A Dubious Device: The Nanobot Terror (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 10)

by Gerald Kubicki

  “Will do,” Bart promised.

  “Bart, remember if any nanobots get loose, dose them with water. In fact, it might be a good idea to set off the sprinkler system as soon as you go inside.”

  “Hmm, interesting idea Colt, that just might work.”

  “I don’t think they are too heavily armed either,” Banyon added. “Most of the workers will be scientists and after all, they do have a huge military tank out front.”

  “Which, we are going to take care of right now.” Bart said and hung up the phone.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  “D

  amn it,” Banyon yelled as he shut off the phone. He slammed the dashboard with his fist.

  “What’s the matter, Colt,” Previne asked softly from the back seat. Loni gripped the steering wheel a little harder and pretended it was Previne’s neck.

  “Bart believes the Schultz woman is going someplace to dig up something,” Banyon lamented. “This is going to be harder to explain now. He has always been suspicious of how we work.”

  “But he did ask you to follow them, didn’t he? Later, you can just say they led you to the treasure site. Don’t forget, we are going to return almost all the loot, anyway,” Previne reminded him.

  “Yeah, but it has gotten more complicated,” Banyon explained. “There is a blue van following them. It’s the two servants from Chicago. They will be armed and dangerous,” Banyon replied.

  “So, that makes six armed people to fight for the treasure,” Previne calculated. “They will be against the six of us and we’ll have the element of surprise. I’d say the odds favor us,” she said with in a cheery voice.

  “We’re not even sure all of the Schultz people are armed,” Loni said.

  “I’d’ better check with Wolf,” Banyon agreed. He called out to Wolf. The spirit told him they all were armed and there was nothing new to report, yet.

  “We’re coming up on the mine,” Loni sang out.

  Banyon studied the dark landscape. “Pull over behind that rock outcropping over there on the right,” Banyon pointed so Loni could see where he meant.

  “Looks like good cover for the vehicles to me,” Loni agreed.

  The rock out cropping was large enough to easily hide the two jeeps. They piled out and huddled by the open back hatch of Banyon’s jeep for light. The desert was very dark and quiet. They could not see a light in any direction. A stiff breeze blew from the south and kicked up sand into their faces. Eric was glad he had brought night vision goggles in his canvas bag. He might have to use them later to protect his eyes.

  “Okay,” Banyon started. “Here is the plan. The buried treasure is about one hundred yards past the mine entrance. We are going to find the exact location and then find places to hide nearby.”

  “I thought we were going to dig it up?” Eric said. He was secretly happy to avoid the digging.

  “We don’t have enough time. The Schultz woman is already on her way and will be here shortly,” Banyon announced.

  “So let’s let them do all the finding and digging,” Eric quickly said. “The digging will also tire them out and make them easier to sneak up on.”

  “And we swoop in when they are done loading the treasure and capture them all,” Loni finished for him.

  “What about the other two guys?” Pramilla asked. “They are a wild card. We have no idea what they will do.”

  “I think they will also wait until all the loot is loaded up before they move in,” Banyon reasoned.

  “That means they will park away from the Schultz group and approach on foot,” Eric told everyone.

  “Maybe we should go hunting in the desert,” Loni said hopefully. She was itching for some action.

  “Okay,” Banyon agreed. “Loni, I want you and Eric to disarm them when they leave their van. You two are our best hand to hand fighters. Cuff them and bring them to the treasure site. Can you do that?” Banyon asked.

  “Piece of cake,” Loni replied and Eric nodded.

  Eric handed each of them an ear piece for communications and night vision goggles. They tested the devices and grabbed flashlights from the back of the jeep.

  “Check your weapons and make sure they work,” Eric the veteran of several battles in a desert environment said.

  They wished each other luck and hugged one another. The team then headed off to find the treasure site. All of their guns banged on their hips as they walked silently through the shifting sand. They walked shoulder to shoulder, feeling like Texan Rangers.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  B

  ack at the warehouse, Bart put step one of his plan to close down the factory into motion. He and Steve jumped into the unmarked police car and headed off towards the tank checkpoint. The rest of the shooters stealthily moved in the shadows towards the warehouse to get in position for the assault.

  Steve drove down the middle of the road like he owned it and stopped when a soldier put up his hand. He got out of the car as the soldier came to attention, recognizing his rank. Steve saluted and then opened the back door of the car. Out stepped General Marvin “Hard Ass” McCoy looking as tough as ever. It was really Bart, disguised as a general. Steve wore the uniform of a captain.

  General McCoy quickly saluted the soldier and said. “Get me your commanding officer. I need to talk to him immediately.” He rapped a riding crop impatiently against his leather boots.

  “Lieutenant Curry, there’s someone here who wants to speak to you,” the private yelled over his shoulder. He didn’t aim his rifle at the general but he held it tightly as he pointed it to the ground.

  “Who?” came a replied from somewhere in the distance. “Our orders are to not communicate with the locals.”

  “He’s a three star general, sir,” the soldier quickly replied. “I think you’d better talk to him.”

  Three other soldiers quickly appeared with rifles at the ready. The lieutenant’s head emerged from the tank where he was monitoring the sensors. Surprise was on his face. If he had stayed inside a few seconds longer, he would have noticed several figures approaching the warehouse.

  He leaped off of the tank and confusion covered is face as he ambled slowly towards General McCoy.

  “I haven’t got all day, son,” the general roared for emphasis.

  The lieutenant tripled his pace and came to attention across from the general. They both saluted. “Who are you, sir?” the soldier asked.

  “My name is General Marvin McCoy,” he replied. “Most of you know me as Hard Ass McCoy.” A couple of the men fidgeted at the mention of the name. “I’m retired now, but I’m doing you a favor.”

  “How is that, sir?” Lieutenant Curry asked

  “I’m going to keep you out of military prison, that’s how,” the general replied in a low threatening voice.

  “Why would I need your help?” the lieutenant asked suspiciously.

  “Because you’ve got your god damn checkpoint in the wrong place, jackass,” General McCoy screamed at the soldier.

  “Sir, our orders were very specific,” the soldier replied nervously. “We are at the exact address.” He fumbled in his shirt pocket and produced the orders. He handed them to the general to review.

  General McCoy didn’t bother to look at the paper. “Here are your real orders,” the general blustered hotly. He reached out his hand and the captain pulled a piece of paper from his own shirt and handed the general the new orders. The forgers, back at Dewey and Beatem, in Chicago had actually hacked into the military communications system. They replicated the orders, but with a different checkpoint location for the tank team. Banyon had supplied the new location.

  Lieutenant Curry read the orders and then looked at the general with surprise. “It actually makes more sense for us to be positioned by the airport, but I can’t accept these orders without confirmation from base.”

  “Your radio is out, Lieutenant. That’s why they sent me. I live locally,” the general screamed. “If you had taken better care of your equ
ipment, you wouldn’t be in such hot water now, boy,” McCoy said so loud it made all the soldiers cringe. Spittle flew from the general’s mouth.

  “Our radio is not working?” the soldier cried out with concern and turned to a private. “Go check this out,” he ordered. “How could this have happened? It seemed to be working a while ago.”

  “Fubar,” the general’s driver offered, meaning that things just sometimes get all screwed up. As he said it, he moved his hand to his ear and hit his ear piece. It was the signal for Timmy, back in Chicago, to jam the radio in the tank and also place a signal to the assault team to stop moving so the sensors would not find them.

  The lieutenant continued to study the new orders, the soldiers began to relax, the general stood stiffly and the assault team stopped moving while the private was in the tank and could possibly see them.

  “The general is correct, the radio is not working, sir,” the private called out after a minute.

  “I need to confirm this before I’m going to move my unit to a new location,” the lieutenant replied stubbornly.

  “It’s your court-martial,” the general told him and nodded, while rocking on the balls of his feet with an impatient look on his hard face.

  The officer whipped out his cell phone and called the phone number which was on both orders. The orders were processed by a Sergeant Grey in California, so that was who he called. The captain next to General McCoy tapped his ear plug twice.

  This told Timmy to intercept the call and send it to another location. That location was just up the street, to Chase Sandborn.

  “Sergeant Grey,” Chase said into the phone in a military voice.

  “Sergeant, this is Lieutenant Curry and gave him their unit number. “You sent me orders to set up a checkpoint on a street in Laughlin, Nevada. But I’ve got a three star standing in front of me telling me the orders are incorrect and I should be at the airport. Can you confirm these new orders?”

  “Thank god we found you, Lieutenant,” Sergeant Grey said with relief. “You are supposed to be at the airport. We couldn’t raise you on the radio to tell you the orders were wrong. Where are you now?”

  Lieutenant Curry gave him the location. “What?” the sergeant replied. “Sir, you’ve got twenty minutes to get to the airport before an inspection team arrives. You’d better hurry,” the Sergeant added.

  “We’ll be there,” the lieutenant replied and hung up the phone. “We’re moving out immediately,” he ordered his troops. He turned to the general who had a smug look on his leathery face.

  “Fubar,” he said and saluted.

  “Fubar,” the general agreed while saluting. “Now get your goddam ass in gear, soldier,” General McCoy screamed.

  The tank fired up and was rolling down the street in thirty seconds. General McCoy stood and watched until it turned the corner. He then jumped back into the car and returned to the SUV’s to suit up for the assault.

  Part Nine

  The Assaults

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  B

  ack behind one of the SUV’s, Bart quickly changed out of his general’s uniform and strapped on his handgun. He readied himself for the assault. Steve had already changed. The rest of the assault team was in position and ready to create havoc on the warehouse. Suddenly, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the call was coming from Colton Banyon. The timing of the call was bad.

  “Yes, Colt,” he said impatiently into the phone.

  “You have to stand down,” Banyon screamed into his ear. “I repeat, stand down.”

  “Why?” Bart questioned.

  “I’ll explain, but stop the assault on the warehouse first,” Banyon said urgently.

  Bart immediately pressed his ear piece and ordered everyone to stop and take cover. He told them he would speak to them soon with additional instructions, but needed to take an urgent call right now.

  “What’s the problem? Why did you have me stop the assault?” he quickly asked Banyon as he came back on the call.

  “The Schultz van has turned around and is headed back to the warehouse,” Banyon yelled into the phone. The sound echoed off the mountain cliffs. “If you are in the middle of your assault when they get back, they could come in behind you.”

  Quickly assessing that a two-pronged assault would be more than he could handle, Bart asked. “What should we do?”

  “I’m still following them and the servants. Let’s wait until we know if they are actually headed back,” Banyon replied.

  “How long before they get back here?”

  “Maybe ten minutes,” Banyon replied. “They seemed to have slowed down. They are acting like they have misplaced something and are looking for it.”

  “Alright, I’ll bring everybody back to the SUV and wait for you to tell me if they are returning,” Bart reluctantly said.

  “I’ll be in touch as soon as we know more,” Banyon promised and ended the call.

  ***

  Banyon was actually sitting comfortably on a large stone with his legs crossed in the black cold desert. He was just a few feet from the Schultz treasure. The rest of his team were sitting or standing nearby. They were still waiting for Brenda Schultz to reach their destination.

  “Okay, Loni it is your turn to make the next call,” Banyon said and handed the cell phone to the black dressed ninja. She grinned and grabbed the phone.

  Loni dialed the number Banyon recited to her and spoke in an old woman’s voice. “Hello, is this security?” She sounded fearful. After the man replied, she spoke again. “I am so scared. I overheard some people in a bar talking about doing some terrorist activity. I’m from out of town you see and calling on my cell phone. My sister and I were just having a beer down here in Bullhead City. We don’t usually go to bars, but it was her birth… She stopped talking for a second.

  “No, sir, I am not drunk,” she replied indignantly “We’ve been watching the news on TV and know there have been some terrorist activity back East.” She once again stopped to listen. “I know you’re not in the East, dear. But I think you should take me seriously. Anyway, there are ten of them skinhead types. You know with no hair and lots of tattoos. They’re riding choppers and they all have all kinds of guns. We watched them saddle up and leave from the front window of the bar just a little while ago. They’re heading right to you, young man. I heard them say it.” There was another short delay. “No, I’m not giving you my name,” Loni said, and hung up the phone.

  “Good job,” Banyon said to his little partner.

  “We’ll know in a few minutes,” she replied as she gave him a hug.

  The deception had all been planned by Banyon and Wolf when they discussed the sudden appearance of the tank at the warehouse. Banyon had provided Bart with the idea to impersonate a general and the logical location to send the tank. Now they just hoped everyone did their job correctly. The ten extra skinheads with guns were Schultz’s extra security and could virtually wipe out Bart’s assault team. Banyon intended to stop them.

  “I see headlights coming,” Eric said into his ear piece. “I also see a shape that looks like a van following them with no lights.”

  They all scrambled to get into position. Banyon and the three Patel sisters hid behind some rocks.

  Eric and Loni loped off into the desert armed to the teeth with handguns, knives and Eric’s sniper rifle strapped to his back.

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  S

  pike, Wind, Dust and the rest of the skinheads were cruising up a narrow road on their bikes, not thinking about anything, just enjoying the ride. They were laughing and joking as they cruised up the road. The road was called Main Street and ran along the river on the Eastern Arizona side. They had started in Bullhead city, Arizona. Main Street was the most direct and fastest way to get to Laughlin. They were headed to a bridge to cross over the Colorado River and into the northern part of Laughlin, Nevada. Spike and the boys would then turn south on South Casino Drive and follow
it to their destination. They were about ten minutes away from the Schultz warehouse.

  They were doing the speed limit, reasoning if they pushed it, they could get to the warehouse in five minutes. But they were in no hurry. They knew they would be on time. Spike and his nine skinhead gang were the extra security Bernard had arranged. They were good at making people go away.

  They had actually performed for the Effort before, but they always thought they were working for some local concerned citizens. They knew nothing about the Effort. They were just brutish thugs for hire. Spike really didn’t much care who they worked for, as long as the customer had money — they took the job.

  Mostly, they were sent into the desert to capture “coyotes”, Mexicans who brought illegal aliens and drugs over the border. They usually worked just south of Bullhead City where the illegals poured over the border like water. If Spike and his boys found them, the coyotes rarely made it back to Mexico. The illegals sometimes didn’t make it back either. Spikes’ crew confiscated any money and the drugs they carried and were also paid by the concerned citizens. It was a profitable venture to the skinhead gang. They also got to beat up as many people as they wanted. No one ever complained.

  Bernard’s representative had found them in their usual watering hole in Bullhead City, Arizona. It was also their base of operations. The man promised to pay them two grand each if they would provide some security for the warehouse. They were told it would be for only one day, maybe two.

  Spike had quickly agreed, as he wondered what his men could steal from the warehouse. He reasoned that if the warehouse needed security, there must be something worth stealing. He decided to do the stealing after they were paid.

  Their choppers made a deafening roar as they traveled in formation. Cars that saw them pulled over to the side of the road to let them pass. The last thing anybody wanted was ten skinheads riding on their tail on the sparsely populated local road which ran along the river.