He cleared his throat. “I spent the night jammed up against a cliff with the SEAL team. At zero-seven-hundred the next morning, we spotted about fifty Taliban bearing down on us. It was just a matter of minutes before they would find us. ETA for air support was one hour — not nearly soon enough.” He exhaled heavily.
“That’s when I came up with a plan to walk toward the Taliban and surrender. It's a big deal for them — capturing a downed pilot. I thought it would create a diversion so the SEALs could quietly relocate to a secure place.” His eyes had now refocused.
“I also hoped the enemy would take me where they had moved the Chinook survivors. That way, the SEALs could track at a distance and mount a rescue mission to save us all.”
“How well did your plan work?”
He took two more swallows and set the bottle down. His gaze narrowed. “They put a bag over my head and —”
Brandi covered her mouth and caught her breath.
“I can’t go on.” He clenched his fists. “Harry died. Children...where they took me —”
“Children? What children? I don’t remember reading anything about that."
"And you'll never read about something that didn't happen." He placed an unsteady right hand over his eyes in a futile attempt to hide wet streaks that now made their way down the rugged landscape of his face. “I didn’t know it would be this hard.”
With Cody’s feet resting on the pillow next to her, tears filling Brandi’s eyes, she could find no words. He carried heavy baggage. He was honorable. He was trouble. One part of her wanted to bid farewell to him and pretend he did not exist. The other wanted to hold him in her arms and never let him go.
“I’m sorry, Brandi. I gotta stop. You’re the first person I've told since returning home.” He blotted his eyes on the sleeve of the blue shirt.
She shut her eyelids. Warm tears were building underneath them. Oh, God, what’s happening to me? A night so horrible. A night so wonderful. Please don’t let him be the kind of man who will ask to stay the night, but please don’t let him leave.
They were silent and motionless for a moment. Then Cody's jaw stiffened. “I’ve said too much. I need to get back to the hotel.” He stood and put on his cap. “If you’ll give me your street address, I’ll send you back this shirt.”
Brandi's heart fell. She had enticed him into lowering his shield — the one that had hidden his secret pain. Had she intruded too far? Oh, God, I pray he won’t resent me for it.
She wiped her tears with her hands. “I’m so honored that you trusted me, Cody. Please don't feel uncomfortable with me. I didn't mean…Um, will I ever see you again?”
He glanced downward once more at the bruises, burns, and scrapes on her shins and ankles. Her feet were friction-burned with ugly abrasions, and her soft hands trembled again. Sasha’s last words filled his thoughts — “She shouldn’t be alone right now, you know. Next time, they’ll have guns.”
He stepped a few paces to the window and looked down at the street with a lumbering sigh. “I’ve never seen evil like what I saw in that country. It can turn you into a monster. I thought I had left all that behind.”
Brandi shuffled to the kitchen to get a fresh towel. She moistened it with cool water and then walked back to him and blotted the perspiration from his brow and behind his neck.
Cody shook his head. “I've tried to get rid of the hate, but tonight, seeing those guys degrading you, terrorizing you, it all came back. I've become just like the enemy I despise — filled with rage, anger.”
Brandi gathered herself. “Before you go, I need to tell you who I am and what I saw tonight.” She tenderly took his shoulders and turned him around, then looked into his eyes. “It’s important.”
He downed the rest of his water bottle and leaned against the wall next to the window. "Important? How's that?"
Brandi’s tongue was like a dehydrated sponge. Fools rush in, and she was afraid to say another word but couldn’t stop herself. She struggled down three swallows of water.
“First, come sit with me over here." She took his hand and led him to an antique chaise lounge chair.
"Okay, I'm listening,” he said. “What's the big mystery?"
Fast Lane to the Hotel
They sat down on the chaise lounge.
"This chair is eighteenth century French baroque. My father’s family four generations back were slaves near New Orleans during the Civil War. One night, five Union soldiers came onto the plantation for the purpose of stealing, killing and raping.”
“Slaves? Your ancestors?”
“That's right.” She wasn’t surprised by his puzzled expression. With Brandi’s light complexion and blue eyes, her ethnicity was never apparent.
“Daddy’s great-great-great-grandfather helped fight off the attackers and saved the plantation owner and his wife. When the war was over, the plantation was in ruin, but the owner gave my father’s ancestors this piece of furniture. It has been in the family ever since.”
“Impressive." He paused and looked into her blue eyes. "So what's the right question for me to ask?"
“No questions. Just listen. My ancestors on my mother’s side of the family had escaped to Canada before the war. They eventually settled in Pennsylvania in 1901. So that brings me to what I want to tell you. I’ll probably cry. But you should hear this even if I never see you again.”
She gathered a deep breath. “When my mother was just sixteen —”
Suddenly, terror seized Brandi’s face. She jumped out of her skin, electrified by a loud boom outside on the street. The lights in her apartment blinked and then went dark. She latched onto Cody’s injured arm like a hawk clutching prey.
“Was that an explosion?” A moment later, they heard another loud pop like a canon firing in the distance. She jumped again. Cody flinched.
“What’s happening? Cody, I’m scared!” Her voice quivered.
“Me too. But it sounded like a couple of transformers exploding.” He looked out the window. All the streetlights were off. “Might have happened because of the storm. I see more lightning in the sky.”
“Let’s go to the hotel.” She was frantic. “I’ll take you up on your offer — uh, for security sake.”
Brandi fumbled her way to a drawer on the other side of the kitchen. “I have a couple of flashlights.” She pulled them out and turned them on. “Here, take one.”
The two lights she was holding were shaking. Cody steadied her hands. Their eyes met briefly, and then she looked down and released her grip on one of the flashlights.
Brandi went into the other room to pack. When she came back, she returned his clean, dry Pirates shirt. It was awkward, but she turned her back while he changed shirts even though it was too dark for her to sneak a look.
They left the apartment with one small bag and a gigantic suitcase in addition to the large straw purse she carried.
“Whew! This thing weighs a ton. What’s in here?”
“Don’t even ask. Just follow me. I’ll take the pointer, as you Marines say.”
Cody toted both pieces of her luggage. “For the record, that’s point. You’ll take point. And I hope you’re planning to call a cab.”
“No need. We can take the third-floor crosswalk directly to the parking garage and drive my Mustang.” Just then, the power came back on.
When they approached the door to the garage, he moved in front of her, slowed his steps and became quiet.
He set the bags down. “Stop. Be perfectly still.”
“Something wrong?” she whispered.
“You can’t be too careful.” He scanned the garage, sparsely occupied with vehicles, and listened for sounds of other humans.
After a few quiet moments, he proceeded slowly. The only sounds were the squeaking of their tennis shoes on the concrete and rain water dripping from a broken gutter.
“Here’s my car.” She pulled the keys from her handbag.
“Wow, nice ride! Looks new.” He glanced at the Mustan
g and then nervously looked around in every direction.
When she pushed the unlock button on the remote, the beeping sound echoed through the cavernous garage.
“Quick, get inside.”
“Cody, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
“Sorry. Lotta dark places here. Maybe nothing.”
Her deep metallic blue Mustang was a beauty — a showpiece on the exterior but a work car on the inside. A pink notebook sat atop a stack of folders in the passenger seat. Two half-empty mugs of stale coffee occupied the drink holders on the console.
“Just put the papers in the back. I’m working on my next editorial. I bought the car after I came back from California. It’s ten years older than I am. I graduated three years ago from Stanford. Played point guard for the Stanford Cardinal women.”
He moved the papers to the backseat and laid her two bags on top of them.
“So after Stanford you were drafted?” He slipped into the passenger seat.
“I played in the WNBA only one season. Wanted to play longer, but circumstances prevented it."
"Circumstances?"
"I'll tell you later," she said, subconsciously putting her hand over her heart.
“By the way, what’s the reason you started the campaign against the traffickers? Besides the idea that somebody needed to do it?”
“Beside the fact that one of my teammates at Stanford was abducted and never heard from again? Beside the fact that kids vanish in this county every year? Beside the fact that —”
“Okay, I get it,” he jumped in. “You’re doing a gutsy thing, a good thing. But you need —”
“Better security? I know.” Her turn to interrupt. “You sound like my dad.”
“He’s right, Brandi. Got any idea what cudda happened tonight if —”
“My daddy’s always right. I should have listened to him. I get that.”
“Hey, I’m just sayin’—”
“Saying what?”
“Just sayin’ that I…I really gotta meet this man who’s always right.”
“Oh, you will soon enough. I promise you!” She gunned the engine as she pulled out of the parking spot and started down the circling ramp toward street level. “He’s gonna wanna know what your intentions are toward his daughter.”
“Intentions?”
“Just don’t be surprised if my daddy gives you the interrogation of your life. That’s all.”
He stared out the side window and muttered, “Not a chance.”
She glanced at him. “Did I say something?”
Cody was quiet for a few seconds, and then his hard brow stood at ease. It was something in the air. He drew a slow, deep breath as though the oxygen inside the Mustang were an elixir to his soul.
The corners of his lips curled upward. “Sweet!”
“Sweet?” she inquired, rolling her eyes back at him. “Did you almost smile, Cody Musket?” She giggled.
“I gotta ask you a really important question. How did you get those incredible — I mean how’d you get those incredible peepers. Are they real?”
Her jaw dropped and her eyebrows flashed like angry lightning. “What! Real?" She placed her arm over her chest to cover her modestly curvy top.
“No, no! Your eyes. Blue eyes. I mean how’d you get the blue eyes?”
Brandi totally lost it. Comic relief took her out like a Southern California wave. If the steering column had not been in the way, she would have doubled over. Cody reached out to steady the wheel.
“Sorry. What did you think I said?”
“Never mind!” She struggled to catch her breath. “Peepers? I haven’t heard that word in years. Did you ask me if they’re real?" She laughed again and wiped tears from her cheeks.
"I meant like contacts. You know. Blue contacts?”
“They are real, not contacts. Good thing I’m in a forgiving mood tonight.” She giggled again and shook her shoulders. “I’ll tell you about my peepers when we get where we’re going.”
He could not turn his eyes away from her. The ends of her hair were still damp from the shower. A silver ring on her right ear flashed and shimmered when she moved. Her laughing eyes, the aroma of her perfume, and the sweetness of her breath filled his head — enough to make him forget that he had once upon a time endured interrogations so brutal that her angelic soul could never bear the knowing.
Until tonight, Brandi had hated it when men had stared at her that way. Was she blushing? She focused straight ahead and worked hard to conceal her grin. “What are you looking at?” She waited. Would he say something truly complimentary this time?
“Do you always wear just one earring?” he blurted.
Her mouth fell open. She felt her left earlobe and gasped. “I…I guess I forgot to put the other one on.”
Then she pulled the ring from her right ear and flung it to the floor. It hit something solid and ricocheted twice, finally ending up in his lap. She laughed so hard that the blue Mustang seemed to bounce down the ramp as it galloped toward the bottom level.
“Quite a throwing arm.”
She flashed her dangerous explosives face again and then giggled some more.
Despite the flying ring, the laughing, frowning lady, and the bouncing car, Cody had kept watch in the passenger side mirror. As they approached the exit, he sounded an alarm.
“Turn right at the street!” His growl had returned.
The road was one-way, requiring a left turn out of the garage. He wanted her to turn the wrong direction.
“What’s up?”
“Look behind us. Do you own a weapon?”
In the rearview mirror, she spotted a black SUV with tinted glass. It had sped up to catch them just before they reached the exit from the garage. When Brandi turned the wrong way on the street, the black car followed.
Men in Black
“Do I own a weapon? Of course I own a weapon. I’m the daughter of a US Marine. Look in the glove compartment.” She gunned the engine again.
“It’s okay. Slow down.”
After digging around past the owner’s handbook, trip log, various maintenance receipts, coupons and ads, Cody found a mini-sized Ruger .380 handgun.
“When was the last time you fired this?”
“Umm, about six months ago.”
“Ever hit anything with it?”
“I’m not bad for a girl.”
Just then, the SUV driver reached out through the window and placed a rotating red light on the roof.
“What do you make of it?” Brandi’s voice was nervy again.
“Could be Feds. Could be somethin’ else. Turn left here.” Brandi made a sharp left turn through a red light and bounced onto the road that ran directly toward the Roberto Clemente Bridge.
Cody glanced ahead and saw CoGo’s Fast Lane, a well-lighted convenience store with a large Friday-night crowd.
“Pull up there!”
Brandi swerved into CoGo’s parking lot. It was the first time she had ever made her tires squeal. She giggled. “Now what?”
“You think this is fun and games? Head toward the dumpster over there next to the alley — good escape route just in case we need one.”
“Oh, Cody!” She laughed uncontrollably again as she sped toward the dumpster and screeched to a halt near the narrow alley.
“Brandi! Something funny? What’s the matter with you?”
“Really, Cody? Escape route? Ha-ha! Are you serious?”
“This is not a game!” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the front door of CoGo’s. “Why’re you laughing?”
“I don’t know. Makes no sense. Can’t help myself.”
They rushed into the store just as the SUV drove up. Brandi pulled her cell phone from her purse, only to make a nail-biting discovery. “I forgot to charge this when I got home. I had Dupree’s number in my contacts, but I can’t call him. Did you get his number?”
“Nope.”
“Well, that’s a typical male flaw.”
The
red light was dismounted from the roof as the black vehicle stopped near the store entrance. The driver’s side door opened, and out stepped a tall individual who resembled Will Smith but with a 1960s hairstyle. He wore a dark suit and black tie, and entered the store shuffling, snapping his fingers, and quietly spinning a battered version of Stevie Wonder.
Cody lowered his voice. “I was gonna go to the counter and ask one of the attendants to call the police, but it’s too late now, so follow me.” He seized her hand and led her to the far side of the store behind the cappuccino island.
“Oh, so you’re taking point now?” Then she glanced around. All eyes were staring. “The crowd thinks we’re on the run, and probably assumes you beat me up.” She held up her dead cell phone to conceal the scratches and bruises on her neck.
Cody glanced out the front window. “Hmmm. I don’t see anybody else, but could be others inside the vehicle. Good thing it’s crowded here — too many witnesses for foul play.”
“Reminds me of the movie Men in Black,” Brandi whispered.
“What?” he whispered back. “You mean Will Spence and Harrison Ford?”
“No! It was Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones."
"Shhh — quiet! What's with you?"
Cody and Brandi could hear the driver question the attendant at the counter. “Have you seen this woman?” He showed the clerk a picture. “Also, is there a back exit?”
Suddenly the SUV came alive. Three more individuals exited the car. One entered the front door, and the other two headed in opposite directions outside the store, obviously to circle around and cover the back. They were all dressed in black. Finally, the clerk pointed the tall driver to the cappuccino island.
“They have us,” Cody said under his breath. “Don’t panic. Trust me. Do exactly as I say.”
Brandi nodded as Cody led her to the front corner of the room so that neither of the men in black could get behind them.
Brandi made a quiet observation, “These are the same guys who were in the street earlier.”
“We know you are over there, Ms. Barnes,” the driver said. “I am Special Agent Stan Bishop, FBI, and with me here is Agent Randy Graves. We’re sorry we spooked you and your friend. We were afraid we were going to lose you.”
No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story Page 7