Douglas Dorow - The Ninth District

Sandy’s eyes opened slightly. “What?” she asked. “What time is it?”

“A little after six. I have to go. I wish I could stay, but I have to go meet some people. Something’s come up.” He ran his hand down her arm. “How about we meet for lunch? One o’clock, the New French Bakery?”

She rolled over again. “Sure, one o’clock.”

Gently rubbing the back of her neck, the Governor tried to recall their conversation from the previous night.

“What was the name of the agent that questioned you at the bank?”

“Special Agent Ross Fruen. He was kind of cute,” she teased.

“Cute. Right.” The Governor squeezed her neck. “I’ll see you at one.”

After stopping at Caribou Coffee for a badly needed cup of coffee, the Governor continued driving up Hennepin Avenue towards downtown Minneapolis to follow up on the phone call he had received. Hot coffee wasn’t what he really wanted on a morning that was already hot and sticky with the rising sun, but he needed to be alert.

With the air-conditioner blowing on him as he drove by the Walker Art Center towards the Basilica, he dialed his cell phone and spoke into the hands-free headset he wore. “Vadim, it’s me. Yeah, I know it’s early. Sorry.”

The Governor signaled and moved over a lane to the right as he listened to what had to be Russian cursing.

“Listen, Vadim. The Feds are getting a little nosy and I need you to get something done before we meet tonight. What? No, nothing like that,” the Governor said, shaking his head. “Just let your fingers do their keyboard dance and see what we can learn and how you can mess up a life a little so a certain agent has other things to worry about.

“He’s Special Agent Ross Fruen, late twenties. OK, how long will it take? That’s it? Great. I’ll see you tonight. And bring the information we discussed.” The Governor ended the call and placed the cell phone in the seat next to him. “Welcome to my game, Agent Fruen,” he said to the windshield as he continued towards downtown Minneapolis to take care of his other issue.

The Governor pulled his SUV into the parking lot off West River Road and backed into a parking spot so the tailgate would face the bike path and the woods that ran along the west side of the Mississippi. He sat in his car for a couple of minutes with the newspaper in his hands. The headline of the Metro section, above the fold, was “Who is this man?” over a picture of him from the bank. The story contained details of the bank robbery. The weather info on the back page of the paper confirmed that the heat was here to stay, with rain in the forecast every day for the next week.

The Governor casually looked around to get a feel for the morning people and car traffic. A biker peddled by. Across the parking lot, an elderly man and his grey-faced lab were walking away from him. Just a couple of people out trying to beat the heat that was sure to get worse in the afternoon. Checking his watch, the Governor grew anxious.

It was almost 7:00. He had to get to the site, deal with the problem the crew had called him about, get home to shower, and get back Uptown for lunch. When the old man and his dog rounded a bend in the path and were out of sight, the Governor got out of the SUV and grabbed his duffel bag out of the back-end. He took one more glimpse up and down the bike path before crossing it, and headed into the woods and down the bank to the river.

This was the long way to the site where his crew was digging. Above ground, he was about a half a mile north of the Hennepin Avenue Bridge and the Federal Reserve. That wasn’t bad, but underground it was a maze of passages and turns with no direct route to where his crew was working. It was a longer hike than the mill ruins entrance by the Stone Arch Bridge, but he didn’t dare enter the underground caves from there during the day since the bridge was a popular spot for walkers and bikers.

He stood in the sand at the edge of the Mississippi and looked across it to the Boom Island landing. Everything was quiet. The river flowed silently by, its surface shimmering in the morning sun. No paddleboats were loading at this time of day to take sightseers down river through the lock and dam and back again.

The strap of his gear bag dug into his shoulder, reminding him why he was there. He wiped the sweat from his brow and rearranged the strap farther up his shoulder before he turned and continued walking downstream along the bank until he got to the spot he was looking for. The concrete apron for the storm sewer jutted out of the woods, breaking up the wooded shoreline like a scar, an unnatural opening into the earth. It reminded him of an entrance dug by a large underground creature.

He entered the sewer pipe, more like a cave at this point, and moved far enough in to get out of the light, where he was able to change into his caving gear without being seen from outside. The dark sewer, providing a respite from the heat that had been building since he’d woken up, also offered a transition back into the underground.

The Governor hurried through the sewers and tunnels to the site. Almost ninety minutes after he started his trek, he found his small crew watching over a man sitting against the wall.

Standing in the middle of them, the Governor tried to catch his breath. The sweat that had formed on his neck and back under his coveralls was now a cool trickle as it ran down to gather at the small of his back, where it was stopped by the belt around his waist. He nodded at Dave to get him away from the rest of the group so he could get up to speed on what had happened.

Dave walked over and the Governor put his arm around his shoulders. “Who’s our friend?”

“He came up on us while we were working. Caught us by surprise. We’re not sure what he knows or heard.” Dave glanced over at the young man sitting along the wall. “I told him we’re a city crew and that he’s trespassing. Told him I was contacting the supervisor. That’s you.”

The brothers, Steve and Rick, watched nervously.

“OK. You did the right thing. Let me talk to him. Go calm those two down.” The Governor walked over to the young man, knelt down, and smiled.

“Good morning, I’m Mr. Peterson. What are you doing down here? It’s pretty dangerous, especially alone.”

The young man kept hugging his legs. “I was just exploring. Can I leave now?”

“What’s your name?”

“Mike. Mike McDonald.” The twenty-something man looked into the Governor’s eyes and then at the others. “Listen, I know what I’m doing. I can find my way back out. I’m not hurting anything. Can I just go?”

“Tell you what. I can’t just let you go out on your own. This is a great place to explore with all of these caves and passageways, but what if you got hurt on the way out? You’d sue the city; we’d lose our jobs.” The Governor nodded at the others. “You have to understand where we’re coming from. Are you alone?”

“Yeah, just thought I’d explore a little up this way, stay cool in the caves. Trying to find some new routes to show my friends.”

“We need to get you out of here. We’ll all go out together. These guys need a break anyway.” The Governor rose and put out his hand.

He pulled Mike up and turned to his crew. “Hey, guys. I think it’s time for a break. We’ll escort our new friend, Mike, out and I’ll buy us something to eat before we get back at it.” He winked at his crew. “You guys lead us out. Mike and I will follow. Let’s go out by the Chute. I want to check something out on our way.”

The group made their way through the tunnels. The Governor could tell their intruder knew what he was doing. He had the right gear, knew how to move, where to look, how to crawl through the tight spots. Somebody like this could be useful if he was interested in joining them, but he was also dangerous now that he’d seen them.