suburbs into her parents’ house. Ten years of being married to an FBI agent had taken its toll. The hours, his being gone for extended periods, the frequent moves to new field offices. She was home now, close to family and old friends, and she didn’t want to leave. She wanted a commitment from Jack. A commitment that he would finish his career in Minneapolis and that they’d stay here to raise their family close to hers, to live a more normal life.
Jack struggled out of the clothes he wore to bed, put on his running shorts and a t-shirt, sat on the edge of the bed, and put on his socks and running shoes. Another part of his morning ritual. He stood up to stretch, twisted slowly from side to side, and bent over to touch his toes. His fingertips reached just below his knees. He rolled his head a couple of times clock-wise and reversed direction a couple of turns and shook out his arms. He was ready to go.
When he opened the door, the heat and humidity immediately enveloped him. Better to go out now than later when it really had time to warm up. He slowly jogged towards River Road and the paths along the bluffs of the Mississippi River.
Jack crossed the paths and scrambled down through the woods to run on the trails that ran next to the river. The bike paths above were nice, but below the bluff was another world. A world removed from the city. Woods, the river, and few noises other than squirrels foraging for food in the grass and leaves on the ground.
Jack liked to run to think, and running down through the woods along the river brought him even deeper into the recesses of his brain. Jack thought about the day ahead. He dreaded working on his birthday. He wanted to spend it with the kids. They were excited to see him, to give him his gifts, and to sing Happy Birthday. It was all they had talked about on the phone the past two days. If he didn’t have to work, they’d go to Como Zoo to see the polar bears swim or the Minnesota Zoo to see the dolphins. If he could make it through the day, they’d have fun tonight. Maybe this weekend they’d get to the zoo or go bowling. He’d let the kids pick.
Fifteen minutes into his run, Jack reemerged from the woods and followed the path up to the Ford Parkway Bridge. He was in the zone now, running without thought or effort, autopilot. The sun was peaking up on the east horizon, causing him to squint as he crossed the bridge. Sweat ran down his face and arms as one foot plodded in front of the other. Thirty more minutes and he would be home, ready to shower and face another day.
Dorow, Douglas
The Ninth District — A Thriller
Chapter 9
The Governor jerked. Startled, he reached out from beneath the blankets and felt around on the nightstand to find the source of the repeated blaring. Finding the alarm clock, he rolled onto his back and brought it to his face while he pushed various buttons, trying to make the sound stop. The numbers glowed silently in front of his eyes, 6:03, while the noise continued. His heart beat hard in his chest.
“It’s your pants…cell phone,” Sandy mumbled. “Make it stop.” She grabbed the pillow and pulled it down over her head to muffle the noise.
The Governor got out of bed and grabbed his pants. Sandy had thrown them across the room last night before a long night of unbridled “body exploration,” as she called it. He felt as if he had been explored and conquered. The ringing had stopped before he got the phone out of his pants pocket, but he held it in his hand and sat in a soft chair by the window, waiting for the telltale beep indicating the caller had left a message.
The phone beeped; the display showed a message was waiting for him. He glanced back at the lump on the bed and debated retrieving the waiting voice message or climbing back under the sheets for some additional needed sleep, his thumb playing with the numbers on the face of the phone while he tried to make a decision.
The window air-conditioner unit kicked into life to catch up with the rising temperature of the apartment. Sandy snorted and pulled the pillow tighter over her ears.
Walking into the living room, the Governor looked out the window as he pushed the button to retrieve the message. Waiting for the call to go through, he studied his naked reflection in the window. He was happy with how he looked. At fifty, he was fit, looked good in and out of his clothes, and was able to attract and bed women much younger than himself. His short, black hair was speckled with gray, giving him an air of class. He followed a regimen of yoga and tried to watch what he ate. Sandy had even got him to start running around Lake Calhoun with her.
The voice in the phone told him to enter his password. Once he completed this, he heard a familiar voice. Listening, he looked out the window at the world coming to life.
“Damn,” he breathed. He pushed the button to end the call, gathered the rest of his clothes, and got dressed.
He sat on the edge of the bed and gently pried the pillow from Sandy’s hands to reveal her face. “Princess, I have to go.” He reached out, brushed the stray hairs off her cheek, and tucked them behind her ear.
Sandy’s eyes opened slightly. “What?” she asked. “What time is it?”
“A little after six. I have to go. I wish I could stay, but I have to go meet some people. Something’s come up.” He ran his hand down her arm. “How about we meet for lunch? One o’clock, the New French Bakery?”
She rolled over again. “Sure, one o’clock.”
Gently rubbing the back of her neck, the Governor tried to recall their conversation from the previous night.
“What was the name of the agent that questioned you at the bank?”
“Special Agent Ross Fruen. He was kind of cute,” she teased.
“Cute. Right.” The Governor squeezed her neck. “I’ll see you at one.”
After stopping at Caribou Coffee for a badly needed cup of coffee, the Governor continued driving up Hennepin Avenue towards downtown Minneapolis to follow up on the phone call he had received. Hot coffee wasn’t what he really wanted on a morning that was already hot and sticky with the rising sun, but he needed to be alert.
With the air-conditioner blowing on him as he drove by the Walker Art Center towards the Basilica, he dialed his cell phone and spoke into the hands-free headset he wore. “Vadim, it’s me. Yeah, I know it’s early. Sorry.”
The Governor signaled and moved over a lane to the right as he listened to what had to be Russian cursing.
“Listen, Vadim. The Feds are getting a little nosy and I need you to get something done before we meet tonight. What? No, nothing like that,” the Governor said, shaking his head. “Just let your fingers do their keyboard dance and see what we can learn and how you can mess up a life a little so a certain agent has other things to worry about.
“He’s Special Agent Ross Fruen, late twenties. OK, how long will it take? That’s it? Great. I’ll see you tonight. And bring the information we discussed.” The Governor ended the call and placed the cell phone in the seat next to him. “Welcome to my game, Agent Fruen,” he said to the windshield as he continued towards downtown Minneapolis to take care of his other issue.
Chapter 10
The Governor pulled his SUV into the parking lot off West River Road and backed into a parking spot so the tailgate would face the bike path and the woods that ran along the west side of the Mississippi. He sat in his car for a couple of minutes with the newspaper in his hands. The headline of the Metro section, above the fold, was “Who is this man?” over a picture of him from the bank. The story contained details of the bank robbery. The weather info on the back page of the paper confirmed that the heat was here to stay, with rain in the forecast every day for the next week.
The Governor casually looked around to get a feel for the morning people and car traffic. A biker peddled by. Across the parking lot, an elderly man and his grey-faced lab were walking away from him. Just a couple of people out trying to beat the heat that was sure to get worse in the afternoon. Checking his watch, the Governor grew anxious.
It was almost 7:00. He had to get to the site, deal with the problem the crew had called him about, get home
