A Dubious Artifact (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 6)

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “I see,” replied Agent Gamble.

  “I wouldn’t even trust the American government with it,” she continued.

  “My God, this all started with the Chinese,” Loni lamented. “Do you think they are after it too?”

  “There is one way to find out,” Banyon answered.

  “How?” Loni asked.

  Banyon looked up at the ceiling. “Wolf, are the Chinese after the artifact too?”

  “Yes, but they are far behind. The ones to watch out for are the Effort people right now. They will provide the most immediate danger.”

  “So are they in the game too or not?”

  “They understand the value of the artifact better than anyone else. Yes, they are in the game. They will have to be reckoned with eventually.”

  “Have you got any good news?” Banyon asked.

  “Well, I have found the old Nazi that we are after. He wants the artifact for personal reasons.”

  “Well, this is sure a dubious artifact,” Banyon said out loud.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dr. Behl sat alone in the back of the Cadillac Escalade that sped towards Banyon’s house. She had a smug look on her face. She was so confident that she would secure the artifact that she made a phone call.

  “Let me speak to him,” she politely asked the person on the other end of line.

  “He is in no condition to speak to you,” the man replied. He wanted to say more, but bit his lip.

  “Please, I must tell him something. It is extremely important,” Barbara Behl uncharacteristically pleaded.

  “Hold the line,” the man returned.

  After a short pause, she heard the line click and she was transferred. “Hello,” said a male voice that was very old and tired. “Who is this?”

  “It’s Barb,” she replied with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

  “I have a granddaughter named Barb, Is that you?” He sounds like he had been asleep, she thought. God, he is really losing it.

  “I have great news Grandpa. I’m about to secure the elixir for you. You’re going to live for another hundred years. I’ll bring it to you this afternoon.”

  Suddenly more alert he replied. “You have promised me the elixir before, Barby.” She hated when he called her that. She could never do enough for the old man, but she craved his attention. He was the only one that had ever paid any attention to her in her whole life. She had to get the artifact or he soon would die. Her whole world would be shattered.

  “I’ve also talked to the Chinese. They will pay us ten billion dollars for the artifact, after you take the elixir, of course. Isn’t that great! The Effort will have our coffers bulging with money to take down the government.” And I’ll be a hero to the cause, she thought.

  “Listen to me,” he suddenly barked. “Don’t talk to the Chinese anymore. Let’s get a feel for this thing before we give it away. You were always a short-sighted girl. Get here as soon as you can with the artifact,” he ordered.

  His answer stung her like a mega-sized bee. She almost started to cry. She chocked back a sob. “I’ll bring it to you, I promise,” she blurted out. But the phone line had gone dead.

  Barby’s grandfather was not a nice or even a good man. He had started molesting her when she was eight and had continued until she went away to college. Like many molested children, they eventually craved the attention. Her parents were too busy promoting the Effort to pay any mind to the lonely girl. It explained some of the quirks in her personality. But her grandfather was much more than a simple pedophile.

  He was a ninety-seven year old former member of the Hitler war machine. In his younger days, he claimed to be a cousin of the man himself. He fled to America near the end of the war using the Odessa network. In America, he became one of the founding members of the Effort, and still served on the inner circle. He was one of five men that made the strategy decisions for the cause. He was known to be extremely ruthless and self-serving. But he had guided the organization into a powerhouse of influence and strength. The problem was that he was dying. He cared little about his granddaughter, but he wasn’t against using her to achieve his goal to live longer.

  He handed the phone back to the man near his bed. The man was also a member of the inner circle that controlled the Effort. He however was not sick and dying, he was only thirty years old. His name was David Heller and he was second in command at Homeland Security and he had ambitions of his own.

  “How is our plan going,” The old man croaked.

  “Henry, I told you, all is well. That was just an hour ago,” Heller replied.

  “The country is very weak now. People are very disillusioned, there are no jobs, and many people like bankers and stock brokers are raking in billions. The country is overrun with illegal aliens, drugs, and weak leaders. The time to strike is soon, my friend,” Henry announced like he was the only one that could see it.

  “Huh, Jews mostly control those industries that are still making money,” Heller pointed out, egging him on. It was a little game he played with the old man. Henry had said these things before, about twice a day, actually, but was nearing the end of his reign. Heller wanted to be the next and final leader of the Effort, so he played along.

  “There just needs to be a fiery leader to whip the people into a frenzy,” he said as he clutched is boney fist. “Do we have such a man?”

  “He is just waiting in the wings, my friend.”

  “Good, that is how we did it in Germany. We will do it again here. I hope I live long enough to see it.”

  “The cause will live forever,” Heller announced fanatically.

  “But my granddaughter, you must help her,” the old man suddenly pleaded.

  “I have her under my wing at Homeland Security. I gave her four trusted members of the Effort to watch over her. What more can I do?”

  If she does succeed in getting the artifact, she needs to be rewarded. Give me your word, Heller.”

  “You will be able to reward her yourself,” Heller replied.

  “But what if I die before she brings me the elixir?”

  “I promise you that I will take care of her personally,” Heller answered. The old man didn’t catch his careful wording or that Heller used his hand like a shooting gun. He had fallen asleep again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Meanwhile back in Banyon’s garage. The final plans for the confrontation with Dr. Barbara Behl had just been completed when the door to the house flew open and agent Kriss announced that the house was all clear. They all rushed for the door.

  Agent Gamble yelled out, “Now set up our devices in the family room off of the kitchen. Then we need a strategy session guys.”

  Maya went directly to the bedroom. She needed to change her clothes and Loni had reluctantly told her what to look for in her large closet. It would be two sizes too small and way too short, but that was what she was looking for in an outfit.

  Banyon and Loni raced to the large finished basement. They went directly to the furnace room. Banyon pulled out his keys and depressed a button on a small black device attached to his key ring. There was an audible click and a key pad appeared on the concrete wall. He entered a code number and another click announced the opening of the wall. The entire concrete wall rolled open and Loni and he slipped into his vault.

  He had installed the vault a couple of years ago to protect some of his valuables. It could also serve as a panic room, if needed. The company that installed it was from Switzerland and it did not appear on any house plans. The installers told Banyon that it would be virtually impossible to detect. The room was actually outside the house and under the back deck. There was an escape hatch that could only be opened from inside the vault. It was very expensive, but since Banyon had become involved with solving these mysteries, it seemed to be a logical step in security.

  On a shelf in the back of the vault sat the artifact ashtray. He walked to the shelf, pulled it down, and placed it on the strong wooded table that stood in th
e middle of the bedroom-sized vault room. Loni came to stand by his side with the flushed look of excitement on her pretty face.

  “Do you think you can do it here?” Banyon asked.

  “Right now,” she exclaimed. “Right here on the table in the basement?” Loni had miss-understood his request. She, like always, had become sexually charged by the thrill of violence and the perceived threat of Maya Patel. She was already unbuttoning her dress when Banyon stopped her.

  “You’re kidding, right? There are killers headed here and you want to have sex?”

  “But I thought you wanted it too,” she replied in her little girl voice. “I never refuse you Colt.”

  “And I appreciate that,” he said sincerely. “But right now I need some of your other talents.”

  “Oh,” she exclaimed. “But you didn’t ask me specifically for anything. You know how it works,” she said like a woman that had just been turned down. She was angry. She stood with her dress partially open and assumed an indignant position with her hands on her hips.

  Banyon shook his head, but couldn’t conceal the smile that was on his face. She is really something else, he thought.

  “Loni, do you have a duplicate of the ashtray?”

  The look of surprise that suddenly appeared on her face was priceless. She looked like she had just swallowed some lemon juice. She then appeared to be constipated when a deep crease appearing on her forehead and finally a look of astonishment crossed her face as Banyon watched.

  “Is this what you want?” she said as she reached into her unbuttoned dress and pulled out an exact replica of the ashtray.”

  Banyon accepted it from her and placed it on the table next to the original. He began to compare the two.

  “Yup, this will do the trick.” He hefted the replica and told her to return the original to the shelf. Banyon had no intention of giving the original away. He had told the team that he and Loni were going to get the original from the basement. None of the team knew Loni could conger up anything that Banyon asked for with her green jade ring. It was their secret. Some of the team, particularly the Patel twins knew she had a ring with powers, but none knew that it was powerful enough to produce the artifact.

  “Quickly, back into the basement,” Banyon ordered.

  They closed the vault and headed for his work shop. Once there, Banyon began looking for several tools. Suddenly, they heard someone behind them and turned to find Maya just a few feet away.

  “I came to show off my dress,” she said evenly. She then noticed that Loni’s dress was unbuttoned. “What happened to you, Loni?”

  “Well you know how frisky Colt can be,” she replied with a Mona Lisa smile.

  Banyon didn’t hear her as he was staring at Maya. The little black dress barely covered her upper thighs even standing up. The spaghetti straps that held the dress up strained to contain her ample breasts. Her long slim legs were completely bare. Banyon knew Loni was about to become instantly jealous and turned away. “That will do the trick,” he commented.

  “Let me see the artifact?” Maya asked as she stepped forward.

  Banyon had just scraped a section of the bottom and stared in amazement at the bright glow of gold. He showed the bottom to Loni who just smiled with a look of satisfaction and achievement.

  Maya was very near Banyon now and he could smell her distinctive scent. “Can I hold it?” she whispered in his ear. He was well aware of the seductive talents of the Patel sisters, but decided to let her hold it anyway.

  She held it delicately in her hand as she examined it. “Yes,” she said. “This item is genuine. See the Cicada symbol here and here,” she pointed. Banyon and Loni crowded in to look.

  “Looks like a bug,” Banyon noted.

  “The Cicada symbol was often used to indicate longevity of life. The brown color of the item was only used after 1800 A.D. in China. The language on the artifact is an early form of today’s Mandarin. I’d say that this item was made around 1800 A.D. in North Western China,” she proudly announced.

  “That sounds right to me,” Loni admitted without telling her that she knew exactly when and where it had been made.

  “But the formulas are a much different language,” Maya continued as she looked closer. They appear to be a dialect of the Altaic language group. That would make the formula ancient, as the Chinese didn’t speak an Altaic language in the nineteenth century or even for many centuries earlier. I can’t read the formulas,” she admitted with frustration.

  “I’m pretty sure they work,” Loni blurted out not realizing she admitted knowledge gained from her mother.

  Maya turned and stared at her for a second, then she said, “Colt, let me take a picture of the formulas?”

  “Why?” he questioned as he grabbed the item from her hands.

  “So, I can send the pictures to Previne from my phone. You know, she is an expert at ancient artifacts. Maybe she can give us a lead on the formulas.”

  This presented Banyon with a huge dichotomy. He actually wanted to destroy the formula, not have it translated. He muddled it over in his brain as he glanced at Loni who was shaking her head from side to side emphatically. But he didn’t know if she just didn’t want Previne involved or was afraid that the formula would get out if photographed.

  Finally he said, “take the picture from my new cellphone and you call her on it. Put her on speakerphone.”

  Maya looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t you trust me, after all our adventures together,” she spoke in a hurt tone.

  Banyon was once again reminded that working under stress with all these women took cunning and diplomacy. “Maya, I know my phone is clean, it is new,” he replied. “Yours may not be.”

  She didn’t argue further and took his phone to snap the pictures. She then placed a call to her older sister in New Delhi, India.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The office was what most people would call opulent. It measured thirty feet by thirty feet. One wall was floor to ceiling bulletproof windows. A large wooden Queen Anne desk graced another wall with a huge credenza covering the entire area behind it. Around the room, in strategic places, were several tables, couches and a conference area. Most were piled with antiques and artifacts. It was an office befitting the female curator of a museum of antiquities. She was not only the curator of the large museum in India, but she was also a full Ph.D. in ancient antiquities. She was brilliant.

  That, however, was only part of the resume for Doctor Previne Patel. She was an expert marksman, martial arts devotee, stunningly beautiful — like her sisters, and one of the few remaining practicing Sharman’s left in the world. She could cast spells and curses. She also loved action and was a world class adventurer.

  Everything she had accomplished had been molded, almost since birth, by the original curator of the museum, her grandfather Abu Patel. Her parents died in an airplane accident when she and her twin Pramilla were seven years old. Maya was less than a year old then. Abu had patiently taught her the many secrets he held before he died a few years ago. She was now the head of the Patel clan, head of the museum and an eminent expert on ancient history. She was a very confident, strong woman. Unfortunately knew less about relationships with people, especially about men, then about Ming dynasty vases.

  Her widowed grandfather was not an expert on women or even love, so he did the best he could in raising his gorgeous granddaughters. He encouraged experimentation and experience to replace the wisdom of a mother. They had learned too well. By the time that Previne was thirteen, he was horrified by the attention his sexy granddaughters attracted from all the local boys and even men. They circled the young girls like a pack of hungry jackals wherever they went. He knew it was just a matter of time before bad things would happen to them. So, he did what he thought was the logical thing. He used his Sharman powers and cast a curse on them. The curse said they would reject any male that did not fit the criteria he had established. To his delight, it worked just as he had hoped. However, he did
not take into account the possibility that they would meet many men that fit his tough criteria. When that happened and it did, the girls became obsessed with the man. If he rejected them, they were powerless to stop themselves, and became sexually aggressive with him. If he resisted, they became increasingly aggressive. Eventually the man would run from their overpowering sexual demands. All ran except Colton Banyon.

  Abu had set the curse to end for all of them when one of his granddaughters got married and that had happened last year to Pramilla. She had married Eric Grey, who was actually Wolf’s grandson. Maya had managed to corral Agent Greg Gamble since then. Previne remained as the lone unattached Patel. She attempted to put it out of her mind and dedicate herself to her work. But a hunger for a companion existed. As a result, she was one more thing; she was hopelessly in love with Colton Banyon. She knew that Loni had the edge, but she was a patient woman.

  ***

  Previne sat at her large desk trying to uncover the secret of the few words that were readable on the parchment in front of her. It was sometimes frustrating work, but she had learned the lesson of being patient and relentless. Suddenly, her personal cellphone rang. She grabbed it and looked at the number to see who was calling. She didn’t recognize it. She rarely received calls on that phone, but decided to answer it anyway.

  “Previne Patel,” she said in precise English with her British accent.

  “It’s me, Maya,” the voice replied.

  “Why didn’t you call me on your own cellphone?” Previne asked.

  Ignoring the question, Maya plowed ahead. She didn’t have much time. “I’m sending you two pictures of formulas. Can you tell me what they say?”

  “What is going on Maya? You seem in a rush.”

  “Previne, you are on speakerphone. Loni and Colt are also listening in,” Maya announced breathlessly.

  “Colt,” she gasped. Her heart began to beat a little faster. “It’s good to hear from you,” she added.