The Metro club was always dark. The Governor stopped just inside the entrance and heard the low buzz of voices and the clink of glasses as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to see where the noises came from. The Metro was the Minneapolis/St. Paul gathering place for the men in the Russian community. It was here that they spoke quietly in Russian, traded information, made deals, and strengthened relationships. The power brokers controlled who got jobs, what work was done here or in Russia. Small groups of men sat at the bar, others at tables surrounded by mahogany walls and soft lights. The Governor had been to the Metro before and knew he didn’t fit in. He had dark hair like most of the men here, but he was tall and lean. Most of the men looked like the one that was approaching him, a little shorter with short, dark hair, a round face, maybe a mustache and dark clothes, with a cigarette in his hand.
“May I help you? You are here to meet someone?”
The Governor looked at the man and then out into the room. This man was more than a greeter. He was the first barrier into the room for the uninvited. He had a gentle smile and a demeanor that put people at ease, but he also commanded attention through the intensity of his gaze. The Governor saw through the smoke that many of the men were looking back at him. “I’m here to see Vadim.”
“There is more than one Vadim here, I am sure. Can you be more specific?” The man took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke up into the darkness.
“Vadim Skarbov, he should be expecting me.”
“I’ll go see if I can find him for you. Why don’t you have a seat at the bar?” It wasn’t a suggestion. The short Russian accompanied the Governor to a seat at the bar before going to find Vadim.
A small glass appeared on the bar in front of the Governor. Holding the glass in his hand, he looked into the mirror behind the bar to see what was going on behind him while he waited for Vadim to appear. He took a sip and smiled. One thing the Russians knew was their vodka and they shared the good stuff with whoever frequented the Metro.
A couple of years before, Vadim had introduced the Governor to the Metro and to good vodka. Vadim had been in town for a national computer hacker’s convention as a speaker on a panel talking about the security of financial information and his past intrusions. He was known for attacking financial companies around the world, accessing information and funds, which he exploited for his own benefit and the benefit of his relatives in Russia. He had served his time after being caught. There wasn’t a lot of publicity outside of the hacker community; banks and companies didn’t acknowledge their losses. To do so would ruin the confidence their customers had in keeping their savings with them. The Governor was able to talk with Vadim at a reception and they developed a partnership of necessity, neither able to succeed without the other, on the plan the Governor had proposed.
After another glass of vodka, the Governor saw the greeter in the mirror standing behind him. “You can follow me.” Walking through the restaurant, he noticed the conversations at the tables ended as he approached and began again in his wake.
At the table in the corner, a man with long, black hair tied back in a ponytail dropped his cigarette in an empty glass and stood when they approached. “Hello, my friend.”
The Governor shook his hand. “Vadim, it’s good to see you.”
Vadim shooed the greeter away with a nod of his head. “Sit. We have some things to talk about. You brought me something?”
“We’re almost there, my friend.” The Governor pulled a package from his pocket and placed it on the table. He pushed the bubble-wrapped item across the table. “I should have the last, most important piece of the puzzle soon.”
Vadim grabbed a knife and slit the tape that held the package closed. He tilted the package and let the contents slide into his open hand. It was a computer hard drive, like the others the Governor had given him. “Do you know what is on here?”
“Vadim, we each have our roles here. I research and steal, you figure out what is on these and how we’re going to use them. No, I don’t know what is on there.”
“None of these is any good without the last piece,” Vadim said.
“Like I said, we’ll have it soon, in the next day or two.” The Governor looked across the table at Vadim. He called him his friend, but he wasn’t a friend. He was a partner. One he had to trust to get what he wanted.
“You wanted something, too,” Vadim said. He pulled an envelope from the seat next to him and placed it on the table. “Your list of agents in Minneapolis.”
“Thanks. I’ll get back to you soon.” He slid back his chair to stand. Vadim reached across and placed his hand on the envelope.
“When you get to your car, look in the envelope and listen to your voicemail. I don’t like what I have found. We are too close to put this at risk. There are two people you can trust. You and me.” Vadim sat back and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He placed the unfiltered Camel between his lips and lit it. “We will talk soon.”
The Governor started his car in the parking lot to get the air-conditioning going and opened the windows a few inches to let the hot air escape. His fingers slid along the envelope as he contemplated what Vadim said. What was the risk? He tore open the envelope and pulled out the sheets of paper. The first two sheets were an alphabetical list of agents, their addresses, and phone numbers. He found Ross Fruen on the list and looked to see where he lived. Then he looked at some of the other names on the list. They were primarily male, a variety of names, titles, and pay grades. Nothing special, but he had the names he needed to be aware of.
He examined the other two pages and tried to decipher the information they contained. They were phone logs indicating incoming and outgoing calls, duration, source, and destination numbers. One sheet was for Sandy. The other for Ross Fruen. There were some numbers highlighted on each page. He studied these entries and determined that they had called each other. Nothing wrong with that, was there? Agent Fruen was conducting an investigation; she was returning his calls.
The Governor slid the pages back into the envelope and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Vadim had said to check his voicemail. He looked at the face of the phone and saw that a message was waiting. He didn’t remember any beep indicating a message had come in. He pushed the message button, put the phone to his ear, and waited for the message to begin.
What was he listening to? The message was from Sandy, but it wasn’t for him. He listened once to the whole message, and then listened again from the beginning.
“What the hell?” He pushed the button to listen to the header to see when the call came in and shut his phone to end the call. He yanked the sheets from the envelope again and ran his finger down the list of calls from Sandy’s phone. This morning, with Agent Ross Fruen, thirty-six seconds. What was she thinking?