The Ninth District - A Thriller Page 2

  “The Governor?” the SAC asked.

  “That’s what we’re calling him. Go ahead, Agent Fruen.”

  Ross opened his notebook and cleared his throat. “Well, sir, we’ve linked four bank robberies together over the past four months. We’re pretty sure all four have been committed by the same person wearing the same mask, which appears to be custom made. It’s a very good likeness the governor from a few years back.” Ross paused, cleared his throat, and continued.

  “The MO is very similar, other than the murder this morning. And he’s exhibited the same habit leaving each of the banks.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, sir, he salutes the security camera as he leaves the building.”

  “Salutes?”

  “Yes, sir. Like this.” Ross imitated touching the first two fingers of his right hand to his eyebrow. “Every time.”

  “Don’t publicize that detail. What’s next, Jack?”

  “It’s his case.”

  Ross glared at Jack, and thought for a second. “I have a couple of interviews I want to follow up on. I’d like to revisit the crime scene and we have the videos from the banks and the surrounding area from the bank this morning being looked at by the lab.”

  The SAC took off his glasses, leaned back, and looked at Ross. “Sounds like you have a mask, a salute, and nothing else. We’re not too close to nailing this guy, are we?”

  Ross kept his head up, but his voice gave away his lack of confidence. “No, sir.”

  “Well, I told you how the media’s all over this one. Keep digging. Follow procedure. It’s your case, but use Jack’s help and experience, don’t be afraid to ask questions and bounce things off him.” He nodded towards the door. “Why don’t you give Jack and me a minute?”

  “I’ll meet you at the parking lot door,” Jack said to Ross.

  Once Ross had left, the SAC asked Jack to sit. “Is he up to this?”

  Sitting in the comfortable chair, Jack thought of his first field office assignment. He was Junior once; a fresh agent full of confidence, wanting to prove himself, looking for that case that would make a difference and help accelerate your career. This was one of those.

  “Sure. He’s full of energy, smart, wants to do well. He’ll nail it, but it’s going to take some time.” Jack leaned forward. “This guy in the mask is smart, but he’s cocky. That’s how we’ll catch him.”

  “Jack, I know you’ll support Ross and help him out. But, if he’s not up to it, you have to step in. This one is going to get noisy. Nobody likes multiple bank robberies; throw in the murder in Wayzata, politicians will start talking, and Washington will call me. We don’t need that. You need to catch this guy before he robs another bank or kills somebody else. It’s starting this afternoon with a news conference in Wayzata. I want this to be an FBI case; don’t let the police take it. Our spokesperson will be there, but keep this one on our side. The bank robberies are ours and we’ll help with the murder investigation too.” He turned and looked out the window. “Are you doing OK, Jack?”

  “I’m doing OK.”

  “This case can be a springboard, Jack. Things are good here, not that I want to lose you, but this case can do something for your career.”

  Jack was surrounded by the SAC’s hall of fame; pictures on the wall with politicians and celebrities. He had comfortable chairs, four walls, and a door. Jack thought about his cube and his call with Julie.

  “I know it’ll be under the microscope. I’ll work with Junior and we’ll get this guy.”

  “OK.” The SAC leaned forward on his desk. “You and Julie OK? This job can be hell on relationships.”

  “We’re working on it.” Jack stared at the SAC. “Why, did somebody say something?”

  “Just noise.”

  “We’re fine.”

  The SAC waited a couple of beats for Jack to go on. Jack stayed quiet and they stared at each other. The SAC blinked first and turned to some papers on his desk.

  “All right, go see if you can help Ross and let me know if you need anything. Anything needs to go public, you work it through our spokesperson. I don’t think Ross is ready for the media circus without your guidance, yet. Stay ahead of this one.”

  Jack got up to leave. When he reached the door, the SAC called out, “Hey, Jack.”

  “Yeah?” Jack was halfway out the door and turned around.

  “Please don’t call him Junior in public. And happy birthday.”

  Jack smiled and gave him a little salute.

  Chapter 3

  The heat rippled across the parking lot. Jack stood with his hands in his pockets and looked out the glass door at the parking lot. He reminded himself to check the weather for tomorrow so he could figure out what to do 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 caps
ule. 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.”

  “I’m looking for jazz. Do you know jazz?”

  Ross reached over to help but Jack just slapped his hand away. “Keep your eyes on the road.”

  “Just trying to help. Try button five and then push seek.”

  Jack pushed the buttons and the sound of a saxophone filled the interior of the car. Jack smiled and closed his eyes.

  “I know what jazz is, but not who plays what. Who’s this?”

  Jack cocked his head and held up a finger, indicating that Ross would have to wait for an answer. His head rolled and bobbed on his shoulders as the sax sailed through another riff building to the climax at the end of the song. “Man, that was good, wasn’t it?”

  “It sounded good, I guess.”

  “I guess? Oh, Grasshopper, I have so much to teach you. Not only about bank robbery investigations, but music as well. What else? Women? Sports? You know about sex, don’t you?”

  Ross laughed. “Let’s start with your ideas on this investigation and you can throw in some jazz knowledge. I think I can figure most of the other stuff out on my own.” He reached over and turned down the radio.

  “I need to learn a little more about my teacher. Tell me about Special Agent Miller. Today, I learned you have a couple of kids. Somebody has a birthday coming up. How long have you been doing this? Take your pick.”

  At the mention of his kids, Jack started thinking about them again. It tore him up that he couldn’t go home and see them at the end of the day. He was really looking forward to spending time with them tomorrow. He loved being with them. They had an outlook on life that made some of the stuff he dealt with day to day seem insignificant, while at the same time helped him understand why what he did was so important. He was glad he had them to help him escape into the other world. Tomorrow was going to be fun.

  “Jack?”

  “Sorry, I drifted there for a minute.”

  “So, are you going to tell me something about yourself?”

  “I’ve got two kids. You saw their pictures. They keep me honest. I like to run to keep in shape so I can keep up with them.” He looked at Ross. “Your turn.”

  “Me, hmm. No kids. I’m pretty new to town. Haven’t met many people. You know how it goes with this job. Working weird hours. Plus, some people are put off when they find out you’re an FBI agent. When I’m not working I like to work out. I’m into triathlons. There’s a big one here in Minneapolis as part of the Aquatennial in a few weeks. I’m hoping to find enough time to stay in good enough shape to compete in that one. I’m ready for it. Maybe we could run together.”

  “When it gets a little cooler.”

  Jack asked another question to keep Ross talking about himself and added the appropriate nod or grunt when it was required. The jazz playing in the background and Ross’ monologue engaged one part of Jack’s brain while the other part worked on the case.

  “Jack, I’ve been running at the mouth. Your turn.”<
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  “Isn’t this our exit?”

  “Right.” Ross swerved to the right into the ramp that led off the highway, the wheels of the Crown Vic spitting loose stones.

  Jack braced himself and leaned into the door. “Geez, Junior.”

  “Sorry, I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” Ross stopped the car at the stop sign at the bottom of the ramp. “You had someplace in mind for lunch?”

  “Head over to the lake.”

  Ross drove the car through the streets of Wayzata making his way towards the main street of downtown that ran along a bay on the east end of Lake Minnetonka. Wayzata was a small village about twenty minutes west of downtown Minneapolis. It was a community of upper middle class and above that prided itself on its relationship to the lake and summer. It was a popular spot with its views and docks and was one of the easier communities around the lake to get to from Minneapolis.

  “I’d like to show you the site first hand.”

  “OK,” Jack said. “The bank and then lunch.”

  Ross drove into an open parking spot, put the car in park.

  “Wait. When you were here before you concentrated on the bank. Let’s sit here for a couple of minutes, look around, then tell me what you see.”

  Jack left the jazz playing. Ahead of them was Lake Minnetonka. The afternoon sun reflected off the lake and the small waves that rolled across its surface. The hot weather brought out the recreational users. Speedboats and jet skis cut across the waves leaving behind their wakes. Sailboats were farther out criss-crossing the lake, driven by the breeze.

  Between them and the lake were railroad tracks that ran parallel to the shore between the lake and the bank building. The bank building itself looked like it had been by the railroad tracks for a long time, but it was relatively new. It was brick with a steep, pitched roof and old style windows.

  Ross was looking off to the left towards the rows of storefronts along the main street of downtown Wayzata.

  Jack opened his door and got out of the car. He got his coat out of the back and threw it on to cover his holster. “Ready, Junior? Let’s go.”