.

  “I protect the jewels,” she proudly replied.

  Wesley pressed on. “Years ago I met someone named Anna Van Kleef. She said she was the protector of the crown jewels.”

  Kara’s face turned beet red. “We do not speak of her.”

  “Why?”

  “The diamond disappeared while she was protecting it. If she wasn’t a relative of the royal family, she would have been shot.”

  His heart raced faster now as Wesley inquired, “She doesn’t protect the crown jewels any longer? Is she still alive?”

  “Maybe,” Kara shot back. “She was blamed for the loss of the diamond. She was sent to a gulag in Siberia several years ago. I doubt there is much left of her. Her gulag contains mostly men. Let’s not continue with this distasteful subject. Let me show you the Czarista Crown.” She took his hand and led the way.

  Kara stayed close to Wesley. He wondered if it was because he had brought up Anna’s name or if she felt he was an important diplomat and needed to be entertained. It turned out to be a third option. She did stay very close. After a few minutes he realized she spoke only to him and kept dragging him to view different jewels.

  She would just grab his hand and pull him from showcase to showcase, all the time speaking in almost a whisper. Soon she
was touching his shoulder and laying her hand on his back as they walked. It was when she leaned into him and spoke into his ear that he got the picture. Her warm breath in his ear sent an immediate jolt throughout his system.

  “Would you like to dance?” she asked.

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  They danced well together. She molded to his body and was remarkably agile. Wesley was thrilled that he had found a Russian contact, and maybe more, at his first official event as a diplomat. He was sure she wanted to see him socially. His stimulated body told him he wanted to see her too. He was about to make a proposition when there was a commotion near the entrance of the great hall. They both stopped and stared.

  A bearded man entered dressed in a pure white robe. Several people applauded, but several people sneered. Wesley took note. Kara grabbed his hand and attempted to retreat.

  “Adam, we must keep away from him. He is evil. He will attempt to affect your mind. Please let’s go to another place, anywhere.” She was frantically pulling on his arm.

  “So Rasputin has arrived.” It was said through gritted teeth.

  “You know of him?”

  “I have had dealings with the Mad Monk.”

  “Please stay away from him. He has a bad reputation with many men and worse with the women. The secret police watch his apartment on a daily basis. He is pure evil. He is known to have many faults. Unfortunately the czarist trusts him, and has made him untouchable.”

  But it was already too late. Rasputin had seen them as soon as he had entered the hall. He headed toward the couple and ignored other people who attempted to greet him along the way.

  “Kara,” he jovially proclaimed, “how nice to see you again. You left my apartment too quickly last week. I wanted to show you my etchings.” His voice was lecherous.

  “You wanted to show me your bedroom,” she shot back. She was all but hiding behind Wesley. She gripped his hand with a death grip.