The Countess

By Lon Turner

In 1907, oil was quickly becoming the most important resource in the United States and, also, on the planet.
A corrupt politician, Hunter Fortay, decides to take advantage of this through imported oil. His greedy an
unlawful endeavors bring him face to face with Joe McBride.

To enforce his desire to become the sole source for oil on the west coast, Hunter hires the nations first hit
woman, Sophia "The Countess" Bach. She is from Germany and an expert markswoman. She has killed
before and will do more in the future.

Joe McBride, who also is an expert marksman, is hired by an oil consortium out of St. Louis to hunt her down
and eliminate the threat to their lives.

Follow Joe as he falls in love with a girl in San Francisco and chases "The Countess" across the southwest
and into Texas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493125067

Lon Turner

Lon Turner was born in Waynesburg, PA and after four years in the Navy, worked in sales of construction products. He is now currently retired, living in Cheat Lake, WV and writing books as a hobby. His previous two books are : "The Lady and the Woods" and "The Hook."

Book preview

Central California

August 1907

Earl Waters, his wife, Cissy, and his father-in-law Bill Ryder were on the Pacific Express heading back to San Francisco. They were in third class, which was the designation for Negroes.

Earl was anxious to get back to work at his law firm, Cissy wanted to get back to school and finally get her degree in English, and Bill had some personal problems to take care of along with being the chief investigator for Earl.

They just got out of a harrowing experience involving the Countess, and were still filled with questions about her. The Countess’ real name was Sophia Bach and she was a talented sharpshooter that used her gift for murdering people.

Earl said to Bill, I want to believe that the Countess doesn’t harbor resentment toward us as Mike Bannon did.

I hope she doesn’t. She sure is a good shooter, Bill said as he was rubbing his arm where she had grazed him. It has been two weeks now and he still had to wear a bandage.

Over the past couple of years, Earl had compiled a massive amount of incriminating evidence against Mike Bannon, the biggest hood in San Francisco. When he turned it over to the attorney general’s office, Bannon ran, enlisted the help of the Countess, and tried to kill Earl and Cissy. He tried three times and died the last time.

Earl, Cissy, and Bill had fled to their old hometown of Craig, Colorado, but Bannon had found them anyhow. He died in the process, but the Countess escaped and was very dangerous.

Cissy asked, Do you guys think she went back to the Bay Area?

Earl answered, Most likely. She’s been operating from there for the past few years.

Bill said, She could go just about any place. My guess is that she has all of Bannon’s money now.

They all just sat there lost in their own thoughts and listened to the clackity-clack of the tracks.

They had been gone for almost six weeks and all three were anxious to get back home; Bill to his apartment at the Presidio, and Earl and Cissy to their house on Geary Avenue.

Earl had talked by phone to his secretary, Sally Core, and his partner, Jacob Goldberg, and told them to expect him to be at the office as soon as possible. They were both happy to get him back.

Earl finally spoke up and said, Well, I’m not going to worry about the Countess. We all have too much to do and can’t hide out forever.

Cissy said, It stands to reason that her desire to kill us was motivated by Mike Bannon, and now that he’s gone, she will hopefully leave us alone.

Bill thought a moment and said, I think when we get back I’ll check in with Nate and see what he thinks of things now.

Nate was Nate Washington, detective at Station Number Two in the Western Addition Precinct. He and his partner, Andy Tubbs, were hot on the Countess’ trail and might have some new information.

Earl said, That’s a good idea. We need to stay on top of this situation.

Mill Valley

September 1907

The Countess sat in her office with two fingers of single malt scotch whiskey in a crystal glass. As far as spirits go, this was her favorite indulgence. Until recently, she had been unable to find any in the San Francisco area, and if she did find some, she couldn’t afford it. Now, with the money given to her from Hunter Fortay and the 1.4 million plus she took from Mike Bannon, she could buy the manufacturer, should she want.

She lived in a castle-looking home just north of San Francisco and had a staff of three to help her run the place. They were all German from the old country, and each would die for her if need be, especially Hienrik Muller.

Heinrik had been with Sophia since they were both children in Tubingen, Germany, and when the Count moved to the US from Stuttgart, he came with them. His duties were to manage the other employees and protect the Countess. He was very efficient with all types of firearms and adept at hand-to-hand fighting.

Leslie and Christie Turner also come from Stuttgart and both fulfilled all of Sophia’s wishes. All three were extremely dedicated to her.

The castle had a hidden door in the basement that opened up to a tunnel that led to a false-bottomed barn. Her REO autotruck was hidden under the false floor. Most of the time she stayed in the house; however, should someone come to the door, she could get down to the basement very quickly. She was now a wanted killer.

Her car was a very practical unit. It was a Model B REO, but Hienrik took out the backseat and replaced it with a big wood box and painted it black. It got the job done.

Taking a drink of her scotch, she studied the proposal offered by Hunter Fortay. He was increasing her contract from $25,000 per contract to $30,000, and said he had one coming up in a few weeks. The extra $5,000 didn’t mean as much now since she was a millionaire, but the excitement of doing the work was ever present. She was even getting a little aroused just thinking about it.

She had been successful in all her jobs with Hunter. Being an expert marksman allowed her to terminate from a distance.

The two times she tried hits for personal reasons, she failed. Her two attempts to kill Earl Waters were spurred on by her last lover, Mike Bannon. Now that he was gone, she had no interest in whether Earl died or lived to be ninety.

Putting the proposal down, she took another drink and leaned back in her chair. At fifty, she questioned her stamina for this type of work. She was at a point now where she was not driven by money and didn’t have to work ever again. She came to the conclusion that it was the excitement. Her nature wouldn’t let her find a secluded place, plant a rose garden, and just sit around reading. None of that was for her. She liked the danger, the hunt, and a man every now and then.

Sitting back up in her chair, she rang a small bell and soon Hienrik appeared. She looked at him and marveled at how proper he always looked. May I help you, Mrs. Bach? he asked.

She said, Yes, I have an idea. I am wondering if you could do some modifications on my Springfield?

What kind of modifications are you thinking of? he asked.

She thought a minute and then said, Things like making it lighter. Maybe removing some of the wood and shortening the barrel. Should I lose accuracy with a shorter barrel, we always have the other Springfield and can use that barrel as a replacement.

I’ll take a look at it, he said. I don’t think that will be a problem.

She said, Well, there’s more. I would like it broken down into five or six pieces that I could put together again in the field and a small case to carry it in. Also, I’d like a side sling, and the wood that you leave on it, like the stock and fore grip, be painted flat black. Let me draw some pictures for you.

Hienrik came around the desk and the two of them worked on her ideas for the next hour. When she was satisfied that he knew what she wanted, he took the drawings off to the workshop in the barn.

She also has some ideas about a sharpshooter’s uniform, one that would allow her to blend into her surroundings. Her dress got in the way the last time she went into the field, and there was no reason for her to wear a hat. She needed a more practical way to dress. Taking the last sip from her glass, she poured herself another and started making notes about a special uniform.

San Francisco Wharf

September 1907

The newly commissioned USS San Francisco steamed through the Golden Gate and into the San Francisco Bay under a shower of sprays from four naval fireboats. This new design, called a cruiser, bristled with four nine-inch primary guns and four six-inch secondaries, but it’s real defensive power was in her speed and agility. She had enough firepower to mix it up with any other warship in the world, but with the speed to get away from the fourteen-inch guns of most battleships.

The USS San Francisco was built in the shipyards of Quincy, Massachusetts, and took her maiden voyage around Cape Horn to San Francisco. Now she proudly entered the harbor of her namesake.

Waiting at the pier in the Wharf District were many dignitaries, a brass band, and officers of the US Navy. The main citizen representing the city of San Francisco was Mayor Berkley and he was decked out in tails, black tie, and a stovepipe hat that kept blowing off his head. Hunter Fortay, the chief of staff, was assigned to stand behind the mayor and keep his hand on the hat.

The four fireboats kept pace with the San Francisco and continued to spray across the decks of the big ship. In fact, they waited a little too long before they turned off the pumps, and when the boat off the starboard bow turned to get out of the way, a stream went right across the pier, drenching practically everyone there. The band, the naval officers, and the mayor all caught the instant rainstorm of salt water.

Hunter needed the dousing to put out the fire boiling inside him. Being relegated to holding the mayor’s hat was, in his mind, far below his standing. Considering that they were all soaked to the bone, he released his hold on the stovepipe hat and sat back down in a chair.

The band picked up again on Anchors Aweigh, and the dignitaries and officers shook off some water and continued to direct their attention toward the big ship trying to maneuver into a berth alongside the pier. The captain did a great job and soon the cruiser was tied up.

The festivities began, and in no time at all Mayor Berkley was going full blast into his speech. Hunter just sat back and watched him bluster. He kept his bitterness for the mayor in check, because at the moment he still needed the position as chief of staff. Valuable information was gleaned by just being in this position.

Hunter’s mind wandered as he listened to the mayor ramble. He had become a strong force in the underworld of the Bay Area. The numbers, the liquor, the drugs, extortion, and prostitutes were all under his control right now, but they were peanuts compared to his next conquest… oil. He was trying hard to become the single source of oil for the entire West Coast.

It was a difficult task because the control of oil was in the hands of a small consortium. A few guys in Pennsylvania, Texas, Oklahoma, and Oregon were reaping the rewards of most of the oil drilled and sold in the United States. These guys were already starting to take offense to the oil Hunter proposed to bring in from the Dutch East Indies or South America.

Already Judd Bennett was complaining to the Government Control Board in Washington, DC about the imports. Judd has sunk a lot of money into drilling and didn’t want to be undermined by less expensive imports, but screw him. The potential oil strikes that Benett had in northern California and southern Oregon would soon pay off and that would put a big spanner in Hunter’s plans.

As he sat in his wooden fold-up chair with the mayor going on and on, his mind went to what had to be done to delay any progression by Bennett Enterprises. Somehow he had to sabotage Judd Bennett’s plans.

Sabotage had merit for a couple of reasons. One was that the sooner he could slow down the northern California operations, the better his chances were of getting his imported crude into the market; and two, Tyler Hanks in Texas and John Rockefeller in New York would take notice and back off.

As soon as he could, he wanted to talk to his second-in-command about this situation. Hunter had tried hard to make John Verekia look as though he was the head of crime in San Francisco, but in reality, Hunter pulled all the strings. John liked his position, but also knew that Hunter had a secret killer out there and was very respectful of the killer’s abilities.

His thoughts were interrupted by applause and the band starting up. A navy captain stood by the mayor, holding a big gold key up in the air. Hunter stood up and applauded with the others. Everybody gathered around the captain and shook his hand and then jumped out of their skins when the ship blew its loud air horn.

Hunter climbed down off the temporary stage and found Rusty, who directed him toward his car. He got into the backseat and Rusty said, Good speech, huh, Boss?

Rusty pulled away and Hunter said, I dunno. What did the old blowhard say?

Well, I couldn’t hear much because I was behind the stage and he was speaking the other direction, Rusty said.

Hunter wondered how Rusty could hear anything because he had only one ear. His left ear was cut off by an angry woman while he was sleeping. Most people didn’t know he was missing an ear because of his hair being so long. Also, Hunter didn’t think he knew what Rusty’s real first name is. He just knew his last name was Gates.

Yeah, it really doesn’t matter what he said. Take me by the restaurant on the way back, Hunter instructed.

OK, Boss, Rusty said.

They went south to Market Street then cut north again to the Italian District. When they got near to the Tenderloin Restaurant, Hunter told Rusty to park in the alley and go in and find John. If he isn’t there, tell Stoller I want to see John as soon as possible. Tell him to have Verekia contact me through regular channels.

Hunter sat in the back of his 1907 Landaulet. He liked this motorcar because it had windows and it wasn’t so windy. The black leather seats were very comfortable and it was powerful. As far as he knew, nothing could touch it. Also, there was a certain amount of privacy, and that suited his purposes well.

Rusty came back and told Hunter, Mr. Verekia wasn’t in, but I left a message with Donald and he said he would pass it on.

OK. Let’s go to the office, Hunter said.

San Francisco

September 1907

Cissy stood by all the luggage on the waiting platform of the railroad station in South San Francisco. It was her duty to guard their personal belongings until Bill or Earl arrived back on the platform with a driver and wagon or truck.

Leaving Earl’s father’s house in Craig, Colorado, they brought some extra items back with them, so they had more to carry home than they had when they left San Francisco two months ago—way too much for a cable car.

Bill soon arrived with two men and a truck and they started loading the luggage and personal items. It didn’t take them long to load up, but then they had to all wait for Earl.

Bill told Cissy, I’m going to go find him. I won’t be long. With that, he turned and went into the station.

Cissy turned to the two men and asked, Do you mind waiting a little more?

They both shook their heads and said, No problem.

Bill came back in a few minutes with Earl in tow. He said, I found him on the phone.

Earl sheepishly said, There’s a couple of people I had to call.

Cissy shook her head and started for the truck. Only one of the men was going to go to the Waters’ house, but that still meant that someone was going to have to ride in the back. Her father and her husband flipped a coin and her dad lost.

The ride up to Geary Avenue took Earl and Cissy right past the neighborhood where they lived when the earthquake hit. Seeing the street again brought back both good and bad memories for Cissy. Their old apartment building was gone. It was just a flat piece of land now.

While riding in the back, Bill noticed that he was unarmed and this made him feel naked. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a shoulder holster and his .45-caliber Savage pistol. He put it on because he didn’t know what to expect when they got to Earl and Cissy’s house. The Countess might be waiting for them.

As they approached the house, Bill peeked around the cab of the truck and saw a police wagon sitting outside. He jumped down while the truck was turning in the alley. Evidently Earl was going to bring the luggage in through the backdoor.

Bill went through the ten-foot-high main iron gate and up the sidewalk. Soon he noticed two people sitting on the porch. They were detectives Nate Washington and Andy Tubbs.

As Bill walked up the steps to the porch, Nate said, Welcome home.

Bill walked over to the two men, shook hands, and plopped down in another wicker chair. Andy’s left arm was still in a sling from taking a shotgun blast. His holster took the brunt of the damage though.

Bill said, Didn’t expect a welcoming committee.

Well, Earl called and said he wanted to talk to us, so we thought we’d come over, Nate said.

Right on cue, Earl popped his head out of his front door and said, Hey guys, come on in. Cissy is putting on some coffee.

They all went inside and sat around the dining room table. Earl said, I didn’t expect you guys so quickly.

Nat said, Since the information you gave us before was important enough to chase a big hood out of town, we thought you might have some new information on another bad guy.

Earl chuckled and said, No, nothing new. Just wanted to talk to you about Mike Bannon a little.

He looked over at Andy and asked, When do you get to take the sling off?

Andy replied, The doctor said this week sometime. He also had to leave some buckshot in, so I weigh a little more now.

Everyone around the table laughed at that and Bill said, That guy that shot you must have been an ornery cuss.

Yeah, Andy said, he was the baddest of the bad.

That brought a small moment of silence around the table, which was broken by Earl, asking, Do we have any idea how Bannon and the Countess knew we were in Colorado?

Nate leaned back in his chair and said, We’ve been thinking about this and don’t have a good answer, just some good speculation.

Well, I’ll take that, Earl said.

Before Nate could respond, Cissy came into the room with a tray of coffee, and sugar. There was no milk since they just got home. They all drank it black.

Nate took a sip and said, There were a few people at our station that knew where you were and some in the mayor’s office. Who knows how many people there they told. However, we are still baffled as to how Bannon found out. Nobody at our station would tell, and I hope no one in the mayor’s office would reveal that secret information. We’re still working on it though.

I know you are, Earl said. I don’t doubt your abilities or intentions for a minute.

Andy said, Since we now have an acting police chief, the mayor’s office isn’t getting direct information from us. If the new chief wants to share information with the mayor’s office, we can’t stop him. Keeping all information within our precinct is much safer.

Earl seemed satisfied with that explanation and asked, What happened with Lester Arnold?

Andy replied, He’s in custody at the police hospital in San Quentin. He spilled his guts, both literally and figuratively. He’ll recover from the gunshot to the stomach and spend many years in the lockup.

Earl nodded and looked at Bill. Bill asked, What do you believe happened to the Countess? We’re still a little worried.

Nate said, I don’t believe she’s in town. We’ve done all we can to exploit her to the populace and there are rewards offered.

Andy chimed in, She’s dug a hole somewhere and dug in. Her operation is going to be curtailed for a while. With the money she has now, she could be anywhere.

Cissy, who was listening from right inside the kitchen door, came in and asked, Do either of you think Earl or I is still in danger?

No more than either of us. Nate pointed to both himself and Andy. She’s a contract hitter, and unless the contractor pulling her strings wants you dead, we’ll all be all right.

Cissy didn’t especially like that answer, but she can live with it.

They all spoke for about twenty more minutes and then Nate and Andy got up to leave.

Nate said, There’s no need for you guys to get involved in this. We can handle everything, but if you do discover something, let us know immediately.

The two detectives left and Bill poured another cup of coffee and lit a cigarette. He said, I think I’ll stay here at least another night.

That night Bill sat out on the porch with a shot of whiskey in his coffee and tried not to think of Brenda Montgomery. It was a tough thing to do. He met her on a stagecoach ride about a year ago and was highly infatuated, but reluctant to take it any further.

The infatuation was because he liked the way she thought and looked. She’s smart, wise, and at the same time, good-looking. The reluctance was because she’s married, and well, that’s enough, but she also was a beautiful young white woman.

For the last few weeks, he had not had much of a chance to think of her, but now he couldn’t see any way a colored man in his late fifties could have any type of relationship with a thirty-year-old woman. One of the last things she said to him before he went to Craig was for him not to run away. She was interested in trying, but he couldn’t.

If he got a chance tomorrow, he was going to try to see her. Right now he was going up to bed.

The next morning Bill and Earl went to the office, greeted Sally Core, their secretary, and Jacob Goldberg, Earl’s partner.

Mill Valley

October 1907

It was dark and the road was small and curvy, but Rusty had been on this road before and kind of knew his way. He deftly maneuvered the small road in the Landaulet and found his way to the castle driveway. With the light from the vehicle illuminating the mailbox, he pulled the front down and stuck the envelope in. Walking back to his car, he got in and drove away.

From the second story of her home, Sophia Bach watched Rusty’s every move and knew she had a new assignment. She turned to her assistant, Leslie Turner, and said, There’s a package in the mailbox. Will you go out and get it for me?

Certainly, Mrs. Bach, Leslie said.

The Countess went into her office and waited patiently until Leslie returned with the package.

Once she received it and her assistant had left the room, she opened it up. It contained no money, just a small letter.

C

I wanted you to have fair warning that I’m going to need your services the third week of November in Crescent City, California.

Check in at the Crescent Inn as Mrs. Adler on Monday, the eighteenth, and call me with your room number.

Somebody will contact you.

H.

Sophia rang her bell and Leslie appeared. She said, See if you can find Heir Muller and have him come up. Then call Jessie Black and see if he can come over. He lives real close.

Yes, ma’am, Leslie said.

Sophia got out a map and started looking to see where Crescent City is located. While trying to figure out her route and what mode of transportation she might use, Hienrik Muller came in and asked, How may I help, Mrs. Bach?

I was wondering how far along you are with my new specifications on the Springfield, she asked.

Hienrik replied, Almost finished. Would you like to see what I’ve done so far?

Yes, I would. Is it out in the barn? she asked.

He said, Yes, ma’am. I’ll bring it in for you.

No need, she said. I’ll come out.

Since it was dark, they went out the backdoor instead of using the secret tunnel.

When they got inside the barn, Hienrik pulled the chain on a bare light bulb and then went over to his workbench, where he turned on a hanging kerosene lamp.

Her Springfield was lying on the workbench in various different pieces and beside it was a wooden box with a handle on it. Also, in Hienrik’s vice was a piece of balsa wood that looked to be the same size as the wooden box. Hienrik went over to the vice, loosened it, and slipped the balsa wood snuggly into the small wooden suitcase.

He said, The balsa wood has compartments made specifically to nest the separated pieces of the Springfield. He demonstrated by laying the new cut-off barrel in its proper compartment.

Announcing that the barrel was now only twenty-one inches long, he continued to put the pieces of the rifle in their proper compartments. The scope, the receiver, the suppressor—all fit snuggly into their allotted compartments. The only thing he didn’t try was the stock, which he had hollowed out and sanded down. It hadn’t been painted black yet.

Hienrik eliminated most of the wood surrounding the barrel and had one foregrip for Sophia to place her left hand. The whole weapon was going to be four to six pounds lighter.

After packing everything, Hienrik placed a thin rubber cover over everything and closed the lid. The case was made of strong Redwood Pine with brass corners. He presented it to her and she marveled at its lightness. Handing the key to her, he asked her to unlock it. Try as she might, she couldn’t get the job done

Hienrik chuckled a little and said, Three things have to happen simultaneously for the box to open.

She looked at him with a quizzical look while he took the case and set it on the workbench. Sliding out the aluminum base with two dimples at either end, he produced two pins about a quarter of an inch in diameter and two inches long. The two pins were then inserted in two small holes on the bottom of the case, and after fitting up the pins with the dimples and pushing the base in, a clicking sound was heard and Hienrik said, Try it now.

She took the key and it opened right up.

Hienrik said, The metal plate will always be attached on the bottom and look like it is there for strength. The two little pins should be carried on your body somewhere. In fact, I’ll make six of them for you to hide three different sets. Maybe I can hide a pair on the box somehow. We’ll see.

That’s ingenious, she said.

She went on, What more do you have to do with the gun?

"The suppressor is a