“Where is it?” Jack stood in front of the tactical van parked on the street.
The agent in charge, Stephan Ramirez, was dressed in black and ready for action. He had his tactical weapons around his waist and an earpiece with a microphone for directing the on-site team. Sweat glistened on his cheeks. The warm morning was becoming a warmer afternoon. The sun turned the humid air into a sauna. He nodded to his left. “We have men in the bushes with eyes on the truck. It’s parked in the apartment parking lot down the street.”
“OK, let’s go get it.”
Stephan touched the earpiece to activate the microphone and said one word, “Bingo.”
Down the street, Jack watched as a team of people, in dark pants with t-shirts under bulletproof vests that said FBI on the back, converged on the truck. They approached the vehicle but didn’t touch it. On either side, agents peered through the windows, inspecting the interior. The left side of the vehicle was dented and scratched. This was the correct vehicle and their equipment told them the phone that had called Ross was inside it.
Jack looked at Sure Thing, who was leaning against the van. “Let’s go. Looks like they’ve secured it.”
Jack cupped his hands to cut the glare and looked in the windows of the truck himself. “Take your time. We don’t know why he left this here. Make sure there aren’t any surprises. He went after Special Agent Fruen today with this truck.”
“Sure Thing, I’m going to take a little walk. You’ve got this. Let me know when they’re through.”
Jack walked around the apartment building. He looked up at the back of the building. Across the street, some youngsters were standing on the sidewalk, watching the team working around the van. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building, Jack looked at it with a feeling of recognition. He slowly turned around and surveyed the street. About halfway through his turn it hit him. This was the street where Ross had talked with Sandy. He took out his phone and dialed a number.
Jack stared at the apartment building while he waited for the phone call to connect. The building was an old, three-story brick building. Many of the apartments had window air-conditioner units and most of them were running to ward off the hot, sticky air. The call went unanswered and forwarded to voicemail. He ended the call and walked up the steps. He looked through the front window to examine the names on the mailboxes. Most of them just had last names.
Jack instinctively patted his pockets. What was her last name? The card that Junior had just said Sandy. He tried to dig back through his memory, but couldn’t remember her last name, just what she looked like. He looked at the mailboxes again. She hadn’t answered her cell phone. Could she be home? Did she even live in this building? Was it a coincidence the car the Governor had used was parked behind this apartment building?
Jack called the number posted over the mailboxes that was for the residents to call to report problems with the building. After three rings, a voice answered in a whisper, “This better be important.”
“My name is Special Agent Miller with the FBI. I’m standing outside your building on the front steps. I’m trying to track somebody down and I think she may live in this building. Could you come to the front door and let me in and answer a few questions for me?” Jack started nice, but firm, hoping it would get him the results he was looking for.
“I’ll be right down,” the man answered.
“Great, I’ll see you in a minute.”
Jack stood on the front steps in the shade and slapped at the mosquitoes that buzzed his ears. A man with a shaved head wearing a gray, sleeveless t-shirt and faded, maroon gym shorts with the gold University of Minnesota M on the thigh came to the door. He was somewhere in his thirties. The man pushed open the door and stepped outside. “You’re with the FBI? Can we talk outside so I can have a smoke?”
Jack showed the man his FBI credentials and agreed, thinking that the cigarette smoke would help keep the bugs away. “Did I wake you?”
“Late night. I bartend over here in Uptown.”
“Sorry I had to wake you, but I’m looking for a woman that lives in this neighborhood and I think she might live in this building.” He described Sandy, the car she drove, and said she might work at a bank. The man blew the cigarette smoke up into the air and ran his hand over his shaved head.
“You’ve got the right building. Sandy Hoffman is her name. Lives in 4A. She’s got a great body. Been living here for about a year. What do you need her for?”
“Thanks. I just need to talk to her. Before we go inside to see if she’s home, I need to show you a car in your parking lot out back and see if you know who it belongs to.”
The man took another drag from his cigarette and followed Jack around the building. “Holy shit, what’s going on back here?” the man asked.
Jack looked at the people surrounding the SUV. The driver-side door was open and a tow truck was preparing to load the vehicle onto the bed to take it away.
“Do you recognize that vehicle or know if that parking spot is assigned to anyone?”
“I’ve never seen that car before.” The man looked at Jack and took another long drag from his cigarette. “The lot is first-come, first-serve for those who pay to rent off-street parking. The spots aren’t assigned to anybody.”
Agent Ramirez and Sure Thing walked towards them. Jack nodded to the man and said, “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
Ramirez said, “We tracked the owner down. A couple from Anoka reported it missing yesterday morning. We’re taking it to the lab. The phone was under the seat.”
“Thanks. I’ll be ready to go in a minute.” Jack turned to the building supervisor. “Can we go back and see if Ms. Hoffman is in? You don’t have to let us in her apartment, but I would like to ring her apartment and see if she’s in.”
The man dropped his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it. “I can tell you she’s not in. She gets up early and works out.”
“Then she goes to the bank?”
“I don’t know about working at a bank. But I know she’s a dancer at Sheiks, downtown.”