The Ninth District - A Thriller

by Douglas Dorow

  “OK, Sure Thing, can you tell me where things are at with our investigation or are you just looking for those sure thing bets.”

  “Well, Jack, we’ve been busy down here. What do you want first?”

  “Let’s take them all in order.” Jack sat on the edge of the table, keeping his elevated status over the man in the chair. “Bank videos, mask, Agent Fruen’s credit cards, and his accident and cell phone call.”

  “Bank videos, that’s Goose’s assignment. The guy over there with the red hair.” Jack looked in the direction that Sure Thing had nodded. The blob of curly red hair glowed with the reflection from the computer monitor.

  “The Governor is a man, five foot ten inches tall. He’s right handed. The coat he was wearing was nice, but too big for him. Trying to make him look bigger than he is. One hundred sixty-five pounds.”

  “That’s it? I could get most of that.” Jack looked across the room at Goose.

  “And he prefers boxers.”

  Jack looked at the Sure Thing with a grin and raised his eyebrows.

  “OK, that’s his guess, but if I was a betting man I’d bet boxers.” Sure Thing spun around in his chair, fiddled with the mouse, and brought up two pictures on his computer monitor of the Governor in his mask. “I’m sure you know this already too. This mask is good. It fits well and the likeness isn’t perfect but it’s very close. If you got a glimpse of him on the street or in the car next to you on the road you might think it was the governor.” Sure Thing got up from his chair and walked a few steps. He returned with a glossy printout of what was on the screen, gave it to Jack, and sat back down. “That’s for you.” He scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Take this too.”

  Jack looked at the scrap of paper with a name on it.

  “That guy’s the best in the business. He’s at the Guthrie. With his contacts and a little digging, he can probably find out who made the mask. You can get there tonight?”

  Jack nodded as he looked at the picture in his hand. Sure Thing had been talking a mile a minute and wasn’t slowing down. Jack was afraid to interrupt him and throw him off track. Sure Thing reached under his worktable, brought out a bottle of Mountain Dew, and twisted the cap to open it, releasing the carbonated gas.

  “You want one?”

  Jack shook his head.

  “I’ll leave him a message that you’re coming. Make sure he’ll talk to you.” Sure Thing took a big swig of the green soda, put the bottle on the table, and belched out of the corner of his mouth. “OK, what was next?” He answered his own question without waiting for Jack to answer. “Credit cards. I gave that to Squeaky.”

  Jack looked around the room, trying to guess who Squeaky was. Everybody was still staring at computer monitors and typing.

  Sure Thing called out, “Hey, Squeaky!” A hand popped up from behind the monitor across the aisle, flipping them off.

  “What do you want, asshole?” The origin of the nickname Squeaky became apparent as the voice carried around the room, a combination of the voice somebody gets after breathing helium and the sound of fingernails scratching a blackboard.

  Jack looked at Sure Thing and tilted his head at the sound, like a dog hearing a high-pitched whistle. “Asshole?”

  “She loves me.” He waved his hand through the air. “Come here, my love!”

  Squeaky pulled herself away from her station and walked over. She was about four foot, eight inches tall, barefoot, and had an unlit cigarette tucked behind her ear. She sat down in the chair next to Sure Thing, spun herself in a circle on its swivel, and asked, nodding at Jack on the next revolution, “Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Jack. He’s here to find out about Agent Fruen’s cards and finances.”

  Squeaky jammed her feet to the ground to stop the gyrations of the chair. She slowly positioned herself to face Jack, leaned forward, and with a new, serious look on her face asked, “Who did he piss off?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what I’m hoping you guys can help me with,” Jack said.

  “Whoever it is, I definitely wouldn’t want that person for my enemy. Fruen’s money is gone; his credit rating is annihilated. Whoever did it was good. They covered everything; his credit cards, credit rating, checking account, savings account, the couple of investments he had. It was all done in a very short time frame yesterday morning. Smells Russian to me, but that’s all I’ve got is a smell. Nothing obvious, no signature, no point of origin for the request that leads me to who did this. But, it smells Russian. It was clean, quick, somebody who really knew what they were doing. We’ve seen something similar before. Coders have a signature, a style, an accent, like with any language. This is Russian. They were after Fruen and didn’t bother to leave a false trail.”

  Jack looked at Sure Thing. “Still doesn’t tell me a lot, does it?”

  “I think it confirms that it’s all tied together. The Governor is smart and connected to some people that know how to get things done in the world of finance and technology. He is able to, or knows people who are able to, get into the systems of the banks and related financial institutions discreetly, but he’s still going in to banks physically for something.”

  Sure Thing nodded at Squeaky. “And if she says it smells Russian, it’s probably Russian mob. Woman’s intuition. Something you and I don’t have.”

  “That’s something, I guess. Let me think about it,” Jack said. “Thanks, Squeaky. You done or still turning over rocks?”

  Squeaky got up. “I’m still turning over rocks. There’s always something out there hiding, I just haven’t found it yet.” She left and returned to her workstation.

  “If there’s something out there, she’ll find it,” Sure Thing said to Jack. “Just be glad she’s on our side.” He spun his chair around and faced his monitor; his right hand moved the mouse around, waking up the computer from its screen-saving mode. “Come here. We’ve got one last thing to discuss.”

  Jack pushed himself up from the edge of the table to look over the sports fan’s shoulder. A map of Minneapolis was depicted showing the region around the Uptown area lakes; Lake of the Isles, Calhoun, and Harriet.

  Sure Thing touched the screen with his finger. “This is approximately the location of the accident. Let me walk you through this. Agent Fruen’s phone was tied into a tower located here. We’ve contacted the cell phone company the incoming call was made from. The tower it was communicating through was the same one. Which means the call was made from the same area. That corroborates Agent Fruen’s story.”

  “Did you have to do that?” Jack asked.

  “Just dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s. That’s just the beginning. The phone is still on and it’s still in the same area.”

  Jack leaned forward. “Where is it?”

  “Right here,” he pointed out the location on the map.

  “I was just in that neighborhood.”

  “It’s a few blocks from the accident. I doubt the Governor is still there. Looks like he just cut off of Lake Street and dumped the phone. The van’s out getting the exact location right now and a tactical team is there just in case The Governor is still around.”

  “Tell them not to touch it.” Jack took a step for the door, turned back, and said, “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 20

  “Where is it?” Jack stood in front of the tactical van parked on the street.

  The agent in charge, Stephan Ramirez, was dressed in black and ready for action. He had his tactical weapons around his waist and an earpiece with a microphone for directing the on-site team. Sweat glistened on his cheeks. The warm morning was becoming a warmer afternoon. The sun turned the humid air into a sauna. He nodded to his left. “We have men in the bushes with eyes on the truck. It’s parked in the apartment parking lot down the street.”

  “OK, let’s go get it.”

  Stephan touched the earpiece to activate the microphone and said one word, “Bingo.”

  Down the street, Jack watched as a team of
people, in dark pants with t-shirts under bulletproof vests that said FBI on the back, converged on the truck. They approached the vehicle but didn’t touch it. On either side, agents peered through the windows, inspecting the interior. The left side of the vehicle was dented and scratched. This was the correct vehicle and their equipment told them the phone that had called Ross was inside it.

  Jack looked at Sure Thing, who was leaning against the van. “Let’s go. Looks like they’ve secured it.”

  Jack cupped his hands to cut the glare and looked in the windows of the truck himself. “Take your time. We don’t know why he left this here. Make sure there aren’t any surprises. He went after Special Agent Fruen today with this truck.”

  “Sure Thing, I’m going to take a little walk. You’ve got this. Let me know when they’re through.”

  Jack walked around the apartment building. He looked up at the back of the building. Across the street, some youngsters were standing on the sidewalk, watching the team working around the van. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building, Jack looked at it with a feeling of recognition. He slowly turned around and surveyed the street. About halfway through his turn it hit him. This was the street where Ross had talked with Sandy. He took out his phone and dialed a number.

  Jack stared at the apartment building while he waited for the phone call to connect. The building was an old, three-story brick building. Many of the apartments had window air-conditioner units and most of them were running to ward off the hot, sticky air. The call went unanswered and forwarded to voicemail. He ended the call and walked up the steps. He looked through the front window to examine the names on the mailboxes. Most of them just had last names.

  Jack instinctively patted his pockets. What was her last name? The card that Junior had just said Sandy. He tried to dig back through his memory, but couldn’t remember her last name, just what she looked like. He looked at the mailboxes again. She hadn’t answered her cell phone. Could she be home? Did she even live in this building? Was it a coincidence the car the Governor had used was parked behind this apartment building?

  Jack called the number posted over the mailboxes that was for the residents to call to report problems with the building. After three rings, a voice answered in a whisper, “This better be important.”

  “My name is Special Agent Miller with the FBI. I’m standing outside your building on the front steps. I’m trying to track somebody down and I think she may live in this building. Could you come to the front door and let me in and answer a few questions for me?” Jack started nice, but firm, hoping it would get him the results he was looking for.

  “I’ll be right down,” the man answered.

  “Great, I’ll see you in a minute.”

  Jack stood on the front steps in the shade and slapped at the mosquitoes that buzzed his ears. A man with a shaved head wearing a gray, sleeveless t-shirt and faded, maroon gym shorts with the gold University of Minnesota M on the thigh came to the door. He was somewhere in his thirties. The man pushed open the door and stepped outside. “You’re with the FBI? Can we talk outside so I can have a smoke?”

  Jack showed the man his FBI credentials and agreed, thinking that the cigarette smoke would help keep the bugs away. “Did I wake you?”

  “Late night. I bartend over here in Uptown.”

  “Sorry I had to wake you, but I’m looking for a woman that lives in this neighborhood and I think she might live in this building.” He described Sandy, the car she drove, and said she might work at a bank. The man blew the cigarette smoke up into the air and ran his hand over his shaved head.

  “You’ve got the right building. Sandy Hoffman is her name. Lives in 4A. She’s got a great body. Been living here for about a year. What do you need her for?”

  “Thanks. I just need to talk to her. Before we go inside to see if she’s home, I need to show you a car in your parking lot out back and see if you know who it belongs to.”

  The man took another drag from his cigarette and followed Jack around the building. “Holy shit, what’s going on back here?” the man asked.

  Jack looked at the people surrounding the SUV. The driver-side door was open and a tow truck was preparing to load the vehicle onto the bed to take it away.

  “Do you recognize that vehicle or know if that parking spot is assigned to anyone?”

  “I’ve never seen that car before.” The man looked at Jack and took another long drag from his cigarette. “The lot is first-come, first-serve for those who pay to rent off-street parking. The spots aren’t assigned to anybody.”

  Agent Ramirez and Sure Thing walked towards them. Jack nodded to the man and said, “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

  Ramirez said, “We tracked the owner down. A couple from Anoka reported it missing yesterday morning. We’re taking it to the lab. The phone was under the seat.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be ready to go in a minute.” Jack turned to the building supervisor. “Can we go back and see if Ms. Hoffman is in? You don’t have to let us in her apartment, but I would like to ring her apartment and see if she’s in.”

  The man dropped his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it. “I can tell you she’s not in. She gets up early and works out.”

  “Then she goes to the bank?”

  “I don’t know about working at a bank. But I know she’s a dancer at Sheiks, downtown.”

  Chapter 21

  “Junior, it’s me, Jack.” He could hear Ross fumbling with the phone.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s lunchtime.” Jack heard Ross clear his throat and get a drink of water.

  “Are you awake now?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Somebody’s messing with you, Junior, and we need to find out who and why. I was in the lab his morning with the geeks; they don’t sleep. I have some good news and some bad news. First, your credit is shot. Somebody messed with your credit cards, your credit rating, and your bank accounts. Your finances are a mess and it’ll be a major headache to get it all fixed.”

  “They got everything?”

  “Yep, they pretty much wiped you out.”

  “Well, what’s the good news? There wasn’t that much money. They assumed my debt too?”

  “No, what I told you was the good news.”

  “Great.”

  “And we found where the Gov ditched the truck and the phone.”

  Ross yawned. “Sorry, I’m not awake. Did you tell me the bad news yet?”

  “Junior, this guy didn’t just come across you on the road. He followed you from somewhere. Where were you coming from? Who knew where you were going to be or where you were going?”

  “I worked out at the gym in the morning with Sandy.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. I had some follow up questions for her and this morning was a good time for them. She’s been a little stressed out so I thought if she felt comfortable talking to me at the gym I should take advantage of it.”

  Jack shook his head. “And you wanted to see her again and seeing her in her gym clothes was a bonus.”

  Ross didn’t argue. “That’s about right.”

  There was silence on the line and then Ross yawned again. “Junior, stay with me a little while longer and then you can get some sleep,” Jack said. “OK. Somebody either followed you or knew where you were going to be. You went straight to the gym this morning?”

  “Yeah. Got up. Went to the gym to meet Sandy and work out.”

  “You didn’t see anybody follow you. What do you remember?”

  Ross took a deep breath. “I talked with Sandy while we worked out. Didn’t learn much. I left the gym. Decided to take the scenic route back by Lake Calhoun, the phone rings and boom, I’m here.” He yawned again.

  “Well, I told you we found the truck. It was parked behind Sandy’s apartment building. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

  “You think she’s involved?”

  “Yes, loo
k at the facts. She worked at the bank, you worked out with her and got attacked, and we found the truck behind her apartment. What do your investigative skills tell you from that?”

  “Oh man, Jack. Just a second.”

  Jack listened to the silence.

  “Since we don’t know who the Governor is, I guess I need to start with Sandy. See what she can tell us.” Ross took a deep breath and puffed it out. “I have her number in my phone.”

  “I called her and it went straight to voicemail. Her phone’s off. We can’t geotrack her.” Jack paused. “She’s working tonight. I was thinking, if you’re up to it, we should go visit her.”

  “Working? There’s a bank open?” Ross asked.

  “Um, no. She’s got a second job.”

  “What is it?”

  “Junior, she’s a stripper, or exotic dancer. She works at Sheiks.”

  “What?” Ross asked. “No way.”

  “We’re at her building. We found the truck that hit you parked in back with the Governor’s phone under the seat. The super for her building said that’s what she does and she’s working tonight.”

  There was silence on the phone.

  “Junior, you still there?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah. When are we going?”

  “I’m going back to the lab with the truck and phone to see what we can learn. Then I have a dinner date with my wife. I can’t miss it. I’ll pick you up after that. Get some rest.”

  * * *

  “Anything?” Jack asked.

  Two men and a woman dressed in white coveralls were examining the vehicle inside and out.

  “Nothing so far. Looks like he wore gloves. No fingerprints on the door handle or steering wheel or keys. We’ve swabbed the windshield and steering wheel for DNA in case he sneezed on them.”