Memphis Legend

by Brian Crawford

  She glared at me intensely, started to speak, changed her mind, and then asked a different question. “You were outside a biker bar. What were you doing there? You don’t even drink.”

  “I was getting ready to go in and ask questions when the three stooges jumped me from behind.”

  “Why can’t you just let this go?”

  “I thought we discussed this already. I can’t. And now Paul is dead, so I’m in no matter what now.” I could see the worry on her face increase and her body stiffen up. “Don’t worry. Chief Parker is now on my side. He even asked for my help, which also means no more trouble from Eric. The whole thing just got easier.”

  “And more dangerous. Someone killed Paul. You think it might be organized crime, for God’s sake. What if they kill you for trying to find them?”

  “Not likely.”

  “Damn you, L.T. How can you be so cavalier?”

  “You think I’m cavalier?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t mistake my confidence for lack of concern. From here on out, I will be on my A-game. Look both ways before crossing the street, checking my rear view mirror. Trust me; I know I’m looking for someone who is dangerous. Besides, whoever killed Paul hasn’t come after me yet, so why should they start now? I can’t tell you what the Chief and I talked about in detail, but trust me when I tell you the killer, or killers, are not going to do anything to bring undue attention to themselves like attacking me.”

  She plopped down on my couch with a big sigh. “I hope you are right.”

  “Me too.”

  “Are you irritated with me yet for worrying?”

  “No. Are you irritated with me for making you worry?”

  “No, just worried. Then, I get mad at myself for worrying. You are a big boy used to a certain degree of danger. I’m just glad I didn’t date you when you were in the Navy; I would have been a nervous wreck all the time.”

  I said, “So we’re on the same page now, right? I make you worry. I’m going to help Chief Parker catch some bad guys. You’re going to worry. I will be ultra-careful. You will still worry.”

  “You could still stop the whole darn thing and save me the grief.” I looked at her absently. “I know, not going to happen.”

  I said, “For know, it works for me knowing the prettiest girl in Tennessee is worrying about me. Just realize I might be the toughest man in Tennessee. I know it’s not what you expected when you started dating a charming doctor, but it’s what I am: tough as nails.”

  I patted the cushion next to me motioning for her to sit. Her forehead was still wrinkled pensively, yet she accepted my invitation. After a long hug, she pushed me away and said, “Okay. I trust you. But if you are wrong, I’m going to take up kickboxing and beat you myself.”

  ***

  Boyd arrived around noon the next day driving my new ‘68 Mustang. He was right; it was perfect. When he finished this job, I was going to enjoy finishing the restoration on the car. It was a dark factory green that had been sun faded over the last 24 years, yet it did not have a stitch of rust anywhere that I could find. It had probably spent its entire life in the South avoiding rust-inducing road salt. The sexy, guttural lope of the engine immediately identified it as an American V-8 with a performance cam and headers. Not stock, which was good because I was never impressed with the speed of the older Mustangs.

  Once I saw the interior, I realized why the car was priced on the low side. The headliner was falling down, the seats were ripped, the dash vinyl was cracked from too many Alabama summers, and the factory steering wheel had been replaced by a tiny little steering wheel that only rednecks find attractive. Other than that, I felt Boyd had practically stolen the car for me.

  “You know,” I said, “I hate that stupid steering wheel, but I think the interior helps with its intended purpose. Gives it street cred.”

  “That’s just what I was thinking.”

  “So you ready for this?”

  “Damn straight, I am.”

  “Then come on up and let’s get you ready to be on your way.”

  “Sure. So were you able to smooth things over with Ellie?”

  “For now, but I don’t know how much more she is going to be able to handle. She’s worried, plain and simple.”

  “Yeah, I could tell that during the ride over to Emmettsville yesterday. You can tell our kind of excitement just scares the hell out of her. She must have had it pretty easy growing up because one little fight shouldn’t make someone come unglued that bad.”

  “She did have it easy. Wealthy parents that cared for her. No skeletons in the closet. No drama in her life that she ever talks about.”

  “You forgot to mention drop-dead gorgeous and smart.”

  “She feels her looks have been as much a problem for her as they were an asset.”

  “Only the pretty girls think that. Let me guess, can’t trust that men respect her for her mind. Okay, thinking about it, I can see that. Men are pigs. Present company excluded, of course. So what more do I need?”

  “Money. I called Paul’s dad this morning and told him I would still help him, but I didn’t tell him about you. When he asked how he could help, I told him all I needed at this time was money. He told me where to find some in his office. Here, $2000. Use it for lodging and stuff.”

  “I thought you were going to give me a gun or something.”

  “Man, I hadn’t even thought about that. I got a couple of Glocks, a 9 mm and a .45. You’re welcome to either one. I got an extra magazine for the 9 mm and two extra for the .45.”

  Boyd busted out laughing, holding his gut while bending over in an exaggerated laugh. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, L.T. Don’t worry about me; I came loaded for bear. I got two Sig P226s, a Heckler & Koch MP5, and a Remington Model 700 .300 Win Mag with a suppressor.”

  “Holy crap, man. Where did you even find guns like that? Not the Sigs, but the other two. No, wait. Don’t tell me. I probably don’t want to know.”

  “Let’s just say; I’m resourceful.”

  “And like a good Boy Scout, you come prepared.”

  “No, like a good Marine being ready is not what matters. What matters is winning after you get there.”

  “General Krulak said that, right?”

  “Damn straight. You never cease to surprise me sometimes; the things you know. You should have been a Marine.”

  “No, someone has to carry you guys around from point A to point B. And once again, here is a Navy guy buying a Marine a car so he can get from place to place. See, you Marines need the Navy.”

  “Whatever, squid,” he said with an impish smile. “You always got a comeback for everything, even more so than me, and that’s saying something. Before I go, what is Emmettsville like?”

  “You saw it. Small,” I said.

  “I gathered that. How small?”

  “Approximately 14,000. The highway turns into Main Street and goes right through the middle of town. Most of the businesses are on Main Street or within a couple of blocks of Main Street. There is a main square with some diners and other shops around the courthouse. The police and fire station are about a block off the square. Only chain restaurants I saw were fast food, a small McDonald’s and a Hardee’s. No movie theater, just bars and small diners. It is clean and quaint and quiet, with lots of trucks.”

  Boyd said, “Does it have a Wal-Mart?”

  “No, it has a small K-Mart though. And I remember a hardware store and a small farm implement business. Oh, and a small hospital.”

  “Ok, I know the type of town. Rural, sheltered from the outside world, quite a bit. Probably very white.”

  “I don’t think the town is as sheltered as you think. Two of the three largest aluminum bass boat manufacturers in the country are located in Emmettsville, and there is a company that makes some kind of pistol grip or holster that gets shipped all over the world, so the town is used to outsiders. But, yes, it is very white.”

  Boyd said, “If they are use
d to outsiders, then don’t you find it odd that your reception in the town has been hostile? Yankees buy bass boats and guns too.”

  “I never thought about it. At the time, I just figured they were working on the Chief’s orders or were friends of Eric.”

  “Yet, you no longer think the Chief or Eric had anything to do with Paul’s death, or that the Chief sent them after you after all. Food for thought, don’t you think?”

  “I didn’t say I no longer think they were involved; I said I had doubts. It does get me thinking. Let me ponder on that one for awhile. In the meantime, I think Falco’s is as good a place as any to start. Who knows, we might get lucky right off. I told you about Mason, the owner. Kind of a dick, but I think you can do this. I really do. Just be careful and call me when you get there and give me daily updates and…”

  “Yes, mom.”

  “Okay, you’re a big boy, I get it. Now get over to LeClair’s and get the liquor. He says he has more than you can carry in one load, so I will bring the rest over to your hotel later tonight after it gets dark.”

  Boyd said, “I should be settled and able to get a decent room by five o’clock. I’ll call you, and we can figure out a time and place to meet up.”

  The rest of the day was rather monotonous. I was waiting again with nothing to do. I killed some time with a long workout and lunch. I even delivered a note to Ellie thanking her for her understanding. Finally, I cleaned and serviced my .45 caliber Glock 21 along with loading both magazines. I could hear Charles Mann’s advice about being careful and I decided it was time to be prepared.

  Everything was business as usual until Boyd did not call. Five o’clock came and went, then six, then seven. By eight o’clock, I started to worry. At 8:30, I could take it no more. I grabbed my Glock 21 and began the journey to Emmettsville.

  ***

  At first, I started out angry, driving the Mercedes hard on the straightaways. However, 20 minutes into the drive I started to feel foolish as my inner voice warned me that I was overreacting. Boyd was a grown man, a former Marine Military Policemen, and the survivor of a horrific helicopter crash and an eleven-day grueling hike through the Cambodian jungle with hostile Vietnamese soldiers chasing him. He never once lost his cool during the ordeal. He never once gave up hope either. He remained equally unflappable during the surgeries to fix his shattered ankle and the months of physical therapy. Boyd had a survivor’s instinct. He would be okay. Plus, he had enough firepower to wage war on a small country.

  My anger calmed down to frustration as I admitted to myself that I was somewhat jealous of Boyd. He was operating in the trenches, doing the grunt work, while I operated in the background providing money and support. I was yearning for a way to make my involvement more substantial. I wanted a piece of the real action, even more so now that the stakes were potentially higher, which is why I had created a situation in my mind when one did not exist.

  By the time I realized I was overreacting, it was too late to turn back towards Memphis, so I finished the drive to Emmettsville hoping I could find Boyd. I was disappointed in myself for allowing my frustration to affect my judgment again so soon. Two nights ago, I had allowed three men to surprise attack me. Frustration, even more than anger, had caused blinders to go up around me. I felt inwardly ashamed that I had allowed that to happen.

  Admiral Buie had commented on my situational awareness while I served under him. He deemed it my greatest asset and said it made me perfect for intelligence work. He would have been embarrassed to see my performance two nights ago. Thankfully, my martial arts training and athleticism saved me from getting my butt kicked.

  Admiral Buie was almost like a second father to me while I was in the Navy, so he knew me well. I disagreed with him on my greatest asset. I would never admit it to Boyd, but I felt my ability to improvise, adapt, and overcome, an unofficial mantra of the United States Marine Corps, was my greatest asset.

  While I was in college studying business at the University of Illinois in Champaign, a unique and forward thinking professor introduced my class to the OODA loop - Observe, Orient, Decide, Act. John Boyd, an Air Force Fighter Pilot, came up with the OODA loop as a strategy for winning head-to-head competitions such as aerial dogfights. The professor demonstrated how both human beings and organizations could use the OODA loop to learn, grow, and not only survive, but thrive in a competitive, rapidly changing environment. John Boyd’s contribution to military strategy was, in a nutshell, based on the idea that whoever made it through his 4-step decision-making process the fastest ultimately wins in a conflict or competition.

  I immediately embraced the concepts of the OODA loop. John Boyd intended his loop for combat, so I applied the OODA loop strategy to my martial arts. It made me virtually unstoppable. Not even my instructors could keep up with me during sparring; I was always one mental step ahead of my opponents.

  It was about that time in my life that I found my inner voice, a seemingly innate part of my conscious and subconscious mind that nearly always led me to see things quicker and fuller than the next guy. I had always surmised that it was my development and utilization of the OODA loop that gave birth to my inner voice. I once tried to explain my inner voice to Virgil. I told him I could actually hear a voice. He thought I was crazy. It was the only time I ever saw him look at me like he had no idea who I was, so I did not mention the inner voice to him again. Instead, I told him it was like intuition, but on crack. He teased me, saying more probably more like on steroids.

  My martial arts training, my heightened situational awareness, my ability to quickly observe, orient, decide, and act had made me into a man who excelled during tough, tense situations. I found that I loved action. I lived for action. No, I was made for action. Despite my yearning for normalcy, it was time to start acting like Lieutenant McCain again.

  CHAPTER 20

  Finding Boyd ended up being easier than I had expected. I had told him to start at Falco’s and, sure enough, when I pulled into the parking lot I noticed the dark green 1968 Ford Mustang 390 GT Fastback immediately. I also noticed Eric’s Camaro Z28. Boyd and Eric were most likely in Falco’s at the same time, which in itself, did not surprise me. It was a small town with a limited number of options for eating out. What did surprise me was seeing Boyd walk out with Eric and Jackie laughing like the three of them were long-time friends.

  Slowly and quietly, I backed the Mercedes up until it was hidden by a large pickup. Although I was intrigued by the sight of Boyd with Eric, I was distracted by the truck next to me. It looked vaguely familiar. It was a beautiful two-toned green Ford F-250 Ranger XLT from the late seventies with large mud tires and a lift kit elevating it off the ground more than the factory specifications. I could not be sure without hearing it, but it looked like the truck that had been watching me in the parking lot the night Paul went missing.

  Soon Eric and Jackie drove by and exited the parking lot followed shortly by Boyd in the Mustang. I waited several seconds before leaving the parking lot to follow Boyd. After a few minutes, it became apparent that Boyd was headed out of town. He had to know that was me behind him.

  He answered my question when he double tapped his brake lights before quickly accelerating. I could hear the powerful motor roar; it was not a stock motor. Obviously, Boyd wanted to play, so I obliged him flooring the accelerator on the Mercedes. The Mercedes kept up with him better than expected, and I am sure my ride was smoother, yet horsepower always wins in the straightaways. He slowed down substantially heading into the first turn and then motioned with his arm out the window for me to follow him. After several minutes, Boyd pulled into a heavily-wooded field and stopped.

  “Wow, that was fun,” he yelled as he exited the Mustang. “Your Mercedes is faster than I thought.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. I guess I did a good job on the motor. So what are we doing out here?”

  “I scouted out this area earlier so we could have a discreet place to meet and transfer the alcohol. Plus, we might nee
d an agreed-upon place to meet in the future and this place works great.”

  I said, “Good thinking, Boyd. You are already thinking ahead. I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks. As an MP, I never got to be sneaky. I wore a uniform and a badge or those armbands. I like this sneaky stuff.”

  “I should have thought of this kind of stuff, but, to be honest, NIS took care of the smaller details for me so I could focus on the investigating. We made another tactical error that became obvious to me earlier.”

  “Let me guess. You could not reach me.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Were you getting worried about me?” He was teasing me. “Because you needn’t be,” he said with a big smile while pulling a SIG 9 mm out from behind his back. Now I knew why he was wearing an untucked button down over a tee shirt in August. I shook my head in mock surprise. “So what’s the solution? It’s not like cell phones are going to work out here.”

  We had mulled over the idea for a few minutes before I worked out a solution. I felt foolish for not thinking of it sooner. A pager. A recent magazine article I read mentioned that many high schools were banning pagers due to their heavy use among drug traffickers. Even if Boyd wore a pager on him, it would not look suspicious.

  Boyd said, “Another logistical problem solved. Now go look at the surprise I have for you in my front seat.”

  I glanced in the passenger window and saw a set of headphones plugged into a nondescript metal box with a bunch of knobs and buttons on it. “What is it?”

  “You know the company I work for is a research company, right?”

  “Yeah, something to do with security.”

  “We invent and build new security devices. Long perimeter intrusion detection devices, microphones, infrared, motion detection. You name it; we’ve tried it. We even got one engineer who built a fiber optic microphone that’s completely undetectable. The CIA couldn’t find it when they swept our conference room for bugs. You’d like him. Ex-Navy like you, likes to work out, a comeback for everything, and some of the funniest damn stories.”