Banyon regurgitated what he knew. “It happened in the summer of 1908, in the wasteland area of Siberia where almost no body lives,” Banyon recalled. “Most scholars believe a meteor impacted earth. It produced a light as bright as the sun, a huge fire in the sky, and a tremendous shock wave. In an area of a thousand square miles surrounding the event, everything standing was knocked down. That included about eighty million trees — most were burnt to a crisp.”
“All that is accurate,” Maya agreed. “But do you know why the event is listed as unusual?”
“Tell us,” Previne uttered with growing excitement.
“There was no crater found from the impact. Many scientists currently agree they have found the epicenter but there was no hole in the ground — not even a dent”.
“That is strange,” Loni agreed. “Were there any survivors?”
“There were plenty,” Maya gushed. “There were no reported deaths, but many people made statements. They said their clothes burned and they were knocked to the ground, but no person was actually hurt. Strange huh?”
“Almost supernatural,” Banyon said.
“Several people reported lightning bolts shot through the sky, like Zeus was mad at the earth.”
“Greek mythology,” Loni yelled and slapped the table.
“The artifacts from the Society of Orion,” Previne followed her.
“That’s what got me suspicious,” Maya replied. “So, I went and looked up all the eye witness reports, and guess what?”
“What?” Everyone asked it at the same moment.
“I found a trapper who claims he met a man in the woods, just before the event. The man didn’t belong there, he said. He claims the man was dressed in city clothes and carried a small box and a wooden club. The trapper claims the man told him he was going to try an experiment in the deep woods.”
“But I’m sure the trapper is dead by now,” Eric said. “We can’t ask him about the man.”
“That’s true, Eric,” Maya replied. “But the trapper wrote detailed descriptions about what he saw and even drawings of the man. He also claimed the man gave him a business card with his name on it. They are all in a museum in Russia.”
“Do you actually think it could be one of the artifacts from the Society of Orion?” Loni asked.
“Yes,” Maya replied with a nod of her head.
“That settles it. As soon as we rest up, we’re going to Siberia,” Previne announced as she slapped the table.
***
Hours later, Colton Banyon sat at his desk in his front room office. The Patel clan had left and Loni had retired to the bedroom. Banyon was dog tired, but wanted to recap their last adventure while it was still fresh on his mind. He kept a log full of the recaps of their mysteries. He had no logical reason to do it, but thought maybe someday he would write some books about his experiences.
He began writing the recap:
· Stopped a plot to kill millions of people using nanobots.
· Found one more old, Nazi — Bernard Schultz.
· Helped to prevent the country from becoming a dictatorship
· Recovered a large treasure looted from Europe during WWII.
· Found “The Society of Orion.”
· Solved the mystery of Nevada inmates dying.
· Severely hurt the Effort.
He took the list and put it in his desk drawer. As he got up to head to the bedroom, his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and saw that the call came from Bart. Banyon immediately became annoyed. There was only one reason why Bart would call him this late at night — money.
“What is it, Bart?” Banyon spoke into the phone. He made sure Bart could tell he wasn’t happy to talk to him.
“Do you have a minute?” Bart asked sheepishly.
“What do you want?”
“I want to discuss making you a partner in Dewey & Beatem.”
Special Author’s Note
I
started writing as a hobby and it has turned into a passion over the last several years. I hope you enjoyed this current novel. Colton Banyon Mysteries has turned into a long-term series with much more to tell and many mysteries to solve.
I greatly appreciate the feedback and comments I have gathered about my plots and characters. Anyone who has followed my writings has noticed changes in the characters based upon your feedback along this journey. I encourage you to continue to provide your input. There are two ways to do that. The first is to send your comments to me at my website, www.geraldjkubickibooks.com. I always respond to any email. The second and the most important way is to post a review on Amazon, Goodreads, and Barnes & Noble. To an independent writer like me, the comments are like gold.
Author’s Notes
T
his book is completely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is pure coincidence, unless they have agreed to let me use their name in the book. None of the characters are real, but are a figment of my imagination. It has not been my intention to depict any race, culture, or group in a bad light. It is a simple story.
While the plot of this book is, also pure fiction, it could possibly happen. I have included many true historical events for realism. Some have been slightly massaged to fit my needs. The central theme in the book revolves around the attempted takeover of American by a fictional group known as the Effort. In the book, the organization was set up in Germany in the 1930’s and has used the children and grandchildren of Nazis to infiltrate and gain status, including political power in America. Who knows if this hasn’t really happened?
The insidious plot includes the use of nanobots to kill people. The concept of nanobots has been around since the 1950’s. There has been limited success in using them as sensors, but to my knowledge there are no working models. I will mention that scientists are only a few years away from making them useful or maybe dangerous as well. That’s why they are a dubious device.
Facts about Laughlin, Nevada, the Hoover Dam, and the workings of the government in times of crisis are real. Martial law could happen in America.
Finally, we come to the “Society of Orion”. They are also a figment of my imagination and used as a vehicle to further the story. Orion, according to Greek Mythology, did exist and was pretty much the way I described him. Some descriptions say he was just a man. Some say that he was only part man, but almost all agree he was a hero of the people.
The Orion constellation has been linked to many ancient cultures going back as far as ten thousand years ago. Many cultures believed the constellation holds the key to the universe. So far, science cannot explain the striking similarities between monuments, drawings and even some calculations made by the ancients who studied Orion. Artifacts found on several continents concerning Orion, are amazingly alike. How is it they are so similar?
Look for more adventures about “The Society of Orion” soon.
Acknowledgements
A
s always, I want to thank Kathy Mayeda for her support and assessment of my books. She spends a lot of time reviewing and correcting my mistakes. She also puts up with my sometimes not brilliant ideas.
Karen Gersch and Professor Joe Gersch have read all of my books and provide insights and much needed proof reading to make the pages fly by better.
Kristopher Kubicki is my co-author and adds information for some of the passages about technical and advanced scientific devices and situations.
The cover for this book is original. Clarissa Yeo has designed several of my newest covers.
Finally, I want to thank my Beta readers. They make my books better. The Beta readers for this book include: Susan Kenner Ward, Steve Pellegrino, Marilyn Ryder Mafficci and Marion Ryder.
Bonus Reading from my next book
The Society of Orion
Book One: Weapons
Chapter One
October 14th, 1817
A
horse ambled along the cobblestone streets in the center of the small city. The
man riding the horse kept a sharp lookout. He was attempting to find a street with the address of a particular building. He and his five other travelers, all on horseback, created quite a stir in the ancient settlement of Solothurn, in modern day Switzerland. The men were heavily armed individuals wearing military uniforms, covered by long coats. To the locals, the men looked like veterans of many vicious war campaigns. The horses also appeared to be war veterans. To anyone that encountered them, they clearly appeared to be a protection detail. The leader rode high in the saddle. He was dressed in the fashion of a nobleman.
They rode through the town with the air of definite purpose. To the locals, these men looked like big trouble. Their presence disturbed the tranquility of the autumn season in the Alps. The chilled morning air magnified the sound of twenty-four horse hooves clip-clopping along the small cobblestone streets. The sound announced their menacing arrival. Most of the residents along their route stayed inside. They viewed the intruders through small windows in their dwellings. Many of the openings were covered with white lace curtains which people secretly peered through. The city residents wanted nothing to do with the foreigners. Foreigners meant war to them. Their mountainous countryside was finally at peace, but to the residents, it looked like another invasion was about to begin.
The leader was a man named Jakub. Today, he was in a foul mood as he crisscrossed the city. What the hell am I doing here? He had started his journey nearly a month earlier. He had covered the one thousand mile trek from his homeland on horseback. It was in the instructions of the letter. The letter was sent from 12 Gurzelngasse in the city of Solothrun. It was a request from the great man himself. It simply said, “Come at once in secrecy. Trust no one. I have something to give you. It is of the upmost importance.” There were no additional instructions and no directions.
Jakubs’ foul mood stemmed from the fact that he could not communicate with the people in the city. They all seemed to be hiding. Those he encountered were no help at all. They just shrugged when he spoke to him. Jakub spoke Polish, and learned Italian while studying under the master architect Domenico Merlini in 1786. He had even learned English while studying there, but the people he ran across in the city spoke German or French, languages that he did not expect to encounter. In his haste to leave his home, and with grave concerns about his protection, he had not thought to bring a German or French speaker in his protection detail. He wanted strong hard men by his side. As a result, he was relegated to wandering the streets of the city looking for the address.
“There it is,” cried out one of his men. The man pointed across the small town square. Jakub turned his head and was shocked at what he saw. The structure was little more than an apartment building with a store front on the ground floor. Jakub had expected a mansion or even a palace. He wondered how the great leader had fallen to this level. He sat on his horse while he studied the building for several minutes before riding over to the entrance. What does all this mean?
He knew that he had to keep the spirits of his men high. He struggled for something to say. “The structure is very solid,” he declared as he dismounted. “This building will last for several hundred years.” As an architect, Jakub admired well-constructed buildings. “He must want to keep my visit a secret.”
“Shall we come with you?” one of his detail asked.
“No, stay with the horses and protect my back,” Jakub replied absently. He then strutted to the door which led to the upper floors of the building. He rang the bell. It hung by a rope by the entrance. Shortly, a man dressed in the uniform of a servant, opened the door. They stared at each other for a few seconds.
“Puis-je vous aider?” the servant asked.
Jakub didn’t understand what the servant said, but decided to reply in Polish. “Ja przyszedłem, aby zobaczyć swojego pana.” It meant, “I have come to see your master.”
“Je ne comprends pas.” The servant answered with confusion pasted on his face. He stood steadfast as he blocked the doorway. The now frustrated Jakub thought for a few seconds. He finally said the only words that he could think of speaking. He hoped the servant would understand.
“Tadeusz Kościuszko,” Jakub said in Polish.
“Oui bien sûr,” the servant immediately replied and moved to the side so Jakub could enter the building. They proceeded up several stairs and down a short hall. The servant stopped. He knocked softly on a large door.
“Entrez,” an old voice boomed in French.
The servant opened the door and ushered Jakub inside. He was surprised because the room was a bedroom. Normally, people greeted him in a living room or study. As he surveyed the area, he noticed a sitting area, a small desk, and a massive four post bed. Prone on the bed was Tadeusz Kościuszko. He looked thin and weak.
Jakub knew the man from earlier in his life. They were both educated under the enlightened King Stanislaw II of Poland. Jakub turned into a renowned architect, servant of the government. Kościuszko turned into a military hero in both America, during the revolutionary war, and in his homeland of Poland. The old man in the bed noticed him. His tired eyes came to life.
“Ah,” he exclaimed. “You have finally made it here to see me,” the man spoke in a hoarse Polish dialect.
“I have come just as you have requested,” Jakub announced in Polish as he walked up to the bed.
“Speak English,” the old man demanded. “The servant doesn’t understand English. What we have to discuss is very private.”
“As you wish,” Jakub replied in English and bowed his head.
“Your English is very good,” Kościuszko told him.
“Why am I here?”
Suddenly more congenial, Kościuszko said, “Please call me Thaddeus, my American name. I no longer use my Polish name. Come and sit by the bed.” He motioned to the servant who immediately brought over a chair for Jakub.
“Thank you,” Jakub said as he sat down. “It has been a long journey. Why have you requested a visit from me?”
“There is time enough for that, but first let’s just talk,” General Tadeusz Kościuszko replied. He was quiet for a moment, but then he spoke. “You know,” the old man laughed with difficulty, “the information you gave me about Ben Franklin in 1776 was wrong. By the time that I traveled to the famous Café Procope in Paris to meet him to volunteer my services, he had already sailed to America. I almost didn’t make it into the revolution.”
“But Casimir Pulaski wrote me that Franklin was always there,” Jakub said defensively. “What did you do?”
“Why I hopped on the first ship bound for America with my men. I went straight to his printing shop in Philadelphia. He sent me to talk to General Washington, and the rest is history as they say.”
“I didn’t know that,” Jakub admitted as he began warming to the general. “But I do know that you became an expert in building defenses for the revolutionary troops. I understand that you even built a fort at someplace called West Point in New York. It is considered a defensive marvel.”
“I’m not as accomplished as you are at architecture,” Thaddeus complimented Jakub. “I am much better at fighting.”
“Speaking of fighting, you don’t look well,” Jakub stated. “What happened? You are too old to continue to fight.”
“Ah, I fell off my horse, and have now developed a fever. The doctors say that I had a stroke. My time is short, Jakub.” This disturbed Jakub as Thaddeus was only twelve years older than himself. Time will catch us all, he thought.
“It’s been a long time since we last met,” Jakub said sincerely.
“Yes, it has Sir Jakub Banyon, knight of the Polish Commonwealth.”
“The Commonwealth no longer exists,” Banyon said vehemently. “None of us are knights anymore.”
“I’ve given up the title as well,” the old man replied.
“Poland has been partitioned for the third time,” Jakub informed the greatest general in Polish history. “It happened shortly after the uprising bearing your name in 1794.
“I know this and I also know that you stayed on in the government,” Thaddeus said bitterly.
“I had no choice,” Banyon said in frustration. “I supported the king, Stanislaw II, and worked for the good of the Polish people.”
“And the King abdicated in 1796,” chided the old man. “He went to Russia to suck up to his former lover the Tsarina Catherine. Meanwhile you became a cog in the vile Russian cassock oppression.”
“The King had no choice, Thaddeus,” Jakub explained. “She sent troops to escort him to Russia. Her invitation was more of a demand. I stayed on to provide some stability in the government. I hoped that he would return someday.”
“But, she died a few months later, late in 1796, and he died a little over a year after that without ever returning to Poland. He abandoned his people,” the old man snorted.
“I knew they had been lovers for a long time, but was surprised that she wouldn’t help him reestablish his throne. He was actually a virtual prisoner in Russia,” Jakub Banyon told the old man to clarify. “He did attempt to return, but was stopped by the Russian’s garrison. They locked him up.”
“I know this too,” replied Thaddeus sadly. “That was how I got out of the Russian prison after the uprising. You know the prison. It was the one where you and the other judges sent me. When Tsar Paul I became the leader after Catherine died, he pardoned me along with many other political prisoners. He hated Tsarina Catherine, and wanted to overturn some of her decisions. The only condition of my pardon was that I leave Poland. I went back to America instead and stayed there for several years.”
“But now you are back in Europe When did that happen?” Jakub responded dryly. “Why have you returned?”
A Dubious Device: The Nanobot Terror (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 10) Page 33
