No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story (8 page)

“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.”

“Cody!”
Brandi whispered, shielding her mouth, “if Agent Graves had on a disguise, he’d look just like Tommy Lee Jones.”

“What? Get in touch with yourself.” Then he addressed the man who called himself Bishop. “We’d like to see your badge, Special Agent.”

“Not a problem, sir, if you will take your hand off that sidearm in your right front pocket. I am holding my badge in plain sight now.”

Cody focused on the badge. From twenty feet away it looked authentic enough, but he wasn't completely on board. The store was filling up with customers, and because of the drama, no one was leaving.

“Sir, I know you are a celebrity, and the police made a pledge not to reveal your identity publicly. We do not wish to violate that pledge. We are following you because we just want to make sure you are safe.”

The other two men then came through the back door.

“Okay,” Cody conceded. “We’ll stand down.”

“The police didn’t figure out who you were, but I think we did,” Bishop said. “Listen, I have a small favor to ask. My nine-year-old son plays fantasy football, and you are one of his favorite players. I hate to impose, but could you possibly sign an autograph for him? And by the way, how’s the knee injury?”

Cody and Brandi glanced at each other, their faces reflecting their collective curiosity. Something wasn’t right. Had these men actually chased them for an autograph? Did they really think Cody played football? Cody smelled a trap.

Suddenly Brandi sprang to life. “Certainly! Mr. Casper will be more than happy to sign an autograph for your son.”  She turned deliberately.
“Won’t you, Rickey?”

Cody’s staring eyes were bigger than life.

Brandi lowered her head and spoke softly. “Don’t panic. Trust me. Do exactly as I say.”

What crazy game was she playing? Cody couldn’t decide whether to draw the gun or play along.

With grace and flair, she continued, “Rickey just
loves
kids, and his knee is better now, but he still limps once in a while.” She covertly pinched Cody behind his right leg — his cue to limp slightly. “Here, just sign the cover,
Rickey.”
She handed him a magazine.

The front cover of
Sporting News,
which Brandi had just lifted from the shelf in front of her, featured a front-cover photo of Rickey Casper, five-foot-ten-inch Pittsburgh Steelers wide receiver. He had made the winning catch in the Steelers’ Super Bowl victory in February. Casper had sustained a torn ACL during the play.

While wearing his football helmet, Casper looked identical to Cody, rugged beard and blue eyes included. Cody nervously signed Rickey Casper’s name below the picture.

Bishop introduced the others on his team to “Rickey” and Brandi, and then they all departed the store. Cody limped every other step while walking back to Brandi’s Mustang.

“I’ll drive, dear,” she said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, “since your right knee has been flaring up a little today.”

Before Brandi could drive away, autograph seekers surrounded her Mustang. The word had circulated through CoGo’s — “
Rickey Casper is in the parking lot!”

After Cody had signed everything put in front of him
,
Brandi backed the car up, turned, and sped away. As she turned onto the main road, she could hold back no longer, laughing so hard that Cody was forced to steady the wheel again.

“Want me to drive?”

“No! I’m fine!” she fired back. “Can’t you see that? Hand me a tissue out of the box by your feet.” Then she lost her composure again, playing a drumroll with her bare hands on top of the steering wheel.

He found the box and placed it on the console. “I wonder how many more crimes I’m gonna commit tonight before we get where we’re going? Wonder what the penalty is for impersonating a football player?”

“Capital punishment for impersonating a Pittsburgh Steeler in this town,” she chirped. Her sore ribs hurt. She tried to force herself to stop laughing. “Can you believe this? I am living a real adventure with a knight in shining armor. I didn’t believe things like this happened to girls in real life. I’m sorry, Cody. I have needed to laugh like this for
so
long.”

“You’ve seen too many old movies.”

“I have a huge collection in my library at my parents’ house in Altoona. I love Ingrid Bergman, Robert Redford, Clark Gable —”

Cody interrupted. “Did you really say that if Graves had on a disguise he’d look like Tommy Lee James? Well, if I had a good enough disguise, I could look like Julia Roberts.”

“Come on, Cody. Don’t be ridiculous. And it’s
Jones.
Tommy Lee
Jones.”

Cody was not so giddy. He checked his side mirror but saw no sign of the SUV behind them. “It’s only a matter of hours before they figure out the autograph is bogus.”

“Yes, but who cares? If they’re Feds, they can’t blame us for being too careful. And if they’re impostors, at least we’ve thrown them off for now.”

Cody frowned again. “That guy was no special agent.”

“How do you know?” She sobered.

“Trust me. FBI doesn’t use sloppy procedures like that. I mean —”

“Never felt right to me either,” she broke in. “But, how did they know the police had agreed to keep your last name out of the press?”

“Haven’t figured that out yet. A mole in the police department, maybe?”

“But they don’t know who you are,” she reminded. “They were hoping we’d tell them. So why are they interested in you? It’s
me
they want. And that crazy story about wanting an autograph for his son? Come on.”

“Yeah, that was a fishing expedition.” Cody took another look at the mirror to check the road behind them. “They wanna know who they’re dealin’ with before making their move. They don’t know if I’m a Fed or just a personal bodyguard.”

She chuckled. “And I told them you were Rickey Casper. I think they actually believed me.
Ha-ha,
Rickey’ll have something to say about that when I see him.”

“Yeah, especially if those guys show up on his doorstep. Do you think he’s gonna be in danger?”

“No. Rickey has been in Florida ever since the Super Bowl, rehabbing his knee with the help of three very expensive blondes. The men in the black car will figure that out soon enough.”

“You know, you’re pretty smart." He folded his arms. “
For a girl.”

They were quiet. Cody looked in the mirror again and then rubbed his chin in deep thought. “How come they aren’t following us? They’re up to something. I can smell it. Turn into this parking lot on the right.”

She turned onto the lot and screeched to a halt. “Cody, I’m scared.” She gazed into the rearview mirror. “I dunno what’s wrong with me. One minute I can’t stop laughing, then the next minute…” Brandi fought back tears and stiffened her death grip on the automatic shift.

He laid his hand on hers and spoke confidently. “Put it in park. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Cody opened the passenger door and stepped onto the parking lot.

“Where are you going?” Brandi’s voice was hoarse. She took a long look into the rearview mirror again.

“I’ll be right back. Trust me.”

He crawled underneath the back of the Mustang and then emerged carrying something in his hand. He trotted over to a late model sedan, reached under a rear fender, and then returned to the Mustang and stood by her driver’s side door.

“Just as I figured, we wuz bugged.”

“We wuz? I mean we were? How did you know?”

“It was the only thing that made sense. They attached a bug at CoGo’s. They wanna track our movements, find out who our contacts are. Men in black?
Ha!
Low-budget amateurs if you ask me — deadly nonetheless.” He took a long look at the road — still no SUV.

“Well, if they’re amateurs, we can outsmart them, right?”

He looked her in the eye. “Never underestimate an opponent. Want me to drive?”

With Cody behind the wheel, the tires swished and splashed their way toward the Marriott. The were both silent. She attempted to organize the papers in her glove compartment before replacing her gun.

“I’m sorry I got you into this, Cody. I guess you’ve had all the excitement you want for one lifetime, huh?”

“I’m not sorry, Brandi. It’s just that sometimes these adventures become…” He shook his head.

She dropped her hands to her lap and contemplated. “Cody, I have a little girl. I was in an abusive relationship when I was at Stanford. He was a big-time football player named Billy. When I first moved to California away from my parents, I wanted to find new freedom, adventure. I haven’t always been...” She looked out the window. “I have no idea why I’m telling you this.”

She watched his face for a reaction. Each passing streetlight ignited his fiery blue eyes, but his expression never changed.

“When Billy found out I wouldn’t abort my baby, he was furious. Came in later that night in a drug-induced rage and stabbed me in the chest and stomach. I nearly died. It was the year after I had graduated. That’s why I only played pro ball for one season. I have scars too, but I didn’t get mine as honorably as you.”

“What happened to Billy?”

“He’s dead — murdered in prison.”

Cody slowed down, switched on the right blinker, and turned into the Marriot parking garage. They drove past row after row of cars and up to Level 4 until they found a place next to an outside wall about forty yards from the elevator. Cody parked and turned off the engine. Everything was quiet.

“You started to say?” she asked. “Something about what adventures can turn into?”

“The morning of that last mission, Seismo and I were joking around with the other guys up there. A pilot from Nebraska named Keyshawn Harris — call sign ‘Hawker’ — always kidding me about going to Baylor. We had the world by the tail.

“I was sittin’ up there at angels two zero in complete control of a fifty-thousand-pound supersonic video game with forty-eight thousand pounds of thrust. It was the adventure I had always wanted until —” He exhaled a long breath.

“I’m not sorry I met you, Brandi. I never thought I would have to use my aggressive skills in civilian life, but I’m glad I was there tonight. I just hope that…” He looked across the garage and shook it off.

She placed her hand on his knee and then pulled it back. “Cody, you know I shoot straight, so here I go again.” She paused to gather herself.
No more crying!

“I’ve known you for just a few hours, but if what happened tonight is what it took. I mean, like I said, I want us to be…”

She pulled out another tissue. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this. My emotions are totally stressed right now. I can’t go in there looking this way. Can you hand me my small bag out of the back?”

Cody handed her the small case. She dug through it and pulled out her cosmetic kit. “I need to fix my face. Just go into the hotel. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“No way! I’m not leaving you alone.” His eyes were cold blue steel, scanning the garage for signs of trouble. “I’m stayin’ here. Go ahead and do what you’re gonna do.”

“Is that an order, Lieutenant?”

“Let’s just say it’s not up for discussion.” He continued his visual surveillance. “What’s your little girl’s name?”

She brightened. “Knoxi. Her name is Knoxi.” A soft, pink smile emerged. “My baby is perfect in every way, except that she has never spoken a word. She’s nearly two.”

“She doesn’t talk at all?”

“No. Specialists can’t figure out why. Three weeks after she was born, she went into respiratory failure. Rare virus, they said. She was dying. I walked the streets and wandered into a Teen Challenge mission. I was desperate, with visions of killing myself.”

“I’ve heard of Teen Challenge. So what happened?” He resumed scanning the building.

“Well, this man, a total stranger, comes up to me and says, ‘God has plans to prosper you and not harm you. Don’t do what you’re thinking of doing, because it’s a permanent solution to a temporary crisis.’ I mean how did he know?”

Cody turned. “Maybe he said that to everybody who walked in off the streets.”

“Maybe so. But when I got back to the hospital, my baby girl was awake for the first time in a week. We took her home two days later.”

Brandi needed another tissue. He had already pulled one for her.

“Thank you. Now I might as well start all over on my face.”

Something caught Cody’s attention on the other side of the garage. He turned away and then looked back at her with that cold, steely expression again.

“What’s wrong?” She strained her eyes in the direction he had been looking.

“How many changes of clothes did you bring?”

“What? A couple. Why? How many am I going to need?”

He opened the glove compartment once more and pulled out her handgun.

“Now what? Whew! Just when I’m getting hold of myself. What’s going on?” Her emotions were thinner than the tissue she was holding.

“See that guy over in the corner partially hidden by that pillar? He’s wearing black like those other guys. This could be a trap.”

“Should we start the car and try to run?”

“No. That’s what they want us to do — give away our position. I don’t think that guy has spotted us. It would be stupid for us to drive out of here.”

“Can we call the police?” She gazed across the garage nervously.

“With what? Your phone is run down, and I left mine on the twelfth floor in my room.”

“Please tell me you have a plan.”

“We need to sneak into the hotel. We need disguises.” Cody pulled her large suitcase into the front seat. Space was limited, so he could pry the lid only partially open.

“Cody! What are you doing?”

“This ought to be just fine.” He pulled out a powder-pink Rebecca Jackson double-breasted women’s raincoat with a dainty belt and skirted lower half.

“Oh, that’ll look really sexy on you. Here, try the over-boots.” She reached into the back floor and pulled out matching pink boots. “These fit over my shoes. You can take your tennies off and wear them. Oh, and here’s a pink scarf!”

“Okay, I’ll squeeze into these. Now be serious. Find something in there to put over your head, pretend to be an old woman, and follow me.”

His feet made her boots bulge, and he could barely fit into the raincoat. He draped and tied the scarf over his head, which hid his beard and most of his face.

“You’re ruining my raincoat! Can you even get your big feet into my boots? Oh, what I wouldn’t do for another macchiato right now.”

“
Ha!
That’s the last thing you need. Come on. Try not to act so crazy.”

She giggled. “Not act crazy? Well, what do you call what we’re doing?”

He carried the large suitcase with his left hand, and the small bag under his left arm. He wanted his gun hand free.

With the Ruger hidden in his palm, Cody escorted Brandi leisurely toward the elevator door. They caught a brief glimpse of the man in the dark suit again. He had moved to a different location but was not making any effort to hide. The disguise was working.

Finally, they pressed the elevator call button. Cody had intended to remove the disguise once they were inside the elevator, but when the door opened, they were both shocked to see five members of the Astros team staring them in the face.

“Musket?” Standing in the elevator were manager Joe Moran, first baseman Pete Reynolds, reserve catcher Leo Hernandez and two coaches.

Cody’s face turned as pink as the raincoat, but he took Brandi’s hand and led her into the elevator as if nothing were amiss. As they descended, no one spoke a word. Brandi’s snickering, however, was contagious for everyone but Cody.

When the door opened, Cody and Brandi stayed put while the other five exited into the lobby. As the door was closing, Leo Hernandez and manager Joe Moran conversed.

“Hey, Skipper, what’s up with Musket?”

“He’s a rookie, Nandy. Some of the veterans probably put him up to it.”

After the door closed, Cody frantically removed the scarf and raincoat. Brandi’s laughing bubbles flew again, her sides aching, her face flooding with tears. “You changed out of my raincoat faster than Superman! Now I’ll have to do my face again.”

“Is that all you’re concerned about?”

She wiped her eyes. “I should be serious, but I haven’t laughed like this since — Oh, give me back my raincoat.” She jerked it from him.

By the time they reached the front desk, the laughing had worn her out, and she fanned her face with her hands to dry fresh tears.

They stood in line behind a man wearing a gray blazer, designer jeans, and custom Red River Valley boots. He looked familiar to Brandi. When he turned around, she recognized him — Tommy Lee Jones in the flesh.

“Hey, aren’t you Cody Musket?” the venerable actor asked.

“Yes, sir. Have we met?” Cody extended his hand.

“Nice boots.” He shook Cody’s hand and walked away.

Brandi looked down. Cody was still wearing her boots. “Do you even know who that was?”

“Lemme guess. Harrison Ford?”