Douglas Dorow - The Ninth District

A low rumble turned into a constant roar as they turned down a passageway.

“The Chute landing is up ahead!” Steve called back.

In the next chamber, they all stood next to a river of water that flowed quickly past them through a half-pipe of concrete before disappearing with a roar through an opening in the far wall.

The Governor took off his hard hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He leaned over and spoke in Mike’s ear.

“Mike, you’ve been exploring these caves before. Have you ever been to the Chute?”

Mike just shook his head.

“No? Well, a couple of crazy guys rode this river in a rubber boat. Went through the Chute and lived to tell about it. Said it was the dumbest thing they ever did.”

The Governor’s crew had worked their way to block the passage ahead and the passage from which they had come. Mike McDonald looked one way then the other and then stared at the Governor.

The Governor stepped back from Mike and yelled.

“Mike, we’re going to give you a chance to make history!” The Governor looked from the young man to the river. “How would you like to be the first to make the trip without a rubber boat?”

Rick, the crazy younger brother, giggled.

“What?” The rest of Mike’s thought hung in the rumble of the passage. He looked towards Rick standing in front of the path they had come from, and Steve in front of the path they were to follow. “Who are you guys?”

The Governor shook his head and pulled a gun from his pocket. “Does it matter?”

Rick giggled again. He took a step forward. “Come on, man, jump in!” he yelled.

The Governor had his light and gun trained on Mike. Mike squinted from the light in his eyes and stood his ground. He turned and looked towards Steve. He shuffled his feet and kept his back facing the wall across the water behind him. Mike took a step to his left and there was a blast. Mike froze, Rick screamed a laugh. Rock dust and sand flew off the wall behind Mike from the bullet that crashed into it.

The Governor pointed the gun at Mike’s chest. “I’m going to count to ten. You can take a ride down the Chute with or without a bullet in you. One, two…”

Mike took a step back, looked at the Governor and his gun, then at the dark water that ran by. He faced the Governor again and raised his hands up. “OK, enough. I’ll leave. Just let me go.” He took a step towards the exit.

“Three, four,” the Governor continued, and pulled the trigger. The flash filled the darkness and the noise echoed through the tunnels.

“Wait!” Mike screamed. He was about twenty feet from the entrance of the Chute, where the water in the stream poured over the edge into a pipe taking the water deeper into the ground. He squatted down and tentatively put his right foot into the stream, trying to get a grip on the bottom while he leaned his arms on the edge for balance. The water was just above his knee. He shifted his weight to move his left foot into the water and his right foot slipped. He splashed into the water which then swept him downstream. The Governor and the crew hurried to the edge and searched for Mike with the lights on their helmets. They spotted him as he bobbed to the surface on his back, arms wrapped around the helmet on his head, the current carrying him along through the wall and out of sight.

“God, he did it!” shouted Rick. He looked at the others. “Fuckin’ crazy!”

“I think that kid was crazier than you, little brother,” Steve said. “He said somebody had gone over this before. You don’t think it was him, do you?”

The Governor continued staring at the wall where the river disappeared. “He was crazy, but he gave himself a shot. He went feet first.”

Jack pulled the car into his spot in the parking lot outside the building that housed the FBI in downtown Minneapolis and turned off the engine. Looking in the rear-view mirror, he ran his hands through his short, dark hair and checked his tie. Jules had taught him how to dress; 100 % cotton shirts, starched and pressed, silk ties with a Windsor and a dimple, dark wool suits, polished black shoes, simple socks, and a belt that matched the color of his shoes. It served him well as an accountant out of school and carried over in his career at the FBI.

“Happy Birthday to me,” he said, and got out of the car.

Jack left the stairwell, and turned to head to his office, but stopped when Ross yelled, “Jack, I’ve got the videos from the three bank robberies set up in the conference room. Are you ready to look at them?”

Jack turned to face Ross. This kid was anxious. “Junior, we’re going to Wayzata. I’m going to get my coffee and we’re out of here.”

“I’ve got coffee in here and I might have something. Come take a look.”

Jack shook his head. Just like his kids, no focus. As he turned into the conference room, the singing began.

“Happy birthday to you…” Somebody pulled him into the center of the room, where he stood smiling, enduring being the center of attention. He jabbed a finger at Ross, raised imaginary batons in the air, conducted the group, and joined in at the end, bellowing, “Happy Birthday to me.” Jack looked into the faces of his friends and colleagues. “This is what I was waiting for. Not the singing, but the official breakfast of crime fighters, fresh doughnuts and real coffee. Thanks, everybody.”

As people left, they wished him happy birthday, gave him a hard time about turning forty, shook his hand, or gave him a hug. Everybody here was family. Barb, his assistant, was last. She gave him a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks for pulling this together, Barb. Did you let everyone know it was my birthday today?”

“Not everyone, a couple of people are on vacation. Happy birthday, Jack.”

Ross stood at the table. “They made me do it. Happy birthday.”

Jack held a chocolate covered donut in his left hand and a cup of coffee in his right. “Thanks. I think I needed that today. Did you really have the videos ready?”

“They’re ready to go,” Ross said.

Jack and Ross watched the videos from the other bank robberies. “Well, that was a bust, nothing new. What’s next, Junior?”

Ross looked at his watch. “There’s a temp from the Wayzata bank I need to interview. She lives over by Lake Calhoun. I’ll call her to make sure she’s there. We’ll drive my race course on the way over, conduct the interview and I’ll buy you a birthday lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll get to see your interviewing skills.” Jack said.

Jack held his palm up over the air vent to check and see if it was cooling yet. “We’re sitting inside for lunch. It’s too hot to sit outside. Especially in these suits.”

Ross drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they drove around Lake of the Isles. Jack looked out the window and watched the world go by. His mind was a mess. His thoughts jumped from his kids and his birthday plans with them to what he and Ross had seen at the bank. He was struggling with coming up with an explanation for why the Governor had killed that woman. He thought their trip to the scene was going to help, but nothing had jumped out at him.

“Jack, a dollar for your thoughts.”

Ross’ voice snapped him out of his trance.

“What?” Jack asked.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Too many things, that’s the problem.” Jack rolled his head to loosen his neck. “Tell me about this woman we’re stopping to see.”

Ross smiled. “She’s about twenty-eight, long legs, blonde hair, and blue eyes.”

“Very observant, Junior. What else do you happen to remember?”

Ross tried to get serious. “She’s a temp. Works in the back room handling faxes, some data entry, etc. She worked pretty closely with the victim and seemed to take this whole thing pretty hard.”