A Dubious Terrain (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 4)

by Gerald J Kubicki

  Felix then left and started his vehicle. He roared out of the lot and out of sight before the three men in the second truck entered the house grinning.

  Chapter Six

  The press conference was held in the ballroom at the Tropicana on the Las Vegas strip. David James, a tall blond good-looking junior reporter, was seated halfway towards the back in an uncomfortable velvet red straight-back chair. As he looked around, he noticed there were over a hundred chairs set up, but only a few seats were occupied. He had attended several of these press conferences with the same number of media people. The speaker rarely got many people to come and listen to his ranting’s.

  The presenter had been at the podium for over twenty-five minutes and had yet to get to the point. He was a nauseating orator and that probably explained why so few other reporters had shown up. James was struggling to stay awake, but knew he had to collect any news from the press conference if he wanted to get paid. He wanted desperately to take advantage of his photogenic good looks and bubbly personality. One way to break into serious sports was to cover the fringe. This press conference was definitely the fringe.

  James was daydreaming about his future life as a major sportscaster. Maybe I should date supermodels he thought. Maybe I should have a summer home in the Hamptons and have several cars in the large garage. He could not wait to cover the next Olympics. He daydreamed as he watched the podium with only one eye.

  The man on the stage was the President of the WMAA(Wild Martial Arts Association). His name was Danta Lopez. He was not a handsome man, but always dressed in expensive clothes. His face was pockmarked, his hair was not combed and he had to stand on a lift just to reach the podium. Lopez was hammering on in accented English about the greatness of WMAA. James, a freelance sports writer, was there by invitation. Lopez had intimated that he had major news about his sport. Danta Lopez had declared the WMAA a sport about a year ago, and somehow some people were starting to believe him. James could see the successful efforts of an expensive good PR campaign at work.

  Someone was giving Lopez serious help and money. Some sports stations had begun running news of the WMAA and several pay per view stations were running fight cards on a somewhat regular basis. James didn’t see it as a sport. It was just raw violence in a wire cage. There were no points for form like in boxing; it just seemed to be uncontrolled violence. The formats were simple, fight until someone gave up or got knocked out. But Las Vegas was the center of the WMAA movement so it got coverage and even radio time in Sin City.

  The barrel chested Danta Lopez finally came to the point. Lopez cleared his throat as James sat up with interest and grabbed his note pad.

  “Today, I am announcing the formation of a new fighting association. It will be called the ‘LDA’, the Latino Domination Association. The new association will take advantage of the growing Latino population in the United States and their love of fighting. You may not know this, but in Nevada alone, Latinos represent more than twenty-six percent of the population.” Lopez paused for everyone to understand the impact.

  “All of our fighters are former gang members who have fought on the streets. They are all undocumented immigrants, their style will be ruthless, bared knuckled, and with no holds barred. I am personally managing all the Latino fighters.” He pounded his chest.

  “They will fight anyone that has the balls to get into the ring with them, whether they are professionals fighters or amateurs. The Latino culture is one of machismo and therefore we make this guarantee. If any of my fighters lose, they have agreed to be deported back to their home land. They will not lose.”

  James all of a sudden became interested. What is this clown trying to pull he wondered as he opened his note pad and began to take notes. Lopez had just said that all of his fighters were illegal aliens. James wondered how he could get away with this. Why have they not been arrested? Why hasn’t he been arrested for harboring illegals? James knew that the illegal alien issue had become ridiculous since America had not stemmed the flow coming into the country, but to actual tell the media that his fighters were illegal seemed a little too bold.

  He raised his hand with a question. “What do you mean by no holds barred, can they use weapons?”

  “Of course not,” replied an irritated Lopez in slightly accented English. “I want to make it perfectly clear.” He slammed his fist on the podium to gain attention. “These will be street fights. The fights will continue until someone gives up or can’t defend themselves. There will be no referee, no time limit, no points and illegal hits are allowed.”

  “So, this is like a fight club,” James countered.

  A look of exasperation clouded the speakers face. “These fights will be much better,” replied Lopez. “The incentive for my fighters is to not be deported. This will create an extremely competitive fight.”

  James then asked, “But why should Latinos fight against everyone else? This will create a polarization of nationalities, just like a war?”

  James had fallen into the trap set by Lopez. That was exactly the question that he wanted asked by the media.

  Lopez grinned from ear to ear. “Life for us Latinos is often a war. But we can win this war. Latino athletes already dominate most major sports. We are the best baseball players and are growing in number in the NFL. Even Basketball has recognized the abilities of Latinos. This is the next sport we will dominate.” Danta Lopez clinched his fists and raised them over his head.

  As the questions continued, James realized he did have a major story if Lopez could actually pull off the fights. But there seemed to be too many obstacles and too many legal issues to make the strategy work, but that was not his department. He reported the sports news and he was good at it. He also decided to do some research on Danta Lopez.

  Chapter Seven

  From his office in downtown Las Vegas, the mayor watched the news conference with amusement. A broad smile crossed his face. A female assistant stood by his side. Shock covered her pretty face.

  “How can he do this?” she asked as she shook her head. “This is so bad in many ways.”

  “Actually, I’m kind of helping him,” the mayor commented.

  “Have you lost your mind?” the young woman inquired. “This is so wrong on so many levels. These fights will emphasis the illegal alien issue and it will polarize the people.”

  “Yes, I know that,” the mayor calmly replied.

  “But, you can stop him by not issuing a license, right?”

  “I’ve already signed off on the license. That’s why he is holding the press conference today,” the mayor told her.

  “You have approved the license?” she said with fear. “You will be crucified by the media, once they find out. Your approval rating will go way down.”

  “What do I care,” he muttered. “I will be leaving the office in a few months anyway,” the mayor reasoned.

  “But, why allow this abomination?”

  “Well, actually there are several reasons,” the mayor noted. “First, he has made a generous donation to the mayor’s fund.”

  “A bribe? Mister Mayor you have gone too far,” his assistant lamented. “I’m not sure that I can work for you any longer.”

  “Calm down, Patti,” he used his hands to emphasis.

  “I will not calm down,” she replied indignantly and stamped her foot.

  “Well at least let me finish before you turn in your resignation. Then if you want to quit, be my guest,” he said. “There is more to this then you know.”

  “I’m listening,” she said as she tapped her foot on the plush carpet of his office. She crossed her arms as well.

  “The second reason for allowing this is that it will bring on an immense amount of revenue for the city. And I might add, get us lots of national attention.”

  “But, it will be bad publicity,” she argued.

  “Any publicity is good publicity,” the mayor replied. “More people will want to come here because of the ability to see raw violence,” he argu
ed.

  “You are always thinking about promoting Las Vegas,” she sarcastically replied. “It is morally corrupt.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he smiled at her.

  “That is still not a good enough reason,” she stamped her foot again.

  He looked at her for a few seconds as if judging if he could trust her. “Okay, but you can’t tell anyone about this, do you promise?”

  “I promise,” she said with a suspicious eye on him.

  “Danta Lopez is one of the largest drug dealers in the southwest. He needs to be stopped.” He watched her for a reaction and was awarded with the sudden enlargement of her pretty eyes.

  “He’s a drug dealer?”

  “That’s right. I’m working with the FBI on this. They have had trouble pinning anything on him, so when he applied for a license, they intervened. Once he brings these men into the ring, they can arrest him on human trafficking charges and put him away for a long time. This is a sting,” the mayor tapped the desk with his finger to make sure that she understood.

  “Wow,” Patti said with new admiration. “So, you are really helping the FBI bring this guy down, after all.”

  “That’s right,” he smugly answered. “But it is more than that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve also approved another license for the night of the fights,” he told her. “This one I will attend as a speaker.”

  “Now I am completely confused. There is nothing on your calendar for that night,” Patti said as she scrolled his future calendar.

  “Right now, it is a secret,” he said as he put a finger to his lips.

  “What is this event and where will it be held?” Patti asked with frustration. Nothing appeared as it seemed. The major was good at promoting Las Vegas, but she had no idea that he was so devious and cunning.

  “It will be right in front of the MGM hotel.”

  “That is where they will be fighting.”

  “I know. It will actually be part of a political rally.”

  “What?” Patti was stunned. Her job was to schedule all of his events.

  “Ever heard of Randolph Sanders?” The mayor suddenly asked.

  “Sure, he is the new representative in Congress from New Mexico.”

  “Do you know what is platform is?”

  “Not really.”

  “He wants to stop all illegal aliens from crossing the border. He is well funded and is gaining much support. Americans are getting tired of dealing with these people, especially with this economy.”

  Always a quick study, Patti suddenly got it. “So, you are going to be at the rally and back him to help stop the flow of illegals.”

  “You got it,” the major said as he pointed a finger at her. “And still get huge publicity for Las Vegas.”

  “That’s brilliant,” she exclaimed.

  “I know.”

  Chapter Eight

  A next afternoon after their first meeting, the second meeting between Agent Gamble and Banyon took place on the Countryside golf course near Lake Zurich in Illinois. The weather changed from frigid to pleasant, which it sometimes does in Chicago. They appeared to be two friends playing golf. Loni, who had never been golfing, just rode in the cart, but looked great in a new pink golf outfit that Banyon had purchased for her.

  Soon after they had tied off, they were able to talk. No could hear their conversation.

  “So what do you think, ole buddy?” Agent Gamble inquired.

  “Adam Wesley was quite a guy,” started Banyon.

  “Yes he was,” drawled Gamble.

  “How’d you come into possession of his diary?” Loni asked.

  “He willed it to the President so that we could watch over the diamond,” replied Agent Gamble. “It has been in one of our secure locations, ‘Area 51’, since the seventies. When the Black Diamond was stolen, an automatic alert popped up and the director was notified. He gave the book to the President, who promptly passed it back to him. He read the diary and passed it to me.”

  “The Black Diamond has been stolen, for sure? I mean someone didn’t just lose it or misplace it or something?” Loni asked.

  “No Loni,” someone stole it,” The FBI agent replied wearily.

  “How did someone learn about the Black Diamond? Wasn’t hidden in the most secure facility in the United States?” Loni inquired.

  “Loni, there are records kept about everything, even things hidden in secure facilities. With the proper security clearance anyone could learn about the things hidden in those facilities. If they can get into the facility they can steal things from the inside.” replied Agent Gamble as he chipped his ball up onto the green.

  “But how would anyone know what to look for, especially in ‘Area 51’” a concerned Loni asked?

  “I told you we keep records,” Agent Gamble said with a little annoyance.

  “But, who has access to the records?”

  “Homeland Security has been sticking their noses into everything. ‘Area 51’ is just one place that they have been.”

  “You mean that there are other secret places where the U.S. government is keeping things from the people?” asked a stunned Loni?

  “There are many more facilities more secret than ‘Area 51’,” Agent Gamble said with a shrug.

  “So what you are saying is that Homeland Security has been taking inventory of these items and is trying to find a use for some of them, right?” Banyon offered this as he pointed his pitching wedge at the agent.

  “You would be correct about that assumption,” Agent Gamble replied as he pointed his finger back at Banyon.

  A chill went down the back of Banyon’s spine as he asked the next question. “Have there been other items taken?”

  “I’m glad that you asked that,” replied the Agent. “Yes, a total of three items have gone missing.”

  A very excited Loni asked as she walked onto the green, “What are the other items?”

  “That is just the problem, we don’t know.”

  “What,” a clearly confused Loni asked?

  “The records were all purged. We know that they existed, but the details were wiped clean. We only know about the Black Diamond because of the diary.”

  “And you think that someone from Homeland Security has found a use for and has stolen these items?”

  “We know that someone from Homeland Security has taken them. We just don’t know who that person is and what they intend to do with the items.”

  “But you have a good idea,” Loni responded.

  “Yes, we do,” Agent Gamble bobbed his big head.

  No one said anything as they completed the next golf hole as they contemplated what they knew. Then Gamble dropped another bombshell.

  As he teed up his next drive Agent Gamble added. “The President is very concerned about the current situation.”

  “What, the President knows about all of this?” exclaimed Loni.

  “Yup,” replied Gamble as he swung and hit the ball. It sliced to the right and Gamble yell, “fore”.

  A startled Loni watched Banyon instinctively duck slightly. She quickly yelled out. “What’s happening?” She immediately took up a defensive position near Banyon. Her eyes darted everywhere, her small fists clutched as she stood in a crouch. She didn’t look very fierce in her pink golf outfit, but she was more than capable.

  “Loni relax,” Banyon chuckled.

  “He yelled four,” she replied, pointing to Gamble. “He yelled it very loud. I thought that something was happening.”

  “Loni, ‘fore’ is a golf term. He was warning the people over where he hit the ball. It is golf etiquette.”

  “Why didn’t he just yell watch out,” she replied with a huff and with her hands firmly on her hips.

  “Golfers have been yelling ‘fore’ since the 1880’s. It actually comes from the military. Artillery gunners used to yell ‘beware before’ to let troops know that the guns were being fired and to take cover in case of a misha
p. Cannons were not as accurate in those days. Golfers shortened it to ‘fore’ some time ago,” Banyon told her.

  “Oh,” she remarked and resumed a relaxed position. “But Greg, you said that the President knows what is going on. Why doesn’t he just stop them?”

  “Well my dear, there is a lot of politics surrounding Homeland Security. He can’t just fire people until we can prove the conspiracy. Congress would eat him alive.”

  “I hate politicians,” Loni mumbled.

  “Beside we still are going to have to deal with whatever these people have up their sleeve. That is why you are going to help me solve this mystery. We have all the suspected conspirators under surveillance.”

  “So the President is working against his own government?” Banyon said as he teed up the next shot. “Isn’t that a conspiracy?”

  “I guess that you could put it that way,” a tentative Gamble replied. “But, we are the good guys,” Agent Gamble quickly added.

  “But who is ‘we’?” Banyon asked the question as he practiced his swing. “I mean who are you really working for?”

  “The President has a ‘good old boys network’ too. Every President has trusted contacts, people he can always go to if needed. This President has friends that include the leadership of the Department of Defense, the FBI and the CIA. None of them trust Homeland Security. There are also several members of the cabinet, but not all.”

  “And what about you?” inquired Loni.

  “The Director of the FBI and I went to high school together.”

  Chapter Nine

  Banyon, a left handed golfer, stepped up to the tee box and addressed the ball. His shot also sliced, but went left and dropped cleanly into the middle of a small pond off the fairway. He stood there and suddenly uttered “crap”.