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

by Lessil Richards

  Doug said, “My rifle has no other sights!”

  The vehicle slowed its pace as it came around the final bend. “It’s a truck,” David said as he joined them.

  “Doug, how good are you with a pistol?” Leo asked.

  “Better than I’d be with a rifle without sights.”

  “Then ditch the rifle, buddy, and get your pistol ready.” He handed the rifle to David, who was not eager to accept it. “Please put it in the tent, David,” he asked.

  David nodded reluctantly and placed the rifle on a sleeping bag. To their surprise, the truck did not stop next to the old Pfeiffer building but kept on driving. “Do you reckon they didn’t see our vehicles?” David inquired.

  “I’m not sure; perhaps they’re just being cautious.” The three men felt the tension in the air. They were almost holding their breaths in anticipation of what was to come. Leo didn’t know about the other two, but he could definitely feel the adrenaline coursing through his body. Paint gunning was vastly different from the real thing. Though the sport was extremely stimulating and exciting, and the paint balls hurt when they hit, it was nothing like the feeling he had holding a gun with live ammunition while contemplating the possibility of taking another man’s life, or perhaps losing his own.

  The red brake lights flashed on and the truck came to a stop in front of the gift shop across the street from the old museum. Doug opened his mouth and let out a faint whisper of surprise. “Oh shit!”

  “Yep, this might be it buddy.”

  “I can’t see them well from here, can you?”

  “No, those trees by the park benches are blocking my view.”

  Two doors opened on the truck. Light brightened the front porch of the gift shop as it streamed out of the cab, and slowly faded until it was completely extinguished. The engine was still running and the red from the park lights cast an eerie glow behind the truck. Leo had seen shadows and could hear distant conversation. He knew that there were two or more men.

  “Doug, you stay here with David, I’m going to have to take a closer look. In the dark it would be nearly impossible to spot them until they were virtually on top of us. I’m going to sneak down to the Pfeiffer house and see what’s happening before they are able to make too much progress in our direction. Quick, give me your key chain with its miniature flashlight. When I’m ready to come back, I’ll flash the light twice so that you don’t mistake me for one of them and end up shooting me, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay, but be damn careful and don’t make any noise.”

  “I won’t, just don’t shoot me when I come back. David, keep an eye on my position and watch for my light. Doug, you keep an eye in their direction.”

  “Okay,” David agreed.

  Leo crept down the rocky path leading back down to the Pfeiffer house. He was going much slower than he wanted to, but in the dark he had to be cautious and quiet. The slick shale rocks were treacherous. Without moonlight to aid him, Leo could barely make out the placement of his white running shoes in the darkness.

  He slipped on a pebble twice, and each time stopped to listen around him. He could hear that the truck’s engine was still idling. He finally reached the back side of the Pfeiffer house and eased his way around the left side near Doug’s truck and his own Bravada.

  When Leo peeked around the front porch of the Pfeiffer building, he could see a man crossing from the museum towards the truck. He was carrying what seemed like a large bag. Leo eased the .22 rifle up over the porch railing and looked through the scope. The park lights provided enough light near the truck to see well enough to take out a target if necessary.

  The man heaved the bag into the back of the truck. It made a rattling sound like tin cans. Another man came carrying another bag from the direction of the bathrooms and the back of the gift shop. The first man opened the truck door, and again light flooded the deserted ghost town. Leo eased his gun back off the rail, recognizing the Forest Service uniforms. The two men were just rangers, cleaning the bathroom of the now empty State Park and emptying the garbage cans. He couldn’t imagine why they would be doing it after dark, but supposed they were coming back from a late meeting in Challis, and probably just decided to save a trip up from Clayton Ranger Station the next day.

  Leo turned around and quietly walked back towards the end of the Pfeiffer cabin. He took two steps up the trail and froze; slowly he hunkered down on the trail and reached into his jacket pocket. He felt for the key chain and breathed a sigh of relief. He flashed the light twice in the direction of the stone cabin and then worked his way cautiously back up the path.

  By the time he made it back up to the cabin, the Forest Service truck had left. Leo told them how he almost forgot to flash the light and feared that they might shoot him. Doug admitted that he had not seen or heard him at all. David did see the light flash. When Leo looked back at the Pfeiffer cabin at the bottom of the hill he was surprised at how dark it really was. When you are used to city lights you forget what real darkness is like. He could vaguely see the outline of the cabin as a slightly different shade of darkness because he knew where it should be, but he could not make out any tree or bush or anything around it.

  The men took turns standing guard. They all had a sandwich and drank a soda or two. Leo felt wide awake. While Doug was outside, David made the comment that if he were Tim, he would have made the password be the date of their first closing.

  “Bingo! I bet that’s it. Why else would it only make sense to me and Sarah?”

  Doug popped his head into the tent to see what all the commotion was about. “I think we have it. Try using all the different closing dates of our transactions as the password!” Leo was so excited he was practically dancing around in the tight space of the tent.

  “It’s worth a try,” Doug said, and reached for his computer.

  David volunteered to stand watch. He put his coat back on and went outside. Doug booted up his laptop again and began trying all the different closing dates. First he used the monthly abbreviations, but realized that he was still missing too many characters. Next he spelled out the entire month with the date of the first closing, but it still was not it. He tried combining the first three closings and so on. After about forty-five minutes Doug blurted, “Holy Shit! I think I got it!”

  Leo had already lost hope and interest by then and was laying down on one of the sleeping bags. He shot straight up and said, “You’re joshing me, right?”

  “No! Take a look yourself. The password is all of the closing dates combined, just a long continuous string of numbers. Eight closing dates, two numbers for the month, two numbers for the day, and four numbers for the year, times eight. Holy cow! It was sixty-four continuous numbers in the order of the closings!”

  “No way!”

  David entered the tent, drawn in by the excitement in the voices. Leo and David stared at the screen in disbelief; for the first time in days it was no longer blinking ‘invalid password.’

  The first screen appeared to be an essay titled: “Buying Back the United States of America aka B.B.U.S.A.,” apparently written by Tim Bance. Leo scanned some of the topic sentences at the beginning of each of the paragraphs and determined that Tim had written some sort of a pieced-together historical account of the B.B.U.S.A. Leo was so interested to see what was on the flash drive; he practically took over the computer, telling Doug at one point to scoot over. Leo hit the page down button twice and found the end of the introductory essay. Next they found an index:

  -Forced sale of “Lasertron Amusements”

  -Forced sale of “Movie Time Franchise”

  -Mysterious death of Reno Casino Owner

  -Fire claims Seattle Inac Theater

  -Governor Roberts daily journal entries

  -Seat Colds Inc. sells at brink of new discovery!

  -Trampolines R-Us owner commits suicide.

  -Secret meeting with Bob and two senators

  -IRS check number seen in Bob’s briefcase.

  -Californi
a food chain bought out by local firm

  -My personal involvement with the B.B.U.S.A.

  -My partnership investments with Mayor Dickerson

  -My investments with Governor Roberts

  -My suspicions regarding the B.B.U.S.A.

  -Transcript of recorded warning call from V.P.

  The three men viewed the index in surprise and awe. They were not entirely sure what they had in their possession, but Leo repeated the statement that Tim told him previously. “It goes all the way to the top. It may be one of the largest cover-ups in history.”

  Doug and David looked at Leo questioningly.

  “I just repeated Tim’s words. I’m not sure what we have here gentlemen, but I’m sure it must be of significant importance to take as many lives as they have. I’m also convinced that this flash drive is our only means to freedom.”

  “I guess we have a long and interesting night ahead of us,” Doug commented.

  Chapter 36

  After dinner, Bob returned to the motel and sent Marcus and John up to the Victorian two-story house to see if Leo and Doug had returned. Should they not be home yet, John and Marcus were to read what the message said on the door. Florin had volunteered for the mission, as he was afraid that the note might just blow his cover, but Bob insisted that Florin and Ervin stay with him, so that he could personally keep an eye on both of them. Florin waited anxiously for John and Marcus to return. When he finally saw them pull into the parking lot, he rushed down the stairs to meet them. “What did you find out?”

  “The note was left for Leo’s grandmother; they apparently missed her and went camping in a place called ‘Custer’. They said that they would visit her soon,” Marcus told him. Florin was secretly relieved.

  The three men went up to the room shared by Bob and Ervin and they told them about the note that they had discovered. Bob was neither happy nor upset. He had come to expect upsets and set-backs while chasing Leo around. The evening they left the Oregon coast, Bob had been contacted by the local police department, relaying that Leo’s rental car had been located and they had a man in custody. When Bob heard the suspect was a Latino named ‘Jose Flores,’ he didn’t even bother pursuing that lead.

  Now, he had become accustomed to Leo’s tactics. He knew that he would eventually catch him, but it was a tiring process. He hoped to heck that Leo felt equally exhausted.

  “So, anyone know where the hell Custer is? Bob asked. No one volunteered any information.

  Florin finally spoke up. “I could ask the desk clerk, perhaps she might know.” Bob waved him on, so Florin headed downstairs to the lobby. When he returned he had a couple of pamphlets on “Land of the Yankee Fork State Park”.

  Bob actually smiled at him. “Good work, Florin.”

  The pamphlet explained that there was a new Visitors’ Center at the junction of Highway 93 and Scenic Highway 21, just two miles south of Challis where the road branched off to Stanley. The brochure was informative; it had a map of the Custer Loop road and talked about other points of interest ending at the Custer Museum on the Yankee Fork of the Salmon River. John recognized the picture of an old rustic sign that said “Welcome to the Sawtooth Wilderness Area,” from one of the pictures brought from Doug’s house. They spread out all the pictures on the two queen-sized beds in Bob’s motel room, looking for more clues. They recognized the Challis bowling alley. Marcus said he remembered seeing the bowling alley on a missing child’s alert bulletin once, and John confirmed it as he remembered seeing the story on “Final Justice.”

  John inquired, “Was the missing Challis girl ever found?”

  Bob answered that question. “They still have a missing child’s poster on the front door of the motel. I think the child’s name was ‘Stephanie Crane.’ I’m sure it would have been taken down by now if she’d been found.”

  Marcus interjected, “I knew that picture looked familiar when I saw it, but I just couldn’t place it.”

  “Oh well, boys, at least we are still on the trail, and from the looks of this map, Custer is only about thirty miles away.”

  Ervin whistled his first words of the evening, “It states that the scenic route up Garden Creek is best taken during the summer. It states that the Salmon River road leading to Sunbeam and Stanley is most advisable during the winter months.”

  Florin was highly amused listening to Ervin whistle all his s’s, but managed to keep a straight face.

  Bob spoke up again, “Marcus, why don’t you go fill the van and buy some snacks for tomorrow. We’ll leave at six in the morning, and, as Ervin suggested, we’ll take the Scenic Salmon River road to Sunbeam and on to Custer, as we don’t have any idea what to expect in the mountains this time of year.”

  Florin was positive that he had caught on to Ervin’s speech and was merely mocking him by using all the “s” words, but Florin didn’t expect Ervin would catch on. He was correct. Ervin seemed to be beaming, happy that Bob was following his sound advice.

  The three men in the tent read the articles Tim had come across in amazement. Each item on the index had the names of the newspapers and the day the article was published, as well as escrow numbers and earnest money numbers whenever Tim was involved in a purchase of one of the properties. Most of the strong-arming and murders were related to properties that Tim was buying in partnership with Governor Roberts or Mayor Dickerson. All transactions directly linked to Bob were located in the western states. According to the information he had copied from the various papers, strange circumstances surrounded several of the sales. Leo knew that Tim had other investment partners in California, but he did not know that he had purchased properties in Oregon, Washington, and Nevada.

  Tim had documented times and places where he had met with Bob, the Governor, and the Mayor. He even named two U.S. Senators that were a part of one meeting in which he claimed that Bob was instructed to put more pressure on the owner of the Movie Time Franchise. Tim claimed he had seen written instructions directly from the Governor instructing Bob to use whatever means necessary to consummate a particular sale involving “Pseudo Colds Inc.”

  Tim commented that one of the most damaging pieces of evidence was the IRS check serial number. His suspicions led him to peek in Bob’s briefcase during the meeting with the two Senators. The briefcase had been left open and the check was partly visible, with a yellow sticky note that read “This covers expenses for your team this month.”

  Tim had managed to memorize the check number. He felt this was his only real proof linking the B.B.U.S.A. directly to the United States government. He had further theorized, by putting small bits of information together, that the B.B.U.S.A. had been operating for nearly six years. Tim had been personally involved with it for nearly four years. He understood that the entire United States had been divided into regions, with small groups representing the B.B.U.S.A. Bob headed the western states but he did not know who headed the other regions.

  Tim, who knew an impressive list of government officials and moved in influential circles, claimed on the flash drive that the Vice President had called him up one evening. He quoted the recorded conversation:

  V.P.: “Tim, it’s your old roommate from Yale. Do you know who I am?”

  Tim: “Yes I do. I’m surprised to hear your voice. How are you?”

  V.P.: “Not well Tim. I’m calling because we go back a long way. I’m told you might not be a player anymore?”

  Tim: “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  V.P.: “Listen Tim, I don’t have time for games. The organization is reviewing your involvement. They’re afraid you might be getting cold feet and mess things up for everyone. They are watching your every move. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  Tim: “Is this some sort of a warning, or a threat?”

  V.P.: “Tim, it’s out of my hands now. I just have one vote in this matter. I’m telling you, you better not stick your nose where it doesn’t belong or…”

  Tim: “Or what? I mi
ght end up like Mr. Nagasaki?”

  V.P.: “I put my neck out to make this call. Quit the organization and move to another country but keep your mouth shut and quit prying. I have to go now. Good luck. Take care!”

  Tim included newspaper clippings about Mr. Nagasaki’s apparent suicide, and further theorized that the entire organization was being funded in secret by the IRS. He was not sure exactly how the entity functioned but had once been told by Bob that the B.B.U.S.A. had virtually unlimited funds. Tim stated that he intended to go to all the major newspapers. He felt guilty about being a part of purchases that filled his pockets with what he considered to be blood money.

  Tim feared that many powerful people in government were involved, as well as dozens more in the private sector who were unknowingly participating, just like Leo and Sarah were in turn, a part of perhaps the largest secret government program ever. He claimed it was bigger than the UFO cover-up. It was a secret war that the U.S. was involved in against foreign national investors. Tim admitted that he had once totally agreed with the program and fully understood the need for secrecy, and was willingly a part of it before he found out that they were strong-arming people to the point of murder.

  Tim had written that he believed in America for Americans. But the truth of the matter, as he saw it, was Americans were from all nations. The United States of America was great because of the melting pot of foreigners who together made one exceptional Union. We were all initially foreigners unless our ancestors were originally Native Americans; the only real difference between us and them was the amount of elapsed time since we’d left our country of origin.

  He finished with a comment that the United States was involved in a new era of commie bashing. Only now a new enemy had been identified and targeted. He was sickened by his involvement in what he had once considered to be a fine organization. He did not blame Bob and his contingent of men solely for the wrongdoing as they were merely the brawn and the muscle for the more powerful members of the B.B.U.S.A. He predicted that Bob and other group leaders would one day be the fall guys when the shit hit the fan, but he hoped his contribution would be to connect some of the real responsible decision makers to the illegal practices. Tim was aware of several cold-blooded murders and suspected that the same tactics may have been used all around the country.