A Dubious Position (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 7)

by Gerald J Kubicki

  An image of a boat suddenly appeared. The image grew larger as it zoomed in. Banyon could clearly see a Chinese man standing on the transom in a bathing suit. He suddenly looked into the sky as he shaded the sun from his eyes. Shock filled his face. Two seconds later the missile, fired by the chopper, found its mark. The entire ship disintegrated. The speedboat was only a few feet away and capsized. John Chang would never terrorize another woman again. The man in the water from the speedboat would drift towards Hawaii, two thousand miles away.

  Eric, who was standing to the side of Banyon and off screen said, “Wow”.

  “Scratch him off our list. Say that his ship was sunk by sea pirates,” Banyon heard the President tell someone.

  “But there are no pirates in that part of the world,” someone spoke.

  “Well, there are now,” replied the President.

  ***

  The big monitor changed. Banyon could see three head camera shots as they emerged from the sea and hurried to take up defense positions. The fourth screen was a zoomed in satellite image of the neighborhood. “SEAL team landed,” he heard from the leader. “Do you see any hostiles?”

  Banyon turned his head and in a whisper, asked Wolf for an update. He quickly said. “The coast is clear all the way to the target.”

  “Let’s move people,” the SEAL leader ordered. The images on the monitor suddenly jiggled as the men sprinted down the street to the target. Not a single person was seen along the route.

  “Where are the men watching the girls?” Banyon asked Wolf.

  “They are still on the couches in the front of the house and the girls are still upstairs, alone,” he answered. Banyon passed on the information just as the SEALS reached the front door.

  They didn’t hesitate or even slow down. The first SEAL to the door kicked out with his leg and the door collapsed inwardly. The men rushed in and didn’t ask for the policemen to surrender. They shot them with their silenced guns instead. Four SEALS immediately headed up the stairs looking for the girls. They found them in the back bedroom. Their binds were cut and blankets thrown over their naked bodies. “Can you run?” Banyon heard one of the SEALS ask one of them. She was clearly in shock.

  “I don’t know,” she replied.

  He quickly picked her up and threw her over his shoulder and started down the stairs, just in time to see the SEAL leader place a blood-soaked, hand-written, note on one of the bodies. He then took a picture.

  They were out of the house and heading back to the beach in exactly four minutes. The leader called for the extraction boats as they ran carrying the two girls. They collected their gear and piled into the fast attack boats. Within minutes, they were a speck on the horizon.

  “Well, finally something went easy today,” the President spoke over all the celebration in the situation room. “Thanks to you Colt, these are getting easier and easier.”

  “Glad I could help,” Banyon said. “But what did the note say and why did the SEAL take a picture?”

  “It said just what you supplied,” commented the President. ‘Danta Lopez was here, be afraid’. But we added ‘I will attack like a ghost when I find corruption’. The Mexican people are overwhelmingly superstitious my advisors tell me. Many of them will think twice about committing a crime now.”

  “And the picture?” Banyon asked.

  “It will find its way to a TV station in Mexico City. My advisers think it will make the Mexican government take notice.”

  “So, how is the crisis with Mexico going?” Banyon wondered out loud.

  “The borders are a mess. The Mexicans are turning back many Americans and we are being very selective with who we let in America. There are reports of gun fire everywhere over the border and we still have no contact with their government. Trade is at a standstill. The Mexican army is still massing on the border. I’m afraid it’s not going too well.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Banyon offered.

  “You have already helped too much. Werner Klotz will be landing soon. He is in for an unexpected greeting and I have my meeting with Slezeck in a half hour. That will give me great pleasure. Besides I know you still have the Mexican hit team after you.”

  “We leave shortly for the airport,” Banyon replied.

  “I know you want to do this yourself so you can protect a lot of innocent people, but I’ve alerted the FBI. They will have a takedown team following the hit men. We already know what plane they are on and when they will arrive in Las Vegas. If you need them, I’m giving you this number.” The President passed on a phone number.

  “Thank you, sir,” Banyon responded.

  “Also, you will have your check for today’s events automatically deposited at the firm less expenses, of course.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Banyon said again.

  “I’ve got to prepare for my upcoming meeting. Good luck Colt.” The President said and the screen went blank.

  “I didn’t like it when he said, ‘less expenses’,” Banyon said to Eric.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  The private plane containing Werner Klotz touched down at 1:10 P.M. at the small Virginia airport where it was based. A black stretch limousine waited by the hanger. There were several other people waiting for him too, but he didn’t know that.

  Klotz had slept the entire trip. At his age any stress wore him out. Dealing with the Mexican hit men was very stressful. But he had followed Slezeck’s orders to the letter and had stood in the rental car parking lot while making arrangements on the phone to get them to Las Vegas.

  They were a surly lot. Everything they did was menacing and aggressive. They circled around the front of the car impatiently. They spit on the ground, smoked cigarettes, spoke in staccato threatening tones to each other and watched him with shifty eyes. Klotz knew their reputation was well founded.

  Once they took an assignment, they never stopped until their victims were tortured, mutilated and dead. Anybody who got in the way was killed, without mercy. He was glad he was not their target. Several of the men kept picking up and staring at the pictures of Loni and the Patel sisters. They rubbed their crotches while wise-cracking in Spanish to the other men. Klotz was sure the women faced a gruesome future.

  It took him almost an hour of phone time to complete his tasks. The hardest part was getting them enough weapons. Klotz had to call in a favor from an old friend in Las Vegas. His old friend immediately charged him double the normal price for the guns.

  Once he had arranged everything, he collected the pictures and handed them to their leader. He said his name was Carlos. Klotz then ushered them back to the rental van that returned to the terminals and their flight to Las Vegas. When done, he entered the waiting taxi, heading back to his private plane. He was feeling exhausted, but satisfied he had completed his part of Slezeck’s plan.

  Klotz awoke when the plane made a rough touchdown. At first, he wasn’t sure where he was, but as the plane taxied to the hanger, he regained his memory. He decided he would head back to his office, just as Slezeck suggested and watch some TV. He wanted to catch up on the chaos he had personally inflicted on the world. He was proud to be a catalyst for the Effort. He personally had brought the U.S. and Mexico to the brink of war. He had no doubt who would win.

  As he looked out the window to see if his limousine was ready for him, he noticed there were three men in suits standing by the car. He knew the Federal government usually deployed three agents when they made an arrest. At first, he wondered who they were after. It didn’t click in his brain. Suddenly, the shock of realization hit him. He then wondered if Slezeck had betrayed him — not that it mattered much. One way or the other his life was over. Klotz felt he would never survive an arrest, trial, and any jail time. He was just too old to endure the lengthy process.

  When the plane stopped at the hanger, the pilot opened the door, then dropped down the small stairway. Klotz was already resigned to his future. The old man appeared in the doorway with his cane and started slow
ly down the steps as the U.S. Marshalls strolled up to the plane. He made no sign of fear and even smiled at the agents.

  When he reached solid ground he stopped and stared at the young men. A grimace appeared on his lips. Suddenly, he grabbed his cane with his other hand and pulled out the derringer while pressing the button for the concealed knife in the cane. He brandished both weapons at the surprised agents.

  “You won’t take me alive,” he croaked.

  “Put the weapons down Mr. Klotz,” the agent on the right ordered. “You are under arrest for treason.”

  With a scowl on his face, Klotz pointed the derringer at the man that had challenged him and fired. He was too far away for the small gun to be effective. The bullet flew harmlessly past the man, but the three agents were well trained to respond to deadly force with deadly force of their own.

  Before Klotz could aim for a second shot, all three agents put slugs into his body. Werner Klotz died on the tarmac, before an ambulance arrived. He had caused the death of many people during the crisis and now he caused his own demise.

  The Homeland Security watcher was stunned by the event. He had been waiting in a car just outside the fence. It had a good view of the shooting. He realized Klotz effectively committed suicide. The watcher called in the details to his superior and eventually the information reached Slezeck in his office. He looked at the note and chuckled. Now they can’t connect me to Werner Klotz and I didn’t even have to kill him myself, he thought.

  Chapter Fifty

  At the same time that Werner Klotz died on the tarmac, Bart pressed the overhead button in Banyon’s Jaguar that opened his garage door. Once inside, he quickly hit the close button. He and his men headed into the house. The car containing the Effort shooters pulled up right in front on the street. Banyon’s Homeland Security watcher drove past intending to turn around up the street. By the time he came back, the shooters had already left their car. They were headed for the front door with their machine guns, hidden in their coats. They didn’t notice the agent as he pulled into the driveway of the house next door about an acre away. Their attention was fixed on the entrance of the house.

  They were three steps from the porch when Andre and Guido appeared on either side of the house with guns aimed at the shooters. The shooters reacted just as Bart had expected they would. Each turned to the man on their side. They began to raise their machine guns to fire. Bart, who was watching from the peephole, flung open the front door. He took one step onto the porch, professionally putting a bullet into the man on the right, then one into the man on the left. They were both dead before they hit the ground.

  The Homeland Security watcher spilled his coffee when he saw Colton Banyon shoot the two men. He knew there was a reason his boss wanted Colton Banyon followed. Now he knew why. Colton Banyon was a cold-blooded killer. He hit 911 and reported the shooting immediately. He identified the shooter as Colton Banyon. He then got out of his car, drawing his gun, but before he was able to take a step, the garage door opened. The Jaguar sped away from the house, leaving the two dead men on the lawn.

  The Homeland Security watcher realized it would be impossible to catch up to the powerful car and ran to see what he could do for the men Colton Banyon shot.

  The dispatcher and the local Barrington police were very efficient. Two patrol cars screamed into the neighborhood in a matter of minutes. The officers left their still running cars while they approached the watcher with guns drawn. He quickly gave up his gun and raised his hands in surrender. He was cuffed and seated in one of the patrol cars while the rest of the police went to check the bodies. They then started to tape off the crime scene.

  The watcher wasn’t worried, it was all SOP. But what he didn’t know was Colton Banyon was on a special list. As soon as the dispatcher heard Banyon’s name, she notified the Chicago branch of the FBI.

  A detective soon cruised up to the crime scene. He went to view the bodies. He then walked over to police car where the watcher was anxiously waiting. He opened the door to the car, helped the man out, but didn’t uncuff him. He already had his name and his Homeland Security badge number so he went right to the important questions.

  “What were you doing in the neighborhood?” the twenty-year veteran asked.

  “Following Colton Banyon,” the man easily replied.

  “Really, from where?” The surprised officer asked.

  “From his office in Schaumburg.”

  “Where is Mister Banyon then?” the detective asked.

  “He took off after he killed those two men over there,” the watcher informed the detective, with a motion of his head.

  “How do you know these men?”

  “I followed them from Schaumburg too.”

  “They were following Mr. Banyon too?” the detective reiterated.

  “In a different car,” he replied weakly.

  “Why were you following Banyon?”

  “That’s classified,” the watcher smugly said.

  “Were you supposed to protect him or inform on him?”

  “That’s also classified.”

  “Well, you know what I think. My experience is that when three people are following one guy, and they approach him with machine guns, they are not there to protect him.”

  “But…:” The detective interrupted him by using his hand as a stop sign.

  The detective eyed him suspiciously and continued. “I think you and your buddies attempted to go after this Colton Banyon guy and he killed them. You panicked because you were frightened and called the police. Now, I want some straight answers. So start talking,” the detective yelled.

  “But I’m a Homeland Security agent, for God sakes?”

  The detective held up two black billfolds. “Apparently, so were they.” He showed him the two badges taken from the dead men.

  Suddenly, the detectives cellphone rang and he walked away to answer it. The Homeland Security watcher stood by the car in shock. What was going on? He wondered. The detective returned in a few minutes.

  “I just found out that Colton Banyon is currently at the Law offices of Dewey & Beatem in Schaumburg. He has been there for all day. They have about fifty witnesses. In fact, he stopped a car bombing at that premises, less than a half hour ago. He could not have been here. So, what is your new story?”

  “I don’t understand. I saw him shoot those men,” the watcher protested.

  “Yeah, well, the FBI will be here any minute. Maybe they can get better answers from you.”

  “The FBI, but I’m Homeland Security,” the watcher protested again.

  “So you say,” the detective replied.

  “Get me a phone,” the watcher ordered. “I can clear this up in a minute.”

  “No phone calls until you’ve been booked,” the detective replied.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  The trip had been delayed for another half hour, but Banyon was finally on the road to the airport and eventually to his house in Las Vegas. He had spent the extra time in the office talking to the FBI and the bomb squad. It gave him the cover he needed to deflect the accusation of killing the two men at his house. Bart had called him from his car and instructed him on what to do and say.

  Bart had also returned the keys to the Jaguar when he returned to the office. The exhausted Banyon had ordered Eric to drive. Heather sat next to him in the front seat and Mandy sat in the back seat with Banyon. The girls were very different now.

  When he had returned to his office after talking to the police and FBI, he found the two women standing in the room ready to go. They had their small suitcases by their sides. Heather was now dressed like a business woman. She had blond hair, in a bun, grey eyes, and big glasses that covered half her face. The tan business suit had a skirt that ended below her knees. Her legs were covered in pantyhose and she worn shoes with just a slight lift. She looked trim and proper. She was still very attractive, but not in a porno star way.

  Mandy looked fourteen years old again, with a short pleated p
rivate-girls school skirt, bare legs and a white blouse. She wore cheap jewelry along with track shoes and little ruffled white, socks. Somehow, she had fashioned her hair into two short pigtails. They bounced whenever she moved her head. Her attitude was fourteen years old as well. She slapped the gum she chewed and exuded the petulance of a teenager to everyone around her. In short, she was getting on their nerves.

  “Where have you been, Daddy?” she demanded. “I’m hungry,” she complained as she pounded out a text on her I-phone without looking up.

  Feeling famished himself, Banyon offered. “Okay, we’ll stop at a fast-food hamburger joint and get some food, to go. Sound good?” Both Eric and Heather readily agreed and shook their heads.

  “Eww, yuck,” Mandy replied as she turned up her nose. “Can’t you think of something better to eat?”

  “Shut up, Mandy,” Heather said with irritation. “I know you like meat. Stop being contrary, right now.” That got her a flick of eyebrows from Mandy, suddenly they all laughed at her innuendo.

  “Let’s go then,” Banyon suggested.

  They ate their hamburgers in the car as Eric drove. Mandy devoured two burgers and a chocolate milkshake. She was now fidgeting in the sea, next to Banyon. He had pulled down the seat divider to keep her from getting too close. She pulled her legs up on the seat and then dropped them back on the floor, hitting the seat in front. Heather once again admonished her actions.

  “If you kick my seat one more time, I’m going to come back there,” she uttered in a low growl.

  “You can’t make me,” Mandy replied sarcastically.

  “Mandy,” Banyon quickly said. “You don’t have to display your teenage attitude when we are alone. So, please stop.”

  “Thank you, Daddy, I mean Colt,” she sweetly said. She then crossed her legs like a woman, making sure that Banyon noticed she wore a short skirt.

  Banyon had just started thinking that it could be a long trip when his phone rang. He retrieved it from his pocket and saw that it was Loni.