“What do you need to do to prepare for a message?”
Lisa had a sudden blush on her face. She hesitated before she answered. “Well, if my friends are present, we hold hands. If I am alone, I clasp my hands. Of course, I have my hair loose and spread out as an antenna. I do this once a month on the full moon.”
“That’s it?” Banyon questioned.
“Not quite… I have to be completely nude, too.”
Banyon had a quick vision of beautiful long-haired women sitting around a table naked, waiting for a message. “Do all the Vril mediums receive their messages when they are naked?” He asked.
“It was part of the reason great-grandmother had to get away from the Nazis. They wanted her to be prepared to get messages every day. Some of the men thought she was a doll to play with while they waited. It was horrible.”
“You knew your great-grandmother, then?”
“She died when I was twenty. But I knew her better than I know my mother, even today. I hardly knew my grandparents.”
“Why is that?”
“My grandmother died in a car accident, along with my grandfather, when I was about five years old. My mother joined the military soon after. I never knew my father. My mother was a teenager when I was born,” Lisa explained.
“Why did she join the military?”
“She joined the military as some sort of personal punishment for having a baby and being unwed. My great-grandmother raised me. My mother was always off to some military conflict. She still is, for that matter.”
“So, you knew Maria Orsic well then,” Banyon commented.
“That’s why I became a member of the Vril Society. Great-grandma said my mother was not suited for the Vril Society.”
“Eventually, you became the leader.”
“She told me it was my destiny.”
ot far away from where Lisa and Banyon sat discussing the Vril Society, a man entered a small, well-appointed hospice. He had come to visit his father for the last time. As he entered the room, his father beckoned him.
“Come closer, my son. I don’t have much time left on Earth, and I have things to tell you,” the old man said. He lay propped up in a hospital bed with several tubes stuck into his now-frail body. His white hair was all-but-gone; his skin was dried like a prune. There was, however, an evil fire in his old eyes.
“Don’t talk like that, father. You will recover soon. You will see,” the son replied with sadness in his voice. He knew the old man would not recover. He was over ninety-five years old. The son was there because the hospice had called him and told him the old man would not make it through the day.
“You don’t understand, my son” the old man said with a semi-toothless smile. “I want to die. That way, I will be able to help you and the Effort. We have much work to do. I look forward to my new afterlife.”
“Are you sure about this curse?” the son questioned, looking into the eyes of his fanatical father and wondering if he was completely crazy.
“It has been my life’s work to study ancient curses. After all these years I have finally found the right one. It was from China. This curse will work, I promise you. Soon after I die, I’ll be able to talk to you. But you must ask a question out loud,” he reminded his son as he pointed his boney finger at the man.
“I understand that. What I don’t understand is where you will be. Will you be in my head?”
“It is actually someplace like limbo. You have heard of that place, right? My spirit will have a space there, and I can view the world. It will be glorious, especially because I will be able to see things you cannot, and I will be able to help you find what we seek.”
“What do we seek?”
The son had learned of the curse only a day ago when a Chinese man dressed in traditional monk garb came to his workplace and told him his father needed to see him urgently. The Chinese man explained he was a follower of Wu and that he was a Wugu, a sorcerer.
“The curse is complete,” the Chinese man said. “I was told to tell you that.”
“What curse?” the son had asked.
“You’d better talk to you father,” the man told him. “But you had better hurry. He does not have long to live.”
“We seek to right things in the world,” the old man weakly said to his son, Barry.
“Father, tell me what to do,” Barry softly uttered.
“The first thing we must do is find the book of the Vril Society,” Harold Bass told his son.
“Why?”
“Barry, I’ve told you many times that Vril will supply the answer. Once we find the book, we will finally have the formula for Vril. We will be able to change everything and even return me to life. Don’t you want to do that?”
“I don’t understand in the least bit, Father,” Barry replied.
Barry was an ex-athlete. He had played professional football in the eighties, but he was now nearly fifty years old. He was in decent shape as he owned two martial arts gyms in Las Vegas and worked out weekly; however, his six-foot-four-inch frame now carried twenty extra pounds, and he had slowed down with age. He was still very strong and could be brutal, just like his father if he needed to be, but he was not the man his father expected.
He was slated to be the head of the Effort in Las Vegas when his father died. Many of the members of his gyms were in the Effort’s legion, and he had their support. Barry, however, was not political or cunning. He was more concerned about art then dominating people. His father knew this, too. Barry was the weakness in the old man’s long-term plan.
Harold tried to get through to his son one more time. “Finding Vril has been my lifelong ambition— you know that. I saw the power of Vril back in the old country during the War. Back when we had things under control.” The old man gazed at the ceiling, remembering what it was like. He had told the story to his son before, but Barry still didn’t believe or understand him. Barry, instead, felt that his father had recently lost his mind. He thought the disease had made him very crazy.
“It was in the late fall of 1944,” Harold reminisced. “I was invited to a demonstration of the Vril’s power. There were only a few of us. General Kammler, the head of the wonder-weapons program for Hitler, had his men launch a model of a flying saucer from a grassy field in the Black Forest. It was a bright, warm day. We watched it silently hover just above our heads. There wasn’t any noise or blast from any thrusters— it was completely silent. Then, Kammler pressed some buttons on a controller, and it took off at a speed faster than the eye could see.” Harold used his arm to show how it flew in an arc.
“Kammler said the machine could go so fast that it could bend time and space. He said we could travel through time. He felt his people could harness and control the power within a year. It was to be our ultimate machine, our undefeatable wonder-weapon. The Third Reich would be unstoppable. We would beat the Allies.” Barry could see the gleam in father’s eye as he recalled the event. His father had been one of the true fanatics who had peppered the Third Reich in those days.
“But something happened, right?” Barry said, doing his part. He had heard it all before, many times.
“Yes, one day, the workplace was bombed by the despicable British. Bombs rained down like machine-gun fire. I was away. All the men working on the project and all the equipment was destroyed, including the formula. We were back to square one.” Harold had a tear in the corner of his eye.
“But you still had the woman,” Barry said to hurry along the conversation.
“Yes, Maria Orsic. What a beauty she was. She didn’t understand the formula, but she had kept a copy of it and the design of the machine in a book. It was the history of her communications with the inventors of Vril. She was very clever. Despite not being able to leave the villa and not having any clothes to wear, she was able to slip out and disappear. She took the book with her. That was in 1945.”
“And you have been tracking her since,” Barry completed the story.
“Yes, I was one of her w
atchers back in Germany. She didn’t know I existed— I usually watched her through a two-way mirror. She was a beautiful woman… all that hair” Harold Bass repeated.
“But she gave the Third Reich the slip.”
“Kammler said he wasn’t worried. He said he had a small supply of Vril in a secret hiding place in the United States. He said he could produce more, but he disappeared soon after.”
“Then the war ended,” Barry added.
“When the Effort helped me get into this country, they told me to find Maria and the book. It has been my lifelong challenge.”
“But you found her quickly,” Barry pushed him.
“It was easy. There was a Vril Society cell in Los Angeles. I infiltrated it in 1947, but I soon found out she had hid the book and placed a curse on it. No one but her direct descendants could stop the curse and find the book.”
“So you followed her when she moved to Las Vegas, I get that. But why do you think we can break the curse now?”
“Because you are going to kidnap the great-granddaughter and make her give you the book, I can help.”
ack in Lisa Lange’s office, Banyon asked another question. “If she told you it was your destiny, she must have given you the means to succeed. She must have given you the key to the curse,” Banyon believed Maria Orsic was a smart woman and would have given Lisa the means to identify the key.
“She left me almost nothing,” Lisa said sadly. “She left me a little money and a house, but nothing that could be used as a key. I just assumed the book was lost forever. I never searched for a key,” Lisa Lange said with resignation. “And now, you tell me someone is after me for the key. I’m scared, Mr. Banyon. I don’t know what to do!” Banyon could see Lisa was becoming very nervous. Her right hand went to her hair, and she began to twist and curl the blonde locks around her finger.
“Before she died, did she give you anything that was personal, some memento? Something she told you to keep?”
“No, nothing,” Lisa shook her head like a little girl.
“So, she never gave you anything at all. It may have been before she was dying.” Banyon persisted.
She thought for a second. “Well, now that I think about it…” Lisa trailed off and brought a delicate finger up to her chin. “She did give me a hairband for my ponytail. It was hers, but her hair was falling out, and she didn’t use it anymore. She made me promise to never give it to anyone but a relative,” Lisa suddenly noted. “Do you think there is a message in the hairpiece?”
“Where is it now?” Banyon quickly asked.
“I wear it always, unless I let my hair down,” Lisa replied suspiciously, eyeing Banyon.
“Let me see it?” Banyon quickly asked.
Lisa’s eyes hardened as she looked at him. “You’re not doing this just so you can see me undressed, are you?”
“Why do you need to undress?” Banyon shot back. He was warming to Lisa Lange, but she did keep him off balance.
“I have to undress to get the hairband off. My hair is under my clothes. I have to take them off to slide off the band. It is the only way I can reach the band.”
“Then get undressed,” Banyon replied deadpan.
“But you’re in the room,” she said with alarm.
“I won’t look,” Banyon quickly said.
“Yes, you will,” Lisa knowingly replied.
“Lisa, I’ve seen a naked woman before. I’m not after your body. This is important, and we don’t have much time,” Banyon argued.
“I’m just not sure I believe you, Colt. You showed up here a few minutes ago, tell me someone is after me, and, now, you want me to undress, here in my closed office. It all sounds kind of fishy to me.”
“This isn’t about you; it’s about the book of the Vril,” Banyon reasoned. Don’t you want to find the key?”
Lisa thought about it for a few seconds. “I don’t know why, but something tells me to trust you,” she said uncertainly. “Alright, I’ll do it,” she exclaimed loudly and slammed her open hands on her desk in determination.
She stood up from behind her desk and stepped to the open area of her office. She turned towards Banyon and quickly unbuttoned her dress. She never took her eyes off of Banyon’s face, looking for a hint of enjoyment.
Banyon acted like he didn’t notice, but he had always been attracted to beautiful women, and she was, indeed, beautiful. Soon, the dress was open, and Lisa shed it like a coat. It tumbled to the floor in a small pile. She stood facing him in just a bra and panties. She raised her arms and reached behind her back, still focused on Banyon. The blonde wig flipped off her head and she placed it on the desk. Banyon could see that her real hair was auburn and pulled tightly on her head. She then reached behind her and began pulling on her hair. It soon flowed down her back. Banyon could see it drop between her legs and reach her ankles. She turned sideways for Banyon to see her profile and arched her back.
Banyon gasped. “You look just like the silhouette I have seen on the Internet. You look exactly like your great-grandmother.”
“But her silhouettes were nude,” she replied in a slightly husky voice. “I still have on my Victoria’s Secret panties,” she responded, “and my high heels.”
“The resemblance is uncanny,” Banyon sputtered as he stared at her.
“Come help me take off the hairband,” she said. Banyon sprang from his chair.
ack at the hospice, Barry continued to talk to his dying parent. He still didn’t fully believe his father had a workable plan, but the old man was near death, and he saw no reason to upset him so he allowed his father to continue his rant.
“But we could have kidnapped her many times in the past. Why will kidnapping her now make a difference?” Barry Bass asked his father.
“This time, we will trick her into telling us where the book is hidden,” his father replied with confidence, pointing his boney finger in the air. “I have thought this through carefully, my son.”
“How will we trick her?”
“Soon after I am dead we will reconnect. Then, you will call her and threaten to expose the Vril Society and her position in the organization. Remind her that you can do that quickly on the Internet, which will frighten her.” Barry’s father always used intimidation to get his way, even with his family.
“So what?” Barry replied.
“Ah,” his father said. “That is only a deception.”
“What do you mean?”
“The first thing she will do is check on the key to the curse. She will want to make sure it is safe. She wants to protect the book, but I will be watching her from above and discover where the key is hidden. I’ll tell you, and, when we capture her, we will make her use the key to unlock the curse on the book.”
“Then, we will find book,” Barry filled in. Barry became very concerned. He realized his father’s plan would involve torturing the lovely Lisa Lange. He doubted that Lisa would give up the location easily.
“Then, it will belong to us,” Harold Bass agreed with a clinched fist. “Nothing will be able to stop my plan.”
“But isn’t that risky? I mean, what if she doesn’t react the way you expect her to?” Barry was less-than-excited about roughing up a woman, especially one he knew. It wasn’t that he was opposed to hurting people—he had much experience with bashing the human body. It was just that this woman looked like his idea of an angel. He didn’t want to hurt her. He was actually very attracted to her, even though she was much younger than him. He wondered if his desire to protect her would affect his father’s goal.
“First, we will haunt and terrorize her until she reveals it,” Harold said with fanatical determination, pounding his fist on the bed. “Remember, I will be able see everything. We will scare the wits out of her until she gives up the book,” His father theorized. “I will always be watching.”
“What if that doesn’t work?”
“I am well-trained in getting information from restrained people,” Harold replied with a sinister smile
. “She is just a woman and won’t stand up to much torture. You have hurt people before. I will guide you.”
“I hope we can find the book quickly,” Barry uttered in a concerned voice.
“Are you going soft on me?” Harold growled. “We are doing this for the Cause. You still believe in the Cause, don’t you?”
Barry needed to change the subject. “Okay, so we eventually get the book from her. Then what happens? And what happens to her?”
“She is nothing but a pawn. She means nothing to me, or to our ultimate goal. You can have her if you want. When you’re done questioning her, there will be little of her left anyway.” Harold dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand. Harold often saw women as nothing more than playthings. He had a long history of abusing them.
“I might take you up on that,” Barry replied as he thought about it. “But what do we do next?”
“Then, we will build a machine that uses the Vril formula,” his father announced like it would be easy. “It will allow us to travel through time.”
“Won’t that cost a lot of money? Where will we get the expertise?” Barry retorted. “I have some money, but not enough to build a complex machine and I certainly don’t know any physicists— or even engineers— to build the machine.”
“Don’t worry. With my powers we can get money— as much as you need to build the machine— even if we have to steal it.”
“Okay, I believe that,” Barry said and nodded his head.
“The Effort will supply all the help we need to build the machine. I’ll give you a name to call once I am situated and our plan is in progress. This will be the greatest event in the Effort’s history,” Harold proclaimed with excitement.
“So, once we build the machine, what do we use it for? You’re not thinking of attacking the American government are you?”
“This is the best part,” Harold Bass replied like a zealot. “First, you will go into the future to find the cure for the cancer that is killing me. Once you have the cure, you will return and save my life. You will return early enough to cure the disease. The Vril will prolong my life once I’m cured,” he said with his fists clutched. “I’ll be able to live to be 150 years old.” He added, “you will too.”
A Dubious Curse (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 8) Page 4
