“The first thing I am going to do is give you the document you have fought so hard to get signed.”
Slezeck was thrilled. It worked, my plan worked, he thought. “Thank you sir,” he uttered as he watched the President scribble on the paper. The President was left handed. His hand obscured what he wrote. He then sailed it across the formica-topped table, it slipped off on to the floor. Slezeck scrambled after it like it was a large bonus check. He finally corralled it and brought it up to his eyes to verify the signature. What he saw made his eyes bug out. The document had only one word written on it. The word was “nuts”.
Paul Slezeck instantly knew the President was on to him. The Presidents uncle, Brigadier General Anthony C. McAuliffe had used that exact word as a response to a Nazi German surrender ultimatum during the “Battle of the Bulge”, during World War II. He was vastly out-numbered and completely surrounded in the small French town of Bastogne. But he refused to surrender. It delayed the advance of the Nazis troops thus allowing the Allies to bring in reinforcements and win the largest battle of the war. Slezeck understood the President had decided to fight.
When the concerned Slezeck looked up, he spied another piece of paper on the table. It was the original receipt Slezeck had expected the President to sign. He wanted to use it to blackmail the President because it had the extra hidden words on it. The incriminating sentences were visible, but there was not signature. The President had scrolled across the page, “Never going to happen on my watch.” Slezeck knew he was doomed.
“This third document is for you to sign Paul,” the President said with a measure of annoyance. It was his resignation letter from the Directorship of Homeland Security. It was the last straw for Paul Slezeck. Homeland Security had been his personal organization. He ran it as he saw fit. No one was going to take it away from him.
“You can’t make me sign that,” he bellowed. “You have no evidence to back it up,” he roared.
The President calmly picked up a remote from the chair next to him and pressed the on button. The wall mounded flat-screen came instantly to life. Slezeck immediately recognized himself standing in a bathroom and making calls to Werner Klotz while implicating himself in a conspiracy. He was speechless.
“Werner Klotz is dead Paul. He died when I sent men to arrest him, but we had the goods on him too.” He pressed a forward button and the screen changed. The view was from the inside of a car and a side view of Slezeck was clear. He was talking to Werner Klotz at the car rental place in Chicago.
“That’s not me,” Slezeck protested. “I wasn’t there.”
“Can you prove your whereabouts this morning between nine-thirty and twelve-thirty?” the President asked.
“Of course, I was with Marlene Moore. She will tell you,” he nervously replied.
“Get her in here,” the President ordered abruptly to the Secret Service men.
The door flew open; Marlene strutted in making a beeline for Paul Slezeck. She once again smacked him hard across the face. He cowered under the blow. “How dare you try to involve me in your silly little conspiracy, you bastard,” she riled at him.
“But I was on your boat, in Baltimore, this morning,” Slezeck cried.
“My boat is in the Bahamas being refurnished,” Marlene said. “And I can prove it.” She produced her cellphone and called up several pictures of the boat. It was in dry dock. One picture showed a clear shot of the boat name, “DOJ”. Only it wasn’t white, it was light blue. A man sat reading a paper with today’s date in the foreground.
“Now what do you have to say,” the President asked showing irritation.
“She’s a lair,” Slezeck screamed.
“And you, my friend, are a conspirator and a traitor to your country. Sign the damn form and things will go better for you,” the President roared as he stood and hammered his finger on the table top. “And by the way, your last two disasters were stopped before anyone was hurt,” the President added. “It’s over for you, Slezeck.”
Slezeck thought about the Presidents demand for a few seconds. He then signed the form with a flourish. “I was getting tired of that job anyway,” he said like a petulant child. He pushed the paper back to the now standing President.
“You’re being taking into custody right now. May God have mercy on your soul,” the President said.
“But…” Slezeck said with a sinister look on his face and his finger pointed in the air. “Now that you have mentioned God, I am in a church of God. You can’t arrest me while I am in here. No court in the land will allow it,” he chuckled in an evil way.
“Damn,” the President pretended to be mad. “Alright Paul, I’m not going to arrest you,” he said with resignation in his voice.
“Good, now we understand each other,” Slezeck said as he felt he had regained the upper hand.
“I’m going to have my nominee for your old job be the one to arrest you. Marlene, would you mind doing the honors?”
He was stunned with the President’s choice. “But she can’t arrest me either,” he roared with laughter. “I’m in a Church.”
“But Paul,” Marlene corrected him. “When you came to the rectory, you left the church voluntarily. Don’t you remember? There was a short hallway that you came down.” She put her hands on her shapely hips as she waited for him to answer.
“Doesn’t matter,” He replied like a know it all. “It is still part of the church and you can’t force me to leave if I don’t want to.”
“Actually,” she said drawing the words out. “It’s not.” She let that sink in for a moment. “You see the church and the rectory are two separate buildings, connected by a short hallway. When you passed through the hallway, you left the sanctuary of the Church. I should know this. After all, I am the head of the United States Justice department.”
“Cuff him boys,” the President waved over the two Secret Service men. “You’d better read him is rights,” the President added.
“You probably don’t even know how to Mirandize me properly,” Slezeck sneered at her from his seat.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Marlene said sweetly. “We are charging you under your favorite weapon. It’s called the ‘Patriot Act’.”
“How silly of me to forget,” the President said with a smile as he winked at the acting Director of Homeland Security.
“Paul Slezeck we are charging you with conspiracy, domestic terrorism, murder, attempted murder, and probably a few more things which we will add later,” Marlene said with a wave of her hand. Then she continued, “Under the Patriot act, you do not have the right of a trail. You do not have the right for legal representation. You are not allowed to contact anyone on your behalf and we can imprison you in indefinitely. Which in your case, will be the rest of your slimy life. You are going to be incarcerated, in solitary confinement, in Leavenworth, for the duration of our investigation. I suggest you don’t attempt to mix with any of the prisoners there. You will live longer if you don’t.”
“Take him directly to the plane,” the President ordered the Secret Service men.
When they had left the room, Marlene looked at the President with admiration. “That was a hell of a plan, sir.”
“Thank you acting Director,” he humbly replied. “But this was Colton Banyon’s plan.
Part Six
Las Vegas
Chapter Fifty-Five
They were finally up in the air. Colton Banyon stared out the window, farmland passed below. He was deep in thought, putting the finishing touches on his Las Vegas plan. He knew it was dangerous, but he had to eliminate the hit men before his beloved Loni returned home. Otherwise they would live in fear, forever.
The pilot called out to him and broke his train of thought. “You have a message from the President of the United States,” he said. He was impressed that Banyon even knew him, let alone got a message from him.
Banyon lifted his weary body and went to the open cabin door. “What does it say?” he asked.
“The
President wants you to know that the arrest was made,” the captain replied. “He also wants you to know communications with Mexico have returned. He says good hunting in Las Vegas.”
“Thank you,” Banyon replied and returned to his seat near the front of the plane. It was an executive style plane with two lounge chairs near the front flanked by small serving tables. There was a table and three more lounge chairs in the back. As he returned to his seat, he noticed Eric and Heather were facing each other on the swiveling lounge chairs. They were deep in an animated discussion. Heather was waving her arms in the air, Eric was smiling. It appeared Heather could be fun even just talking.
Mandy was sitting up front in the lounge chair near to him. She looked tiny in the large leather chair. She had her legs drawn up in a yoga position. She stared at him with a look of mischief on her cute face.
As soon as he sat down the stress of the busy day began to fade. He began to feel sleepy. He attempted to close his eyes and get some sleep. It had been a taxing morning. In the four hours he had spent at the Law offices, he had helped take down a black gang, set up a plan that trapped and killed two murderous Effort people, helped rescue two young girls in Mexico, brought down Werner Klotz, helped incriminate Paul Slezeck, stopped a bomb threat, and was now headed to Las Vegas to eliminate a despicable hit team. He had also made some money, but had no idea what the net income would be. He was pretty pleased with his morning. A smile was firmly planted on his lips as he slowly drifted off to sleep. But it didn’t last long.
“Are you smiling at me?” a small voice filled his ears. It was accompanied by a nudge on his thigh. It was soon followed by another nudge. He finally opened his eyes. He looked down at his thigh and saw a small bare foot, with painted toes, pushing on his leg. They were connected to an also bare leg. As he continued looking up the leg, he could not help but notice Mandy. She was now slouched in the lounge chair and staring at him in defiance. Her eyes were filled with smoldering lust.
“Mandy you have to stop doing that,” he said wearily. He closed his eyes and plopped his head back on the chair.
“But you looked, didn’t you,” she replied knowingly.
“You don’t have to throw yourself at me all the time,” he said with annoyance, his eyes remained closed. “You know I like you and trust you, but there are too many complications between us.
“Like what?” she demanded.
Sitting up, he turned to her. “First of all, let’s face it, I’m three times your age. I’m also in a committed relationship and I don’t think you are aware of the possible consequences of some of your actions,” he replied logically. “You’re just too young.”
“Well, let me tell you something Mr. Colton, I know everything, Banyon,” she sarcastically spit back at him. “I am more experienced than you think. I do what I do because I want to. I have known a lot of men, but have never had a positive experience with any man, that is, until I met you.”
“What?” Banyon exclaimed. He was stunned by her remark.
“Yeah, asshole.” She insulted him as her anger rose. “You don’t get it. Your world is always perfect, mine is not.”
“What do you mean?” he replied as he wondered where she was going. He could see she was angry. Her face was red and her tiny fists were balled up.
Suddenly, she exploded. “You see, I know I’m cute, sexy, flexibly athletic, tiny, and look like I’m a teenager. This has cursed me with nothing but problems in dealing with men,” she railed. “No man has attempted to have a real relationship with me. No man has ever treated me like you have. In just the few days that I have known you, my life has changed. You have made me feel like I can eventually have a good relationship with a man. It’s your fault.”
“I didn’t know,” Banyon sputtered realizing that once again a woman had put him on the defensive.
She ranted on. “In the past, anytime I have let a man get near to me, it always turned out the same. They all have had pedophile issues and wanted to use me like a piece of meat. I have been used and abused, like a toy. Do you have any idea how much that disgusts me? Do you?” She was now nearly shouting and her body shook with emotion. Both Heather and Eric were now looking at Banyon.
“I don’t know what to say,” Banyon stammered as he tried to quiet her down. Heather and Eric were watching.
Mandy wasn’t close to being done yet. “Until you came into my life, I was headed down a dangerous path,” she announced. “I was a bad girl and getting worse. But when you acted like it didn’t matter what I looked like, or acted like, I realized our relationship could be different. I have always been afraid to be myself around men. You flirted with me, but you refused to take advantage of me, even when I offered myself to you. You are the first man to treat me like a person, not just a teenage-looking piece of meat.”
Banyon now realized she was pouring out her heart to him. “But you are a person,” he interrupted with emphasis.
She waved her hand and continued. “You also gave me an opportunity to make more money than I have made in my entire life. And that was during the first day that you met me,” she exclaimed loudly. Both Heather and Eric leaned forward in their seats when she said that.
“Not so loud,” Banyon asked her as he glanced to the back of the plane.
“You then put me in charge of your contract employee list. No one has ever given me any responsibilities brfore. And now you have given me a chance to prove I really am a capable person. Your trust in me has opened my eyes. Don’t you see? You have changed my life.”
“Mandy, I didn’t know,” he answered sincerely.
“So, I can, and will throw myself at you all I want,” she smacked her little fists on the chair arms with determination. “I know any long-term relationship is forbidden. I’m happy, but jealous, you have someone. I know we can’t be lovers, but I sure as hell can make your days more exciting and build my own confidence at the same time. You can do anything you want to me and I will love it.”
Banyon now realized why he liked her. She was a real person with needs and desires, faults, and was loyal to him. She also had a lot of spunk. She was much more complicated than he had originally thought, but she wasn’t afraid to acknowledge she was different. He also admitted to himself that she reminded him of Loni and certainly provided a stimulation he enjoyed. His dark side was that he loved women, it was his weakness, and he saw Mandy as a woman, not a child.
When she was done ranting, he knew he needed to say something. “I think I understand you a little better now,” he said quietly.
“So, where do we go from here?” she coyly asked as she moved to the edge of her seat.
“Perhaps you should let me tell you a story,” he said sympathetically. “It’s the story of who I am, what I have to deal with, and why I treat you like I do.”
There was suddenly a big smile on her face.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Carlos Mendez strutted down the tunnel from the parked plane at McCarran airport in Las Vegas. He had been there many times before, but his name was different then. He had several identities. His real name was Juan Ruiz. He put on his dark aviator sunglasses as he walked down the gangway. He needed to scan the boarding area to make sure there wasn’t a trap. No one needed to see his constantly shifting eyes.
He immediately noticed the smell of the desert. It made him feel at home. He had grown up in the desert, except it had been in Mexico. He reflected on his thirty years of life as he led his five other men towards the trams and the terminal. His home desert was the vast Sonoran desert that covered Northern Mexico and stretched into Arizona and parts of California. He grew up in the small city of Nogales, Mexico. It was right in the middle of the arid desert and on the American border. Nogales was a successful tourist town with a highway running straight down central Arizona, directly to Nogales.
His first recollections in life were that he was poor, but the Americans, who came over the border to his home town, were not. He wanted to be like them. As a teenager, he
shied away from drug gangs. He was smart enough to see it was a dead end. He understood, once you joined a drug gang, your faith was sealed. It was only a matter of time before you died. His parents ran an open-air produce stand near downtown, so he had never starved. But he wanted more out of life. While working with his parents, he encountered many Americans and always asked them how they became so rich. Most replied it was because of a good education. Juan decided he needed a good education.
His family had relatives in the growing city of Tucson, Arizona, in America, just up the highway. So, one day he told his parents he was going there to get an education. He slipped over the border when he was eighteen and went to live with the relatives. One year later, he was accepted at the thriving college known as the University of Arizona. He had discovered there were many ways to manipulate the liberal American education system and he took full advantage — even though he was an illegal immigrant.
At the university, he excelled at learning, but also found the rich America students attending the school were easy prey for someone as street-smart as he was. He was soon organizing poker games, smuggled in drugs, and providing entertainment for his new friends. Unfortunately, he also became hooked on gambling. He saw it as a way to get rich quick. It was easier then studying for exams.
On his first trip to Las Vegas, he had actually made money, which ensured he would come back. Soon, he was making the eight hour car trip every month. His studies faltered, his business also suffered from the lack of attention. In the second semester of his junior year, he was asked to leave the university. Juan was devastated. But like many young men, he felt he could make his mark in Las Vegas. He went there.
He was able to blend into the large illegal immigrant community in Las Vegas. He quickly realized he could be successful if he provided his people with entertainment. So, he began running illegal cock fights, buying the roosters from several unsuspecting local farmers. Cock fighting was banned in The United States, but not in Mexico, where the majority of illegal immigrants grew up. To them, it was like going to a rock concert. Juan even provided bands and singers, just like in Mexico. He held weekly cock fights on farms outside the city. He began making money and squandering it, all on gambling.
A Dubious Position (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 7) Page 20