A Dubious Curse (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 8)
Page 1
Copyright © 2013 Gerald J. Kubicki & Kristopher Kubicki
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 1494432250
EAN-13: 9781494432256
A Dubious Mission
A Dubious Secret
A Dubious Dream
A Dubious Terrain
A Dubious Plan
A Dubious Artifact
A Dubious Position
This book is dedicated to Lincoln Alexander Kubicki.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
PART ONE: DISCOVERY
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
PART TWO: THE CURSE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PART THREE: SURPRISES
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
PART FOUR: FINDINGS
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
PART FIVE: MORE SURPRISES
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
PART SIX: BATTLE AT SEA
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
PART SEVEN: NEXT
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
PART EIGHT: SKYE
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
PART NINE: TAKEDOWN
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
PART TEN: ANOTHER DAY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
CHAPTER EIGHTY
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
PART ELEVEN: SHOWDOWN
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
CHAPTER NINETY
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR'S NOTES
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
BONUS READING FROM MY NEXT BOOK : A DUBIOUS CRIME
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
n December of 1919, a very secret society held an important meeting at a lodge near Berchtesgaden, a small city in the famed Bavarian Alps in southern Germany. The members of the secret organization met at this particular lodge on a routine basis, usually once a month. Their meetings were both social and political, and they sometimes strayed to discussions other people shunned. This secret society, known as the Thule, was founded in 1917. The members felt they were what was left of the elite of the battered and defeated German empire. Germany had just lost the “war to end all wars” and was strapped with incredible debt and social unrest, most of which the members of the Thule blamed on everyone else. They were ultraconservative, right-wing, racists, and they were looking for some way to preserve their way of life.
The members believed they were of a superior race, and they were searching for a way to prove it. They had close ties to a mystic occult, and they believed some answers could be found there. To be a member, a prospect had to sign a blood oath that there wasn’t any colored or Jewish blood in their ancestry. They had banded together to discuss the future of Germany, but the main topics of discussion were usually racism and proving the origins of the Aryan race.
Soon after the war had ended, many people became disillusioned with the leaders of Germany and wanted change. The Thule swelled in numbers and became a cause for many military personnel returning from the war. There were many splinter groups in Germany that the men could join to vent their frustrations, but the Thule was the best financed and most secret. The Thule included several future Nazis: Alfred Rosenberg, Rudolf Hess, Henrich Himmler, the war flying ace, Goring, and even Hitler’s future personal physician, Dr. Morell, were all members. But none of them were in attendance at the December meeting, only a few of the Thule’s inner circle had been invited.
The special meeting was being held because the Thule leadership had been approached by another very secret society. These society members wanted to merge with the Thule and were also looking for financing for a very special project. The project had nothing to do with racism; it had to do with finding a utopia. They were seeking a place where all people were equal and life was easy. They claimed they knew of such a place and how to get there, but needed help to achieve their goal. They promised the male-dominated Thule leadership an opportunity to be part of their ceremonies.
The men of the Thule inner circle gathered in a large, library-like room in the lodge and lounged on expensive leather chairs and couches. They smoked imported cigars and sipped expensive cognac from crystal goblets while waiting for their visitors. The promise of new occult information and an evening of good entertainment was the attraction. They were told the leaders of the visiting society were young, very good-looking women. If nothing else, they would have a fun night out.
One of the men turned to his neighbor as they sat on couches across from each other. “It is a shame Rosenberg has not convinced Dietrich Eckart to join us. He would be a welcome member of the society.”
The man considered the question before he answered. “Yes, he is well-known as a poet, playwright, and journalist. He knows how to twist words to make a point. Perhaps he will join after he finishes with his new student.”
“Ah, Adolf Hitler,” the other man commented. “But he is just a peasant. He is not one of us,” the man said with disdain.
“Eckart believes this Hitler gentleman is the ‘German Messiah’. Ever since he attended one of Hitler’s speeches earlier this year, he has no time for anyone or a
nything else. He is confident that he can teach Hitler how to be a better speaker and introduce him to men who could fund a new party. He believes that Hitler will someday lead this country and that he can influence him to accept Eckert’s beliefs.”
“I’ll give him some money, as long as he uses it to get rid of the despicable Jews,” the man replied with a laugh.
There were several discussions underway in the library, but all stopped when they heard a servant ring a bell, indicating their visitors had arrived. The Thule men all stood and straightened their clothes. Most wore expensive three-piece suits. The men wanted to make a good impression. The door to the library opened, and four women glided into the room. The first one held a large book to her chest. She was the first to speak.
“My name is Maria Orsic,” she announced. “This is Sigrun next to me,” she continued pointing a slender finger in the direction of one of her companions. “Next to her is Traute, our youngest member.” None of the men caught the name of the fourth woman, as they were all captivated by the beauty of the young women.
“Welcome to the Thule Society,” one of the men stammered. “What brings you here?”
“We are the leadership of the Vril Society,” Maria explained. “We come to you with wonderful news and opportunity,” Maria said with a smile. She appeared very confident and spoke in a sophisticated German accent.
The men studied the women. They were all young, elegant, and stood tall and straight with bodies that were lean from exercise, not starvation. All were dressed in the latest fashion of the day and shiny metal disks hung from their lovely necks. The Thule men all stared at the women. They had one more alluring feature. Each woman had hair that was so long it reached their ankles. It was worn in horsetail style, a long ponytail. The leadership of the Vril was absolutely stunning.
“Your hair?” a Thule stammered.
“It is our cosmic antenna to receive communications from the others,” Maria sweetly replied with a naughty smile on her pretty face. “We fan it out when in session— it improves reception.”
The members of the Thule looked at each other in surprise and disbelief. They had quickly become infatuated with these women, but now wondered if the women were completely crazy.
One of the founders of the Thule, Rudolf von Sebottendorf, asked, “Well, who do you communicate with?”
“Is it the dead?” another man asked.
“We mostly communicate with people who were of this Earth or are still here,” she evasively replied.
“What is it you want from the Thule Society?” a now-suspicious Sebottendorf asked.
“We want to share our findings with you and seek your help to develop one of our projects,” Maria sweetly offered. “I have brought a book of information we have collected. Some of it we can read; some of the information is in languages we can’t read. We hope one of you can help translate for us.”
“Well, let’s take a look,” von Sebottendorf said. He waved them to a large table, and everybody gathered around. Maria opened her book, which was more of a large folder, and extracted several handwritten documents. She handed them to the big man, who immediately donned a pair of glasses.
“We believe this one is written in Templar German, can you confirm this?” Maria asked, looking directly into the eyes of von Sebottendorf. The intimate nature of her action was unsettling to him.
He studied the documents for a few minutes. He replied, “It is definitely written in the language of the Templars.” He glanced about to the other members of the Thule society and nodded. “I have studied the language for a long time to learn more about our ancestors.” He turned back to Maria and locked eyes with her. “Where did you find them?” he asked with more than a hint of menace in his tone.
She looked up at him through adoring, large, clear blue eyes. “I didn’t find them… I wrote them,” she sincerely replied.
Von Sebottendorf could only muster a reply of “What?” He quickly added, “That’s impossible. It takes many years of study to understand this ancient language.”
“But I did write them,” Maria insisted, nodding her head. “You see when I am in communication with the others, I don’t know what I am writing. I am a ‘medium’— others speak through me.”
“Well, who rewrote these notes then?”
“That is just it. My hand just starts writing, and these are the results,” Maria patiently answered.
“And you have no training in this language?” one of the Thule asked. “No background in German history?”
“None,” she quickly replied. “I am only nineteen years old.”
The men of the Thule were stunned by her response. “May I keep these pages for a few days to translate them?” von Sebottendorf asked.
“Yes, of course, we also wonder what the pages say. It may contain news of our future utopia.” Maria glanced at her book and announced, “I have more.”
“You say you have more?” one of the Thule members asked.
Maria went back to her book, and, using a delicate hand, extracted several more pages. She handed them to von Sebottendorf. He stared at the pages as though he had never seen anything like the writing that was before him.
“It appears to be an ancient language of some kind,” he finally announced, scanning the other members of the room for their reactions.
“Here, let me look at it,” Hugo Winckler, another member offered. “I’m an expert on ancient languages, especially those of the occult.” He grabbed the pages and started to read. After a short period of time, he looked up at the four women with shock on his face.
“So, what language is it?” Maria politely asked. Her voice had the calming effect of a religious leader.
“This is impossible. It is outrageous. No one knows this language. How did you get these pages?” He demanded an answer, angrily shaking the pages in his hand.
“I told you, I wrote them,” Maria calmly responded again. “The words flow through my fingers. I never know what I am writing. It is some form of telepathy. Are you familiar with the term?”
“This is an incredible find,” an excited Hugo Winckler explained. “This language predates Babylon.”
“Is that old?” Sigrun asked timidly.
“It is ancient Sumerian. It is a dead language,” Winckler announced. “I believe the Sumerians were the original Aryan race. This could prove it. This could be a fantastic, unbelievable find, especially if we can communicate with them,” Winckler said to the now-interested crowd.
“Tell us more about the Sumerians?” von Sebottendorf asked his friend.
“Well, most historians believe they were located in the southern part of the great Mesopotamia basin, but I believe they were located someplace east or south of there, around India. They lived many thousands of years ago. They were rumored to be an advanced civilization. There are drawings of them in many places throughout the Indian and Arab parts of the world. In the drawings, they usually appear blue in color. Some even believe they were actually aliens from space. Whatever they were, they were definitely superior beings. There are many writings in the Bible and other ancient texts about them.” The four women looked at each other as if sharing a secret.
“They were our ancestors, the true Aryan race,” von Sebottendorf exclaimed, true excitement evident in his voice.
“Can you tell us what it says?” Maria asked, polite, yet stubborn.
“It will take me a while to decipher it, but I think I can get the gist of it, given time,” Hugo Winckler replied. “Can you supply me with more pages to compare?”
"I have more notes in the same language,” Maria quickly replied.
“Let’s see them?” Winckler was now intrigued.
She rummaged around the folder-like book and eventually brought out a hand-drawn diagram. She ceremoniously handed it to the startled Thule. “This is our project. I believe it is a ship to take us to where they are located.”
“It looks like a saucer,” Winckler mumbled.
t was ear
ly March in Las Vegas, which meant spring was already in full bloom. Trees had leaves and bushes were budding with new branches. It was as green as the desert city would get before the hot sun began to dry everything out. UNLV was bustling with activity. Students were hurrying to classes at the main campus of the university, just east of the famous Las Vegas Strip. The students carried backpacks, computers, and food. Many clutched term papers, recently completed, to hand in to their professors. Everyone wanted to get their work done and up-to-date, so they could go on spring break. It started that evening.
For some of the students going on break, one of the last scheduled classes was a history class in one of the main lecture halls. Although several underclassmen blew off the class, the hall was still filled to capacity, even though no one took roll call. Attendance was not mandatory, but over 250 students crowded the lecture hall, nonetheless. The lectures were popular, because the speaker was very entertaining and thought-provoking. It didn’t hurt that she was quite beautiful and spoke in a voice that sent tremors of lust through most of the young men who attended.
Professor Lisa Lange stood at the podium, dressed in a long, flowing, multicolored cotton dress, with a slit on the right side running to mid-thigh. Buttons on the front of the dress ran the entire length of her five-foot-seven, lean, athletic body. She had opened the top buttons of her dress, revealing a hint of cleavage as she attached her clip-on microphone. Her golden-blonde hair flowed to the middle of her back, and she used it like a weapon, to get— and keep— attention, flicking her hair whenever she made an important point. She always wore five-inch high heels; todays’ were red.
She was not a traditional lecturer, and she did not stay in one place to speak, which allowed for a considerable view of her long, sleek leg peeking from behind her slit dress as she walked. Much to the delight of the young men in the room, she roamed the room, often climbing the stairs between rows to be nearer to her students. She did this in order to keep them motivated and interested in her lectures. She often felt like her classes were more theater than lecture. She had great success with her style, and students flocked to her lectures.
Professor Lange was in her mid-thirties and had been teaching at the university for two years. She had been a military brat, raised by her single mother, who had served in the first war in Iraq. Her mother spent most of her time abroad, but Lisa had always lived in Las Vegas. Her mother had instilled in her daughter the importance of education with a love of reading which led Lisa to study history. She not only loved history, but she was also very good at piecing historical information together to prove her points.