The Fugitive (4 page)

O
n Wednesday, during Madame Monique's first-period Spanish class, Theo's mind kept drifting far away to the streets of Washington. He was consumed with the troubling notion that he had done something bad. What if he, in fact, identified the wrong man? Now, thanks to him, dozens of FBI agents and experts were wasting their time riding trains, following the wrong people, poring over a useless video, and in general—in the words of Ike Boone—“chasing their tails.”

During Miss Garman's second-period Geometry class, Theo was struck with the horrible thought that perhaps he might get into some trouble. What if the FBI became angry with him for accusing the wrong man? And what if this man somehow found out that he, Theodore Boone, had secretly caught him on video and called in the FBI? Could he be arrested? Or sued for slander?

At lunch, Theo could hardly eat. April knew something was wrong, but Theo said that his stomach was bothering him. And it was. She fished around for the real story, but Theo clammed up and revealed nothing. How do you tell anyone, even a close friend, that you're involved with the FBI, and that maybe you've made a big mistake? He suffered through Chemistry with Mr. Tubcheck, PE with Mr. Tyler, study hall with Mr. Mount, then asked to be excused from debate practice. He counted the minutes until the final bell, then sprinted to the safety of Boone & Boone. Neither of his parents had heard from the FBI. He called Ike but couldn't get an answer.

As he was hiding in his office, with Judge at his feet, Elsa barged in with a plate of cupcakes she said she had made just for him. She insisted he come sit with her in the reception room and tell her about his trip to Washington. Theo had no choice, though he didn't really like her cupcakes. Judge followed him to the front of the building where he sat for half an hour talking to Elsa as she answered the phone and went about her business of running the firm. At one point, his mother walked through the reception area and asked if he'd finished his homework. Theo said almost. Ten minutes later his father ambled through, holding some papers, saw Theo and asked if he'd finished his homework. Theo said almost. Elsa got rid of a phone call and said, “I guess you'd better finish your homework.”

“Looks like it,” Theo said, and walked back to his office. Because his parents were lawyers, there were a lot of rules in the family. One of the more irksome ones was that they expected Theo, when he was just hanging around the office in late afternoons, to hit the books and finish his homework. They expected near perfect grades, and Theo usually delivered. There was an occasional B on his report card, but nothing they could really complain about. When he got a B and they raised their eyebrows, he asked if they'd made straight A's when they were kids. Well, of course. Didn't all parents make straight A's back in the glory days? He'd made a C in the fourth grade, in math, and he thought they might put him in Juvenile Detention. One lousy C and the entire world almost came to an end.

He couldn't concentrate and the homework was boring, as always.

Ike called just after six p.m. “Just talked to the FBI,” he said. “More bad news. They watched the subway again and saw no sign of our man. Looks like he's disappeared again. Vanished.”

“That's hard to believe,” Theo said. On the one hand, he was relieved that Duffy was gone and he, Theo, would not get dragged any deeper into the situation. On the other hand, he felt bad for creating this mess. Again, he asked himself why, exactly, had he stuck his nose into this?

“What do you think happened?” he asked.

“Who knows, but there's a good chance ol' Pete isn't as stupid as they think. He's living on the run, a wanted man, and maybe he's learned to see around corners. The FBI comes barging in like a pack of bloodhounds, and Duffy smells trouble. He notices people looking at him, sees some strange faces, and, since he's spooked anyway, he decides to lay low for a while, to change his movements, take a different train, walk down a different street, wear a different suit. There are two million people in Washington, and he knows how to lose himself in a crowd.”

“I guess so.”

“They watched his apartment building all night, and he didn't go home. That's a good indication he knows something's up. They'll probably never find him now.”

“Too bad.”

“Anyway, there's not much else we can do at this point.”

“Thanks, Ike.” Theo stuck his phone in his pocket and went to tell his parents.

Wednesday night dinner meant take-out Chinese from the Dragon Lady, one of Theo's favorite meals of the week. They ate on folding trays in the den and watched
Perry Mason
reruns, another of Theo's favorites. Halfway through the first episode his mother said, “Theo, you've barely touched your food.”

Theo quickly crammed in a load of sweet-and-sour shrimp and said, “No way. It's delicious and I'm starving.”

She gave him one of those motherly looks that said, “Sure, but I know the truth.”

“Are you worried, Theo?” his father asked.

“About what?”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe the FBI and the fact that they can't find Pete Duffy.”

“Hadn't thought about it,” he said.

His father smiled as he chewed and shot a knowing glance at Mrs. Boone. When their eyes returned to the television, Theo reached down and gave Judge half an egg roll, his favorite of all foods.

• • •

Early Thursday morning, Theo was having a quiet breakfast alone, with his daily bowl of Cheerios and glass of orange juice, with Judge at his feet having the same, minus the juice. His father had left early to have breakfast and gossip with his usual coffee gang downtown. His mother was in the den sipping a diet soda and reading the morning newspaper. Theo was thinking of nothing in particular, was in fact minding his own business and not looking for trouble or adventure, when the phone rang.

His mother called out, “Please get that, Theo.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said as he stood and reached for the phone. “Hello.”

A somewhat familiar voice said rather stiffly, “Yes, this is Agent Marcus Slade with the FBI. Could I speak to either Mr. or Mrs. Boone?”

“Uh, sure,” Theo said as his throat tightened. This is it, he thought in a flash, they're coming after me! They're mad because I've wasted so much of their time. He covered the phone and yelled, “Mom, it's the FBI.”

How many eighth graders at Strattenburg Middle School had to deal with the FBI, he asked himself? When his mother picked up the phone in the den, he was tempted to stay on the line and listen in, but quickly changed his mind. Why ask for more trouble? He hid in the doorway that led to the den, just out of sight, and could hear her voice but not her words. When she hung up, Theo scrambled back to his chair and stuck in a mouthful of Cheerios. Mrs. Boone walked into the kitchen, stared at him as if he'd shot someone, and said, “That was the FBI.”

No kidding, Mom.

“They want to meet with us this morning at the office. They say it's urgent.”

On the one hand, Theo was thrilled to be missing school again, but on the other hand reality hit quickly: The FBI was ticked off and they wanted to chew him out face-to-face. He said, “What do they want?”

“The agent wouldn't say. They're driving over now and we'll meet at nine o'clock.”

“We? As in me too?”

“Yes, you're invited.”

“Gosh, Mom, I hate to miss school,” he said with a straight face. And truthfully, at that moment, he'd rather get on his bike and hustle on to class.

An hour later they were hanging around the conference room, waiting on Ike, who was not a morning person at all. He finally arrived, red-eyed and grumpy, and went straight for the coffee. A few minutes later, Agents Slade and Ackerman walked in and everyone said hello. Mrs. Boone closed the door because Elsa was lurking close by, eager to listen in. Vince, the firm's paralegal and one of Theo's closest allies, was also hanging around, curious. And Dorothy, the real estate secretary, had her radar on high alert because all the warning signs were there: (1) Theo was missing school again, (2) Ike was present, and (3) the two FBI agents were back.

Slade went first and began with, “We'll get right to the point. We've seen no sign of Pete Duffy. We think he's changed his routine. We're also convinced that he's the man in the video, and we have reason to believe he's still in Washington, DC.” He paused as if waiting for one of the Boones to ask how they knew this, but all Boones were silent. He continued, “We would like Theo and Ike to return to DC and help us with the search.”

Ackerman chimed in immediately, “You two have spotted him before. You know what he looks like because you've seen him before, here in Stattenburg. Theo, you said something in our first meeting about recognizing the way he walks, right?”

Theo wasn't sure how to react. He'd been terrified when they all sat down at the table just seconds earlier, but suddenly he was intrigued by the thought of another trip to DC. And this one at the invitation of the FBI! They hadn't come to arrest him—they wanted to join forces. “Uh, right,” Theo managed to say.

“Tell us about this,” Slade said.

Theo looked to his left, to his mother, then to his father on the right. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, I read this spy novel one time where this American guy was being followed by some Russian spies, the KGB, I think.”

“That's right, the KGB,” Slade added.

“And the American knew that every face is different and faces are easy to disguise. But, he also knew that every person walks a different way, too, and it's harder to disguise the way you walk. So he put a small pebble in his shoe and it made him walk funny. He lost the Russians and got away. They killed him later, but it wasn't because he had a rock in shoe.”

“And you can identify Pete Duffy by the way he walks?” Ackerman asked.

“I don't know about that, but when I followed him off the train last Thursday, I recognized his walk. Nothing strange about it, it's just the way he walks. I saw him several times during the trial here.”

Both parents were frowning at him as if he were telling tall tales. Ike, though, was grinning and thoroughly enjoying his nephew.

Mr. Boone said, “Let me get this straight. You want Theo to go back to DC and watch people walk along the streets?”

Slade replied, “That, and to ride the Metro again and hope we get lucky. Theo and Ike. Look, it's a longshot, but we have nothing to lose.”

Ike laughed and said rudely, “I love it. The FBI is the most powerful crime-fighting organization in the world, with the best technology money can buy, and you're relying on a thirteen-year-old kid who thinks he can identify a person by the way he walks.”

Ackerman and Slade took deep breaths, ignored Ike, and moved on. Slade said, “We'll fly you there and back, take care of all the expenses. Both of you. We'll be with you and you'll be surrounded by FBI agents. There's no danger.”

“It sounds dangerous,” Mrs. Boone said.

“Not at all,” Ackerman replied. “Duffy's not going to harm anyone. He doesn't want trouble.”

“How long will Theo be away?” Mr. Boone asked.

Slade said, “Not long. Today is Thursday. If we hustle we can catch a flight today at noon and be in DC in time to catch rush hour on the subway. We do surveillance today, tonight, tomorrow, and he'll be home Saturday.”

Theo managed to keep a straight face and hide his excitement. His mother almost ruined it with, “I think one of us should go too, Woods.”

Mr. Boone said, “I agree, but I have two big deals to close Friday.”

Mrs. Boone said, “And I have to be in court all day tomorrow.”

So typical. His parents played an endless game of each trying to appear busier than the other.

Ike said, “Relax. I'll take care of Theo. It's an easy trip, and I agree that there's no danger.”

“But he'll miss two full days of school,” she said.

This hung over the table like a wicked deal breaker until Slade said, “Yes, and we're sorry about that. But I'm sure Theo can catch up later. This is pretty important stuff here, Mrs. Boone, and we really need Theo and Ike to help us. What do you say, Theo?”

“Well, I really hate to miss school, but if you insist.”

The five adults found this amusing.

W
hen Theo, Ike, Slade, and Ackerman landed at Reagan National Airport in Washington, they were met by two more FBI agents, both wearing the same dark suit, the same navy tie, and the same serious frown. Quick introductions were made; they shook Theo's hand firmly and treated him as if he were a full-blown adult. One grabbed his overnight bag and said, “This way.” A black SUV was waiting outside the Arrivals gate, at the curb, in a No Parking zone, but the airport police seemed to ignore it. They piled inside, and young Theodore Boone was whisked away as if he were a very important person. He and Ike sat in the far back and listened as the four agents chatted about other people they knew inside the FBI. As they flew past the Iwo Jima statue, Theo gazed into the distance and admired the Washington Monument. Only six days earlier he'd been at the very top, looking down upon the city with pure amazement. They crossed the Potomac River on the Arlington Memorial Bridge and worked their way through traffic.

During the flight, Theo studied maps of the streets and Metro stops of central and northwest DC. He wanted to know exactly where he was at all times. When they turned onto Constitution Avenue, he glanced to his right at the Lincoln Memorial. They passed the Reflecting Pool, and drove along the National Mall and passed the Washington Monument. They turned left onto 12th Street and headed north as the traffic got heavier. Near the Metro Center, they suddenly wheeled to a stop in front of a Marriott Hotel. Again, they parked in a No Parking zone, but the doormen were quickly waved away.

I guess the FBI doesn't worry about getting towed,
Theo thought.

Check-in had been taken care of. They rode the elevator to the fifth floor and walked briskly to Room 520. An agent said, “Your room is next door, Theo, and Mr. Boone's is next to yours with a connecting door.” He looked at Slade and Ackerman and said, “You guys are across the hall.”

The door opened and they walked into a large suite filled with more agents, and not a single one was wearing a dark suit. An older guy with gray hair stepped forward with a big smile and said, “Hello, guys, I'm Daniel Frye and I'm the leader of this team. Welcome to DC.” It took some time to shake everyone's hand and listen to everyone's name. There were six of them, plus Frye, and all were dressed differently. One wore a maroon jogging suit with “Mississippi State” across the jersey. One wore jeans and hiking boots and looked as though he'd just come out of the woods. A female agent was dressed like a sailor in navy whites. The other female agent could have passed for a homeless person. A skinny white boy looked about the same age as Theo and was dressed like a student, complete with a backpack and an earring. And the sixth one had hair as long as Ike's and looked about as rough. Frye looked like he'd just played a round of golf.

They were all very friendly and seemed amused to be working with a thirteen-year-old kid. Theo was overwhelmed and struggled to keep from grinning like a goofy idiot. The agents were sitting casually around the room. A sofa was covered with jerseys and caps. Daniel Frye said, “Okay, Theo, first things first. What's your favorite sports team?”

“Uh, the Minnesota Twins.”

Frye frowned, as did a few of the others. “That's kind of odd. You're not from Minnesota. Why the Twins?”

“Because nobody else in Strattenburg pulls for the Twins.”

“Fair enough. Problem is, we don't have any Twins stuff.” Frye sort of waved his hand over their collection on the sofa.

“Got any Yankee stuff?” Ike asked.

Theo shot back, “I don't do Yankees,” and got a few laughs.

“Okay,” Frye said. “What about the Redskins?”

“I'd rather not,” Theo said. More laughs.

“Nationals?”

“Sure, I like the Nationals.”

“Great. Now we're getting somewhere. We'll put you in that red Nationals jersey with a matching cap.”

“No cap,” Theo said.

“Well, excuse me. But we think you should wear a cap of some sort, part of a disguise.”

“Okay, sure, but not a Nationals cap. I have one of my own.”

“Okay, okay. We'll look at it in a minute. Now, if we can proceed, here's the plan.” One wall was covered with a huge map of central DC and above it was a row of enlarged photos, all of Mr. Duffy. Frye stepped to the wall and pointed to a spot labeled
MARRIOTT
. “We're here. The Metro Center Station is just around the corner. That's where you got on last Thursday, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Duffy was already on the train, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“By the way we'll use a code name for him. It's Cowboy.”

“I don't like the Cowboys, either,” Theo said. More laughs.

“Well, who do you like? What's your favorite football team.”

“Green Bay Packers.”

“Okay, we'll use Packer. Does that suit everybody?” Frye looked at his team. Everyone shrugged. Who really cared what they called him? Frye continued, “Good. We're making a lot of progress here. At four o'clock you and Mr. Boone will ride the subway up to Union Station and catch the four thirty-eight coming back this way. Theo will be in the third car, Mr. Boone in the fourth. We will have people in all the cars, and there will always be an agent within ten feet of you, Theo. At four thirty you and Mr. Boone will be hanging around the Judiciary Square Station, waiting on the train and watching the crowd.” Frye was pointing to the map as he spoke. “You'll get back on the train at that point and ride here to the Metro Center. If you see nothing, you'll ride to the Farragut North Station, switch cars, and ride all the way to the Tenleytown Station. At that point you'll get off and hang around there for half an hour. That's where Packer made his exit last week. We thoroughly covered this route on Tuesday and Wednesday, saw nothing of course, and, frankly, right now we're just praying for a miracle.”

“How do we communicate?” Ike asked.

“Oh, we have lots of toys, Mr. Boone.”

“Can I go by Ike?”

“Sure. Makes it easier.” Frye stepped to a small table that was covered with gadgets. He picked one up. “Looks like your typical smart phone, right?” he said. “But it's really a two-way radio. Plug in the earphones, and you and Theo will look exactly like a couple of guys listening to music while you send e-mails or play games.” He moved it a little closer to his face. “And if you need to speak, just get it to within eighteen inches of your mouth, press the green button, and speak softly. It will pick up almost anything. We'll all be on the same frequency and listening in. Any one of us can talk to the others at any time.”

He looked at Slade and Ackerman and said, “I assume you guys want to join the fun.”

Both nodded yes.

“Okay, we'll give you a couple of briefcases and you'll pretend to be lawyers. There are only about half a million in this city, so you should blend in okay. I'll be at the Metro Center Station. Salter here will be at Woodley Park and Keenum will be at Tenleytown. Questions?”

Theo asked, “And what if we spot Packer?”

“I was getting to that. First, don't stare. Is there any chance he might recognize you?”

Theo looked at Ike and shrugged. “I really doubt it. We've never met, never been too close to each other. I saw him when he was sitting in court, but I'm sure he didn't see me. The courtroom was crowded. And I saw him a couple of times out of the courthouse during the trial, but he would not remember me. I mean, I'm just a kid. What do you think, Ike?”

“I doubt it, too, but let's not take any chances.”

Frye asked, “Did he look at you last week when you saw him on the train?”

“I don't think so. We didn't make eye contact.”

“Okay, if you spot him, don't stare, and as soon as you can without being noticed, press the green button and tell us. Depending on how close he is to you, we'll ask the questions. When it looks like he's about to get off the train, let us know. When he does, follow him but don't get close. By then we'll have people ready to stop him.”

The thought of being close by when the FBI nabbed Pete Duffy made Theo's stomach turn a flip. It would be terribly exciting, and he would be considered a hero, but he really didn't want the attention.

Frye convinced Theo to wear a pair of black-frame glasses as part of his disguise. They spent another ten minutes haggling over the right cap. No one seemed to like the one he brought—a faded, green John Deere number with an adjustable strap. City kids probably wouldn't wear a cap advertising farm machinery, and Theo finally gave in. He agreed on a gray one with a Georgetown Hoyas logo. They decided not to use his backpack, but instead gave him one that was much lighter, just in case he had to move fast once on the streets. He and Ike ran through the workings of their new radios and earphones, and when everything seemed ready, they left and headed for the Metro Center Station.

They boarded and Theo found a seat in the center of the fourth car. Ike, wearing a sports coat, different glasses, khakis and loafers, sat across from him. The guy with the maroon jogging suit was a few feet away, standing. When the train began to move, Theo plugged in his earphones and scanned the crowd. He pretended to be texting when he heard Frye's voice. “How you doing, Theo?”

Theo raised the phone a few inches, pressed the green button, and softly said, “Everything's cool. No sign of Packer.”

“We hear you loud and clear.”

Theo, Ike, and the jogger got off at the Tenleytown Station, waited a few minutes, then caught an inbound train. Minutes later, it stopped at the Judiciary Square Station and they got off. That was where the FBI assumed Pete Duffy boarded the train. Theo walked around, lost in his music and texts, the same as the other kids waiting for the train. No sign of Duffy. At the end of the platform, he saw the sailor. At the other end, he saw the skinny student. More commuters arrived and the platform got crowded. In the throng, he saw Slade, looking very much like a lawyer. The train arrived. No one got off and the commuters rushed on board. Theo got swept up with the crowd and found a spot in the middle of the third car. Ike disappeared into the fourth. The jogger was standing five feet from Theo. As the train bolted forward, Theo casually looked around.

Nothing. No one remotely resembled Pete Duffy.

More commuters packed on board at the Metro Center Station. Nothing. At Farragut North, Theo scrambled to leave the third car and climb onto the fifth car. Nothing. Their next, and final, stop was the Tenleytown Station. Several commuters got off, along with Theo, Ike, the jogger, and the sailor. When he felt comfortable, he pressed the green button and said, “Theo, here, and I just got off the train. I've seen no one.”

Ike replied: “This is Ike and I've seen nothing.”

As instructed they hung around the station until two more trains stopped. Frye instructed them to reboard the inbound train, return to Judiciary Square, and do it all again. For Theo, the excitement was fading. There were so many people using the subway it seemed almost impossible to see them all.

For two hours, Theo and Ike rode the red line, back and forth, between the Tenleytown and Judiciary Square stations.

If Pete Duffy was still in town, he was either riding in cabs or using another subway line. For the third day in a row, the search for him went nowhere.

In his hotel room, Theo changed out of the red Nationals jersey and took off the Georgetown cap. He called his mother and gave a full report. He was thoroughly bored with the subway but still enjoying the hunt. In his opinion, they were wasting their time.

Early Friday, Theo, Ike, and the entire team descended onto the Metro and rode trains for three hours. Nothing. Frye suspended the search at ten thirty, and Theo and Ike returned to the hotel. They killed some time, had a quiet lunch together in the hotel restaurant, and were talking about doing some sightseeing when Frye popped in and invited them to take a tour of the FBI headquarters. They jumped at the invitation and spent two hours in the J. Edgar Hoover Building on Pennsylvania Avenue. At four p.m., they were back on the subway, looking at strangers and seeing no one of interest.

By seven p.m., Theo was thoroughly bored with everything—the subway, the hordes of people, the constant thoughts of Pete Duffy, and the city itself. He just wanted to go home.