He looked around him in amazement. Although the outside had turned a greenish color, it was fantastic. He enjoyed the feeling of being a predator. He watched a cat jump up on a limb of a small tree, totally unaware it was observed. Ervin brought up his hand and formed a play gun with his fingers. He pointed his hand at the cat while watching it through the night vision scope and said, “Bang! Gotcha!”
He continued to comb the neighborhood with his newfound toy. “Hello! What do we have here?” he muttered to himself as he saw an attractive female through the window of her living room. She had short-cut dark hair and greenish skin. He smiled to himself as he wondered what color her nipples would be if he could see them. She walked out of his view, but in a moment another light came on. She had moved into the bedroom. His mind was racing. Maybe she’d leave the curtains open and undress. He felt the crotch of his pants strain against his growing member. He kept the viewer trained on her window. She was hot, all right. She turned sideways, opened her closet, and started going through her garments. She was probably finding something to change into. He was so intent on watching the woman that he almost missed the faint humming sound of a garage door opening. Movement in his peripheral vision snapped his attention back to his mission. He jerked his head in the direction of Doug’s house and watched the garage door fully open.
He swung his viewer around to see clearly and zoomed in on Doug. The device was amazing. Though he appeared green, Ervin could see all his features. Doug paced back and forth in the garage, moved his garbage cans to the far side of his family sedan, and then he picked up a snow shovel from the floor and tossed it out of the way. It dawned on Ervin that he might be preparing the garage for another vehicle.
Doug climbed in his big Dodge Ram and backed it out into the driveway, then pulled the truck back in on the far side of his boat alongside of the garage. He wore cowboy boots, tight blue jeans, and a loose sweatshirt. He appeared enormous. As he entered his garage he automatically ducked his head as if he were used to having to duck at low doorways. Ervin made a mental note: Doug looked like he would be much easier to handle with a bullet than by fists if it ever came down to it. Was he preparing for a clandestine relationship or perhaps even Leo?
A few minutes later, Leo entered the posh subdivision, driving past free standing townhouses with attached, oversized, two-car garages. He had visited Doug before and knew his way around. He passed the club house, with its accompanying tennis court and swimming pool, and followed the main entrance as it curved slightly to the right.
Most of the homes looked alike. They were all painted brown with a lighter trim. The yards were immaculate, with intricate hedges and small bonsai trees lining the walkways to the front doors of the custom-built homes. Freshly mowed, park-like grass surrounded the houses and stretched out into a large common area where ponds and walkways were plentiful. Doug had told Sarah and Leo on their last visit that he had to pay pretty hefty dues to the homeowners association; however, it was worth it, because the association took care of all the maintenance and upkeep of the grounds, pool, and the exterior paint of all the buildings.
As he turned up the block Doug lived on, he suddenly wondered if his friend had a current live-in girlfriend. He had never thought of that possibility. Leo felt that he really needed his friend’s undivided attention during this current crisis. He was pleased, at least, to see that his friend had the garage open and the outside lights turned on. There appeared to be plenty of room in his garage, so Leo pulled right in. Doug appeared from the other side of his car and quickly shut the garage door as soon as Leo pulled in.
A set of headlights turned into the cul-de-sac. Ervin watched the car from the back of the van, and then ducked as the headlights swept across his location. When they had passed he sat back up. It was a small black sports car, pulling straight into Doug’s garage. Ervin was right: he had been expecting company. He anxiously looked through the night scope, waiting to get a glimpse of the driver. The driver’s door opened but at the same time the garage door began to close. In the next second, Ervin saw a face for just an instant as he stood up out of the low car, just before the garage door sheltered his view. He was absolutely positive it was Leo.
Leo got out of the small sports car and walked over to his buddy, grasped his hand and shook it vigorously.
“Cute car, bro.”
Leo shrugged and slapped Doug affectionately on the back. “I see you are still driving that monster Dodge Ram truck.”
“Yeah. So what?”
“Well, you know what they say about guys driving those huge vehicles…they must be trying to compensate for something!” Leo laughed at his own joke.
“Don’t start, bro. I’m not going to get pulled into one of your little mind games again. You best come on in now, ‘cause you have some major explaining to do.” Doug stepped back and motioned for him to enter the house.
Leo put his hand on his friends shoulder. “Are you alone?”
“Alone? No, man; when I heard you were coming I invited the whole damn base over, and even baked a cake. We have a hundred-man welcoming party inside.”
Leo laughed, “I’m serious, are you alone?”
“Of course I’m alone. Not by choice I might add.”
“No live-in girlfriend at the moment?”
Doug got a sly smile on his face and said, “I’ll tell you about my current girlfriend after you tell me about your predicament.”
“Oh no! She’s not married again, is she? If you don’t have one in your house, you usually have a married one on the line.”
Doug threw his massive head back and gave Leo a long look before he began laughing. “They’re separated, I think.”
“Lord help me. I’ve turned to my best friend for help, but he’s still chasing married women.”
“Give me a break, man; at least I don’t have someone trying to kill me.”
“Yet!”
“What do you mean yet? Is there something I need to know?”
“I’m telling you, buddy, you keep chasing married women, and you’ll have some angry husband after you with a sawed-off shotgun.”
“Me? Nah, let’s go sit down in the kitchen.”
“Could be famous last words, buddy.” Leo followed him inside. Doug offered him some hot cider, which he readily accepted.
“Come sit down and tell me what this flash drive stuff is all about.”
Leo asked, “Do you have to work tomorrow?”
“No, tomorrow’s Saturday, why?”
“Cause it will most likely take all night. I guess I have lost track of time and days.”
“Man, are you that deep in shit?”
“Buddy, I don’t know for sure.”
“Where are Sarah and the kids?”
“They’re safe. In fact about now they should be in Pretoria, on their way to my mom’s place.”
“In Africa?”
“Yep!”
“Yep? That’s all? Come on, dude, begin spilling your guts. I already told you I don’t have to work in the morning.”
“I don’t even know where to start?”
“How about at the beginning?”
“First, I’d feel a little better if you pulled your drapes shut, and we moved into the living room. One final thing, do you still have some handguns here?”
Doug closed the curtains and then responded, “Sure. What did you have in mind, a little Russian Roulette?”
Leo gave him his best ‘Did you crawl out of cheese’ look. “This isn’t a game, these are bad guys I am going to tell you about and I’d just feel better if we had some protection nearby in case we get unexpected company.”
Ervin continued to watch the house. He clearly saw Doug closing the drapes in all the rooms. So much for night vision now, he thought.
He was distracted by the sound of a closing door. He looked up the street and saw the pretty girl with the short-cropped hair come swinging down her walk. She was wearing a very short skirt.
Her long, greenish legs carried her to a small Honda Accord parked in her drive. As she sat in the driver’s seat, her dress slid up her hip. “Hot damn, I’ll bet that bitch doesn’t have anything on under that skirt,” Ervin said out loud.
He realized she had changed clothes, undoubtedly right there in her bedroom. She had probably just turned off the light and changed in the dark. He could have watched the whole thing. That dang Leo! Now he owed him another one. Ervin’s groin ached with unreleased passion. He truly hated Leo.
He occupied his mind with more delightful ways to kill him, while munching on Chex Mix. He liked the gritty crunch between his teeth. The thought came to him: “I’ll shoot his balls off, that’s what I’ll do, and watch him bleed to death while lamenting the loss of his manhood.”
Chapter 23
“Wait a minute, are you telling me that you may have brought these bad guys with you to my place?” Doug was aghast.
“I have no idea. I am sure that I was not followed, but these are professionals with high connections. Just play along with me, okay?”
“All right, what’s your choice? Want a revolver, semi-auto pistol, shotgun, deer rifle, or semi-auto paint gun?” Doug still felt that Leo was highly exaggerating whatever he was going to tell him, but out of habit he complied with his requests.
“Since our opponents will have more than just paint guns at this tournament, I’d feel safer with a .38 or .357 pistol. Heck, even bring me a pump shotgun, loaded preferably, with an extra box of shells.”
Doug walked over to his friend and put his hand on his forehead. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t have a fever or anything, do you? Did you take a fall and land on your head?”
Leo laughed and slapped his hand away, then cleared his throat and stared into his eyes with one of those much practiced teacher stares. “I have never been more serious in all my life!”
Leo followed his friend down the hallway to the master bedroom walk-in closet. There they began examining the small arsenal. He picked out a new-looking snub-nose .38 that held only five bullets. It was small and easy to conceal and he had two quick reloads for it. He loaded the small pistol and placed the reloads in his jacket pocket with a box of ammunition.
Leo holstered the weapon and attached it to his belt at the small of his back so it was concealed under his coat. He examined the two pump shotguns and chose the smaller, lighter, twenty-gauge pump shotgun. Doug watched him in surprise. Leo loaded the shotgun with seven shells and kept the remaining box. “How much did you pay for these two guns?”
He thought for a while and responded, “About three hundred on the .38 and close to four hundred on the shotgun.”
“Good. Consider them both sold for eight hundred together.” Leo retrieved his wallet from his inside breast pocket, opened it and handed his open-mouthed friend sixteen, fifty-dollar bills.
“Who said they were for sale?”
“I did. Now there’s no time to argue with me about over paying you for them. They were available when I most needed them, hence, your hundred in profit. Now, you select your own weapons and write me out a bill of sale so that I can write you out a receipt.”
Doug shook his head in wonder at Leo’s audacity. “You’re incredible. How are you fixed for spit?”
“Ah, that reminds me. My apple cider is getting cold, so hurry it up.”
Doug grabbed his shiny Beretta 9mm and stuck a loaded clip in it. He stuck the other two loaded clips in his pants pocket, eyed the box of shells, then finally picked it up and looked at his friend. “You’ve gone crazy, right?”
Leo turned and headed back down the hallway towards the sunken living room. “Just like ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.’”
“I knew it.”
After refilling their cups of hot apple cider, the two men sat down in the living room in front of the gas fireplace to begin their long conversation. The flames were gently lapping at the edges of the fake logs, creating a relaxed ambiance. Leo wished that his visit was not so complicated this time. He still felt that his life and the lives of his family truly depended on finding out the information that lay buried on the flash drive.
Doug looked over at Leo. “Well?”
“Okay, buddy. Despite what you may think, I’m not crazy yet. Do you remember a man by the name of Tim Bance?”
“No, should I?”
“I’m not sure, but it seems like you met him at our last Christmas party. I thought that you two hit it off and were conversing about hunting.”
“Oh yes, Tim the avid hunter. How is he doing?”
“He’s not. He’s been murdered!”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’ll back up and explain. Several years ago, Tim became involved with an incredible agency that he later introduced to Sarah and me. At first it seemed too good to be true, but it was supposed to be legit. Actually, Sarah and I have become rather rich thanks to this organization. Over the last few years we went into a partnership with Tim on eight different investments, seven of which have already been re-sold for a pretty hefty profit.”
“Don’t tell me you got involved with the mob or mafia, or laundering drug money?”
“I don’t think so. The agency is supposed to be sponsored by our government.”
“No way!”
“I’ll tell you the premise of the agency and what I was told that got us involved, okay?”
Doug nodded and placed a fat sofa cushion behind his back, and then kicked off his shoes and swung his long legs up on the couch. He knew he was in for a long evening.
“Tim introduced us to a man named Bob. He was very business-like. He was always serious, wore suits, and seemed to have an answer for everything. At first Sarah was skeptical, but he answered our questions appropriately and made us feel special. He told us that a secret government agency existed that would match funds with a select group of private investors that were secretly buying back properties owned by foreign investors.
“The premise of the organization was that since World War II, the Japanese, other Asian countries, European countries as well as wealthy Middle Eastern countries were slowly buying up the United States.
“The government realized this but felt that they could not control the private sector nor did the government have the funds to buy back these properties. A few cautious government officials got together and passed some bills that established a secret organization called the B.B.U.S.A. Somehow, tax-payers’ dollars were to be siphoned from different government agencies to a special fund that would match dollar to dollar the amount invested by the private groups of investors who were trying to buy back American properties.
“Since most sales were profit-motivated, it often took the investor to offer above the current market value in order to secure a sale. As a matter of fact, Bob said that the B.B.U.S.A. would match any amount up to one and a half times the current market value. This money provided by the organization was in the form of grants. The founders had argued that ultimately the government would get all their money back in tax dollars by having the profits remain in the United States instead of being fed back and spent in all the foreign countries who originally owned the properties. Furthermore, they had a stipulation that directed 10% of the sales price back to the B.B.U.S.A. should the new American owners sell the property at any time. That 10% supposedly paid the salaries of Bob and other government employees who helped run the B.B.U.S.A.”
“And Tim, Sarah, and you have been buying these places?”
“Yes, I told you-we made eight purchases and sold seven already. We made a lot of money, Doug. See, the organization matched our money. Even though the cost would be inflated to, say, 120% of appraised value, they matched our funds fifty-fifty. Our first property we bought was worth about eight hundred thousand, so we offered them nine hundred thousand.
“Did they accept?”
“Yes, but since the B.B.U.S.A. matched our funds, it only cost us four hundred fifty thousand. Wel
l, our investment was half of that since Tim went in fifty-fifty with Sarah and me. It was a large apartment complex that was owned by a Korean investment firm. They were happy with the profit. We later installed air conditioners in every unit, painted the building on the outside, had a little landscaping done to it, raised all the rents, and I marketed and sold it myself for eight hundred eighty thousand within four months’ time. The thing that made it so great was that, as the realtor involved, I got paid commission on each transaction as well. I grossed about thirty thousand in commission on the first sale alone, and when I resold it, I again saved on commission as the listing agent.
“Anyway, the B.B.U.S.A. received their 10%, which was eighty-eight thousand, and minus our improvements, our original investment, the 3% commission to the selling agent, title costs, appraisal and various closing costs, the rest was profit. Now stay with me, Doug. Since the organization gave us a grant for half of the money and Tim partnered with us, our investment was really only one-fourth of the original sales price. Our total investment, after all costs including improvements and closing fees, was right around two hundred fifty thousand. We sold it for eight hundred eighty thousand, gave the agency their eighty-eight thousand back, which left approximately eight hundred thousand to split with Tim. We cleared about one hundred fifty thousand in the first transaction alone.”
“How much did you lose in taxes then?”
“That’s just it; we didn’t, because we simply transferred our gain into the next one by doing a 1031 tax exchange on a similar property. Therefore, we just kept on replicating the process, by buying bigger, and our equity kept on increasing. Heck, in current equity, on paper, right now we have a couple of million after just a few years’ involvement with the B.B.U.S.A.”
“You mean they are for real?”
“Well, yes.”
“Let me guess; now they want all of their matched money back?”
“No, nothing like that at all. They don’t want or need their money. According to Bob, the organization has virtually an endless supply of match money available.”
B.B.U.S.A. (Buying Back the United States of America) Page 14