A Dubious Artifact (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 6)

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “It’s Henry Fogel, you’ve heard of him?”

  “The billionaire?” Loni repeated with shock on her face.

  “He is one of the founding members of the Effort, but he is very old. That is why I am taking this artifact. I mean to extend his life. Surely, you can understand how important it is to keep him alive. He is a great man,” she pleaded innocently.

  “Who has killed and damaged many people,” Loni added for her. “Who are the other members of the governing inner circle?” Loni now demanded.

  “I don’t know. Really I don’t. The organization is compartmentalized.”

  “Who is your boss at Homeland Security?”

  “David Heller, he lives with my grandfather, that’s all I know,” she hung her head in shame. Loni wondered if she could believe her.

  “What about Thomas Cruickskank? Is he part of the Effort?” Loni asked knowing that Tom had asked for them to call him at eight o’clock, about two hours from now.

  “That idiot? We wouldn’t want him even if he was a major donator. No, he is just some dumb field agent,” Dr. Behl spat out.

  Switching tactics, Loni now asked the broken woman, “Do you intend to give the artifact to the Chinese?”

  “Yes, they are going to pay us a huge amount of money for it,” she admitted. “It will be after we copy the formulas. There is a contact here in Chicago.”

  “Name and phone number,” Loni demanded. “Tell me where we can find him.”

  Dr. Behl hesitated then shrugged her shoulders. “His name is Wong, she gave her the number. He is staying at the Dorchester in downtown Chicago.”

  “Only one more question,” Loni announced. Dr. Behl raised her head in hope. “Do you remember Sofia Kerns?”

  “Who?” Dr. Behl looked up at Loni. There was no hint of recognition in her eyes.

  “That’s what I thought,” Loni spat out as she went for her gun. “She was a lovely old woman that you had killed so you could get your hands on a stupid book. Now, do you remember?”

  “Oh, my God,” Dr. Behl babbled as she remembered hearing that the Yakuza killer had made it quick. “I never told him to kill her,” she protested.

  She saw Loni drawing her gun. She braced for the impact, but instead Loni grabbed the ashtray from her hands. She pulled it up to eye level and pressed the barrel of the gun right where one of the formulas was written. Dr. Behl’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what Loni was about to do.

  “No,” she roared, but it was too late. Loni pulled the trigger and a bullet hole appeared in two places on the circular ashtray. She had shot her bullet directly through both formulas, making them unreadable.

  “Here you take this prize to your glorious leader,” Loni said with scorn. She then dropped the ashtray in Dr. Behl’s formidable lap.

  “Oh, my God, what have you done?”

  “Now, collect your men and get the hell out of here. If I ever see you again, I’ll do the same to your head.”

  “You fool; do you truly understand what you have done to me?” Barby Behl wailed on the open deck rocking back and forth like some kind of a religious fanatic.

  “Payback is a bitch,” Loni answered as she disappeared into the house.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dr. Barbara Behl was still kneeling on the deck. Loni was long gone. She didn’t know what to do. The artifact weighted heavily in her pudgy hands. Her life had been spared, she realized that, but she now would face extreme humiliation and maybe more, when she returned to her office. She was in serious trouble. She had bet her reputation on obtaining the artifact and maybe her life. For her, it would have been redemption for all the crap she had to put up with from everyone. Extending her grandfather’s life would have given her continued protection. The money the Chinese would have paid for the artifact would have set her up for accolades and vaulted her into a leadership position of the Effort. She wondered if all that was now lost. She slowly rose to her feet.

  As she entered the French doors returning inside of the Banyon home, she was a defeated person. Her head hung low and she shuffled her feet. Her men were still cuffed sitting along the floor in front of the couch, but they were alert and stared at her. She knew they had lost all confidence in her leadership. She decided she would not go back to the office. She would have them drop her at her grandfather’s home. Perhaps, they could still read the formula and she still could sell the item to the Chinese. She was sure they still wanted it.

  Maya walked confidently up to the disheveled woman. There was a cellphone in her hand. She stopped about five feet from the broken woman and snapped her picture. “This will make a good model for a Halloween costume,” she said sarcastically.

  Maya then reached out and grabbed the artifact before Dr. Behl could react. Her eyes went wild with concern.

  “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of stealing your defective prize. I just want to take a few pictures for our album of successes,” she flashed a hundred watt smile. Maya held the camera inches from the ashtray and took shots of the formulas with holes in them. She then opened the top and looked inside. What she really was doing was checking the tiny electronic bug that had been inserted in the inside of the ashtray. Banyon feared that the bullets might have dislodged it, so Maya volunteered to check.

  “All good,” she happily announced, closed the lid and flipped the artifact back to the doctor. “You can leave now,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Oh, and take these angry men with you, will you?” she said dismissively.

  Agent Gamble suddenly boomed out. “Now, listen up all of you. The FBI has recorded everything that has happened here.” The four Homeland Security men looked at each other with surprise. “From this moment forward, you are not to talk about this, write any reports on this, or even think about this little battle. Is that clear?”

  All the men and Dr. Behl said nothing. “I think they need convincing,” Banyon spoke with a threat in his voice.

  Agent Gamble continued. “Or, we will let the videos leak to a couple of fine and thorough investigative news stations. You all photographed well, and the admissions of crimes will put you away for a long time. Now is that clear?”

  “Yes,” they all replied in shame.

  “Good now get the hell out of my house,” Banyon screamed.

  ***

  While the FBI agents escorted the Homeland men out the door and into their van, Banyon’s team was trading high fives and feeling good. Banyon’s plan had worked perfectly. The artifact no longer was a threat; Dr. Behl was completely humiliated and would probably lose her job. They had gained the name of a Chinese spy in America and now had some names of Effort people to go after.

  Banyon grabbed Loni and hugged her. “That was a great performance you put on for Dr. Behl.”

  “What do you mean?” she said. “I meant every word.” There was no smile on her face.

  “Well we have to get going,” Agent Gamble said. “Glad we could help here and you have helped us tremendously with the names.” He put out his hand and shook Banyon’s. “We will monitor the artifact too. It will lead us to several other bad guys, I’m sure,” he grinned at Banyon.

  “Wait everybody. I want to take a group picture. I am actually starting a scrap book of our adventures,” Maya said. Everyone gathered around with smiles on their faces. The job of taking the pictures fell to Agent Pellegrino, he was the rookie. He snapped several pictures.

  Maya then sent all of the pictures to her sisters’ cellphone, since they could not be there for the fun. She also texted them to say that they were not needed; there was no need to fly all the way across the Pacific.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The twin sisters, Previne and Pramilla along with Eric, sat comfortably in a well-appointed private lounge of a small airport on the outskirts of New Delhi, India. New Delhi was the capital of the emerging economic juggernaut nation and home to most of its diplomats, including Pramilla Patel Grey. It had taken her less than an hour to find and cajole a banker into lett
ing them use his fast Lear jet to take them to Chicago. They were minutes from boarding for the long ride across the ocean.

  Suddenly, Previne heard a beep come from her cellphone. She quickly scanned the message.

  “It is from Maya,” she exclaimed.

  “What does it say?” Pramilla quickly asked.

  “It says that the threat is over. Colt had put together a great plan and they even let Dr. Behl take the artifact. That is, after Loni put a bullet through the formulas and destroyed them.”

  Always a quick study, Pramilla said, “Well that is a nice turn of events for a change. We usually are desperately trying to catch up. This time it is over before we even get there,” she joked.

  Previne continued. “Maya also sent us some photos as she wants to start a scape book of our adventures.”

  “Maya is so sentimental,” Pramilla added.

  “Wait, Pramilla,” Previne suddenly shrieked. “Open up my lap top and pull up the pictures of the formula pictures that I brought along.”

  Pramilla never questioned Previne. She opened the laptop and began accessing the data. Eric slid over to look over her shoulder. “What are we looking for?” he asked.

  “I just sent you two pictures of the artifact from the ones that Maya sent me. Can you put them side by side?” Previne appeared on the edge of panic.

  After about a minute, Pramilla said, “Done.” She proudly turned the laptop so that Previne could see it.

  “Do you see it?” Previne cried out. “Oh, my God, do you see it?”

  “See what?” Eric asked.

  But Previne was already dialing Maya’s number even as Eric asked the question.

  “Eric, find the captain. Tell him that we are taking off immediately.”

  Part Three

  Second Battle

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Banyon and Loni, once again, had the house to themselves, well except for the handyman, Tom Taylor, who was replacing the door frame on his front door, anyway. Loni helped him carry the coffee table back to the living room and she went about closing all the drapes. Before Agent Gamble and his men left, they had collected all the bugs in the house and the deck. Banyon and Loni also had them disable the bugs in their computers. Everything seemed like it was back to a, more secure, normal. Loni stood in the middle of the room with her hand on her chin. Banyon could see that she was thinking.

  “I could have done it, you know,” Loni suddenly said.

  “Done what, sweetie?” Banyon innocently asked.

  “You know, what Maya did.”

  “Oh that,” he replied as he searched his mind for something to say. He knew that a positive comment was required. “You were magnificent as a bad guy,” he offered.

  “Do you think that I am as sexy as Maya?” she asked with her hands on her hips. It was a demand. She wanted Banyon to tell her that Maya had nothing over her when it came to being sexy.

  “She was pretty sexy,” Banyon let slip while still thinking. It was a dangerous thing to do as Loni immediately pounced.

  “You wanted to sit next to her so that you could get your kicks,” she snorted.

  “That’s silly,” Banyon said with a wave of his hand.

  “I saw you touching her thigh.” Loni said vehemently. Loni pulled up her dress and pointed to the top of her own smooth thigh. “You touched her right here.”

  Realizing that he needed to defend himself, “That was only a nudge to tell her that it was time for her act. You knew that, it was part of the plan,” Banyon fought back.

  “But….?”

  He cut her off. “Besides, you refused to do it, remember? Otherwise I would have grabbed your thigh.”

  “Ah ha, so you admit that you fondled her,” Loni exclaimed and pointed her slender finger at Banyon.

  Banyon didn’t want to admit he enjoyed being next to Maya. What man wouldn’t, he thought. She was actually better for the job. She had much larger breasts and that made for a quicker reaction from the Homeland Security men. But Banyon knew that he could never ever tell Loni that.

  “And you don’t have a dress that is two sizes too small for you either,” he said. “Women’s clothes don’t come that small. It would have had to been a preteen dress, and they don’t make them to be sexy enough.”

  “Preteen, really,” Loni countered. She stood and thought for a few seconds. “Let’s go buy one and find out,” Loni said with a hint of mischief.

  Suddenly Banyon’s eyes narrowed. “Loni are you fighting with me just so we can makeup?”

  “May…be,” she slowly said.

  Suddenly, their banter was broken by the ringing of Banyon’s new cellphone. No one knew the number but Maya, he thought.

  “Colt, we have got a big problem. Greg and I are headed back to your house,” Maya told him. “We will be there in fifteen minutes.” She then hung up. Banyon had put her on speakerphone so Loni hear what was said.

  “What do you think she means?” Loni quickly asked.

  “I think that the ashtray caper is not over.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  His name was Ho Wong. No one knew which name was his actual first name. He was a traditional Chinaman. In China, the family name was always said first, but no one was sure if he followed the America tradition of family name last while in America. He was staying at one of Chicago’s’ finest traditional hotels, the Dorchester, right in the heart of the downtown area. He had a huge suite on one of the top floors with four bedrooms. He marveled at the huge completely furnished space.

  This was his first trip outside of the mainland. His English was very spotty. He had learned English at a language school in Shanghai and like most Chinese men; he never wanted to talk in public for fear of losing face if he mispronounced a word. The Chinese were all about face.

  Ho Wong was a minor professor of ancient history at the University of Shanghai. He had been approached with a financial offer that was ten times his yearly stipend and a chance to visit America. He jumped at the opportunity before he understood that the mission was not legally sanctioned by the Chinese government. The government knew about it, of course, but made sure to keep their distance — in case anything went wrong. If he was caught, he was sure that they would deny his existence. His job on this secret mission was to inspect the ashtray like artifact for authenticity and to translate the formulas written on it. He was an expert on ancient Altaic languages.

  He was working with seven other rough looking men, all Chinese nationals. They were his suite-mates. There were so many Chinese in Chicago that they just blended in, even though they spoke little or no English, and made no attempt to act American. The leader was named Zao Ping and he spent most of his time sitting at the large desk in the open living room and watching several monitors at one time. He could speak English fairly well, but hid that fact from everyone on his team. He didn’t trust them and wanted the edge to make sure all translations were done correctly.

  Zao Ping was a computer expert among other things and had been able to hack into the supposedly secure Homeland Security network several days ago. He did that because Dr. Barbara Behl of Homeland Security had responded to the Chinese demand to return the ashtray artifact. She wanted ten billion American dollars to return it. This told the Chinese that Dr. Behl knew about the formulas. The Chinese wanted them badly to enhance their plans to bring down America. Ho Wong was due to make the contact and then to collect the artifact in two days.

  Ho Wong was told to negotiate a deal. Zao Ping was told to get the artifact by any means possible and to leave no one alive that had any knowledge of its power. Zao Ping and his men were state-bred killers. They were experts in hand to hand combat and carried no weapons aside from a few trinket knives they bought in Chinatown in Chicago.

  Zao Ping had just finished reading the translation of the audio feed they intercepted from Dr. Behl’s surveillance room. It was the one recorded on the deck of Banyon’s house. He motioned for the professor to approach him.

  The p
rofessor was not asked to sit. “Yes?” the professor nervously asked.

  “I have read the translation and have a few questions.” Zao Ping said like an experienced interrogator.

  “Yes,” the professor rubbed his hands together nervously. “I will attempt to answer them truthfully.” Zao Ping didn’t seem to understand that Ho Wong was not an English language expert. Ho Wong was sorry he had taken the assignment. He was pretty sure he would never see his beloved China again.

  “Why would these people give up such a valuable artifact without a fight?”

  “I can only assume they don’t know about its power, sir. Also, Homeland Security is very strong in America. They might not have wanted the trouble that Homeland Security could bring down on them.”

  “That puzzles me,” Zao Ping replied as he stared at the professor and tilted his head.

  The professor shrugged. “Maybe they were afraid of the woman. She is powerful, you know.”

  “The artifact left the house with the woman, I got that, but she went to her grandfather’s house and not the office.”

  “I don’t think her superiors know she has the artifact. I think she is selling it to us as a private citizen,” Ho Wong noted.

  “Ah, so she is corrupt, like most Americans,” Zao Ping mused and produced an evil grin.

  “It seems so,” the professor acknowledged.

  “I will have one of my men check on this Henry Fogel. We might consider stealing it from his home,” Zao Ping said as he eyed Ho Wong with a look of suspicion. “We might steal it tonight.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ho Wong replied.

  “One more question, professor?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ho Wong replied and bowed his head.

  “On the tape, I heard a gunshot near the end. The woman survived. Why shoot the gun?”

  “I don’t know, sir. Sometimes the Americans will fire a shot just for effect. It is meant to scare the prisoner into admitting things or sometimes for emphasis.”