Dark Latitude: A Lexi Balestra Mystery, #1

By Art Barry

Lexi, a feisty millennial, finds her plans for a vacation after college shattered by the death of a friend and an echo from 1945. Everything changes when she becomes the target of an assailant and her conscience wrestles with her dead friend's activities during WWII. She transforms from victim to sleuth with the help of a protective FBI agent, and a savvy history professor with ties to the intelligence community. Lexi's discovery of a mysterious airplane leads her and an FBI task force to groups of operatives who extended the reach of fascism across Central and South America after the war. Constant interaction between Lexi and the FBI agent leads to the beginning of a relationship. She maintains her distance, but it's game on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Art Barry
• Release date: Feb 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224642663

Art Barry

Art Barry is a successful entrepreneur and author who lives in North Texas with his wife and rescue dogs. His first e-book on Amazon, The Downsize Side Hustle, was first published in 2020 and has solid reviews. Barry's interview on the Landlord Diaries YouTube channel for the second edition received 1,000+ views in 2023. Dark Latitude, his debut novel, was published on Amazon in November 2023. He has written numerous articles for magazines including Technical Photography, Audio Visual Communications, Texas Computing, Computer Currents, and QST, the Amateur Radio Relay League magazine. He held marketing and managerial positions for several major U.S. corporations, including the Color Tile division of the Tandy Corporation and Electronic Data Systems Corporation. In 1992 he founded his own company to provide clock batteries for computers, peripherals, and medical equipment. The company he founded serves over 19,000 customers in 42 countries using direct marketing and the Internet.

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Copyright 2023-2024 by Art Barry

All Rights Reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (other than documented historical figures and events), living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

First Edition: January 2023

Published by Epower2go LLC

Author website:

Art Barry Writes! (art-barry-writes.carrd.co)

ASIN: B0CL9N2FDS

For my wonderful wife and children...

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Prologue

April 30, 1945—0545 Hours. Atlantic Ocean - 50 nautical miles west of Mauritania (west coast of Africa)

This better be good, Jonesy!

The radar operator at the console swiveled in his chair to see the tall figure making his way through the room. The man moving toward him was barely more than a dark shadow in the red light that bathed the Combat Information Center. Waking up two hours before Morning Watch isn’t my idea of fun, and it interrupted one of my favorite dreams.

Sorry, Sir. Rita Hayworth or Hedy Lamarr? Jones said.

Neither. I was playing baseball with my son in the park. Ah, well, near sunrise, anyway. I’ll join the Morning Watch a bit early with a second cup of coffee. Time to earn my pay in the bottom half of the North Atlantic.

Your morning isn't getting off to a good start, Skipper. I know what I’m seeing, but I don’t know how to explain it.

You’re a Radarman First-Class, the Captain said. You’re supposed to know everything. Captain Markham’s easy-going manner with his crew was legendary. A good part of the crew on this ship came with him from a previous command.

Intelligence reports showed the end of the war was near, and the crew knew it. The atmosphere on board the ship helped take the edge off the timing and the assignment of the patrol area. Everyone on board had a lot of unanswered questions. The ship was far from any action in the European Theater of Operations (ETO). There was no hint yet they would transit through the Panama Canal to the Pacific to take on the Japanese. One thing was sure: radar picket duty in the Atlantic was monotonous.

Show me what you got, Markham said. He leaned into the radar screen. Jones pointed at a large green dot moving across the bottom of the screen. Short version, or the whole nine yards? Jones asked.

Give me everything, Markham said.

See that, Skipper? Jones pointed to the bottom of the radar screen. Bogey moving from east to west at high speed. It came up slow. It might have come in below our radar horizon. Or it was sitting there for a while before it took off, gained altitude, and started cruising.

Speed? Markham asked.

Estimated ground speed is 275 miles per hour now. The pilot must have figured out what altitude he needed to pick up a tailwind. Whatever it is, it’s big, and it’s fast. Not a flight of planes, though; one big one, and the destination appears to be South America. The Cape Verde Islands are near the plane’s current course, though. Jones placed a chart in front of Markham and pointed to fresh plot marks. I overlaid the radar track against the charts. It looks like it originated east of R’gueiba, Mauritania. No airfields show up in that area; it’s desert. There’s a large body of water called the Baie de Saint-Jean east of that location.

So, it could be a flying boat, Markham said. Interesting stuff.

The bay looks perfect for landing a big seaplane or a flying boat away from the open sea, Jones said. Not much in the way of depth-sounding information. It might be deep enough to handle boats with shallow drafts or a submarine running on the surface. And there’s something else. Comms says that there was a 38-megahertz radio beacon active in that area when the bogey showed up on our screen. Could have come from a ship.

Or a sub, Markham said. He nodded and paused for a moment as he attempted to take in all the information that Jones rattled off. Getting information from his radarman was like drinking from a firehose. Think they know we’re here?

The plane might, Jones said. Anything that big could have onboard radar. If they’re communicating with whatever is on the surface, then they might know we’re coming.

Got a location for me?

I can get us close, Jones said. I thought we would pay them a visit, so I asked Comms to direction-find the origin of the beacon. I’m glad that I did because the beacon shut down about twenty minutes after I got the first return on the radar screen.

Markham nodded and continued to listen while Jones continued.

The pilot may have been using the beacon as a partial navigation fix to set their course. They’ll be off our radar in a few minutes. Relative bearing from the beacon location is two-two-five degrees. It’s headed southwest, toward South America. That’s over 2,000 miles away.

Well, let’s go see what we can find. Log everything. Markham stood up and took a long look at the map lying on the radarman’s desk. Then he turned to a console on the wall and flipped a switch on the intercom. Captain to Bridge. All ahead full, right standard rudder, heading one-six-zero degrees. Sonar: Prepare to start scans on port and starboard bow quarters when we enter the search area. Comms: Code a message to Fleet and let them know we will investigate the contact. Send it.

Aye, aye, Skipper, came in from the various duty stations, one after another, over the intercom.

Thanks, Jonesy. Good job, Markham said. Let’s see what we can find near the coast. When you’re done with the report, get it to the XO so he can have it coded for transmission to intelligence. There may be another ship near the Cape Verde Islands that can watch air traffic in that area. This could be why Fleet sent us out to this God-forsaken section of the North Atlantic. I’d like to know who in the hell is onboard that bogey and what it’s carrying. If it came from Europe, and it’s headed for South America, that means they’re proving my grandfather correct. Rats don’t swim toward sinking ships.

Markham walked through the door of the radar room to the passageway that led to the bridge of the USS Brady. The Brady, a newer Fletcher-class destroyer, finished its sea trials in late 1944. It was over halfway through its turn to starboard as it increased speed to 30 knots. Even at that speed, the USS Brady wouldn’t reach the search area at the mouth of the Bay of Arguin for at least an hour.

Doesn’t make much sense right now, he thought to himself as he made his way to the bridge of the ship. Maybe it will make sense to someone down the line.

Chapter 1

Present day—early morning in the Dallas Metroplex.

Lexi walked toward Gail, the attractive young receptionist at Willow Bend Care Center, and placed her backpack in the chair at the reception desk.

Good morning, Lexi. You look very nice today. I like your hair. Wish mine looked that good short. The red highlights are nice, too.

And good morning to you, Gail, Lexi said. She was extra chipper this morning. It was her first day off after a busy final semester at college. She looked forward to a break and was ready to spend time with some of her favorite people.

I have some bad news, Gail said. I’m sorry to tell you that Markus Lange passed away last night. I know he was one of your favorites.

Damn, and yes, he was, Lexi said. I will miss him. He enjoyed listening to Shakespeare, and I enjoyed reading to him. Any idea what happened?

He must have died in his sleep. The first shift found him early this morning. Melanie is still going through his records to find family. The ambulance took his body to a funeral home and Melanie notified the coroner. There doesn’t appear to be any family, though. That’s a shame. Oh, and Melanie wanted me to tell you to stop by her office when you got here. She has something for you.

I will, thanks, Lexi said. She walked down the hallway, stopped at the first office door, and knocked.

Come in. Melanie Rogers said. Lexi opened the door, walked to the chair in front of the desk, and sat down.

Gail told me about Markus Lange. I know he was old, but he seemed in good shape except for some dementia.

Quite old. Ninety-eight is a long run. Melanie swiveled her chair around to face Lexi. She placed a thick, leather-bound album on the desk in front of Lexi.

What’s this? Lexi asked.

As far as I know, it is Markus Lange’s only possession, other than a few clothes and some knick-knacks. It’s all he had when he checked in. You should have it since you two were such good friends. Who knows—there might be some clues in there about his family. Might be fun trying to find one of his relatives. I looked through it but everything is in German. You’re so good with languages. I thought it might be an interesting project while you figure out what you’re going to do with your life.

Thanks, Lexi said. I’ll look. My dad enjoys genealogy, so he might give me a hand. I have a question, though.

Let’s hear it, Melanie said.

This place is expensive. How was Markus Lange able to afford it?

Not a clue, Melanie said. We received money from a trust every month, like clockwork. Occasionally, a man would stop by to check on him. I assumed he had something to do with the trust that provided for his care. It was always the same man. He never provided a name, and he didn’t stay very long. They only spoke in what sounded like German. I didn’t get a good feeling about him. He gave off lawyer vibes. Had an accent. Sported a tan like he had spent time recently on a beach. Sounded almost Middle Eastern. Creeped me out, big time!

Not family?

No. It was odd that he seemed to know when Markus passed away. Could have been a coincidence, but I don’t believe in coincidences. He showed up again this morning and asked for Markus Lange’s personal effects. I told him there weren’t any, and he left. Shouldn’t have lied to him, but he wasn’t family and didn’t have any paperwork, so I wasn’t required to give him anything. That’s when I thought of you and decided that you should have the album.

Thanks, Melanie. I’ll look at it and see if I can find anything that might lead us to family. And, you’re right: I need something to do. Lexi picked up the album. It was old and very heavy. There were pages and pages of photographs, news clippings, and keepsake items. She picked up the album and carried it out of Melanie’s office with her left arm.

Lexi passed by Markus Lange’s room and saw the maid entering to clean. She followed the maid into the room to take a last look around. Lexi looked at the writing desk in Markus’ room. The framed photo of Markus and Lexi reading together in the common area of Willow Bend was still on the desk. She gazed at it for a moment, sighed, and then picked it up and put it in her backpack.

The maid took the linens off the bed. Lexi noticed there was something odd about the pillowcase. The sunlight streaming in through the window made it look strange. She moved closer. On close inspection, she saw what looked like an impression of a face on the pillowcase. She told the maid to stop what she was doing and get Melanie.

After a few moments, Melanie appeared in the doorway with a man in a suit. When Melanie asked what was wrong. Lexi walked over to the bed and showed her the pillow.

I don’t think that Markus died of natural causes. It’s not a good idea to clean the room or touch anything until the police have a look.

That won’t be a problem, the man said. I’m Special Agent Christiansen with the FBI. Let’s clear the room and shut the door. If it’s possible to lock it, please do so. If you ladies will excuse me, I need to make a call. If I need anything else, I will go to the front desk. Does the receptionist have your cell numbers handy in case you’re not in the building?

Melanie and Lexi both nodded and walked out of the door.

Lexi, Melanie said in a half-whisper, you are a real troublemaker.

Sorry. Something is very wrong here. Lexi said.

I was kidding about you being a troublemaker. Something is wrong. If there was ever anyone who would spot something out of the ordinary, it would be you. The EMTs transported his body because it appeared to be a natural death. People die here all the time. It’s routine. I called the number listed in his records for notification. Then the FBI showed up within an hour. That was strange; it’s never happened before. Listen, I know you’re upset about this. You should take some time and go back home.

Good idea, Lexi said. She left Melanie’s office and walked out past the reception desk.

Bye, Gail, Lexi said.

Bye, to you, too, Gail replied.

Lexi walked out of Willow Bend with her backpack on and carrying Markus’ photo album under her left arm. She didn’t notice the man in the car watching the entrance to Willow Bend intently. His vehicle was near the end of the visitor’s area where Lexi’s parked. He trained the small binoculars on Lexi as she walked down the sidewalk to her car. She was carrying the album Melanie had given her with her left arm. He continued to watch as she walked toward her car and got in. Lexi started her car and wheeled out into traffic.

The man followed her home and parked in an adjacent row, but didn’t get out. He watched her get out of her car and walk to her door. Once the door to her apartment closed, he reached for his cell phone to speed dial a number. A man with a deep voice answered the call.

Yes?

I found where she lives, the man in the car said. It’s the same girl from the photo on his desk. I will text the address and apartment number, and wait for you to come. When she leaves again, get the item. In and out. No contact with others. Just get it and bring it to me at the hotel.

On my way, the voice replied.

Chapter 2

Lexi thought about her friend Markus as she settled in and got comfortable. She was certain that he was German or Austrian. The probable onset of dementia had affected his memory, and he talked little about his past. His battle with dementia meant that he had good and bad days. He often muttered the phrase: Zwei. Da war zwei. Not knowing German, she used an online translator to understand the meaning: Two. There were two. Without context, Lexi had no way of knowing why it might be significant.

Lexi sat on the couch in her apartment and looked through the album. The first photograph was a photo of two toddlers dressed in identical outfits. She realized Markus had a twin brother named Erich. Markus must have been referring to his sibling when he said: There were two. All the printed information on the photos in the album was in German. She opened her laptop and used Google Translate to make some sense of the material. Some photos were from the early twentieth century. Many were sepia-toned. The rest were black-and-white. Old-fashioned corner holders held each photo in place. It was like a time capsule that ended at the start of World War II. Her father inherited a similar collection from his grandparents and parents. He spent two years researching the Balestra family history.

Lexi worked all afternoon looking for clues in the album. She hoped her work might lead her to someone in Markus’s family in the U.S. or in Europe. She ran everything in print through Google Translate. It took time to remove each photo and check for writing on the back. If she found something, she scanned it. After several hours, she scanned the last page. Then she noticed something strange. The endpaper inside the back cover of the album seemed to be thicker than the one inside the front cover. She examined the binding and realized something was underneath the paper on the inside of the back cover. She tried to remove the paper, but it was stuck fast to the binding. After a thoughtful pause, she retrieved a fabric steamer that she hoped might loosen the glue. Several passes with the steamer curled the endpaper and revealed a photo underneath.

She removed the photo and stared at it. Two figures were standing on a pier near what looked like a huge seaplane. The craft was bristling with guns. There were turrets with four guns on the nose and tail. There was a turret on the top with two guns. Guns on each wing appeared to face the rear of the airplane. Neither of the men standing in front of the plane were in uniform. One of them looked like a young version of Markus. The other looked enough like him to be his brother. The high-wing seaplane had six massive engines and a tall vertical antenna behind the cockpit and the top turret. There were twin machine guns mounted on the top of the fuselage behind the pilot’s canopy. Lexi scanned the photo and uploaded a copy to her cloud server. Then she attached a