After another glass of vodka, the Governor saw the greeter in the mirror standing behind him. “You can follow me.” Walking through the restaurant, he noticed the conversations at the tables ended as he approached and began again in his wake.
At the table in the corner, a man with long, black hair tied back in a ponytail dropped his cigarette in an empty glass and stood when they approached. “Hello, my friend.”
The Governor shook his hand. “Vadim, it’s good to see you.”
Vadim shooed the greeter away with a nod of his head. “Sit. We have some things to talk about. You brought me something?”
“We’re almost there, my friend.” The Governor pulled a package from his pocket and placed it on the table. He pushed the bubble-wrapped item across the table. “I should have the last, most important piece of the puzzle soon.”
Vadim grabbed a knife and slit the tape that held the package closed. He tilted the package and let the contents slide into his open hand. It was a computer hard drive, like the others the Governor had given him. “Do you know what is on here?”
“Vadim, we each have our roles here. I research and steal, you figure out what is on these and how we’re going to use them. No, I don’t know what is on there.”
“None of these is any good without the last piece,” Vadim said.
“Like I said, we’ll have it soon, in the next day or two.” The Governor looked across the table at Vadim. He called him his friend, but he wasn’t a friend. He was a partner. One he had to trust to get what he wanted.
“You wanted something, too,” Vadim said. He pulled an envelope from the seat next to him and placed it on the table. “Your list of agents in Minneapolis.”
“Thanks. I’ll get back to you soon.” He slid back his chair to stand. Vadim reached across and placed his hand on the envelope.
“When you get to your car, look in the envelope and listen to your voicemail. I don’t like what I have found. We are too close to put this at risk. There are two people you can trust. You and me.” Vadim sat back and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He placed the unfiltered Camel between his lips and lit it. “We will talk soon.”
The Governor started his car in the parking lot to get the air-conditioning going and opened the windows a few inches to let the hot air escape. His fingers slid along the envelope as he contemplated what Vadim said. What was the risk? He tore open the envelope and pulled out the sheets of paper. The first two sheets were an alphabetical list of agents, their addresses, and phone numbers. He found Ross Fruen on the list and looked to see where he lived. Then he looked at some of the other names on the list. They were primarily male, a variety of names, titles, and pay grades. Nothing special, but he had the names he needed to be aware of.
He examined the other two pages and tried to decipher the information they contained. They were phone logs indicating incoming and outgoing calls, duration, source, and destination numbers. One sheet was for Sandy. The other for Ross Fruen. There were some numbers highlighted on each page. He studied these entries and determined that they had called each other. Nothing wrong with that, was there? Agent Fruen was conducting an investigation; she was returning his calls.
The Governor slid the pages back into the envelope and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Vadim had said to check his voicemail. He looked at the face of the phone and saw that a message was waiting. He didn’t remember any beep indicating a message had come in. He pushed the message button, put the phone to his ear, and waited for the message to begin.
What was he listening to? The message was from Sandy, but it wasn’t for him. He listened once to the whole message, and then listened again from the beginning.
“What the hell?” He pushed the button to listen to the header to see when the call came in and shut his phone to end the call. He yanked the sheets from the envelope again and ran his finger down the list of calls from Sandy’s phone. This morning, with Agent Ross Fruen, thirty-six seconds. What was she thinking?
Chapter 16
Jack decided to start his day with a run downtown. After changing into his gear at the YMCA, he ran down Nicollet Mall, the main street through downtown Minneapolis, about twelve blocks to the Mississippi River. The morning was already hot and sticky, the sun peaking between the office buildings as it rose. He weaved through the pre-caffeinated crowd heading into work, dodging the groups of young men in suits, accountants or attorneys, he guessed, and the odd street people as they moved between prime sitting locations on the mall and the bus stops. Smokers stood outside the buildings getting their morning fix of nicotine. He tried to focus on his running path through the crowd so he wouldn’t run into a light-post, a tree or a bus, but his attention drifted as he approached the groups of young females wearing less than they did during a Minnesota winter. Summer was his favorite season since he moved to the Twin Cities.
As he passed the IDS Crystal Court, he flipped a thumbs-up to the man sitting on the stool on the sidewalk singing God Bless America, a patriotic tune for the upcoming Fourth of July and one that might trigger an increase in tips.
Deep in thought, Jack kept running, his breathing regular, and his pace constant. He ran across the Hennepin Avenue Bridge, past the Pillsbury flourmill buildings, past the Stone Arch Bridge.
Exhaustion and dehydration brought his thoughts back to focus on his own immediate condition. He was still moving at the same pace, but it was getting harder and he was thirsty. He started thinking about pushing himself to finish the run and hooking up with Junior to plan their day.
Passing the Guthrie Theater above the lock and dam, he was trying to remember where a drinking fountain was when he came upon a group of people and patrol cars at the top of the bank overlooking the old mill ruins. He stopped to look over the scene, standing with the rest of the gawkers.
“Hey, Miller.”
Jack looked to his left for a familiar face, but the glint of the rising sun reflecting off a squad car windshield blinded him.
“I hardly recognized you in your running gear.”
Squinting, Jack stepped to his left and put out a hand to block the glare and to find a face to put with the voice. Searching, he found the face that was looking his way.
“Hey, Patty, there you are. You blinding me on purpose?”
“It’s just my sunny disposition. Come on over.”
Jack walked around the street sign wrapped with the yellow crime scene tape and over to the car. “You have any water with you? I’m dying.”
“Sure, in the van. And the AC’s on too; want to sit inside?”
“No, I don’t want to get your seats all sweaty, but the water would be great.”
Patty came back with a bottle of spring water and handed it to Jack. “Here you go, courtesy of yours truly. It’s car temperature.”
He took the water bottle, unscrewed the top, and chugged the cold water. It ran from his chin and down his chest. Pulling the water bottle from his lips, he raised it and poured some over his head. “Thanks, I really needed that.”
“No problem, just remember who you got it from.”
Jack held the cold bottle of water against his neck and nodded towards the police tape. “So what’s going on over here that’s important enough to drag you out on a hot day like today away from breakfast in the air- conditioned bistro?”
“Screw you, Miller. Give me back my water.”
Jack laughed and held the bottle out and away from her. “Very eloquent. I always said you had a way with words. Really, what’s going on?”
“Pay any attention to the news?” Patty walked towards the edge of the bank to the yellow tape keeping the public away from the scene and looked down to the river’s edge. Jack followed.
“I’ve been busy.”
