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

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “Loni, I…” but, she interrupted him.

  “I know, I just wanted to reward you for asking for a kiss,” she said as she slid down his body and bounced on the floor.

  “I do like your system of rewards,” he managed to say. “Now show me what you’ve been working on.”

  She raced over to the printer and collected a large stack papers she had printed out. She walked to his side of the desk and placed her rear-end on the desk, extending her legs across his now seated lap. He began to stroke them as soon as they were settled. It was what she wanted. They then got down to business.

  “First we have an alert from the main FBI office. It says there was a break-in in some of our secure facilities. An unknown number of artifacts were stolen. While they are all CIA facilities, everyone is scrambling to try to find the missing items.”

  “My guess is that the Black Diamond is one of the items,” Banyon said. “What facilities were they stolen from?”

  “Only one facility is mentioned; the rest are top secret.”

  “Which one did they mention?”

  “Area 51.”

  “Oh,” Banyon said. “That is where the Black Diamond was located.”

  “The second page is about the director of Homeland Security.” She passed him the page. “It talks about Homeland Security doing an audit of items placed in the secure facilities. It’s dated November of last year. What does that mean?”

  Banyon had a quick reply. “Homeland Security can stick their noses into anybody’s business without reason. They knew about the artifacts, I’m sure. I think some of their people stole the items but why?”

  “Next we have a transcript of the college career of the director. Guess where he went to college and when?” Loni baited him.

  “He went to Harvard and graduated around 1938,” he said.

  “How would you know that?” Shock showed on her face.

  “Because that’s when Hal Jones and his buddies were there. He’s either an American Nazi or a sleeper sent over here to be part of the Effort. Also remember that the woman who took the book under diplomatic cover, during our last mystery, works for the director.”

  “How could I forget the very aggressive and colorful Dr. Carol Thorne, tongue stud and all? She tried to hit on me the whole time we worked with her,” Loni smiled so broadly all of her white teeth showed.

  “Well, she has very good taste,” Banyon quipped as he spread his hands in acknowledgement.

  “Colt, you are so sweet, and smart, too” she teased him.

  “It’s just deductive reasoning, my dear. It is elementary,” he supplied her with a Sherlock Holmes impression. “Wolf arranged for us to see each of these items. They all have significance.”

  “I believe that.”

  “So the director is definitely connected to the Effort.”

  “Wasn’t he the one who first proposed the Patriot Act?”

  “Yes, and he has made other proposals, ostensibly to protect Americans from terrorism and illegal immigration. Some say his policies are racist profiling.”

  “And his office is very powerful, too.”

  “It’s currently the most powerful of all the alphabet agencies.”

  “Okay, the next item is confusing.”

  “Why?”

  “The guy is dead.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “It’s the obituary of George Gerut. We already know he came over near the end of the war, and he was a Nazi. That’s what confuses me.”

  “There must be additional information in the obituary,” Banyon reasoned.

  “It says he amassed a huge empire in the arms and munitions business and was friends with movie stars, politicians, and had many contacts with successful business people. He wife is dead, but he had a son named John, who is a general in the army. He also had a daughter named Mona. She inherited the business, not John.”

  “There’s actually a lot to look into there,” Banyon speculated.

  “Finally he sent us a campaign pledge from the junior congressman from New Mexico. His name is Randolph Sanders. His wife is Sarah Sanders, daughter of the media mogul Ralph Hamburg. His campaign platform is based on stopping illegal aliens from entering the country.”

  “Sounds like a white supremacy agenda to me,” Banyon said.

  “So what do we have here? There’s so much information about the Black Diamond and all these people. What do we do now?”

  Banyon sat in his chair, deep in thought. He knew he and Loni were good at adjusting to situations on the fly. He planned and she implemented. This was a little different. They knew what they were looking for, a Black Diamond, and probably who took it, Homeland Security people, and some of the people involved in the links. He had recently learned there was a real Nazi organization in America called the Effort and it had deep roots. But it also meant going up against some the most power people in America, not to mention Homeland Security, who could make them disappear at a moment’s notice. There were also the problems with his friends and Loni that had to be dealt with. The risks were high, but recovering the Black Diamond would be worth it. It really needed to be recovered before someone started producing supermen. He also wondered about how much reward they could ask for when they solved the case.

  He decided that before he made any decision about going after the diamond, he and Loni had a lot of research to do, and it was getting late in the day. The Black Diamond was just stolen yesterday, so he figured he had a couple of days to get it. Wolf would be able to tell him where it had been. That gave him an edge.

  He also had to find out about Loni. She had an uncanny ability to produce any item he needed whenever he needed it. He wanted to know how she was able to do that. Sometimes he thought she was a witch.

  “I think we’re done for today.”

  “No, we are certainly not.” She stood with her feet apart, hands on hips, and a look of aggression on her face.

  “What have I missed?” he wearily asked.

  “You promised that if I listened to the story about the Black Diamond, you would buy me a new rifle. Are you reneging?”

  “Of course not, sweetie. I meant that the office workday was over. Go get your purse and we’ll leave immediately. Then when we come back, I’ll help you with your yoga.”

  He was stunned when she suddenly showed him her purse.

  Author’s Notes

  While the plot of this book is purely fiction, as always, I have included many true historical events. Some have been slightly massaged to fit my needs. The central theme in the book revolves around a Black Diamond. My research shows there are indeed Black Diamonds in the world, and although rare, several large stones have been found. Many leaders have coveted these special diamonds. The most notable Black Diamond once belonged to the Russian Romanoff family, the last rulers of Russia before the communists came to power. Also, many colored diamonds—this includes black diamonds have been used in rituals conducted by many occult groups throughout the ages.

  Many of the characters of this novel really existed. I tried to depict them as they actually would have acted. Some characters—most notably, Rasputin—have been portrayed as both a saint and sinner by historians. But no one disputes the fact that he was very hard to kill, as was the Roman Emperor Constantine, Vald Tepes, and several other well-known leaders. Some would even say that Hitler was hard to kill as well.

  Finally, plots by supremacists groups still exist today in many different forms. Some believe the many terrorist attacks by Muslim extremists are in fact attacks by supremacists. Every race has had a history of violent supremacy. In America, the White Supremacist movement has not abated. You can pick up almost any newspaper and read about it.

  Bonus Reading

  The following are the first two chapters of next book:

  A Dubious Terrain

  Chapter One

  Colton Banyon sat at his desk in his manly home office. It was located at the front of his sprawling ranch house in suburban Chicago. T
his was his fun time. He could check his portfolio, catch up on his New York sports teams and surf the net. Today he was planning a vacation to someplace warm. Despite the warming sun which filtered through the large front window of his office, the temperature outside was a cold nineteen degrees. It was a drawback for living in Chicago in April.

  His desk faced the double doors to his office, and he noticed that one door was slowly opening. Suddenly a small but very shapely bare leg filled the opening. Banyon took off his reading glasses and sat back for the show.

  The Asian woman who owned the leg was about fifteen years his junior, and was in tremendous physical shape. She had remarkable genes. She could easily pass for twenty-five. She also loved to flirt with Banyon. Loni Chen had become his lover and partner in solving mysteries when, as an agent for the FBI, she had helped him fight off a group of white supremacists. They had started as friends and had put together a small detective agency a few years ago. Things had changed. She was the president and he was the financial backer. Their record for solving mysteries was very good.

  Long jet-black hair soon followed the leg into the room. Banyon could now see a single dark, almond-shaped eye peering at him. “Are you busy?” she asked in a soft singsong voice.

  “I’m always busy,” he responded, knowing it would not stop her.

  “Too busy to see me in my new bathing suit?”

  “Give me a minute to respond to this important junk mail,” he answered, also knowing it wouldn’t stop her for one second.

  The door flew open, and she stood with her hands on her small hips. “What do you think?” she seductively inquired.

  Her bathing suit, like its owner, was small and sexy. Banyon immediately felt a stirring, but he knew she wanted to play the game. “I have more cloth in a pair of my socks,” he quipped.

  “Does that mean that you like it or not?”

  Hearing the disappointment in her voice, he quickly asked, “Does it cover the tattoo?” She had impulsively been tattooed during the investigation of a white supremacist group. While it was the symbol of her name in Chinese, it was where the tattoo was located that revealed her impulsive nature.

  “You just want to look at my ass,” she giggled.

  “And what man wouldn’t?”

  She ran to the front of the desk and spun around like a top with her arms straight out. Banyon could see the butterfly shape clearly on her right cheek. The string bikini didn’t invade the smooth round surface. Banyon just smiled.

  Loni turned toward him and frowned. She put both of her hands on the desk and leaned forward. She was inches away from him. “You can’t just smile. You have to say it,” she demanded.

  “You look stunning,” he announced.

  “Good of you to notice,” she replied, a little sarcastically.

  “Now come and sit on my lap so I can show you options for our vacation,” Banyon said in a leering voice.

  Loni sprinted around the desk and quickly slid her five-two lithe frame on his lap. Banyon, a man of above-average height and weight, easily supported her. He pointed at the computer screen.

  “The Caribbean, Hawaii, or someplace far away,” he offered.

  “You pick, but I want excitement, adventure, romance, and maybe a little gambling,” she muttered.

  Sensing that he was being manipulated Banyon responded, “Las Vegas it is.”

  “You really want to go there, too,” she said as she looked up at him from his lap.

  “And you know me too well,” he retorted as he hit a tab on the screen, and the list of Vegas hotels popped up.

  “Hey, you’ve already been searching for a hotel in Las Vegas,” she exclaimed.

  “I just wanted to hear you beg,” he replied.

  Their banter was broken when Banyon noticed an official-looking car enter the circular driveway and park by the front door. The tall man who exited the car and ambled to the front door sent a shiver down his spine.

  Since she was busy studying the screen and not turned toward the window, Loni had not noticed the car. When the doorbell rang, she sprang up and headed toward the front door before Banyon could protest. He didn’t want to see the man.

  She flung open the door without checking the peephole and now stood in shock. The man was in shock, too, as he didn’t expect a bikini-clad woman to open the door in the middle of winter.

  “Agent Gamble,” Loni mustered. “You’re one of the last people I ever wanted to see on Earth.” She was clearly not welcoming him into the house.

  Loni was in the process of slamming the door when she heard Banyon bellow, “Let him in.”

  The large FBI agent slipped past Loni as she stared at him with utter contempt and proceeded into the front office. He stood in front of the seated Banyon and offered his hand. Banyon didn’t move.

  “What do you want, Agent Gamble?” Banyon asked.

  “You used to call me Greg,” he replied in his southern drawl.

  “That was before we got to know you better.”

  “It was all official government business. I had no choice. I am governed by the same laws you are, ole buddy.”

  “Why are you back? Did you forget to confiscate some of my books? Maybe recipes or pictures of my children? You already have my computer, records, and the cure for alcoholism that Loni and I found.”

  Agent Gamble had been to the Banyon house several times. They had actually been friends and had been involved in several adventures. The last one revolved around a copy of Mein Kampf that had been found in the jungles of the Philippines. Banyon and Loni had solved the mystery and had discovered an ancient cure for alcoholism secreted in the book. Suddenly Agent Gamble had shown up at their home spouting the Patriot Act and everything connected to the case was confiscated. Banyon realized the event was political, but Gamble had been the point man.

  Without being invited, the big man eased into one of the chairs in front of the desk. Even sitting down, he was still taller than Loni, who stood with a concerned look next to him. She suddenly became aware that she was all but naked and excused herself from the room. Agent Gamble opened his coat and brought out an old battered book. He placed it on the desk in front of Banyon.

  “I need your help,” he announced as he looked Banyon straight in the eye.

  “It’s not our policy to help people who’ve betrayed us,” Banyon returned with a mile-long stare.

  “I think you and Loni know more about the Mien Kampf caper than you’ve let on,” replied Gamble.

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No, it’s based on the online searches that Loni’s been doing. Yes, Homeland Security has hacked into all your computers. The material you guys have been pulling down from the internet is interesting. It tells me you’ve withheld some information about our friend Hal Jones, the sleeper Nazi. According to the crime report, both of you were in his house for some time before it burned to the ground. We believe you found something that was not confiscated. I must see it.”

  “How could you possibly know that the materials we’ve been looking at are connected to Hal Jones?” a concerned Banyon asked.

  “Because we know about it, too,” the FBI agent responded.

  Chapter Two

  Banyon felt the room had suddenly become hotter. His heartbeat had suddenly quickened. Agent Gamble was right. They did hold back a snuffbox which held the key to the mystery and also an old photo that was found in the Jones bedroom. Since the house had burned to the ground, they had figured that no one knew about the photo. It was extremely damaging evidence that there was a long-term Nazi conspiracy in America. The some of the men pictured in the photo and their children were now high ranking U.S. government officials.

  “This is still a free country, and we can look at anything we want, Agent Gamble,” Banyon forcefully replied.

  “Colt,” Agent Gamble spoke with his hands raised in surrender. “Please listen. The Patriot Act is one of their devices. As you know, it allows the government, especially Homeland Security, to take
away any of your rights at will. You’re a historian. This has happened before—in Germany. As you always say, ‘history will repeat itself.’”

  “Are you here to arrest us?”

  “As I said,” a conciliatory Agent Gamble answered “your government needs your help.”

  “How could…” before Banyon could ask, Loni came into the room wearing a terrycloth robe and threw a picture on the desk. It was the picture she had grabbed at the old house. The picture was of several men and was taken at Harvard University in the 1930s. She had written names under all of the men. It was damaging evidence.

  Agent Gamble looked at the picture without touching it and reached into his jacket. Banyon thought he was going for a badge to arrest them, but instead he produced another copy of the picture and dropped it on the desk.

  “Where did you get that?” Loni exclaimed as she pointed at the picture.

  “We are required by law to do background checks on Homeland Security personal,” replied Gamble. “This picture was found in the archives at Harvard University. We know who most of these people are.” He pointed to the man on the far right in the photo. “Is this man Hal Jones?”

  Banyon had seen many pictures in Jones’s house before it burned down. The man on the right was definitely Jones. “That is Hal Jones,” he offered.

  Agent Gamble took a deep breath then spoke. “His real name was Klaus Gerut. His father Earnest Gerut and brother George Gerut were high-ranking Nazis. You may not know this, but the son of George Gerut, John Gerut, is now head of a fast deploy strike force that can be sent anywhere on short notice and has the life and death powers of martial law. He now works for Homeland Security. His good friend and mentor is head of Homeland Security and is one of the men in the picture. He is also the man who pushed through the Patriot Act.” Agent Gamble pointed to the man on the left.

  “Yes, we know. It sounds like a repeat of the rise of a guy named Hitler in Germany. History is repeating itself.”