with the kids.
Ross was doing OK with the case so far, but Jack knew he had the experience to teach the new agent something. He could get used to having a junior partner, somebody with energy to do the grunt work. Leave the heavy-duty thinking, theorizing, to him while his assistant ran the errands. He pulled his left hand out of his pocket to check the time. His right hand jingled the change in his pocket. What could be keeping Junior? He thought about the morning, the videotapes, the man in the mask, and the murder. Solving a case was like putting a jigsaw puzzle together. Today they had a few pieces, but a lot were missing. They weren’t even sure yet what picture they were trying to create.
The sound of a door opening behind him jarred Jack from his thoughts. Looking back, he expected to see Ross, but it was another agent with a gym bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hey, Jack. No run today over lunch?”
“Not today. I’m following up on a case. You’re going to run in this heat? You’re nuts.”
“That’s me. Stay cool.”
“Don’t forget to drink some water.”
The door closed behind the agent and a blast of hot air enveloped Jack in the small entryway. As he watched the agent walk through the waves of hot air rising off of the black pavement, a picture of Clint Eastwood riding off into the desert popped into his head and he whistled the ditty from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. He leaned back against the wall trying to catch the breeze from the overhead vent as he let his mind drift to his kids and plans for the next afternoon. The birthday outing was his tradition and he wanted to make it one they would enjoy, another birthday to remember, a special time with Dad. With this heat, they had two choices, the water-park outside or go somewhere indoors, out of the heat. The kids would probably pick the water park. The door behind him banged open again. Ross interrupted his thoughts as he bounded through the door.
“Afraid to go outside, Jack? Thank God for air-conditioning.”
“Just waiting for you. Let’s go. I’m hungry.”
Ross pushed open the door, the blast of heat greeting them when he opened it. They both audibly exhaled. Out in the parking lot Ross stopped, waiting for Jack to lead the way to his car.
“What’s wrong, Junior? Forget where you parked?”
Ross glared at Jack. “Can you quit calling me Junior? It’s Ross.”
“It slipped out.” Jack took a step forward. “Let’s go.”
“Are we taking your car?” Ross asked. “It has to be newer than mine.”
“Exactly why we’re taking yours.” Jack pointed across the lot. “See that silver spec there?”
Ross walked over to the car and circled it. “This Mercury Cougar? Looks nice. Nice and fairly new.” He bent over and peered into the window. “And clean. I bet it still smells new.”
“They told me I was getting a new car. The advantages of being a senior agent. What do I get? This. It’s newer, but it’s small. Look at me.” Jack raised his arms up and swept them down like a model showing off clothes. “I need something a little bigger. I feel like a Shriner driving a go-cart when I drive that thing. All I need is the fez.”
Ross laughed.
“And try doing a stake-out in that thing. There’s no room to move. It’s like a space capsule. A couple of hours in that thing and my legs go numb.” Jack looked around. The sweat started to trickle down his back. He reached up, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “No, we’re taking your car. Where is it? It has to be bigger than mine.” He ran his palm over his forehead, rubbing the sweat back through his hair. “I hope the AC works.”
“Bigger’s not always better.” Ross pulled the keys from his pocket. “It’s over here. You can leave your fez behind. There’s plenty of room in the blue barge.” Jack followed Ross to an older, dark blue, Ford Crown Victoria. “She’s not pretty, but she’s comfortable. And the AC works.”
A small smile broke out on Jack’s face. He raised his left hand to his face, kissed his fingers, and gently patted the hot roof of the car. “La Reina,” he whispered.
“What did you say?” Ross asked as he unlocked the driver’s door. “La what?”
“La Ray Eee Na,” Jack said. “It’s Spanish for the queen. This is my old car. I called her The Queen, La Reina. I guess it came from Crown Victoria.” Jack opened the passenger door to let some of the heat escape. He took off his suit coat, got in the car, and settled into the seat. “I’m not used to sitting on this side in this car.”
“You can drive if you want,” Ross said as he started the car.
“No, you drive. I’ve always wanted a driver.” Jack threw his coat onto the back seat, reached over to the familiar controls, and turned up the fan for the air-conditioning. He held a hand over the vent, feeling for the cooler air that should be coming out.
“Come on Princess, it’s me. I need some cool air here.” He looked over at Ross in the driver’s seat. “I hope you’re taking good care of her.” Then he leaned over and peered closely at Ross’ face. “Don’t you sweat?”
“No. I grew up on the east coast, DC area. This is a normal day for me. I think I’m acclimated. Thin blood.”
“Well, I’m hot and sweaty and on top of that, I’m hungry. Let’s go get some lunch and some cold ice tea.”
“Where to?”
“Drive by your bank, the TCF in Wayzata. We’ll get something out there.”
Leaving downtown Minneapolis, they headed west on Highway 394. Ross reached into his pocket and put on his sunglasses. Jack sighed.
“What’s wrong, Jack?”
“That’s what I get for not taking my car. My sunglasses are in the spec.”
Ross reached under the seat. “Here, take these. I have an extra pair.”
Jack held them up and examined them. They were runner’s glasses, silver wrap-arounds with mirrored lenses. “Thanks, not really my style, but I’ll wear them.” He slid them on. “How do I look?”
“You’re right. They don’t really go with the suit.”
After driving on in silence, Ross spoke. “I’m Junior and I’m driving La Reina. Does everything have a nickname?”
Jack stared out at the world going by while the passenger-side vent and one of the center vents blew cool air over his face and upper-body. He arched his back to try to get some of the air to circulate behind him to dry his shirt before he answered.
“In the field office, just about everybody has a nickname; some we call them to their face and some are used behind their backs. And some people have names for other things…their cars, their guns.”
“What do they call you?” Ross asked.
“You can call me Jack and refer to me as Special Agent Miller,” Jack replied. “Others may refer to me with other names of respect.” He looked at Ross. “You’ll have to find out for yourself.”
Ross rolled his eyes and drove on another mile in silence. As they passed under Highway 100, he decided to take another stab at conversation. “Any theories on these bank robberies yet? Anything you want to share? Something pushed your button with the last one. Was it the little girl left behind and the unborn baby brother?”
“Theories? None. None other than this guy is smart. He doesn’t think we’ll catch him. His little salute tells me that. He’s taunting us. And he’s got some sort of plan. The mask, the early morning robberies. He isn’t some gambler or junkie looking for the quick snatch and run during the day.”
“OK, so what’s he after? He’s hitting banks, but he’s not getting a lot of money.”
“I don’t know. That’s what we need to figure out.”
Jack reached over and turned on the radio. Heavy metal music assaulted him. He quickly pushed a preset button, looking for his jazz station. Some more testosterone music filled the car. He tried another station, looking for something to match the pace of the drive west as La Reina glided along through traffic. He needed something to think to, music without words.
“Doesn’t the driver get control of the radio?”
“Not when I’m in this car.” Jack punched another button. “Did you mess with the settings for these buttons?”
“It’s my car. I may have changed a few of them. What are you looking for? AM, there’s KFAN for sports and fifteen-hundred for talk radio. FM, it’s mostly rock with a country station thrown in.”
