A Dubious Position (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 7)

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A Dubious Position (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 7) Page 19

by Gerald J Kubicki


  “This call is from Loni, so you all better be quiet,” he threatened. He then answered the phone.

  “Colt,” Loni purred into the phone. “How are you? Do you miss me?” He could hear the sounds of an ocean in the background.

  “Of course,” he answered.

  “You’re probably bored to tears without me around,” she laughed into the phone. She seemed very relaxed.

  He knew better than to say he had been too busy to even think about her. “When are you coming home?” he asked instead.

  “We just got to the sailboat this morning. We are about an hour away from the dive sight. We will anchor for the night as it’s already late. We’ll dive for the treasure tomorrow morning. I should be back in two days.”

  “Are you having any fun?”

  “You won’t believe how nice this trip has been. The Patel sisters have been very friendly and the weather is gorgeous,” she gushed.

  “So, you are enjoying your trip then?”

  “Colt, the Patel’s are so much fun and they are teaching me many things,” she giggled.

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, I’ll show you when I get home,” she said sexily. The last time the Patel’s taught her something, Banyon wound up with a strip-tease pole in his bedroom, so, he was a little concerned.

  “How was your shopping spree in Odessa?” He asked as he wondered how much she had charged to his credit card.

  “Well, we bought a few things, but didn’t buy any bathing suits,” She baited him.

  “Oh?”

  “Colt, I’m naked,” she announced. “We all agreed to sail naked. It’s so cool, so much freedom. So much fun,” she exclaimed. “And Colt, guess what?”

  “What?” He asked with a frown on his face.

  “There are only two small bunk beds on the entire boat to sleep on. I’m going to bunk with Previne tonight,” she giggled. “Tomorrow night, I’ll bunk with Pramilla. We are so decadent aren’t we?”

  Banyon now had images of all the women running around the deck naked and playing a game of musical chairs with bunk beds.

  “Watch out for sunburn. There are parts of you that don’t usually see the sun,” he said. Eric was peering at Banyon from the rear view mirror when he heard Banyon’s reply.

  “Oh, don’t worry. We put lotion on each other, everywhere. Rubbed it in good too,” she explained.

  “Glad to hear that,” he said as additional images floated in his brain.

  “Well, just wanted to make sure you are alright,” Loni announced. “I’ve got to run. Previne needs me to help clean up something on the deck. I’ll have to get down on all fours to do that.”

  “I’ll tell Eric you guys are having a good time. No need for Pramilla to call,” he quickly added.

  “Okay, Colt, bye for now,” Loni said into the phone. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” Banyon repeated. The connected was broken.

  ***

  “So, what’s the story?” Eric asked from the front seat.

  “Well, they are all naked and oiled up, with only two bunk beds, and beautiful weather,” Banyon summarized.

  “Sounds like every day, to me,” Eric quipped. Heather and Mandy were immediately jealous.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  They finally reached the small private airport in Rockford, Illinois. Eric parked the car in the small parking lot. Banyon glanced at his watch. He realized it was only five minutes before the President’s meeting with Paul Slezeck. He thought it was a pretty good idea to get some updates from Wolf. He picked up his trusty satchel and opened the door.

  “Mandy, get my luggage and put it on the plane, please.” He asked over his shoulder. She looked at him like she wanted to kill him.

  “I’m not your slave,” she said in a bitchy voice.

  “Never mind, I’ll get it,” Heather said to appease Mandy. She didn’t want to hear anymore childish outbursts.

  “You stay away from him…I mean his luggage,” Mandy retorted. She quickly went around the car, pulling the bag from the trunk.

  Ignoring both of them, Banyon continued. “You guys go ahead. Tell the pilot we are ready to go. I have to make a phone call.” He then put his cellphone to his ear like he was talking, but addressed Wolf instead.

  “Wolf, are you there?”

  “You’re going to have your hands full with those two,” the spirit laughed. Banyon could tell he was in a good mood.

  “Any updates on the hit men?”

  “They now plan to come after you tomorrow afternoon. By the time they land and collect their guns it will be evening. They haven’t eaten anything all day, and have been traveling since early this morning. Carlos, the leader, is sending one man to see if you are home. He will stay all night.”

  “How’s my security?”

  “I have two of my friends watching your place. They are fully armed and I will know if anything changes. You know them by the way.”

  “Who are they?”

  “They are Petra’s two grandson’s from Death Valley.” About a year ago, Banyon had met the boys while solving the mystery of an old German war plane found in Death Valley. The boys had helped crack the case. “There are also two FBI men watching your place, the President ordered it.”

  “Yeah, I remember the boys. I also expected the President to attempt to protect his asset. What about the park?”

  “It will be empty tomorrow night as far as I can tell. It is a splendid place to take them down.”

  “Are there any problems on the horizon for Loni and the Patel girls?” Banyon really did miss Loni and wanted her back, in one piece.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to any of them, Colt. Besides, they are very good at defending themselves, even if they are naked.” Wolf’s last statement made Banyon wonder what it must be like to see anything or anybody anytime you wanted.

  “Anything else new?”

  “Werner Klotz is dead. When the U.S. Marshalls showed up to greet his plane, he tried to fight them. I am very pleased about that. There is one less Nazi in the world.”

  “What about the crisis with Mexico? Any change there?” Banyon suddenly asked. It seemed so far away from him.

  “Nothing new that I can tell you, but by the time you reach Las Vegas, I’ll have some good news, I imagine.”

  “Finally, what about Paul Slezeck, the President is slated to meet with him in about five minutes?”

  “He isn’t going to the meeting. He has figured out it’s a trap. He is on the run. He expects to slip up into Canada and then catch a plane for Brazil. He has Effort friends there who will help him.”

  “The President needs to know this. Where is Slezeck right now?”

  “He has hiding in a Catholic Church right near the Capitol Building. The Catholic Church is named St. Joseph’s. He’s waiting for some Effort people to deliver him documents to get out of the country. He is sitting in a pew and is unarmed. He never wanted to get his own hands dirty.”

  “How long will it be before the documents arrive?” Banyon quickly asked.

  “He believes it will take two hours more before he can leave. You know, Colt, the Catholic Church has a long history of protecting Nazis, going back to World War II. Some of the most brutal Nazis were spirited out of Europe by the Vatican. The escape routes were called ‘ratlines’. Some of the most infamous Nazis got out that way — including Klaus Barbie and even Joseph Mengele.

  “I’m quite familiar with the history of the Church and the Nazis,” Banyon replied with disgust.

  “I’m still hunting some of them,” Wolf added even through Banyon had not asked a question.

  “Why, that church?”

  “St. Joseph’s has two Effort sympathizers on their payroll.”

  “I’d better tell the President,” Banyon said knowing Wolf couldn’t answer. He quickly dialed the cellphone.

  “I thought you were headed for Las Vegas,” the President answered without greeting. He also sounded like he was
in a good mood. Banyon knew it wouldn’t last for long once he filled him in on Slezeck. So he did.

  “I wanted to confront him in person,” the President lamented.

  “You still can,” Banyon told him.

  “I can’t send government people into a church to arrest someone. The press would crucify me,” he said.

  “Yes, but maybe we can trick him into coming out,” Banyon replied.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  In his office in Mexico City, the President of the United Mexican States was very busy reading communiques and reports. He was also watching the crisis with the United States unfold on TV. There was a lot to keep up with. He suddenly reared up his head and stared at the TV screen on the far wall. The news station was displaying a picture of the killing of some, known to be corrupt, policemen in Acapulco. The camera zoomed in on a bloody hand written message on one of the policemen’s chest. The President heard the name “Danta Lopez”.

  “Turn that up would you,” he said to his aide. The man grabbed a remote from a table and did what the President requested.

  “This guy Danta Lopez gets around,” the aide noted.

  “Yes, yes, he does,” The leader acknowledged as he rubbed his day-old beard. He was beginning to see the ghost-like warrior in a different light. Maybe he isn’t so bad, the President thought. Lopez appeared to be a maniac killer, but only murdered people who needed to die it seemed.

  After the news had moved on he returned to his reports. They were bad. Since he had pulled his military away from their normal assignments, the drug cartels felt free to go on a rampage. There were open gun battles between rivals in almost every major city. Many people were dying, even though, most were gang members. Americans were exiting Mexico in droves while complaining about the brutal treatment they had received, especially the unnecessary searches. The reports included claims of sexual abuse and beatings.

  Most of the Mexicans who wanted to enter the U.S. were turned back without apology. Trade was at a complete standstill — no money was being made. Prominent and influential Mexicans were beseeching the government with more special requests then they could possible handle. So far, no foreign government had offered help, or any aid to Mexico. The President of Mexico was in very hot water and it was rising. He needed to find a way to fix things with the U.S. His machismo had brought him to the brink of political disaster for himself and his country.

  “Sir,” his aide interrupted his thoughts. “You are scheduled to give a news conference that will be broadcasted to the entire country in two hours. Have you written your copy for me to review, yet?”

  “Maybe we should cancel,” he wondered out loud. He didn’t have anything positive to tell his people.

  “That would be political suicide for you,” the aide replied. “There would be riots in the streets and calls for your resignation or even impeachment. You have to say something,” the aide pleaded.

  “Yes, I suppose you are right,” the dejected leader replied.

  “Maybe you should repeal some of your previous directives — say they were enacted without your authority. That way you would look like a fixer rather than a problem maker,” the aide suggested.

  Suddenly, feeling a little better, the President announced. “Your right, cancel the personal search order. Also cancel the new tax levy on American tourists,” he ordered.

  “And what about communications with the U.S. government?” the aide asked apprehensively.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” he replied while deep in thought. “We will blame all of it on the drug cartels. Send out a rumor that I have uncovered corruption in the government and have put an end to it. I’ll confirm it in my speech.”

  “We’ll need to supply names,” the aide said. “Who do you have in mind?”

  “Hah, I could pick just about anyone,” the leader said.

  “We must be more specific. I can put a spin to almost anybody,” the aide told him as his excitement grew. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

  “Make sure it is someone who is already dead,” the President pointed to the man across from him.

  “I’ll take care of it. I’ll leak the news to the press and our friends in America immediately,” the aide said. He got up to leave before the big man changed his mind again.

  “I’ll say the information came from an unexpected source,” the President added, his wheels were now turning, he now had a strategy.

  “Who?”

  “I’ll tell them Danta Lopez told me.”

  “Why use him? He has killed many of our people in the last few days,” the aide protested.

  “But he has only killed men that should die. You don’t understand. You’re too young,” he confidently replied. “You would have to be my age, to understand.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you know who the greatest Mexican hero of all-time is?” the politician asked his aide as he stood up and walked around the desk.

  “No.”

  “His name was Don Diego de la Vega,” the President announced.

  “Never heard of him,” the aide said.

  “He is also known as ‘Zorro the fox’.”

  “But,” the aide stuttered. “He is a comic book character.”

  “Danta Lopez is our new Zorro. He stands against tyrannical gangsters, corrupt officials, drug dealers, and is never seen. He will be the new hero of Mexico. It might actually even help to quell some of the violence in our midst.”

  “It will only work if you have some way to summon him,” the aide added as he thought about the scam.

  “We’ll work that out later. Right now we have a crisis to avert,” the President said and dismissed his aide.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  The church was very quiet. Occasionally, Paul Slezeck could hear someone enter, taking a pew. He eyed them suspiciously. He sat near the back of the large cold church. There were only about ten people praying in the pews. Several others milled around the candle area, lighting candles for loved ones that had died. It was a very serene and comforting, but Slezeck was still very nervous. He constantly texted his contact on his secure encrypted phone, pleading with them to hurry up.

  A shadow passed over him and he looked up. Standing next to the pew, was an elderly nun and a Priest. They smiled at him.

  “You have been here for several hours my son,” the priest said solemnly. “You must have much torment in your heart. Care to take confession and unburden your sins?”

  “Err…not right now,” Slezeck replied.

  “In any case,” the nun spoke sternly. “We do not allow cellphone usage in the sanctuary. Please close your phone or I will be forced to take it.”

  “Yes, sister,” Slezeck said and shoved his phone into his pocket.

  “We are going to the rectory and have a bowl of soup. You must be hungry after all this time? Care to join us?” the priest offered.

  “No, I can’t. I need to stay inside the church.” Slezeck knew that as long as he didn’t leave the church he was safe.

  “The soup is free,” the nun told him. “The soup is right through that doorway,” the nun pointed to a side exit. “God can hear you in there as well as in the church.”

  “No thank you.”

  “The soup is very good and I promise to not deliver any lectures,” the priest laughed. The nun reached for his arm. Slezeck found himself being lifted to his feet. He didn’t want to make a scene and besides he was hungry so he went along.

  “There that’s better,” the nun said sweetly as she gripped his arm tightly. “You’ll be feeling like yourself in no time flat,” she promised as she patted his arm.

  The priest began to babble in an attempt to keep Slezeck’s attention. “You know we will be conducting an afternoon mass in about an hour. Today my sermon will be about the evils of racism.”

  Before he could form an answer, they had passed through the rectory entryway. Half pulling and half pushing him, they continued down a long corridor and stopped in
front of a closed door.

  “The soup kitchen is in here,” the nun pointed out. She turned the knob and threw open the door. She then pushed him through the opening. Slezeck quickly scanned the room. He noticed there was only one man inside that he could see. He was eating soup from a paper bowl. It was the President of the United States.

  “Oh,” the President said acting surprised. “Come on in, the soup is very good.” Slezeck turned to get out of the room, but two burly Secret Service men grabbed him by the collar and he was thrown against the wall. They expertly frisked him and took his phone. They then propelled him towards where the President sat.

  “You two may go now, and thank you,” the President told the nun and the priest who stood in the doorway. They were not real clergy, they were imposters sent from the Washington office of Dewey & Beatem by Colton Banyon.

  “What, but…,” Slezeck said in confusion.

  “I don’t like it when someone stands me up, Paul. You missed your two o’clock appointment with me.” He paused for emphasis. “Now sit down and eat your soup,” the President ordered.

  “I had something else to do. I’m very busy you know” Slezeck said defensively as he plopped into the plastic chair.

  “Yes, we have all been a little busy today. Oh well, I needed a little lunch anyway, and some time out of the office,” the leader said cheerfully.

  “The soup is good,” Slezeck said as he downed a spoonful.

  “Why don’t we make this a business luncheon?” The President suggested in a very calm tone.

  “Okay,” Slezeck said as he started to feel a little more comfortable. He looked at the President over his bowl.

  “Then we should get started, I’m kind of pressed for time.”

  The President brought up a folder and opened it. Slezeck could read upside down and realized the document on the top was the executive order he submitted for the President’s signature. His heart skipped a beat. Maybe the President is so overwhelmed with the mess I created he is going to finally sign it, he thought.

 

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