A Dubious Curse (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 8)

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “Yes, you are,” Banyon stroked the young man’s ego.

  “Anyway, once I got into the system, I found the template used for the individual account setups and noticed a link to a bank account in Moscow. So I dug deeper and found that none of the accounts that had been started had any money in them. They are all currently empty.”

  “So, how are they expecting to do any trading without any money?” Banyon asked, scratching his head.

  “That’s simple, man. Once the button is pressed on the program, each account will automatically be filled with enough money to perform the assigned trade,” Timmy explained.

  “So, it is part of the total program then. All they have to do is press one button, and everything happens,” Banyon mused.

  “This is well-planned,” Timmy added.

  “Who owns it?”

  “After a little more hacking, I traced the bank account link, and I discovered the money. It’s all there in one account. It’s registered to a Sergui Moltov. I checked on him and found out he is a Russian Mafia kingpin in Moscow. Pretty cool, huh?”

  “Couldn’t you freeze the account?” Banyon asked.

  “Colt, that’s international law-type shit. I’ve already had the NSA on my ass this week. Don’t need Interpol too,” Timmy whined. “Besides, this guy is bad news. This needs to be kicked upstairs, man.”

  “I’d better call the President,” Banyon agreed. “This is something he needs to handle. Good work, Timmy.”

  “My pleasure, man.”

  “I’ll call you back as soon as we know something. Then, you can blow up their computer system.”

  “This is more fun than video games, well except for the fact that there are more beautiful women in video games,” Timmy philosophically said. Banyon shook his head as he closed the phone.

  When Banyon dialed the number, the President came on the line in just a few seconds. “What’s up, Colt?” he asked quickly.

  “Sir, we need to talk,” Banyon said.

  “Please tell me your geek has stopped the program? I can’t wait to take these guys down.” The President was an ex-marine and he seemed to relish taking down bad guys. Banyon had helped the President on several occasions in the last year.

  “Sir,” Banyon replied. “We can stop the program, but I have a better idea.”

  “Oh?”

  “But there is a complication that only you can handle.”

  “Let’s hear it, then?” the President said.

  “Well, I propose we let the trades go through,” Banyon said.

  “Are you crazy?!” the President roared into the phone.

  “No, sir,” Banyon replied. “Right now, the thousands of accounts set up by Mr. Ag are not funded. They don’t have any money in them. The money is located in a bank in Moscow, and they belong to a Russian Mafia kingpin. When the program starts, the money will automatically be transferred into all the accounts to make the purchases.”

  “Why did they set it up that way?” the President wondered aloud.

  “My guess is that the Mafia has protected themselves in case something went wrong with the programming. They don’t want to lose the money. Mr. Ag has a history of conning people out of money.”

  Always a quick study, the President caught on in no time. “So if we freeze the bank account in Moscow, there will be no money to make the trades and they will all be rejected, right?” the President verified.

  “Yes,” Banyon replied. “That way, we will get all of the names on the accounts and can have them closed. My geek can intercept all the names, if you want, but to make it work, you have to get the bank in Moscow to freeze the assets,” Banyon filled in the blanks.

  “Well, I can call the Russian President. He could freeze the account, but he is probably in on the deal,” The President thought out loud. The President knew the leader of Russia well. He had been the head of the Russian government since 1999. He had several different positions, but everyone knew he pulled all the strings. It was rumored that he took a piece of the pie whenever he desired. Those who resisted didn’t resist for long. He had been the head of the KGB earlier in his career. Of course, it was all a rumor.

  “He’d still have to freeze the account. There would be too much international outcry if he didn’t, don’t you think?” Banyon pushed the President.

  The President thought for a moment. “Okay, I’ll call him. We are going to postpone the assault for another hour, but no longer. We are giving these guys too much time, and I want to show the world we protect our financial markets.”

  “Yes, sir,” Banyon responded.

  inally, Darlene heard a positive message over her earpiece, “We go in five minutes. Let’s meet by the NSA vehicles to cover any last minute updates.” The message came from Bobby Brown.

  Within seconds, the twelve SWAT team members jogged over to where Darlene stood with her people. Bobby Brown, the SWAT team leader, pulled a piece of paper from his tunic and quickly rolled out the hand-drawn sketch of the underground complex. He laid the sketch on the hood of one of the vehicles. Everyone crowded around it and saw there was a long tunnel that led to three doors. Each door led to the three levels. They were stacked one on top of the other.

  “First, we are going to open the entrance. We have already set the charges,” Brown told the team, as he pointed to the entrance.

  “And that’s when the shooting will start,” Darlene said.

  “I doubt it,” Brown replied. “We are using acid to melt the locks. They will hear nothing, and apparently, they went cheap on the surveillance. There are no security alarms in the tunnel,” he added.

  “Should we move in to block the entrance once it is open, so no one can come out?” Darlene then asked.

  “Yes, that’s a good idea,” Brown replied with a little annoyance. He didn’t like getting interrupted when he was laying out the battle plan.

  “What is the deployment?” one of his men asked.

  “When we reach the end of the tunnel, there will be three doors. You four take the right door, you four take the middle door, and my four will take the left door,” he pointed to his men.

  “Where do the doors lead?” another man asked.

  “The top level is the left door. It leads to the living quarters. The middle door is the office area, and the bottom floor is where all the workers are being held. There is no other connection between the floors, so we will be able to contain them quickly.”

  “What are these ‘x’ markings?” Darlene asked.

  “Those are the locations of the defenders as of five minutes ago. As you can see, they are spread out fairly equally. There are only three people on the second floor, but it is where the leaders and the computer systems are located. By the way, don’t harm the computers; the President wants the program to run.”

  “I thought we were supposed to stop the program?” one of his men asked.

  “I don’t know what happened. Maybe you should ask the President the next time you see him,” Brown said, half-jokingly.

  “What kind of weapons do they have?” one of Browns’ men inquired.

  “From what I am told, just standard-issue AK-47s,” Brown told his men. “They are a formidable weapon to be sure, but no match for our guns.”

  “Have we been issued a shoot-to-kill order?” another man asked.

  “We would rather capture these punks, but if they resist, shoot to kill,” Brown said. “The operative word is ‘stealth’, gentlemen. We should be able to sneak up on these guys and capture them. If not, use your silenced weapons.”

  “And the women?” the leader of the right-hand door team asked. “What if they resist?”

  “I’m told they are all prisoners. They should not resist, but I don’t want any of you hurt. So if they attack, do what you have to do. Then call the NSA team to clear them out.”

  “Piece of cake,” one of Brown’s men said.

  “We go in one minute,” Brown replied.

  immy, it’s time to do your stuff,” B
anyon said into the satellite phone. Banyon was watching the big monitor in the Situation Room from the pilothouse in the houseboat. While there was no overhead shot and no thermal imaging shot, he had a pretty clear view of the assault. Four of the SWAT team members had head cameras working and the monitor was split into four sections so everyone could watch. Banyon had waited until the tunnel entrance had been breached before telling Timmy to have some fun.

  The President had called and told Banyon the Russian leader had issued the order to freeze the Mafia’s account. The account had been frozen in less than ten minutes. The Russian government had a stronger hold on their banking system than the U.S. President did. The Russian leader admitted he knew who Segui Moltov was and he guaranteed that Moltov would not be permitted to try something like this again. “He seemed very cooperative,” the President sincerely told Banyon.

  The twelve SWAT team members were now standing outside the three doors inside the entrance to the tunnel. Banyon had already told them the codes for all three combination locks, courtesy of Wolf. He had just checked with Wolf and told the President the coast was clear.

  “Proceed,” he heard the President instruct.

  The SWAT team didn’t use the codes. They used acid again, and it did its work efficiently. The doors were quickly thrown opened and the black-clad men slithered stealthily through the openings. The upper tunnel was very short and took no time to navigate, but the other two tunnels took considerably longer. At the end of each of the tunnels stood another door. They were not meant to stop anyone; they were there to prevent the cold from the tunnels from seeping into the living and working areas. There were no locks on two of the doors. The work area had the only lock.

  “On my mark,” Brown said into his earpiece. “Three, two, one, go!”

  kay, we have uploaded all the data, Mr. Ag. We are ready to go,” Jason excitedly told the Mongolian conman. Kevin Ag had been looking out the window in the office with his arms crossed and was watching the five girls down below.

  “Good work, Jason,” Mr. Ag said over his shoulder. “Are you sure the minions are finished?”

  “I can handle everything else from here,” he replied. “I think it is time to let them go home.”

  The girls had nothing to do now, as their work was finished. They looked back at Ag with undisguised contempt. They wanted to go home now, and he could hear the cries for freedom from the young women through the office window.

  “Well, let’s show them what the fruits of their labor have accomplished,” Ag announced dramatically.

  As he stood in the window, he put up his small finger, indicating they should wait a second and quickly stepped over to the command computer. Without ceremony, he pressed the red button, beginning the process before Jason could protest. They had not tested the system yet.

  With a broad smile on his face, he stepped back to the window. He raised his small arms in triumph. He was about to become one of the richest men in the world. Nothing could stop him now. He was about to give the order to have the women eliminated when he noticed something he didn’t expect.

  His smile soon turned to wonderment. The women were laughing and pointing to the computer screens on their desks. One woman stood up and raised her chin in defiance at him. Another woman turned her screen so that Kevin Ag could see. What he saw sent a shockwaves throughout his body.

  On the screen was a cartoon. The character had Ag’s face, but it was on a body drawn in a prison outfit with black-and-white stripes. The character was pounding on some rocks. The bubble caption read, “That’s all, folks”. It was at that second that the real trouble started for Kevin Ag.

  “My God,” Jason screamed. “It’s a virus. The hacker did get in.”

  At the same time, the doors flew open, and the SWAT team went in. The takedown started on all three levels of the cave at the same time.

  When the four SWAT team members cautiously and stealthily entered the top floor, they were faced with two immediate obstacles. The first was that the room was completely dark, as it had been a sleeping area. The SWAT members flipped down their night-vision goggles and powered them up. As their eyes became adjusted to the darkness, they became aware of the second obstacle, an incredible stench that permeated the room. It was not just the smell of unwashed bodies—it was the smell of shoddy plumbing work. As they fought back their gag reflexes, they began to search the room for the four guards they knew were located there. The room was long and had cheap beds lining two walls. They quickly moved down the center aisle and located their prey.

  Three of the guards gave up as soon as they felt the cool metal of the silenced machineguns against their necks, but the fourth guard, who was all the way in the back of the room, had become alerted to the breach before they could overtake him. He went for his machinegun. The SWAT team member shot him between the eyes. The three remaining guards were quickly bound and gagged in the center aisle. Two SWAT team members stood guard over the men, while the other two went to assist the men on the bottom floors.

  The men who entered the second floor came in in a rush. They knew the three combatants in the room were alert and would see them immediately, so speed was essential. The four men piled through the door and took up firing positions, covering the entire room.

  The room looked like the computer room of a corporation. The walls were covered in wallboard and painted white. There was a dropped ceiling with florescent lighting, and stacks of computers were on a shelf, covering most of the back wall. The room was climate-controlled, and the air was fresh, indicating that the scrubbers were being used to filter and recycle the air. To the left was a seven-foot-wide picture window, overlooking the floor below and to the right, were three computer stations. A small man in an immaculate, dark suit stood by the large window. He turned in horror as the SWAT team took up their positions. A second man sat behind a computer screen with his head in his hands. The third man stood silently in the back corner of the room, but had his machinegun at the ready.

  “What is the meaning of this unlawful invasion?!” Kevin Ag blustered in Russian. “You can’t invade my property.”

  “We are here to stop you, Mr. Ag,” a SWAT man spoke in English.

  “Jason, Nergui, shoot these goons.” Ag ordered and turned his back on the SWAT team. Nergui suddenly came alive, roaring like a lion. His huge, hairy body took one step towards the SWAT team as he brought up his machinegun, and he was quickly dispatched by three shots to his body. He flew back against the wall and slid to the ground in a sitting position. He roared no more.

  “Why have you not shot the invaders?” Kevin Ag screamed at Jason as he watched his bodyguard slump to the floor.

  “Shut the fuck up, moron,” Jason screamed back. He stood up with his hands in the air, addressing the unwavering SWAT team in Russian. “Where have you guys been? You were supposed to be here a half hour ago.”

  “What? What are you saying to these murderers?” Kevin Ag asked. He couldn’t believe anyone would try to betray him.

  “You didn’t think I was going to let you take all the money and just kill me and the girls in the end, did you? These men work for the Moscow Mafia and are here to liberate the money and save me.”

  “Treachery is everywhere, “Ag said with disgust.” He knew his days of being a tycoon were over.

  “It was easy to make a deal with the Mafia,” Jason continued. “They are even greedier than you are, Mr. Ag.”

  What Jason didn’t know was that when the Russian Special Forces team reached the mine entrance about an hour earlier, they found police cars, helicopters, and many government agents hanging around the site. They had called in to their controller and were immediately recalled to their home base in Russia.

  The SWAT team members stood fast, not understanding what the two men were saying.

  “You son-of-a-bitch, I’ll kill you for this,” Kevin Ag threatened. He clinched his fists and began insulting Jason’s heritage.

  The SWAT team leader had finally had enough.
“Get down on the floor with your hands on you heads, now,” he ordered in English.

  Profound shock registered on Jason’s face. He suddenly understood these men were not his rescue team. “You speak English?” he asked in his Midwestern dialect.

  “I said, get on the floor with your hands on your head,” the SWAT leader bellowed. “I’m not going to ask again.”

  “Can you let me do one thing first?” Jason asked.

  “What?” the SWAT man barked.

  “I want to shut up this little asshole. He has held me as a virtual captive for almost a year and has berated me for the last time,” Jason said.

  “If you can shut him up, do it. Otherwise, I’m going to have to kill him,” the leader replied.

  Jason stepped over to the much smaller man. Kevin Ag was waving his arms and shouting insults and threats at everyone, unaware that no one, except Jason, could understand him. Jason grabbed him by his shoulders, turned him to face himself, and hit him with an uppercut worthy of a prize fighter. The little man became airborne, landing on his back, and sliding all the way to the far wall. His ranting finally stopped. Jason quickly dropped to the floor with a satisfied smile on his face.

  “First floor is clear,” Bobby Brown heard in his earpiece.

  “The second floor is also clear,” he heard.

  Suddenly, everybody’s earpieces erupted for a third time. “Get the Russian translator down to level three, pronto. We have a problem. Need backup.”

  The weakness in the SWAT team’s plan was the third floor. Firstly, there were five guards spread around the work area, and they were all alert with their machineguns hanging from neck belts. Secondly, there were five civilians who needed to be rescued and could get in the way of the takedown. Finally, the room was actually a very large cavern, measuring more than sixty feet across and forty feet wide. Only the tiny work area was lit. The SWAT team knew the layout of the room and knew the guards could stop them cold by spraying the only entrance to the area.