![]() I was running late myself-just got here a couple minutes ago. Strong jaw, creased trousers, a real no-nonsense air. Green was in his mid-twenties, slim, in good condition. Crawford extended his hand, and they shook. Fifty feet away, a man wearing a Stetson and a deputy’s badge was standing next to a black-and-white patrol car.Ĭrawford walked briskly across the packed earth of the runway, carrying his briefcase. ![]() He was ten seconds out of the air-conditioned Beechcraft and perspiring already. It was Saturday, August 10, 1991, just after 10 P.M. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he wiped it away. ![]() The plane’s lights, shining out into the darkness, weren’t bright enough for Crawford to read the words. Someone had painted over Santa’s red-and-white cap and given him a big, pointed black hat something was written next to the hat. The letters were in red and green: underneath them was a smiling Santa Claus. The first thing Crawford saw when he stepped off the plane was a big white billboard. ![]()
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