B.B.U.S.A. (Buying Back the United States of America) (13 page)

Leo found Sam’s place easily. It was located on a hill overlooking the beach. The previous night’s run seemed like a distant memory, but he knew that his life was still in peril. Everything he had already done would be in vain if he did not soon buy a vehicle and escape the town. Leo had been accustomed to very little sleep while fighting fires, and knew he could push back resting for a while longer, as long as he kept enough caffeine or adrenaline in his system.

Leo walked up to the gleaming 1998 Mazda MX3 and cupped his hands in order to look through its tinted windows. He liked the look of the little car; it resembled a cross between a Porsche 929 and a VW Bug. Sam’s daughter had definitely taken good care of the vehicle. Leo could not see any scratches, dings, or dents, not even a rock chip in the front window. The front of the vehicle had a white leather vehicle bra covering the front bumper that ended where the hood started. The white custom hubcaps matched the cover on the front. He was actually astonished that Sam had not already sold the car and that the dealers had been foolish enough to let this one go, as it exhumed curb appeal. What high school student or college student wouldn’t want it? Leo could smell the fresh Armor All on the tires, and could tell by looking at the tread that they too were fairly new. He looked up as the front door of the house opened and Sam appeared on the front porch.

“Mr. Fullmer, I presume?” Sam’s voice boomed across the yard. He had a deep voice and looked almost identical to Duane Allen from the “Oakridge Boys.” Leo half expected him to start singing “Elvira.”

“Your presumption is correct, and you must be Sam? I’m pleased to meet you.” The men shook hands. “This car is a real beauty. I know it weakens my negotiating status, Sam, but I have to be honest, I’m amazed you haven’t sold it yet. If the engine runs well I suspect we will strike a deal today.”

Sam reached into his pants pocket, pulled out the car keys and handed them to Leo. “Try her out; I’m sure you’ll see that she purrs like a kitten.”

Leo unlocked both doors with the remote control attached to the key ring. He sat down in the driver’s seat, inserted the key in the ignition, and turned it halfway to check the mileage. He was surprised that the vehicle only had fifty-two thousand miles on the odometer.

Sam opened the passenger door and looked in. Leo pulled the emergency break and painfully depressed the clutch and took the car out of gear, then depressed the brake and turned the ignition. The car started instantly and purred quietly.

“I would have had her sold twice now if she were an automatic. Most people around here do not want to bother with a stick shift up and down these hills. I should have known better when I bought it and not have been so darn adamant that my daughters learn to drive a stick. Nowadays, you can hardly even find a new vehicle that comes in a stick shift, it seems.” Sam paused for a breath. “Well, you want to take her for a spin or are you not interested in a five speed manual transmission?”

“You know what, Sam, I can sense things about people. I sense that you are an honest person, the kind that still makes deals with the shake of a hand. A test drive won’t be necessary, and I’m not going to even bother negotiating the price with you. I know it is for a good cause and I’ll be happy to know the money went to help your daughter finish her college education. Consider her sold, cash, full price.”

“For what it’s worth, Mr. Fullmer, this is a pretty unique vehicle and I suspect you won’t find many others like her. Most U.S. MX3’s were sold between 1992 and 1994. Japan went on to make them through 1998 but they were not sold here. I had a friend that went to work in Hiroshima for a year at a dental practice and returned with this car. He bought it where it was assembled. Later, he wanted to upgrade the small car to an SUV when his wife gave birth to a son and I bought it from him for my daughter. You won’t be disappointed. It is well worth the money, and she may be a classic someday.”

Sam ushered Leo inside to get the title and bill of sale. Sam left him sitting on the couch in the living room while he went back to his den to retrieve the paper work. While he was in the den, Leo rummaged through his duffel bag’s side zippered pocket and extracted four thousand five hundred, in hundred dollar bills and placed the cash on the coffee table in front of him.

Sam soon reappeared. “My daughter already signed both the title and the bill of sale. I’ll just need to fill in the date, price, and name.”

“Great, but go ahead and leave the name blank for now. I too have a son that will be graduating from high school soon, and it might end up being his. I’ll decide after I have some time driving it around, although I suspect just from the looks of it, my wife will want to claim it as well.” Leo smiled, and offered to count out the hundred dollar bills.

Sam filled in the date and price and left the name blank as Leo requested. “Mr. Fullmer, it has been a pleasure to meet you, and there is no need to count the bills. You are right; I do business with the shake of a hand as my father and his father before him did. You are a good man and I hope that vehicle serves you and your family well.” Sam handed him the title and bill of sale, and Leo placed them in the side zipper compartment of the Oregon Ducks duffel bag.

Sam walked him out to the car and insisted on showing him some of the mechanics of the vehicle. Leo learned how to operate the intermittent wipers, cruise control, rear window defogger, the electronic mirrors, and the added security equipment. Sam mentioned that both the brake fluid and oil had been changed and the gas was topped off the day before. The men shook hands and Leo thanked Sam and wished him and his daughter well.

Leo eagerly started the engine, clasped his seat belt, and waved at Sam who was still standing on his front porch. He hoped Tim Bance would not haunt him for buying a foreign car. He knew if Tim were still alive today he would never hear the end of it. Tim was adamant about buying only American made products.

The car handled the road well. The Mazda’s peppy 6-cylinder engine responded with gusto. He made a few turns and then found himself on the correct highway leading south-east. He was relieved to be heading out of town on the highway, where he didn’t have to shift gears as often. His foot had protested each time he depressed the clutch shifting gears. Driving into the late afternoon glare of the sun, Leo lowered his visor, put on his sun glasses and reached into his duffel bag for a warm No Fear energy drink. He popped the lid and drank half of its contents before placing the can in the cup holder. With one hand on the steering wheel, he reached back into the bag a second time, retrieved his already opened bag of jerky and started to chew on a small bite.

He let out a sigh of relief and set the cruise control at fifty-eight miles per hour. It appeared as if his plan was going to be successful. He turned on the radio to a classic rock station, and let down his guard a bit and began singing along to Bob Sieger’s “That Old Time Rock-N-Roll.” Leo thought the song was perfectly timed as he needed something to sooth his soul and the familiar music helped. He smiled as he saw the last of the city buildings disappear from sight in his rearview mirror.

Ervin was startled by a noise that sounded like a doorbell. He yawned and realized that he must have drifted off to sleep. The bell was merely the Captain’s signal that the seat belts no longer had to be worn and that people could get up and use the restrooms if needed. He could not believe that he had fallen asleep so easily. He must have been exhausted.

He got up, stretched, and looked around to orient himself then, he walked into the coach section of the large plane. He surmised that Leo’s seat would be towards the rear of the plane on the far side. Ervin still had not yet decided on the best way to dispose of him, but figured that he would eventually come up with the perfect way.

He wanted to stare Leo in the face and watch his life drain away. Ervin knew that Bob would have arranged backup for him at O’Hare, so all he really had to do was locate him and place him into custody at the terminal. He looked forward to being the big shot. Perhaps he would even be promoted.

He walked to the end of the plane and crossed the middle aisle by the bathrooms. By now Leo would have felt relaxed thinking that he had escaped and was safe from the reach of the B.B.U.S.A. Ervin could not wait to see the look on his face when he realized he’d been caught.

Ervin increased his pace. Looking at the seat numbers marked on the luggage compartments, he knew that he was close to the right seat. He approached Leo’s aisle slowly and cautiously.

He was astonished to see an elderly bald headed gentlemen sitting in his seat. The window seat was occupied by a young, bushy haired lady reading a women’s magazine. The elderly man was just staring down the aisle, attentively watching the two approaching airline hostesses passing out refreshments from their cart. Ervin eased in the vacant row of seats directly behind the elderly gentleman’s seat.

He was utterly confused. Had Leo moved seats on the plane? He looked around nervously to see if he had drawn unnecessary attention, half expecting to make eye contact with Leo, who would undoubtedly be watching him had he moved to a nearby seat. He realized that he had gone unnoticed and could not see Leo anywhere in the near vicinity. He leaned slightly into the aisle to look at the elderly man again. The older man still had his sights on the approaching flight attendants.

Ervin glanced up at them just as the closest stewardess bent down to reach for another 7-Up in the storage compartment under the cart. He instantly realized why she held the old man’s attention. She was gorgeous. He reluctantly took his eyes off the beautiful, athletic woman in order to concentrate on the mission at hand.

He focused his attention on his wallet, rearranging his badges. He needed to act quickly or he would have to wait for the two flight attendants to pass by his aisle before questioning the elderly man.

Ervin rose and confronted the surprised man ahead of him. He showed the elderly man his DEA ID, and said “Excuse me, sir, I am with the Drug Enforcement Agency. Please show me your boarding pass.”

“What?”

Now towering over the seated man, he repeated himself with more authority. “Sir, I am with the Drug Enforcement Agency, please show me your boarding pass!”

The young lady in the window seat peeked at Ervin over her magazine, still pretending to be reading an article. The now-baffled looking man cleared his throat for another one-word sentence. “Why?”

Ervin’s face was a perfect picture of frustration. A small muscle in his cheek began twitching. “Sir, I have reason to believe that someone else is supposed to be sitting in this seat.”

“Oh,” he said, but made no attempt to retrieve his boarding pass. His attention was still mostly fixated on the lovely flight attendant.

Ervin was running out of patience. He bent down within inches of the old man’s face and said in a slow harsh voice, “Sir, show me your boarding pass, now!”

The seemingly senile old man squirmed and began feeling his pockets, searching for his boarding pass. Ervin felt little beads of perspiration form along his forehead, knowing that the hostesses would soon be to the old man’s aisle and would begin inquiring as to what was going on. After a few more seconds, which felt like an eternity to him, the elderly man handed over the requested information, and found his tongue as well.

“Sorry, this isn’t really my seat. I moved seats to have more space.”

Ervin could not believe his ears. His face was rigid. Veins at his temples and around his throat began appearing, almost as if he were straining to lift a car off a helpless child. He was so focused on the old man, that he did not hear the hostess say “Excuse me, sir, but you’ll have to return to your seat until we get by your row.”

“No one else was ever sitting here?”

This time the lady with the women’s magazine answered. “He’s right. This is my assigned seat but no one else sat in this row at all.”

Ervin broke off his staring contest with the old man, and felt the presence of the attractive flight attendant. He turned, looking into her lovely dark brown eyes, temporarily transfixed.

“Pardon?” He finally replied. He seemed to be picking up the old man’s proclivity for one-word sentences.

It was the old man who spoke first, answering for the pretty attendant, “She said that you were in her way, and that you would need to return to your seat!”

Ervin looked back at the old man with a look of contempt and tossed the boarding pass on the man’s tray. “Damn him to hell!” He turned, ignoring the stares he could feel watching him walk away. He returned to his own seat in first class, clearly envisioning what he would do when he actually caught up to Leo. He could see himself thrusting his open, palmed hand with all his might into his nose, shattering the cartilage, and sending fragments into his brain. He smiled, but knew that would end it way too quickly, and thought about strangling him to the point where he would lose consciousness instead, then splashing cold water on him to just repeat the process till he got thoroughly bored with it, and finally drowned him in a shallow tub of water.

He dreaded having to call Bob from Chicago to tell him that Leo wasn’t even on the flight at all. He would have even more egg on his face when the other three B.B.U.S.A. guys showed up at the gate to help him apprehend Leo. This entire mission was turning out to be a disaster.