Douglas Dorow - The Ninth District

The Governor worked to control his fury; he couldn’t make a mistake now. He took a deep breath and dialed his mobile phone as he tailed the blue car through the intersection and they pulled onto Lake Street by the parkway on the north side of Lake Calhoun. There were bikers and joggers out on the trails and at the intersections, but the Governor was barely aware of them as he focused on the car ahead of him.

He listened intently in his earpiece, waiting for the ring as the cellular system linked his phone to the one he dialed. As the cars hit the section of road that divided into six lanes of traffic, three in each direction, around the north side of the lake, the Governor heard a ring, maneuvered into the lane to the right of the blue car, and pulled up alongside. He glanced over and kept pace with it. He could see a hand digging in a bag on the seat looking for the ringing phone. He turned down the radio and waited for an answer.

“Yeah?” the Governor heard in his earpiece and glanced to his left.

“Haven’t you heard it isn’t safe to talk on a cell phone when you’re driving?”

“Who is this?”

Without answering, the Governor accelerated and swerved left driving the large Tahoe into the side of the blue car. Both vehicles continued left until the wheels of the car bounced off the curb dividing the east and west bound traffic. It all seemed slow motion, surreal, as the Governor felt the jolts, and heard the sounds in his vehicle and the sounds in the car next to him through the earpiece of the phone. There was cursing, but he couldn’t be sure of the source of the words. Was it the agent or himself?

He pushed left and accelerated again, first driving the left wheels of the blue car onto the curb and with a final twist of the wheel, up and over it. Horns honked and tires squealed and finally, there was a tremendous crash as the blue car collided head on with a large delivery truck from Room and Board. The Governor continued eastward on Lake Street with only a glance into his rearview mirror to assess the chaos behind him. He moved quickly to the right lane and turned right onto a neighborhood street, accelerated, and turned right again at the end of the block where he quickly pulled into an alley and parked next to a dumpster behind an apartment building.

He glanced down the street as he pulled the latex gloves from his hands and put them in the fanny pack/water bottle carrier. The Governor broke into a jog towards the lake. It was a hot day for a run, but he was just another jogger as he headed for the trail system along the chain of lakes he was going to follow on his long run home. He heard the sirens and headed towards the lake and the scene of the accident to see what had happened.

Jack ran by the bronze statue of Mary Tyler Moore throwing her hat into the air on the Nicollet Mall in front of the Macy’s store. He tried to block it, but couldn’t stop it. Damn it. The theme song from the old television show burst into his brain. You’re going to make it after all! It happened every time. With just a few blocks left to reach the YMCA and a shower, the song played in his head, threatening to be there all day. The second verse started, then a voice called out, “Jack!”

Jack slowed and looked back over his shoulder, first at the statue, at the hat still just leaving Mary’s hand as she flings it into the air, and then he scanned the faces behind him on the sidewalk. The lunch crowd on Nicollet Mall had thinned as the downtown office workers returned to the land of the cubicles in the surrounding office buildings.

“Miller, over here.”

He looked to his left and saw Patty sitting in the passenger seat of the news van next to the curb. She motioned him to come over to the car, the look on her face telling him she wasn’t here just to offer him water again.

He jogged a few steps over to the car, nodded at the driver, looked at Patty, and asked, “What’s up? For a minute I thought Mary was calling my name.”

“We got a call, Jack.” Patty locked her eyes on his. “One of yours, an Agent Ross Fruen’s been in a car accident.”

“Where is he? Is he OK?”

“He’s over at HCMC. That’s all I know. We heard some calls over the radio, thought you’d like to know so we came to find you.”

“I need to get there. Hennepin County Medical Center handles all the trauma cases. Can’t be good.” Jack looked anxiously up and down the mall.

“That’s why we’re here. Jump in.”

“You sure? It’s just a few blocks. I can run there.”

“Come on, Jack. Let’s go.”

Jack settled in the back seat of the van among the video equipment and leaned forward in his seat. “So we don’t know anything?” Jack asked.

“Sorry, Jack, you know what I know. But we’ll be there soon enough.”

The driver took off.

“So who’s Agent Fruen?” Patty asked.

“You met him when we were in Wayzata.”

“The new agent? Shy guy with the sunglasses?”

“That’s him.” He looked at Patty. “I wonder what happened.”

They pulled up in front of the emergency room at the hospital and rocked to a stop. Patty climbed out and opened the back door for Jack. “Thanks,” Jack said. “I have to get inside.”

“I’m coming with you.” Patty gave a wave to the driver and told him she’d call him.

“There goes your ride. I didn’t even thank him.”

“Don’t worry, Jack. He knows. He’s glad to do it and he’s used to waiting around.” Patty started for the door and grabbed Jack by the elbow to get him moving. “Let’s go on in. I’ll hang around if you need me for anything. A call, another ride, anything.”

Jack followed Patty inside. Once they were in, Patty headed for a chair while Jack went up to talk to a couple of agents in suits who were leaning against the wall.

“How is he?”

“Hey, Jack.” The closer of the two agents kept leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets while he spoke. “He’s not dead, that’s about all we know. We’re waiting for the doctor. He’s supposed to be out soon.”

The second agent stood with a Diet Coke in his hand. “It’s a miracle Junior’s still here. You know what saved him?” He took a big swig of soda and waited for Jack to answer. When all he got was a shake of the head, he let out a quiet belch and continued, “That piece of shit car of yours. The Rino or whatever you called it. Should’ve called it El Tankay, ‘cuz that tank took a beating but saved Junior’s ass.”

The doctor had approached the group.

“Gentlemen, you’re with the FBI?” The first agent quickly flashed his badge in answer.

Jack answered, “Yep, that’s us. How is he?”

The doctor looked at the second agent. “You’re right that the car probably saved him. That, and he’s young and in good physical shape. He’s beat up. He’ll be bruised and sore, but I think he’ll be fine. We want to keep him overnight, treat the pain and observe him, let him rest, but he should be able to go home tomorrow or the next day.”

The agents all looked at each other and then at the doctor. “That’s great, doc,” was all Jack could say.

“He was asking for Jack,” the doctor said.

Jack nodded. “That’s me.”

“Follow me. I’ll take you in to see him.”

Jack looked at the other two agents. One took a swig of soda while the other pulled out his mobile phone. “We’ll call the office and give them an update. Tell them Junior’s still kicking. We’ll wait here or at the cafeteria to get an update from you.”

Jack stepped over to the drinking fountain and took a long drink of water. When he was done, he looked over at Patty and gave her a “thumbs-up” then he looked at the doctor. “All right, let’s go.”