B.B.U.S.A. (Buying Back the United States of America) (24 page)

After inspecting the entire premises, they all settled down and ordered supper from a rather extensive menu. Joyce showed them they had a daily special; most of the boarders simply ate the specials every day, and it was like eating at home. The chef varied the choices every day. The boys liked the idea of being where they could order what they wanted to eat all the time and really liked the idea of Grandma owning a restaurant. She encouraged both boys to “fill up” and order anything they wanted. Sarah was tired after all the traveling and excitement and took the boys back to their apartment shortly after eating dinner.

Joyce wanted to hear all the details about what was going on State side and where Leo was. Sarah had given a rough sketch over dinner, but promised she would tell her more the next day when Chris and Traykie were not around.

She did warn Joyce that Leo might be calling at odd hours and could possibly even call them collect from public phones, as he didn’t want anyone to trace his cell or be able to track his movements. Joyce assured her that any calls from Leo would be accepted by her staff and she would be sent for, no matter what time the call was received. The only phones to the business; however, were in the kitchen and in her office. Joyce kissed her grandsons good night and hugged Sarah before they left through the side entrance, heading for a hot shower and a firm bed.

Back at the Boise airport again, Bob had to make the usual special arrangements for their weapons to be placed in the hold inside the belly of the plane. The five men had an early breakfast at the airport cafeteria. Bob thought that they were sure an odd-looking group. Marcus had his nose all bandaged up while Carl had a very obvious black eye that he attempted to cover with his dark sunglasses, and John’s jaw was still bruised. Bob and Florin were the only two that didn’t look like they’d been chasing parked cars. He thought that Florin was acting more peculiar than normal, but as usual, he did not press for any explanations.

Florin was, in fact acting strange. He had said nothing all day except to order a very small breakfast. He did not even finish his grape juice, which seemed odd to Bob, because Florin only drank fruit juices and always finished it to the last drop. He seemed off in his own world, like he was daydreaming or lost in his own thoughts. Bob wished he could just plug Florin into some sort of a machine and have all his thoughts printed out for all to see. Florin seemed like a deeply troubled man, and a troubled man was not what they needed for this job.

Perhaps he was just missing his family and new baby son in Sacramento. The other men didn’t even know that Florin was married or that he had four daughters and now a son. He never revealed much about himself or expressed his thoughts with the group.

He was a deeply worried man. He had always lead a life that kept him in harmony with his inherent belief in Jesus, and would only do what he perceived Jesus would want him to do. In his spare time he wrote moving religious poetry in Romanian that he often shared with the congregation at his Orthodox Church in Sacramento.

During the dark days in Romania, his family had always kept their faith. Even when it was not only unpopular, but dangerous, they still openly worshipped. It had cost his grandfather several huge tracts of land and brought many hardships on his family. No matter the deprivations, they were faithful to their Lord.

When the family had the opportunity to emigrate as political refugees, as so many Orthodox Romanians did, they fled to the United States. Here Florin had been pulled between his dreams of fabulous wealth and the reality of being a dark-complexioned, foreign teenager that spoke no English.

Some of the Romanians sent their sons to a government sponsored program called Job Corps. In this program they were not only supposed to learn English and complete their education, but to learn a trade as well. Florin had signed up in the program but chose to go to the Job Corps in Idaho instead of one of the Job Corps centers that were usually favored by the Romanians.

He thought he would learn English faster if he were unable to speak his own language. Being alone was not new to Florin. He had always been separated from his peers in Romania by differing religious and political beliefs. He had roamed the woods with his grandfather, learning to poach deer and use the two old rifles his grandfather had hidden after World War II, when all guns were confiscated from civilians. When his grandfather was too sick to continue hunting, Florin supplied meat for the entire family. He learned to flit like a ghost, to move soundlessly and become invisible in the trees.

A highly respected older cousin was a member of the Russian army. His specialty was to train troops in martial arts, and whenever he was home on leave, he worked to teach Florin his craft. Being strong, fast, and intelligent, Florin was a quick study, and his determination and diligent practice paid big dividends. Florin’s cousin was constantly amazed at the unusual degree of discipline and patience his little cousin displayed.

Before Florin even stepped off the bus in Nampa, Idaho, he had experienced immense culture shock. A green van with government license plates was waiting at the small room that served as the bus depot. A friendly black man shook his hand and said something that Florin didn’t understand. He followed the man to the van and got in. They drove through fields of sugar beets growing on both sides of the highway. Harvest was just beginning and huge trucks were in the fields, being loaded with odd-smelling sugar beets. The beets looked like bleached-out footballs or light colored boulders. Outside of Nampa there was an enormous man-made mountain of beets. Here the trucks were weighed and unloaded. The beets were stacked by conveyer belts in long rows, at least as high as a three-story building. The mountain of beets covered acres of ground. He idly wondered how much sugar they would make but didn’t have the words to ask the questions that would satisfy his curiosity.

The Job Corps was a relatively new complex, built at the top of a small foothill at the edge of Nampa. It had a nice view of a golf course across the street and lovely grounds that looked like a college complex. There were dorms, education facilities, a gym, a cafeteria, and ten different trades. The three hundred students seemed to all have friends and cliques and groups they moved with. Some attempted to speak to him, but when he couldn’t return their language, they left him alone.

In all his years of being alone, this was the worst. He was used to solitary times; he never felt alone when he was by himself. But, in a room with four young men, unable to communicate with them, made him understand what real loneliness was like. When he tried to pray, others were listening to loud rap music and scoffed at him. There was no place to go to be away from people. He thought he would go mad. He couldn’t sleep, he quit eating, and he withdrew into himself.

After nearly a month at Job Corps, Florin was placed in education classes. He came into the reading room that first morning and sat as far away from his classmates as he could. He looked at his Romanian dictionary and ignored everyone else. To his embarrassment the teacher came over, sat down beside him, and tried to talk to him. Soon, realizing that he truly had no words, she got a magazine and together they started the first of many long hours pointing at pictures and memorizing English words.

At Thanksgiving his teacher invited him to travel to Challis with her and spend the holiday with her family. On the five-hour drive he was absolutely enchanted by the high mountains and heavy snow. They drove through a tiny town called Banks and before Stanley, stopped on the summit of Banner Pass. The cut snow banks were higher than the roof of the car. In a moment Florin was out and bounding across the ice-encrusted snow. Occasionally he would fall through to his hip, pull his leg from the snow and take a few more steps before falling through again. The snow, forests, solitude, and some teacher that cared enough to give him some words, gave him back his heart.

They saw deer, elk, eagle, antelope, and a coyote. He learned all the names as well as the names for their gender and families. They talked and laughed the whole drive, even when they couldn’t understand each other completely.

The family welcomed the teenager with open arms. When they returned to Job Corps, his teacher made arrangements for Florin to move in with her family. He lived with them for more than a year. His teacher had a son just a couple of years older than him and they became like brothers. Florin came to think of his teacher as his Idaho Mom, and her family was his family.

He was able to learn English well and Job Corps was a very pleasant experience when he no longer had to go back to the dorms at night. He was able to finally communicate and he made friends with some of the students. His natural reticence kept him from making any real connections other than his Idaho family, but he lost his terrible sorrow and began to thrive. His Idaho Mom tried desperately to convince him to go to Boise State University when he graduated, but he was too anxious to make his fortune, and left for California where he had a brother who thought he could help Florin get involved in some quick moneymaking schemes. Now he often thought about how different his life might have turned out if he had listened to his teacher.

He had kept in touch for some time, but lost contact with his Idaho Mom when she returned to Namibia on a business venture. In California, Florin had married and had five children. He continued with his martial arts training, and daily physical workouts, and maintained his deep religious convictions. When he saw an advertisement in the Sacramento Bee, offering big money for a one-year contract with the B.B.U.S.A., his wife encouraged him to try out for the position. He was physically capable, available to travel, and fit the rather vague general qualifications.

When he got the job, Florin was genuinely surprised. He had worked at many jobs in the past few years but nothing seemed to be exactly right for him. Perhaps it was due to his struggle understanding English or his reserved behavior, but he never seemed to hold a job very long. This job promised a twenty-five thousand dollar cash bonus after each year of service and provided a rather generous annual salary. His official title was Assistant to the Western Regional Manager. Florin asked few questions and did whatever was asked of him. The bonus money at the end of his year’s contract would help him to acquire his dream property in California; he would be able to fulfill his American dream sooner than he had previously imagined. This job provided him with the golden opportunity he had been waiting for to create his own destiny.

That was why the shock had been so great when he walked into a lighthouse restaurant on the west coast and Bob handed him a picture of the man they were coming to meet. Florin had gasped and headed directly to the restroom to try to keep from showing his shocked countenance to his cohorts. In that instant, Florin had recognized Leo. Although he hadn’t seen him in several years, the picture was unmistakably the only biological son of his “Idaho Mom.”

Bob and his contingent of men boarded the waiting plane. They would land in Denver in two hours. Soon all his hardships would be over. He would be extremely cautious in the future to never again allow things to get out of hand like they did on this mission, but he would have to live with his regrets for the rest of his life. The knowledge of having eradicated Leo would be hard to live with as he had genuinely liked him. He was, however, a realist, and knew at this point it would be his life or Leo’s life. Ultimately he still had a strong desire to survive and succeed in the mission at hand.

The next morning Doug made the necessary calls to free up at least one week’s time. He felt a little guilty, lying about his mother’s health, but it was for a worthy cause. The two men packed up the truck with sleeping bags, clothes, some food, and the guns, including a new .30-06 hunting rifle with a scope. Leo volunteered to drive so that his friend could continue to work on the password.

It was a beautiful, crisp fall morning. The sky was a brilliant blue. Soon the colorful changing leaves would be falling. So far, the beginning of autumn still seemed like Indian summer. Doug locked up the house and jumped in the truck. Leo had already started the engine and was revving it.

“What’s the hurry?” He was a little irritated by the subtle urging.

“I just feel like we’re running out of time.”

“Well, if you would have gotten your lazy ass out of bed earlier this morning we would have been out of here before noon.”

“Yes, I know. I was just totally exhausted. Mentally I knew I had to get up but my mind couldn’t seem to make my body move.” Leo defended.

“Well, let’s get on with it.”

Leo backed the big truck out, careful not to scratch either the boat or the vehicle. It was very luxurious and handled like a car, but still had the clearance of a truck. As Leo pulled away from the subdivision he noticed a family van making the turn into the cul-de-sac at an unusually fast speed. He mentally noted that some people just didn’t have a high enough regard for safety. Leo hoped the van wasn’t carrying young children.

The two men had no idea how narrowly they had escaped an armed confrontation with Bob and his men. They merrily drove northwest from Denver, Doug working tediously on the computer. He wrote several programs, trying to find a way around the password but had little success. He finally was able to come up with a way to determine the number of characters that made up the password. There were exactly sixty-four. Doug pressed Leo for information, but could not come up with anything.