B.B.U.S.A. (Buying Back the United States of America) (5 page)

Leo immediately drove to a heavily populated area of town. That particular residential area was only a few blocks from the downtown commercial district and used to have, on average, a higher rate of crime than the rest of the city. He parked the car under a large shaded tree next to a small corner city park with an accompanying playground. He left the doors unlocked and then placed the keys in the cup holder between the two front seats in plain view, should any baited parties take an interest in the unlocked vehicle. Leo knew that in order to proceed with his plans, he would need to have a clean get-a-way and leave as many dead end trails as possible.

He slowly walked out of the old residential area and into the commercial district. The city seemed to be coming alive again as business owners and employees were just arriving at work and beginning to open up for the day.

Leo entered a Fred Meyer store that was already open, despite the empty appearance of the giant parking lot. Once inside, he grabbed a shopping cart and filled it with a nice pair of Asics running shoes, Levi jeans, T-shirts, hygiene products, socks, underwear, a pair of sunglasses, and a light weight imitation leather jacket. Near the front counter, Leo opened a free standing mini refrigerator and added six No Fear energy drinks and eight Vitamin Water drinks. While waiting in line near the register, he added four packs of jerky, a container of bubble gum, and a small travel first aid kit that would undoubtedly come in handy with his injured foot.

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 question 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.”

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.”