B.B.U.S.A. (Buying Back the United States of America)

by Lessil Richards

  Before reaching the check stand he realized he would need something in which to carry all of his items, and quickly backed away from the register. Not far from his register was a large sports display with sodas and sports gear for an Oregon football team. Leo hated to buy a duffle bag with one of the Boise State Bronco’s rival team names emblazoned on it, but felt he could not waste any more time, and reluctantly added the Oregon Ducks duffle bag to his grocery cart. He paid for his supplies in cash and sat down on a bench inside the store next to the restrooms.

  Leo feared that the B.B.U.S.A. may have already figured out that he had not used the airline ticket he purchased earlier, so he decided to try and buy a little more time. He pulled out his cell phone, turned it on and called information and asked to be connected to the Amtrak ticket and reservation office. He promptly purchased a ticket over the phone using his credit card. He authorized the payment of two hundred nineteen dollars for a ticket on the Coast Starlight route from Portland to Sacramento and further on the California Zephyr from Sacramento to Chicago. Leo was amused that the entire trip would take nearly fifty hours. Since he bought the cheapest coach tickets, should the B.B.U.S.A. attempt to find him on the train, they would have a heck of a time locating him.

  If the organization was already monitoring his credit card purchases, he knew he had just bought himself another good six hours as they would probably have Union Station in Portland under strict surveillance waiting for him to board. He was secretly thrilled that his ticket was for early afternoon. Hopefully, while the organization was wasting their limited human resources looking for him in a different town, he would have no resistance going forth with his actual plans.

  He contemplated calling the Bus Station and buying another ticket as well, but figured if he bought too many tickets they would probably suspect he wasn’t going to be on any of them. As it was, once they discovered that he had not boarded the flight, they would most likely assume the flight was the diversion and head straight for the Amtrak station in Portland, thus giving him ample time to leave the city.

  He transferred his purchases into the duffle bag and adjusted the carrying strap so that he could place it comfortably over his shoulder. Leo eased the loafers off his feet and took his new running shoes out of the shoe box. He placed the loafers in the shoe box and removed most of the bandages from his left foot before easing both feet into the new shoes. He had purposely bought a half size larger running shoe to make room for his still somewhat swollen left foot. Leo knew Asics running shoes well. They were always his favorite pick. He had won a lot of races wearing that trusted brand. Although they were not cheap running shoes, they were not as overpriced as the two most popular brands. To him anyway, Asics seemed to be a better buy and lasted longer.

  Leo pulled the duffle bag and its contents neatly over his right shoulder and grabbed the shoe box with the loafers and left the store. He contemplated tossing the loafers in the trash but knew he would feel guilty about throwing perfectly good shoes away, so instead he threw the box inside the trash can and placed the shoes on a bench next to the DVD rental machine. He kept walking in the direction of a bank that used to be on a corner lot near the downtown Sheraton.

  New running shoes always lifted his spirits. At home he would buy four or five pair at a time, and he would simply rotate to a different pair each day, never wearing the same pair two days in a row. He reasoned that the shoes remained newer and fresh smelling that way. Walking without any visible limp now, Leo remembered placing third in Boise’s grueling Robie Creek Half Marathon a few years back, and second in an old race called the Dog Days Half Marathon the last year it existed. Both times he wore the same brand of shoes.

  Suddenly, he noticed the bank branch sign directly above him, and stopped and glanced over his shoulder to verify that he had really traversed the three blocks with little recollection of doing so. He knew he was tired but internally scolded himself for being so careless. He made a mental note to be much more vigilant and aware of his surroundings, as his pursuers would not give up easily.

  Although he could see movement inside the bank, he had to wait fifteen minutes before the front doors were unlocked by a smiling young lady who apologized for making him wait. Inside, he picked up a blank checking withdrawal form and wrote down his checking account number from memory. He remembered all the unnecessary paperwork he once had to fill out for Homeland Security, the IRS, and the DEA, when he made the mistake of withdrawing more than ten thousand dollars in cash prior to leaving with his family on a Disney World vacation. Today, Leo wrote only $9,700 on the withdrawal form and approached the teller with his ID in hand. The teller had to go get some of the money from the vault since he requested five thousand in hundreds and four thousand seven hundred in fifties. Once he received the money he stuffed it in the side zipper of the Oregon Ducks duffle bag, thanked the teller, and left the bank anxious to get on with his plans.

  Immediate necessities included nourishment and sleep. After especially grueling runs, Leo had to lay in a fetal position for hours, relaxing his cramped muscles and giving his body a chance to heal. Although he had not run a half marathon, he thought the old lighthouse was a good nine or ten miles out of town. He could feel his body giving in to exhaustion. Every so often one hamstring started to twitch, a precursor to an actual cramp. A Charley horse in a major muscle like that could be very painful.

  Leo had chosen the meeting place with Bob at the old lighthouse restaurant because it was a popular evening hangout. The trendy restaurant, built around the base of the lighthouse, stayed open till midnight. The parking lot was always filled with vehicles day and night, as the beach around the light house was well known for parties and beach combers, who collected the unusual twisted branches that washed up on shore. In fact, Leo had joined in and mingled with some of the beach crowd after he bolted from the bannister, thinking he could slip among them and get back to town, but had never found an opportunity.

  Looking back he regretted not renting a car. That simple act would have saved him a lot of pain. It had been unfortunate that one of Bob’s men had spotted him when walking past the glow of a beach bonfire. Now, that the race and chase had temporarily ended, Leo knew it was time for some much needed rest and relaxation. Once the body became over-taxed, the mind slowly followed. He needed to remain focused.

  He believed in tackling life head on with all he had. He always tried every new challenge by giving the full 100%. Sometimes it irritated him knowing that others were giving less than 100% during a race, and actually being beaten by such an individual was extremely hard to take. He knew many of the other successful runners in and around the Boise area. A couple of the most successful racers never seemed to train as hard or as diligently as he did, yet they usually beat him in the races anyway.

  As a young adult he fervently believed and even debated with his college professors that a person’s success, achievements, morals and beliefs were learned, not predetermined by genetic inheritance. There were some professors who felt strongly that all of nature was somehow predetermined based solely on genetics. Leo felt that such a view just gave society excuses for their behavior. People could conclude that it was no wonder so and so became an alcoholic just like his brother and father before him, because it obviously was in his genes.

  He thought that was nonsense. If a person had any genetic predisposition what so ever, they still had the choice of ever drinking that first swallow of alcohol. Leo argued that everything in life was learned and the consequences were purely the result of the choices made.

  Successful people came from all societies, whether raised in an affluent neighborhood or in Brooklyn, Harlem or East LA. The once impossible four minute mile had been broken on many occasions. Men had now walked on the moon. Dreams became reality. How could one just be born in a rut, born an alcoholic manic depressant? No! Life in general, apart from unforeseen tragic accidents, was exactly what one made of it.

  As Leo became more mature, he began to ques
tion his own theory a bit. How was it possible that people who weighed more, had larger bone structures, trained less, and were not concerned with their diet could repeatedly beat him in some of the grueling distance races? Was it their genetic ability that allowed them to outperform him when he was giving 100% and they were merely giving about 75%? Perhaps the real answer lay somewhere in between Leo’s perspective and that of the college professor’s view, as both could be partly right. Maybe, life was a combination of the two theories.

  Suddenly, he was drawn back out of his state of theoretical analysis by a sharp bump in his ribs, and a harsh, “Excuse you!” accompanied by an evident scowl of disdain from an elderly lady.

  Leo was dazed and bewildered. His mind had really wandered this time. He turned and faced the departing rotund elderly lady apologetically. “I’m sorry!”

  He had walked several blocks from the bank and must have accidentally bumped the aggressive elderly lady who was more than ready for a confrontation. Upon hearing Leo’s apology she hissed and barked back at him. “Get a job! Don’t even ask me for spare change either!” She turned on her heels and scurried into the entrance of a small book store.

  He was totally dumb founded. He shook his head trying to clear the fog. He looked down at a pathetic character sitting up against the building to his left with a sign around his neck. “Hungry, PLEZ Help.”

  Leo understood the elderly woman’s assumption. To her, he was just another bum on the street. He reached into his duffel bag and extracted a hundred dollar bill. Kneeling down next to the vagrant, he sniffed the air for the stench of alcohol or cigarette smoke. Not smelling either, he handed the vagrant the bill. “Life is what you make of it, choose wisely.”

  As he walked off he heard the beggar yell back in a hoarse voice. “God bless you, son.”

  Chapter 6

  Bob and Ervin stepped out of the cab in front of the airlines entrance. Bob turned around, paid the cab driver, and gave him the extra tip he’d promised. It was busier than expected, mostly businessmen catching early morning commuters to different locations. Bob told Ervin to check the terminal monitors for any flights departing for the Boise/Salt Lake City areas, and to report back to him via their cell phones.

  Bob walked over to a door marked Airport Security and knocked on it. Two young men came out wearing TSA uniforms to see what he needed. He showed the young men his DEA identification, and told them that he was the leader of an undercover drug enforcement investigation, and that he had reason to believe that a rather notorious drug dealer may be boarding an airplane at this terminal at any moment. He requested to speak to the head of security immediately.

  After retelling the story to the head of security, and having his ID scrutinized he was assured by the security manager that he would receive their full cooperation. Within minutes he was looking over the shoulder of a computer operator who was pulling up flight information. With the assistance from security, Leo’s flight ticket was quickly discovered.

  At first Bob was excited thinking that within minutes Leo would be in custody. However, his excitement was short lived when the computer operator declared that they had just finished the final call for boarding. Soon the plane would depart for San Francisco.

  “Shit!” Bob looked at the head of security. “Can you hold that flight?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. Believe me, I’d like to help you, but we have strict orders from Homeland Security not to hold up any flights unless it’s a national emergency, which as you probably know constitutes a bomb on board or an imminent threat of terrorism, not just your run-of-the-mill drug dealers or felons.”

  The room became quiet and no one moved. Bob was clearly annoyed. Finally he cleared his throat, becoming somewhat used to Leo’s trickery. “Well, all is not lost. At least we know where he is and where he is going.”

  The computer operator interjected. “The suspect’s ticket has several layovers. The first is in San Francisco, but he won’t even be able to disembark there as they are only stopping long enough to board new passengers. The next layover is in Denver where he will change flights. You’ll have a limited window of opportunity in Denver as he will only have forty-four minutes to disembark and board another flight at a different gate. From Denver his next layover is in Chicago. There, he will have a two-hour layover, and then his final destination is New York City.”

  Bob was truly baffled by both the final destination and all the layovers. What was he up to? Where was he going? Why New York? He asked for the computer operator to print off two copies of Leo’s itinerary then turned back towards the security manager. “How quickly can you get in contact with airport security in San Francisco?”

  “Pretty fast, but you know how big and busy that airport is, and they operate under the same parameters we do. They too, cannot go around detaining planes filled with people connecting to other flights across the country for anything short of a national emergency. We would, however, have ample time to make arrangements on the ground to detain the suspect during the Denver or Chicago layovers.”

  Bob’s jaw started to show visible signs of his frustration as the muscles at the back of his jaw began twitching. He was mostly upset at himself. He knew how airlines operated. He should not have presented the DEA ID on the premise of apprehending a drug dealer. It was too late now to change course. He asked the nearest TSA guard to please page “Ervin White” for him and have him report to the TSA security office. Next, he turned back and addressed the helpful computer operator. “Are there any direct flights from here to Denver that will arrive prior to the suspect’s arrival time?”

  The computer operator started clicking keys in haste. “Yes, sir. There is a small business commuter plane taking off in less than twenty minutes, nonstop to Denver.”

  “Good! I need to get one of my men on it!” he demanded.

  The computer operator looked to the head of security, who nodded, giving him the go ahead. “Sure thing, consider it done.”

  Seconds later, Ervin was ushered into the increasingly crowded TSA security operating room. “Did you find him Bob?” Ervin inquired.

  “Sort of. You are going after him. Please go with the TSA officers and they will get your ticket, secure your weapon, give you a copy of the suspect’s itinerary, and get you on a plane to Denver that leaves in less than twenty minutes. Get going. Call me on my cell from Denver. We might not have time to make arrangements to get him until he reaches O’Hare, but at least touch base with me as soon as you land. I’ll settle the financial costs and get in contact with the DEA in Denver. We should have this wrapped up tonight. Any questions?”

  “Nope, I’m on my way.”

  Bob asked the computer operator to go ahead and book Ervin on the same flight from Denver to Chicago as well, just in case he was unable to apprehend Leo in Denver. The head of security wanted to know what he should tell the TSA in Denver regarding the suspect, but Bob told him not to worry about it, as the DEA would handle it on their own. He thanked everyone for their assistance and turned to the head of security. “I’ll be sure to include your team’s cooperation and assistance in the arrest report as being instrumental in the capture of this dangerous fugitive.” He settled the costs with a swipe of a credit card and a quickly scribbled signature. The head of security seemed happy with the thought of being instrumental in Bob’s report and vigorously shook hands with him. He offered him the phone to get in contact with the DEA, but Bob declined, saying he needed to use his own secure line.

  “Secure lines? You guys get all the fun stuff.”

  Bob forced a smile, trying to remain mild-mannered and appreciative. “Well, yes, if that’s what you call them. Personally and off the record, it’s kind of a pain in the ass at times.” He retrieved his government credit card, thanked everyone in the office and left in a hurry to go plan Leo’s capture.

  He jumped into the first available taxi and instructed the cab driver to get him to his hotel as fast as possible
. The cabby seemed up to the challenge and spun his tires when leaving the terminal despite the fifteen-mile-per-hour speed limit signs.

  Bob called John and Florin from the taxi and advised them to report back to the hotel and meet him in the makeshift office they had set up in the main conference room.

  Bob paid the cab driver and headed straight for the conference room. He poured himself a cup of cold dark black coffee, placed it in the microwave, and set the time for one minute. While waiting for his coffee to warm he poured out the remaining sludge, rinsed out the container, and began brewing a fresh pot of coffee. He impatiently sipped the hot, thick drink while anxiously waiting for John and Florin to arrive. After nearly twenty minutes and three cups of coffee the conference room door opened and the two men entered.

  John spoke first, “Did you locate him? There was no sign of him at the bus station.”

  “Yes, well, sort of.” Bob explained what took place at the airport. “The only problem is that Ervin has not called yet. So, thus far, nothing has been arranged for the Denver layover. Of course every minute that transpires is to Leo’s favor, not ours.”

  John offered to call the Denver TSA to have Leo detained, but Bob felt that involving the local security would just further complicate things. “Remember, our plan is to remove him quickly and quietly, without drawing any unnecessary attention to us or the B.B.U.S.A.”

  Another half hour passed. John and Bob nearly consumed the entire pot of coffee. Florin called for room service to deliver three lunch specials and a large orange juice to the conference room. As room service arrived with their lunch the phone finally rang.

  “Hi, I’m in Denver. I was so exhausted on the flight that I conked out right after takeoff and did not stir till we lit. Our flight was delayed on the tarmac, and as is, I only have about 15 minutes to make it from this gate to the other one. I’m sure I won’t be able to get to Leo till Chicago.”