by Joe Field
“What do you suggest?”
“Well, it will be suspicious if Cloud travels too far from the reservation, so preferably you would meet someplace close to, but not in, Bemidji. There are too many police officers roaming around Bemidji. Some of the small towns nearby would be much better for a meeting.”
“You know the area way better than I do. What do you recommend?”
“I thought you would say that, so I did some brainstorming. There is a small town just west of Bemidji called Bagley. It’s located right on Highway 2. It’s roughly forty-five minutes away from the reservation. There is a place you can rent out called The Farm by the Lake. It’s a secluded farmhouse on Lake Lomond. You could go there, rent the place out, and have him show up after dark. You do the interview, and he leaves. You stay overnight and take off the next morning.”
“Sounds perfect, thanks. How do I arrange this, logistically?”
“I have Cloud’s email. I’ll send it to you after this call. You send Cloud an email that says you’re ‘a friend of Jesse,’ and he’ll respond. Send him the date, time, and location. Let me know the exact details, and I can be just down the road on Lake Lomond Drive with my off-duty vehicle, in case there is trouble.”
“That all sounds good, Jesse, except the part about you being there. If this goes south, I don’t want you to get caught up in it.”
“It’s too dangerous for you to do alone.”
“Don’t worry, I have someone else I can ask for backup.”
“Who?”
“None other than Pete Olson,” I said with a grin.
“Pete Olson! Like, Navy SEAL Pete Olson?” Jesse yelled.
I imagined Jesse’s eyes wide with surprise. “Ex-Navy SEAL Pete Olson now,” I said. “He left the Navy last year and now he is contracting for Uncle Sam, making ten times his former military salary on three-month trips to the warzones in the Middle East.”
“No kidding. So where is he living now?
“He is living up in Ely.”
“All right, I feel comfortable if he has your back. I will plan to stay away during the meeting. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, I owe you big time.”
“That’s right, you do. I want you to come wash and wax my fishing boat and patrol car on your way back from the meeting. No spots on there – that wax finish better shine.”
“Real funny, Jesse. Just send me Cloud’s email.”
***
I quickly finished off my coffee and took off on foot for work. I was jazzed, both with the news and with the caffeine running through my body. The timing was perfect, too, as I had already lined up my bachelor party with Pete the following weekend. If Cloud was available, I could just change our trip location from Ely to Bagley and everything would fall into place – as long as Pete was okay with it.
I could have taken the back entrance to MPR on Ninth Street, but I needed to keep up my daily news ticker ritual at the main entrance. Even when it was thirty below zero in January I would stop and read the first headline. I rounded the corner onto Cedar Street and stopped to read today’s.
Friday, August 8, 2014 – Obama Authorizes Airstrikes Against ISIS Insurgents in Northern Iraq...
Great, back in Iraq. It seemed like my whole life I had been watching events unfold in Iraq. I was fourteen months old when Operation Desert Storm kicked off in January of 1991. I don’t remember specific highlights from the Gulf War, but my father still joked about how glued I was to the television during the nightly news updates from the front lines. Then there was the “Shock and Awe” bombing campaign of Baghdad during Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2003, followed by the hanging of Saddam Hussein in December 2006, and the eventual U.S. military withdrawal in 2011. Iraq, give us all a break already.
I made it up to the third floor and found my desk in the cubicle farm. Lisa had her back to me, typing away on her computer. I threw my bag down loud enough to get Lisa’s attention. Her body didn’t move but her head cocked to the side. She stared at me with a look that screamed, I am annoyed at you for breathing my same air, Cooper Smith.
“Happy Friday, Lisa.”
“Don’t even start with me,” she said, looking back at her screen.
“You sure are chipper today. Did you just find out you were from Wisconsin or what?”
“Good one, ginger.”
Lisa never hesitated to make fun of my red-tinted hair and beard. I decided to ignore her; she had no clue about my upcoming interview with Cloud.
“Hey, Bill’s been over twice already looking for you,” she said. “You better get in his office soon.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
I looked over and saw Bill motioning me to his office with his index finger like a father does to a disobedient child right before he reprimands him. I walked straight into his office.
“Close the door and sit down, Cooper,” said Bill matter-of-factly.
“Sure thing. You wanted to see me?”
“We need to talk about the Brown Sugar story. We need to either push ahead with it, or nix it and move on. I have money allocated for it, but the sharks are circling.”
“I just made a big break in the story. My connection in Bemidji secured a meeting for me with a source inside the Red Lake reservation drug network. The source has agreed to give me a tell-all exclusive interview next weekend.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. If it’s a good interview, you should be able to piece that together with what you already have and we can go live with it.”
“What about the DEA’s demand for us to wait?”
“We’ve waited long enough.”
“I know, but remember they caught me with that Brown Sugar packet. I don’t want to go to jail.”
Bill started laughing, and soon his whole body shook. I had never actually seen him laugh, and I had a feeling he only did so when it was cynical in nature.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m picturing you in an orange jump suit in the prison cafeteria waiting for the cook to slop down your liquid mash potatoes as you stand in line next to Smokey.”
“Come on, this is serious,” I said. “Can we wait for the DEA to take Smokey’s crew down first before running the story?”
“Do you think I care about the DEA and their schedule? Have they even given you any concrete details about the investigation?” Bill paused to let his rhetorical question hang in the air. “No, of course not. I know you had that terrible slip of the hand, but it’s time for you to finish this story. There are plenty of ambitious reporters out there on the streets collecting food stamps who would love to be in your shoes. Do you want to join them?”
“No, of course not.”
“I’m starting to think this story isn’t worth my time anymore. Maybe we should just cut it right here, right now.”
“Bill, I understand the DEA has taken its time – but this story could be worthy of a Peabody. Think about it. We will be exposing a major drug ring in Minnesota, highlighting the effects of heroin on people from all across our great state, and taking down a big-time supplier of the product. This is big league material, and, of course, as my managing editor, you’ll be recognized too when we win the Peabody.”
I had purposely never used the P word with Bill. I knew how badly he wanted another one. MPR had won several Peabody Awards over the years, but they were tough as hell to get.
“We have the series about the Catholic Church we ran last month,” countered Bill. “If anything, that will win the Peabody.”
“Yes, but you didn’t play a key role in that one, and your name won’t be listed,” I countered. “Why not double down our chances with this story? If we run it at the end of this month, we can have a second solid entry for the 2014 Peabodies.”
“Cooper, don’t you dare push my buttons,” Bill said, wagging a finger at me. “I admit, you have a good story, but I’m not in the business of waiting around. Especially for the federal government. Get a solid interview and sha
re the highlights with the DEA. Use that as leverage to get the DEA to move faster on their investigation.”
“I’ll make it happen.”
“Good, now get out of my sight before I put Lisa on this story once and for all.”
I was out of his office faster than a deep fried cheese curd goes down a throat at the Minnesota State Fair.
***
I was smiling ear-to-ear as I walked out of MPR headquarters that evening. I sent Cloud an email that afternoon, and received a quick email confirmation from him agreeing to meet for the interview, just as Jesse had promised he would. I made my reservations at the Farm by the Lake, and I was ready to interview Cloud next weekend.
I decided to celebrate so I called Soojin to surprise her with dinner reservations at the historic Saint Paul Hotel, a landmark in the city since 1910. The hotel was home to Soojin’s favorite restaurant, the Saint Paul Grill.
We sat in our usual table. I ordered the filet mignon, and she ordered the salmon. We shared a bottle of Malbec wine from Argentina as we waited for our food.
“How’s the campaign going? I saw you are still up ten points in the polls.” I cut into my filet. It was cooked perfectly.
“It’s chaotic, like usual. Today, at a campaign event in Shakopee, the Governor literally kissed thirty babies. I counted.” Soojin finished off her glass of wine.
“That sounds like a pretty easy job. Kissing babies’ heads all day. Does it make you want to have kids?”
“Maybe we could just adopt a child who is already past the baby and toddler stages. I’m thinking between the age of three and four. They would have to come potty-trained, though.” Soojin winked.
I laughed. “Sounds like a good idea to me.” I set down my fork. “You know, I’m a little nervous about my upcoming trip.”
“Your bachelor party with Pete? Are you afraid the fish won’t bite?”
I filled her in on the change of plans, including the details about the interview with Cloud. When I finished, Soojin pulled out her iPhone and showed me a picture of an axe with a big red ribbon on it. My bunched up shoulders fell, and I relaxed for the first time that day.
“It’s for you. I picked it up when I was down in Winona and wanted to give it to you for your upcoming trip. Maybe the axe can help you feel safer. Or, at the very least, I’m sure you could find some firewood to chop while you are waiting for your interview to start.”
“Thanks! I feel safer already. Where is the axe?”
“It’s at my apartment; you can pick it up on the way home.”
“Probably best that you didn’t bring it to dinner; I wouldn’t want people to think I was an axe murderer or something.” I stuck my tongue out at her. “Hey, have you decided what you are going to do for your bachelorette party?”
“I talked to Jill today, and the over-achieving maid of honor said we are definitely going to order some male strippers.”
I set down my glass of wine. “Really?”
“I’m just messing with you. Actually, she did confirm she is taking me to Hastings for the day.”
“Real funny joke!” I took a big swig of wine. “You know; I’d be okay with the strippers if that is what she had planned.”
“Sure you would…” Soojin rolled her eyes.
“What’s in Hastings?” I asked.
“There’s this place that lets you take construction equipment like bulldozers and excavators out to a giant sandbox to play in. Apparently, there is a fire truck involved, too.”
“That sounds pretty epic. Do you think the fire truck comes with male strippers dressed like firefighters?”
Soojin laughed. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough – it’s next weekend.”
I sighed. “Well, at least one of us will have an exciting last hurrah.”
Chapter 12
Ely, MN
The outdoorsy town of Ely was known for being the launch-off point for excursions into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area within the Superior National Forest in northeast Minnesota. The BWCA covered well over a million acres of some of the most scenic waterways and wildlife in America. No power motorboats were allowed in the area, making for a serene experience that was near therapeutic for some.
Pete and I had originally planned to spend three days up in the BWCA, but my upcoming meeting with Roy Cloud changed our plans. I rolled into town on a Friday afternoon after a four-hour drive up from Saint Paul, and I was looking forward to a peaceful night at Pete’s cabin before heading out to Bagley the next day.
I called Pete when I was close, and he told me to meet him downtown at the Boathouse Brewpub on Highway 169 and First Avenue. I scored a nearby parking spot on the street and entered the pub. It had wood-finished walls and smelled of grease and beer. Exactly what I wanted. I had arrived between the lunch and dinner crowd, and the place was nearly empty.
As Pete stood up from a table to greet me, I stared for a moment. I had kept in close email and phone contact with Pete over the years, but he didn’t post images of himself online. He was away on work so much it had been almost a year since our last get-together. I noticed he had continued to pack on the muscle. When Pete went into the Navy out of high school, he was a tall, wiry kid, with an awkward disposition and little-to-no muscle. After six years with the Navy SEALs, he was now a jacked warrior. Standing well over six feet tall, he looked like Captain America. His neck and shoulders were bulging out of his t-shirt, and his legs filled out his blue jeans. He wore a Carhartt baseball cap over short brown hair. He had bright blue eyes, which had won over all the ladies back in school. His beard looked about a week old, and he had a smashed-in nose – the kind of nose one gets from being a knuckle-dragger in one crappy warzone after the next with the SEALs.
“Pete, you’re like the incredible hulk! You’re making me feel small,” I said, giving him a “bro-hug” consisting of a hand clasp, followed by a torso lean toward each other, and a final, sturdy pat on the back.
“Coop, you son of a gun,” said Pete. “It’s great to see you. How long has it been? A full year now?”
“Too long my friend. It’s great to see you, too. Let’s order some food and drinks –we have a lot to catch up on.”
“Sounds good, my man.”
We ordered the pub’s signature beer-battered walleye and two blueberry blonde ales. We sat back and smiled.
“So, tell me, Pete. How much can you bench press now at the gym?”
“That’s easy. Just count however much you can do, and double it. Same goes for the squat lift.”
“How do you like being out of the Navy?”
“It’s great. I’m making big bucks now working only six months out of the year. The rest of the time I get to hang out in my sweet cabin with my family. The days are filled with fishing and hunting. Best of all, I’m away from the crowds. How about you?”
“That sounds pretty amazing,” I said. “Things are well. Soojin and I are ready to get married and start our lives together in Saint Paul.”
“Congrats. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. How are Brittany and Jack doing?”
“They are both doing well. Brittany is loving being a mother, and she is great at it. She is also busy gearing up for the next basketball season. Jack is finally sleeping through the night, so we are happy campers.”
“That’s awesome.”
“How is work going for you?” Pete asked.
“Work has been challenging. I hope this interview in Bagley helps raise my stock at MPR a bit. This is the one I told you about the other day on the phone.”
“I bet if you do well, they will offer you Garrison Keillor’s show when he retires. Do you ever talk to him?”
I’d already received dozens of questions about this in the past year. Garrison Keillor was a Minnesota legend whose story-telling was world famous. His show was broadcast across America to nearly every public radio station via NPR.
“I’ve met him a few times. He is actually a down-to-earth guy, and you can’t beat the
Prairie Home Companion show.”
“I feel like I’m living in Lake Wobegon every day of my life,” Pete said with a satisfied sigh.
“Sometimes I envy people like you for that,” I said. “But I enjoy living in the Twin Cities and being part of the hustle and bustle.”
“Amen, for people like you, but that’s definitely not for me. So, what’s the new plan for this weekend? I was really looking forward to going up to the BWCA to catch some fish.”
“Yeah, sorry for the last minute change of plans. As I mentioned last week on the phone, I’m working a huge story about this big heroin ring in Minnesota and I now have a source inside the network willing to meet me tomorrow night in Bagley. I wanted to ask you a huge favor.”
“Let me guess, you are in need of a little steel?” Pete flexed his biceps.
“Yes, but I feel terrible even asking. I know you have responsibilities here with your family and I don’t want to pull you away from them. Especially to work.”
“No worries, my man. I have to keep my skills sharp in between contract jobs out in my favorite Middle Eastern playgrounds. I just want to know who we are dealing with so I can bring the right equipment.”
“I can pay you for your time. Maybe not what you bill Uncle Sam, but quote me a price and I’ll see what I can do to get you the money.”
Pete waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. I still owe you for lining up my first date with Brittany. She is the best thing to happen to me, and she gave me a strong and healthy baby boy. Besides, it will probably be pretty low key in Bagley, right?”
I proceeded to fill Pete in on everything I knew about Smokey and his network. We ate delicious Boathouse food and gulped down even better beer as we talked through the specifics of the interview and location. As we talked, I was still amazed at his physique, and some small part of me wished I had signed up years ago with the Navy, too. Especially right now.
***
