The Necronists Read online

  The Necronists

  A Paranormal Steampunk Thriller

  J M Bannon

  Claymore Ulfberht & Xiphos LLC

  Copyright © 2018 Claymore Ulfberht & Xiphos LLC

  Covers by Christian

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either used fictitiously or products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental or a work of fiction solely for telling a good yarn. So relax and enjoy! Physics and History may be a little different in this world that your own.

  The Guild Chronicles, All characters, situations worlds are part of the Non-Newtonian Universe and are Copyright Claymore Ulfberht & Xiphos LLC 2018

  To Rowan & Vincent

  Remember this world of the started with our imagination playing a game at the pool.

  Table of Contents

  1. Saturday the 2nd of March 1861

  2. Saturday the 2nd of March

  3. Monday the 4th of March

  4. Monday the 4th of March

  5. Monday, 4th of March

  6. Wednesday the 6th of March

  7. Thursday the 7th of March

  8. Saturday the 9th of March

  9. Monday March 11th

  10. Tuesday the 12th of March

  11. Wednesday the 13th of March

  12. Tuesday the 19th of March

  13. Wednesday the 20th of March

  14. Wednesday the 20th of March

  15. Thursday the 21st of March

  16. Friday the 22nd of March

  17. Wednesday the 27th of March

  18. Thursday the 28th of March

  19. Thursday the 28th of March

  20. Friday the 29th of March

  21. Friday the 29th of March

  22. Friday the 29th of March

  23. Friday the 29th of March

  24. Friday the 29th of March

  25. Friday the 29th of March

  26. Friday the 29th of March

  27. Friday the 29th of March

  28. Friday the 29th of March

  29. Saturday the 30th of March

  30. Saturday the 30th of March

  31. Saturday the 30th of March

  32. Saturday the 30th of March

  33. Saturday the 30th of March

  34. Saturday the 30th of March

  35. Saturday the 30th of March

  36. Sunday the 31st of March

  37. Monday the 1st of April

  38. Tuesday the 2nd of April

  39. Wednesday the 3rd of April

  40. Thursday the 4th of April

  41. Friday the 5th of April

  42. Saturday the 6th of April

  43. Tuesday the 9th of April

  44. Friday the 26th of April

  45. Monday the 17th of June 1861

  Thank you

  Author’s Notes

  Helpful Maps

  Also by J M Bannon

  About the Author

  1

  Saturday the 2nd of March 1861

  3:00 p.m. Denver City Hotel, Denver City, Colorado Territory

  You see my dear Chap, I am in town to interview mining engineers. To find real pioneers ready to be part of the next historic gold rush. Pike’s Peak is old news. I work on behalf of the Miskito Sambu Government, a Central American kingdom ruled by an Indian named King George. A tip of the hat to the old British King, but I digress. What I intended to say is, my bank, Barton’s out of the city of London is running the operation and that is why I am here,” said the man in the bowler hat and dark suit.

  Elmore couldn’t help but notice the man’s accent, it was out of place here in the newly founded Colorado Territory.

  “Well, you couldn’t come to a better place, some of the finest engineers are in Denver City,” explained a young man sitting across the dinner table from the British fellow.

  “Who might you say are the top three engineers in town?” challenged the Brit.

  “Well, we got over three, but they are all busy as hell with the activity at Pike’s Peak. Top three, what do you think Al?” asked the young man of his companion.

  “You got the fellow that runs Lemont Mining, he’s the best. There is Dixon here in town and Goolsby would be my choices but there are plenty more, those are the ones I know,” responded Allen Hallsey.

  Elmore looked at the British gentleman, again. He was smartly dressed, clean cut with a goatee and a handlebar mustache. His eyes looked familiar, but he couldn’t place them.

  “I must be frank, Miskito Sambu is an undeveloped country wedged between Nicaragua and Costa Rica on the gulf coast; a lush mountainous region with geology similar to the Rocky Mountains. The local people have found silver in the creeks and washes for years and that led to the discovery of rich veins of silver and lead ore. The complication is the people are simple, a most primitive lot who want for nothing.”

  “I never heard of this place Mosquito…” added Pete Walters, the Denver City attorney.

  Elmore took another sip of his draft, set it down then slipped off his coat and set it on the bar. “Gil, watch my coat please,” said Quentin as he picked up his beer from the bar and walked over to the table to get a better look at the Englishman. Gil gave him a nod and went back to tidying the small bar in the dining area of the Denver City Hotel.

  “Most haven’t, it is about the size of Wales and untouched by the Spanish conquest of that region. It is actually very burdensome to reach by land with the mountain ranges, only accessible via the Gulf.”

  “So what the hell do some Indians in South America have to do with a limey coming to Denver to see mining engineers?” voiced Allen Hallsey the owner of a surveying firm in town.

  “Frankly, if you're going to be insulting Sir, I will find other company,” sniffed the English banker.

  “Don’t be rude to the fellow, he’s unfamiliar to Denver City,” said Elmore Quentin as he strode up to the table.

  Allen Hallsey introduced Elmore to Mr. Barton, “Mr. Barton this is Elmore Quentin the new…”

  "Ophthalmologist, Dr. Elmore Quentin," interrupted Elmore, putting his hand out, “at your service.”

  “And you carry a six-gun?” observed the Englishman.

  “Well, we are in the Western Territories. Lots of folks out these ways give insufficient attention to the Law. Ain’t that right Mr. Walters? Mr. Walters here is a local attorney he’s the true trailblazer trying to serve society out this way. I didn’t catch your name,” finished Elmore.

  “Bartholomew Barton, a banker by trade out of London. Mr. Barton stood and shook Quentin’s hand, then handed him a card.

  “Pleased to meet you. I do not have a card on me, but you can just stop by my office on Blake Street. I apologize for the intrusion but I was just over there enjoying a drink, and I overheard that you’re searching for mining engineers and something else, about a silver lode?” "You heard correctly," replied Barton "I’m just wondering, same as my rude friend here, why you are worrying about silver when there is a gold rush in full swoon? Silver isn’t on the minds of many folks around here," asked the eye doctor.

  "It is on the minds of the Chinese and their trading partners. What do all the Abolitionists and Temperance activists drink? What does the entire British empire drink? Tea! Where does that tea come from? China, and the Emperor of China only takes goods in trade or silver. So, while those on the gold standard dig for the yellow metal, white silver is what the greatest empires
in the world desire for trade," answered the banker.

  “Well, I am a well-educated fellow and so are these gents, but not speaking for them Mr. Barton and prepared to look the fool to save them from doing so, I have to ask how does this scenario get you over here to these parts?” asked Quentin.

  Barton shook his head and spread his hands on the table taking a deep breath. "No, sir you are not dense. I handle high finance of the most complex order and the fact you have followed me this far shows you are indeed clued into some of the world’s intricacies. As none of you appear to be Oriental or British, nor having the experiences I have as a Banker you shouldn’t expect to be familiar. In fact, this is a secret venture I am embarking on, of a novel sort and other than a few high finance types like myself in New York, London, and Paris this enterprise is foreign. Let me explain," said Barton leaning in as if to tell a secret. All the men leaned in to the center of the table.

  "The East India Company, a mammoth operation, is one of the few companies allowed to trade with the Chinese. The primary trading goods are silk, tea, and porcelain, the demand for these products in Europe are absolutely bonkers. We can’t offset the trade with imports. Now, we recently finished up a nasty bit of business over there to keep the ports and trade open and to allow the continued importation of opium, the one product most in demand from outside of China.

  Here is where the silver comes in, now that opium imports can offset trade exports, the amount of trade will increase. The opium business is something that the East India Company conducts at arm’s length; they do not openly trade opium for tea and silk, instead, banks like ours have trade accounts and we settle trade payments for the various debtors and creditors. Those exchanges take place in our Hong Kong Branch in silver, not gold.

  Now the irony of it, the silver never leaves our hands; it moves from one side of the vault to the other, but there needs to be the actual silver in Hong Kong. That way if a client wished to put their hands on the it they could. The increasing trade will require larger amounts of silver to be on hand and rather than source it from expensive Chinese Mines we at Barton’s saw an opportunity where we can mine this silver at a low cost to meet this burgeoning demand," Barton finished with grand aplomb.

  "Well, that makes sense," agreed Allen Hallsey amiably.

  "Yes, I aim to hire a few adventurous mining engineers prepared to travel to the Central American wilds. Where better to find enterprising engineers than in the current boom town? Once I interview a few candidates, I am returning to Chicago and Boston to meet with investors for the project, then down to Miskito Sambu to report to the King on our progress,” replied Barton.

  “So, this is an investment opportunity?” asked Pete Walters.

  “Well, we have a comprehensive project including the mine, a smelter and then a small port we plan to acquire. The consortium would own the ore, refining, and transport, all sanctioned by the King, a partner with a thirty percent share. My bank is prepared to fund the project with a three-hundred-thousand-dollar investment to cover our portion and the King’s portion. The king insisted as part of the deal we pay his share,” Barton made an exasperated face, “It’s good to be the King,” all the men chuckled.

  The Banker scrunched his mouth in thought bobbing his head side to side. “So yes, we will have an allotment for investors for the last nineteen percent, leaving my bank with fifty-one percent,” finished Barton.

  “Did I catch that the bank has your namesake?” asked Quentin.

  “Very astute. Yes, the bank has been in my family for three hundred years, and our business is bankrolling Royals and governments. It’s Sir Bartholomew Barton but I don’t want to put on airs,” said Barton.

  "Well, I wonder sir, if you would be interested in some Denver City investors," asked Pete Walters.

  “Hm, my goal for this trip to Denver City is to source engineers and I would have no means of knowing these are qualified investors.”

  "I have clients who might be interested; they could bring investment and mining experience," offered Walters.

  “I know I would put money in; I already have a stake in a gold mine and can’t think of anything more certain than a Chinaman’s need to hit the pipe after a long days’ work,” said Quentin.

  Hallsey and Walters gave Elmore a queer look.

  “What do you say, Sir? Mr. Walters here can draw up papers, I head across to the bank to withdraw a bank note for five thousand dollars right now. That too small by your figures?” offered Quentin.

  The banker thought. “That would be one point three percent of the project,” Barton replied.

  “I could do ten thousand but hell, I don’t know about your Indian kingdom or you, so I am partial to holding back,” Elmore said pulling up a chair and sitting down next to the banker.

  “Quentin, what are you up too,” asked Pete.

  “Pete, I’m not looking to take the whole thing; I’m sure that if it’s OK for me to invest, he’ll let your fancy ranchers and proprietors get in on the venture,” replied Elmore who looked to Barton.

  “You all seem to be upstanding citizens and we might get some of you an allocation. Our minimum is ten thousand dollars but you could organize a syndicate of your money and invest it in the project,” offered Barton.

  “See Pete, there is a chance for us to get a piece of this,” said Elmore. He took a sip of his beer and peered into Barton’s eyes.

  “You ever been to Rock Island?” asked Elmore staring into Barton’s eyes.

  “Why no, is that somewhere nearby?” replied Barton.

  “Oh no, it's where I grew up though. It's on the Illinois - Iowa border. Famous, the first place rail crossed the Mississippi. I spent a lot of time there and your eyes remind me of a young fellow I saw come through town. This guy had eyes just like yours but he was one of those traveling salesmen. He sold soap, special soap, or so he said. I can’t quite remember what was special, maybe he got the recipe from an Indian tribe or his granny back in the old country. This guy, he had a real peculiar way of selling, he would set up one of those trunks that would turn into a table and talk about his soap. While he spoke he would wrap cash money around the soap bars, then wrap those in this heavy paper.” Quentin pretended to wrap imaginary soap bars at the table.

  “At one point the fella would wrap a one hundred dollar bill up with a bar of soap. Then he would sell the soap bars for ten cents; pricey for soap unless you got one of those packages with the cash inside. Now a few people would buy soap then suddenly, this other fella, that rightly no one knew yelled out how he got a bar with a ten dollar note. That got the other folks buying and low and behold someone from town got a five-dollar note. Now the guy, the one with eyes just like yours would get rushed, and he said, ‘wait I will auction all the rest of the soap to the highest bidder’,” finished Elmore.

  “What does this have to do with silver, Elmore?” Asked Allen.

  “Oh, I think Sir Barton here knows what this has to do with soap, I mean silver,” said Elmore.

  The banker chuckled then said, “It is a charming story, but I assure you I know nothing about soap, or what this has to do with me.”

  Elmore put on a serious look and stared at Barton. “I told you it is your eyes, and how you have the same eyes as that fella that came into Rock Island and got people to bid up to fifty dollars to buy five dollars’ worth of soap on the dream of getting one hundred.”

  “Marshal!”

  The men at the table all turned to the door of the hotel.

  “Marshal!” The dusty rider saw Elmore and came over to the table. It was Billy Booth, a young hand that would courier messages for the local wire-type office.

  “Marshal Quentin, I rode in from Harpsichord, you need to get up there right away there has been some kind of attack,” exclaimed Billy, out of breath.

  Elmore Quentin walked over to the bar and grabbed his long black coat and put it on. There on the left breast was a United States Federal Marshal’s badge. “Billy, get over to my office,
so we can record your account, I need to finish up here,” said Elmore.

  “I don’t know much Marshal, just that no one was left alive. It’s frightening. Everywhere I looked the folks were dead, all burned up, except for their clothing. The oddest thing, and the buildings, all untouched, I don’t know how else to explain it, Sir. I high-tailed it back here once I saw the tragedy of it all,” said the rider.

  “Like I said Billy, get your ass over to my office and get Wattsy to make you up a hot pot of coffee. I am finishing business here,” Elmore fired a stare at Billy then he leaned in close to Sir Bartholomew and whispered into his ear. “I think you're about as much an English Banker as I am an Ophthalmologist. Who I think you are, is Soapy Wilson, the same fella that ran that soap bar scam years ago and you have upped your ante for bigger marks. And if I was you, I might want to be moving along.” Elmore then stood up and fixed his lapel.

  “Well, Gentlemen, looks like the law and order business requires the Marshal, so I am off,” announced Marshal Quentin.

  “All right, Gents, on that note I believe I shall take my leave. It has been a pleasure,” Barton announced, excusing himself. The man was pale and visibly sweating as he abruptly rose and walked out of the dining room of the Hotel without another word or look back.