The Governor jerked. Startled, he reached out from beneath the blankets and felt around on the nightstand to find the source of the repeated blaring. Finding the alarm clock, he rolled onto his back and brought it to his face while he pushed various buttons, trying to make the sound stop. The numbers glowed silently in front of his eyes, 6:03, while the noise continued. His heart beat hard in his chest.
“It’s your pants…cell phone,” Sandy mumbled. “Make it stop.” She grabbed the pillow and pulled it down over her head to muffle the noise.
The Governor got out of bed and grabbed his pants. Sandy had thrown them across the room last night before a long night of unbridled “body exploration,” as she called it. He felt as if he had been explored and conquered. The ringing had stopped before he got the phone out of his pants pocket, but he held it in his hand and sat in a soft chair by the window, waiting for the telltale beep indicating the caller had left a message.
The phone beeped; the display showed a message was waiting for him. He glanced back at the lump on the bed and debated retrieving the waiting voice message or climbing back under the sheets for some additional needed sleep, his thumb playing with the numbers on the face of the phone while he tried to make a decision.
The window air-conditioner unit kicked into life to catch up with the rising temperature of the apartment. Sandy snorted and pulled the pillow tighter over her ears.
Walking into the living room, the Governor looked out the window as he pushed the button to retrieve the message. Waiting for the call to go through, he studied his naked reflection in the window. He was happy with how he looked. At fifty, he was fit, looked good in and out of his clothes, and was able to attract and bed women much younger than himself. His short, black hair was speckled with gray, giving him an air of class. He followed a regimen of yoga and tried to watch what he ate. Sandy had even got him to start running around Lake Calhoun with her.
The voice in the phone told him to enter his password. Once he completed this, he heard a familiar voice. Listening, he looked out the window at the world coming to life.
“Damn,” he breathed. He pushed the button to end the call, gathered the rest of his clothes, and got dressed.
He sat on the edge of the bed and gently pried the pillow from Sandy’s hands to reveal her face. “Princess, I have to go.” He reached out, brushed the stray hairs off her cheek, and tucked them behind her ear.
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.