Broken Borders, page 6
Bo and Bobby were extracted off the frozen lake along with the evidence, the luggage, and the terrorist’s body within ten minutes time from touchdown. The two General Electric T64-GE-100 engines cranked up to over four thousand horsepower each and the bird lifted off. Its forward-looking infrared (IFR), inertial global positioning system (IGPS), Doppler navigation systems, terrain-following and terrain-avoidance radar, onboard computer, and integrated avionics enabled the Specops big bird to precisely navigate the steep ridges, canyons, and gulches of the San Juan Mountains of western Colorado as it made its way eastward toward Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado Springs on the Front Range, where they would transfer to a fast-mover for the trip to Washington. The eighty-eight-foot-long, forty-million-dollar bird made it to Pete Field in less than an hour and a half.
At Peterson Field AFB in northeastern Colorado Springs, the Pave Low brought Bobby and Bo in on the tarmac landing next to an Air Force C-21, a military version of a twin-turbofan eight-passenger Lear Jet. Dispatched from Illinois, it was waiting to take them to Washington, DC. While the two SF troopers who accompanied them were quickly offloading the body, evidence, and luggage from the Pave Low to the Air Force Lear, two FBI agents drove up and identified themselves to everyone present.
One, who was white, stopped the troopers, and the other, Garrett Wilburn, who was black, spoke with Bobby. “Major, I understand you are headed to DC, but we were ordered to take charge of the evidence and body and transport them immediately to the national FBI labs so this case can be expedited.”
Bobby said, “Sorry, Agent. I have been given orders by the chief of staff of the U.S. Army to transport all matériel to Washington and not to let it out of my sight.”
Wilburn’s lips tightened. “I understand your predicament, Major, but we have been commanded by the national FBI directorate to immediately take charge of that evidence. I can have a court order in less than a half hour. Your general understands due process. You won’t be in trouble.”
Bobby said, “I know I won’t, because I am following my orders, Agent Wilburn.”
Garrett said, “Look, pal, I am chief resident FBI agent of—”
Bo interrupted. “Who gives a rat’s ass? You are the FBI. That’s nice. We are the U.S. Army, and we have more guns and bigger ones, too. The major explained our position, and we have an urgent mission to achieve. The only way you will get this evidence is to shoot us first, and we are loading it now. I am willing to die to follow my superior’s orders. Are you willing to die trying to stop me?”
Wilburn looked at his partner, who was suppressing a grin. He spun on his heel and stormed to their black sedan. It drove off. One of the SF troopers chuckled, picking up his end of the body bag.
“She should be SF, sir,” he said.
Bobby smiled. “Roger that, Sergeant.”
Bo blushed and suppressed her own grin, but felt very complimented. She went into the military Lear and sat down feeling elated. The jet had to stop to refuel at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio, but still made the 1,400-mile flight in much less than four hours.
Three days later, Bo and Bobby sat in General Perry’s office in the Pentagon, their heads spinning from the constant interrogations and opinions from staff officers, two senators who got wind of it, general officers, Homeland Security personnel, an obnoxious INS investigator, and a complaint about Bobby and Bo from a high-level FBI manager. The latter brought the man a stern rebuke from General Perry, and the FBI honcho left the building with a great deal more respect for both officers. In the meantime, Bobby and Bo simply tried to keep their sense of humor.
Bobby stood up and said, “Let’s get out of here and go get supper somewhere.”
“Sounds good to me,” she said.
They hopped on the metro and headed to Capitol Hill, and went to the Banana Café on 8th Street, where they talked about their adventure, as Bobby ate Cuban Picadillo, which was ground beef and pork loin cooked in a creole sauce with capers, olives, and raisins. Bo had the Ropa Vieja, which was shredded flank steak cooked with tomatoes, onions, peppers, and spices.
Then Bo made the error of agreeing to them both drinking mango margaritas while they listened to music from the piano and enjoyed the Latin artwork adorning the walls. She should have known that with Bobby, one drink would beget another.
Bobby awakened with a start and looked at the blazing sun streaming in the window. He kept blinking his eyes and rubbed the pounding headache throbbing in his temples. His tongue felt like a used lint remover had been rolled over it a dozen times. His bladder ached. He got up fully clothed in Class As and strolled into the bathroom. It was really hot, he thought as he sat down on the toilet seat to urinate. He was in no mood to stand up. The room was full of steam, and he looked up as a fully naked Bo Devore stepped out of the shower. She stared at him, but did not cover herself. Then, she calmly wrapped a large towel around her voluptuous body and shook her head in disgust walking from the bathroom. Bobby was astounded. Number one, he had been here before. This was Bo’s bathroom in her townhouse. How did he get here? he wondered. Had they slept together? What had happened? Bobby remembered leaving the Pentagon on the metro.
The image of her in her full nudity haunted him. He had no idea she was even more beautiful unclothed than he had ever imagined. Bobby shook off the thought, thinking he could not go there. She was his subordinate.
He washed his hands, splashed water on his face, found some toothpaste and rubbed it on his teeth with his index finger, sloshed the residue and water around in his mouth, and walked out of the bathroom.
Bobby remembered the kitchen and walked in there, where Bo was in a long terry-cloth robe making eggs, bacon, and toast. The smell made him sick to his stomach, but he thought he might be hungry. Bo was very cold toward him, and then he noticed a single tear in the corner of one eye.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, almost hopefully.
She said coolly, “Coffee is on the counter. Do you want any eggs?”
“Over easy, please? Can I help?”
“No.”
Brrrrrrrrr!
“Bo,” Bobby said, “I am sorry. I cannot remember a thing about last night. How did I get here? What happened? Are you mad at me?”
“Mad at you?” she said staring at him, her face reddening, “Here’s your eggs, you son of a bitch!”
She dumped the plate of eggs, bacon, and toast on his lap, and he jumped up, brushing it away and screaming in surprise, as Bo, sobbing, ran from the kitchen.
Bobby cleaned up the mess as he heard the bathroom door slam, and then he carefully made two plates of breakfast. He poured two cups of coffee and carried it all into her small dining room and set everything down on the table, returning for silverware and napkins.
He walked up to the bathroom door and tapped, “Bo, please come out. I made us breakfast. Let’s talk? Please?”
Bo opened the door and sat down at the table, while invisible curtains of ice hung all about her as a protective shield.
Bobby said, “Bo, I don’t remember a thing about last night. If I did anything wrong I am sorry, really, very sorry, but I have no clue.”
“No clue?” she fumed.
Captain Devore was still smarting very much emotionally from her revelation up in the mountains of southwestern Colorado.
Bobby said, “Look, we are partners. Sometimes we’ll get mad at each other, but we have to depend on each other. We can’t have this much anger between us.”
“No, Major Samuels,” she said coolly. “We are not partners! You are my immediate supervisor.”
Bobby said, “Bo, please?”
Bo got up and walked over to her window, looking out at the distant Potomac. She stared at the sky and then returned to her chair.
“Bobby, how could you? First, as usual, you had too much to drink and became loud and embarrassing in that restaurant,” she raged. “Then you said that I have beautiful tits and grabbed one of them in front of everybody. I was so humiliated.”
Bobby’s head spun. He literally thought he was going to faint. Without speaking, Bobby got up and rushed to the bathroom. His eyes welled up with tears, and he stared at himself in the mirror. He poured cold water into the sink and filled his hands with it, splashing it all over his face. It did not help. Bobby spun and dropped to his knees vomiting into the toilet. He finished and drank water from the sink to clean his mouth. Then he spun and vomited again.
Ten minutes later, Bobby Samuels emerged from the bathroom. Bo wondered what was going through his mind. Bobby walked over to the table and pulled his chair up so it was directly in front of hers. He took both her hands in his and looked into her eyes.
“Bo,” he said humbly, “I just don’t know what to say. Of all the people in this world, you are the very last person I would ever want to hurt.”
His eyes filled with tears, and he tried to blink them back.
Bobby went on. “Bo, I could never hurt you. I lo . . . I like to think about us as the closest of friends besides being partners. I don’t know what to say. I am just so overwhelmed.”
Bo started to cry again, and ran into her bedroom and threw herself down on her bed sobbing.
Bobby drank his coffee, hearing her sobbing in the other room. He didn’t know what to do. Finally, he went in there. He sat down on the bed and put his hand gently on her back.
After several minutes, he turned her and simply lay down next to her, placed her head on his chest, and stroked her hair while she cried.
Bobby said, “I deeply apologize. I will watch my drinking from now on, and I will never ever do anything to hurt you.”
He meant it, too.
Bo sat up, angry again. “You will watch your drinking from now on? Do you know how many similar comments you have made since I have known you, Bobby?”
Again, Bobby did not know what to say. He sat up, too. He looked around and realized he had been lying on Bo’s bed with her. He got up and paced around her bedroom.
“Bo, what do you want me to do?”
“Get some help, Bobby!” she said. “AA, counseling, something.”
Bobby lifted his hand and pulled out his cell phone. He held up an index finger.
“Hello Colonel, Major Samuels,” Bobby said, “Can I talk to the Old Man? Thank you, sir.
“Hello, General Perry. Fine, but kind of worn out. How are you, sir?”
Bobby paused and listened, then went on. “Sir, Captain Devore and I have not had a minute to recuperate from the ordeal on the mountain. I know we have a War on Terrorism to fight, but can we just take twenty-four hours for R and R, sir?
“Yes, sir. Thank you very much,” Bobby said, smiling and winking at Bo, “We’ll see you day after tomorrow, sir, ready to lock and load. Thank you, General.”
Bobby hit the end button, and put the cell away.
Bo said, “Thank you.”
Bobby said, “They translated all the material and are creating an emergency task force. We are being assigned to it. I guess al Qaeda discovered just how porous our southern border is. But first he ordered us both to rest.”
Bobby did not want to think about not drinking. He had done it so many years. It was simply part of his life.
He stuck out his hand and helped Bo off the bed, saying, “More coffee?”
They walked to the kitchen, and he poured two cups from the coffeemaker. They sat at the table.
“Bo,” he asked, “do you think I’m an alcoholic?”
Bo said, “It doesn’t matter what I think. What do you think?”
“I just don’t know. I don’t want to be. For one thing, I can’t take the time to go to those stupid meetings.”
Bo took a sip of coffee, smiled sweetly, and said, “Yeah, you’re right. Instead you can arrest guys for rape at work, and then drink at night and feel women up without their permission.”
Bobby got tears in his eyes again, and Bo now panicked. “I’m sorry. You apologized. That was a little resentment coming out, but I didn’t mean it.”
He replied, “It’s okay. I deserve it.”
“Yes, you do, but it was not classy of me to do that.”
Bobby said, “Bo, all I know is we have al Qaeda posing as Mexicans infiltrating our country. We cannot have another 9/11, and you and I can, must, help prevent one from happening. I am just worried about what I would have to do if I am an alcoholic.”
Bo said, “Bobby, all I can tell you is that you are definitely not a social drinker.”
His face reddened and his ears burned. He felt so much shame, he was really searching for what to say.
Bobby headed toward the door, saying, “Bo, I need to go and search things out. I’ll get a handle on this. Number one, as a military officer and your superior, I should never ever put you in a position where you feel uncomfortable or where you can be adversely affected in your OER (Officer Efficiency Report) by how you respond to anything I say or do. More important than anything is that I despise sexual assault. There is no excuse for what I did, and to be so drunk it happened to my partner, my best friend, well, I just cannot apologize deeply enough. I will never get over this.”
Bo stepped forward and stood on her tiptoes. She leaned forward and kissed Bobby softly on his lips, and stepped back. He touched his lips.
She stepped back again, saying, “I forgive you, but I do insist you finally do something about this, and follow through on it. If something like that ever happened again, I would not be able to forgive you.”
Bobby held her upper arms, saying, “Partner, I give you my word. I will take care of this somehow.”
She hugged Bobby, and he could fell her nakedness under the robe and wanted to run away quickly, the image of her stepping from the shower still in his mind.
Bobby left.
At his apartment, he literally tossed himself on his bed and sobbed. No, he opened the floodgates.
The next morning, Bobby called Boom Kittinger, who told him he most certainly could talk. Boom and Bobby’s father had both been recovering alcoholics, but Bobby never knew his father was until years after his death. Boom was more open about his long-term sobriety and was easy to talk to.
Like Bobby’s old man, a retired command sergeant major, Boom was a legend in Special Forces, a demolition /engineer specialist extraordinaire.
Bobby told him what happened and asked what he should do.
Boom said, “Don’t do a thing until I get there.”
Bobby said, “Get here? Boom, you can’t do that.”
Boom replied, “What are you, my nursemaid now? I can do what I want. Remember. I am retired.”
That was a joke. Boom had journeyed to Iraq under a large retainer by the Department of Defense to help Bobby out, traveling there in the personal jet transport of General Perry, who had at that time been commander of coalition forces in Iraq. Boom had helped Bobby get rid of an al Qaeda mole who had grown up in the U.S. and infiltrated the U.S. Army as a sergeant and killed U.S. soldiers from within. Thanks to Boom’s hard-core imagination and extensive experience, the mole had died a grisly agonizing death.
Prior to that, working for the CIA as an independent contractor, who was doing a joint exercise with the DEA, Boom had assassinated a hard-to-get-to Colombian drug lord the U.S. government wanted out of the way badly.
Boom was one of those typical Special Forces types, but he fit in just as well as a close friend of Bobby’s late father and Bobby, too. There were quite a few like him who seemed ageless but could go anywhere in the world and hold their own with anybody.
Bobby thought back to the excitement of his teenaged years the first time he and his father visited Boom at his Colorado ranch. Boom lived on the side of a mountain with a large wooded ranch and joked that his main bumper crop was rocks.
In actuality, in the early 1990s, Boom had a psychologist tell him that he was often the victim of the “gunfighter syndrome” and always would be, and Boom asked for an explanation. She said that, because he was a retired Green Beret, plus some knew he was a black belt in the martial arts, he was a target for those with great insecurities. She did not just mean they would challenge him to physical confrontations, but they would challenge him in business deals, as well. In either case, they would feel like they had stood up to, or even backed down, the fastest gunfighter in town, so to speak. She added that because of his background, most of these people would know that he would not fight them over just words, but only if actually attacked. In this way, they would sometimes really “push the envelope.” This all made sense to Boom.
Boom had a neighbor who had three very large sons in their late teens and early twenties, and all three were always in trouble for one thing or another, but usually fighting. The neighbor was a fourth-generation cattle rancher with no business sense or ability to hold his liquor. He had gone through his family’s cattle fortune, ending up selling off the whole herd and eventually the whole ranch. He caught his wife one day reading Cosmopolitan magazine, and it just sent him into a rage. She argued back and got beaten up for her trouble. She filed for divorce the next day, and Tom Smith, the man, was issued a restraining order. That did not stop him. He broke in with a mask on and beat her badly, blackening both eyes and pulping her lips. Having no relatives, besides the police, she called Boom.
Boom ran into the man at the local Safeway store, and gave him a straightforward lecture in front of the bread racks. Tom Smith was not a learned or even intelligent man. That was proven when he decided to argue with Boom. It got heated, until Boom got angry enough to whisper.
He reached out and grabbed Tom’s index fingers in a viselike grip and bent them backward, then pulled the man close.
Boom said, “Smith, it is simple. This conversation is over. I have no use for men who beat women. If you stalk your wife anymore, or if she even falls getting out of the bathtub, you are going to die. Nod your head if you understand me clearly.”
Grimacing in pain, the bully nodded, and Boom let go and simply walked away, but Tom Smith remembered.
Boom’s sister was visiting, and was on the way home from the feed store with a load of horse hay cubes, dog food, and chicken scratch loaded in the back of Boom’s one-ton pickup. She was followed by two of Tom Smith’s sons, even into their long ranch driveway. When she had to get out and open and close a gate, they pulled up behind her and one jumped out of their car.
