“Hi, Jules.”

“Hi, Jack. Looks like you have your arms full. You’re right on time for a change. What are the plans?”

Jack absorbed the dig without reacting. “I thought I’d take these monkeys here to the Como Zoo. I think they’ve escaped. We got a call at the office to be on the lookout for two monkeys running loose in this neighborhood.”

“Did you really, Daddy?”

“Sure did. If we’re going to the zoo, you better get your monkey shoes on and get in the zoo mobile.”

The kids ran back into the house to get their things. Jack jammed his hands back into his pockets. “So, how are they doing?” he asked as his eyes moved from hers to over her shoulder to watch the kids.

Jules leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed. “They’re doing OK, but they miss you. A little confused why we’re here and you’re back at the house.” She glanced back over her shoulder. Looking back at Jack with concern, she softly said, “You look tired, Jack. Are you doing OK?”

“Yeah, I’m doing OK.” He thought, but couldn’t say, I miss you guys. “Getting into a new case, helping out a new agent. It’s the Governor bank robber case. You hear about it on the news?”

Julie nodded. They fell into the comfortable banter Jack remembered, talking about a new case, the people involved, where he thought the case was going.

The kids were hunched down at Julie’s feet making monkey noises. “Take us to the zoo,” they squeaked.

Jules took a step forward and kissed Jack on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Jack.”

“Thanks.”

Jack took a hand from each of the kids into his to walk to the car. As they walked down the sidewalk, Jack called back over his shoulder, “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be back late, we’re going to eat too much monkey food and wake you up when we get back.” Then he bent over at the waist and started walking and grunting like an ape. The kids took the cue, swung their arms, and screamed like chimpanzees.

Jack was looking forward to the afternoon. As he drove, his eight-year-old, Lynn, rambled on about the new friends they’d been playing with in grandma and grandpa’s neighborhood. Willy, six, sat quietly in the back adding details to the conversation when Lynn would let him. Neither had asked the tough question yet about what was going on between mommy and daddy, when they were moving home again, why they’d left?

A couple of miles from the zoo, rain started to pepper the windshield and forced a change in plans. The kids picked the St. Paul Children’s Museum and Jack didn’t care as long as he could spend some time with them and have some fun.

At the museum, the kids explored the exhibits. Jack followed the kids into the room with the anthill exhibit and stood off to the side with other parents as the kids put on the ant costumes and climbed through the tunnels of the kid-sized anthill. There were chambers with ants, their enemies, eggs, and tunnels to educate the kids. Lynn and Willy popped up on one side and waved before ducking back in to climb around. Jack felt content and almost normal as he watched and listened to his kids play. It was hard to believe that when the day was over he wasn’t taking them home.

Lynn ran up and grabbed his hand. “Come on, Dad, Willy wants to show you something.” She dragged him over to the anthill entrance, dropped to the ground, and scampered in. Jack lowered himself to his hands and knees with a groan. “Come on, Dad,” pleaded a voice from inside. “Hurry up.”

“I’m coming,” Jack said. He started crawling in on his elbows and knees, anxious to play with the kids and see what they had to show him. He reached the dead end of the tunnel where Lynn and Willy were impatiently waiting.

“Dad, isn’t this cool?” Willy asked. This is where the ants keep their food.

Jack patiently listened, lying on his side, while he was educated on the eating and food storage habit of ants.

“Dad, you have to see the eggs,” Willy said.

“Yeah, Dad, turn around and we’ll take you over there,” Lynn said.

“Easier said than done, kids. This tunnel’s more for ants your size.” Jack tried to turn around, but the tunnel was too narrow. His knees and elbows were sore from the carpet. The kids were impatient and were trying to squeeze by and hurry him out. He tried another move to get out and hit his head. His pulse quickened and he started to breathe harder. His throat shrunk and he gasped and started to sweat. He pushed the kids roughly back into the end of the tunnel. “Wait a minute,” he said a little too loudly.

Jack closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. He’d had claustrophobic attacks before, but it had been a while. He lay still and tried not to think of where he was.

“Dad, are you OK?” Lynn asked.

“Yeah,” Jack responded. “Just a minute. Don’t move. I have to back out of here.” He lay there without moving for a few more seconds before he slowly backed out of the tunnel. Once out, he pushed himself up onto his knees and took a deep breath. The kids slowly crawled out and looked at him, not sure how to act.

“Come here, guys, give me a birthday hug.” Jack was on his knees with two ants hanging on his neck, wishing it could always be like this.

“I think it’s time for us to go get some people food and celebrate my birthday with some cake before I take you back to Mom.”

Chapter 15

The Metro club was always dark. The Governor stopped just inside the entrance and heard the low buzz of voices and the clink of glasses as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to see where the noises came from. The Metro was the Minneapolis/St. Paul gathering place for the men in the Russian community. It was here that they spoke quietly in Russian, traded information, made deals, and strengthened relationships. The power brokers controlled who got jobs, what work was done here or in Russia. Small groups of men sat at the bar, others at tables surrounded by mahogany walls and soft lights. The Governor had been to the Metro before and knew he didn’t fit in. He had dark hair like most of the men here, but he was tall and lean. Most of the men looked like the one that was approaching him, a little shorter with short, dark hair, a round face, maybe a mustache and dark clothes, with a cigarette in his hand.

“May I help you? You are here to meet someone?”

The Governor looked at the man and then out into the room. This man was more than a greeter. He was the first barrier into the room for the uninvited. He had a gentle smile and a demeanor that put people at ease, but he also commanded attention through the intensity of his gaze. The Governor saw through the smoke that many of the men were looking back at him. “I’m here to see Vadim.”

“There is more than one Vadim here, I am sure. Can you be more specific?” The man took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke up into the darkness.

“Vadim Skarbov, he should be expecting me.”

“I’ll go see if I can find him for you. Why don’t you have a seat at the bar?” It wasn’t a suggestion. The short Russian accompanied the Governor to a seat at the bar before going to find Vadim.

A small glass appeared on the bar in front of the Governor. Holding the glass in his hand, he looked into the mirror behind the bar to see what was going on behind him while he waited for Vadim to appear. He took a sip and smiled. One thing the Russians knew was their vodka and they shared the good stuff with whoever frequented the Metro.

A couple of years before, Vadim had introduced the Governor to the Metro and to good vodka. Vadim had been in town for a national computer hacker’s convention as a speaker on a panel talking about the security of financial information and his past intrusions. He was known for attacking financial companies around the world, accessing information and funds, which he exploited for his own benefit and the benefit of his relatives in Russia. He had served his time after being caught. There wasn’t a lot of publicity outside of the hacker community; banks and companies didn’t acknowledge their losses. To do so would ruin the confidence their customers had in keeping their savings with them. The Governor was able to talk with Vadim at a reception and they developed a partnership of necessity, neither able to succeed without the other, on the plan the Governor had proposed.

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