by John Grisham
“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.
Chapter 8
When 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.
Chapter 9
Agent Daniel Frye was a nice guy, but he was becoming a drill sergeant. He insisted the team work early Saturday, because, who knows, Pete Duffy just might move around some. He had obviously changed his routine, and since Theo and Ike were in town anyway, why not ride a few more subway trains and hope for a miracle? Their flight didn’t leave until noon.
Over an early breakfast, Theo and Ike talked about the obvious: If Pete Duffy had not been back to his apartment in four days, he was gone. Something had spooked him and he’d vanished again. They had been lucky once, but their luck had run out.
They devoured pancakes, then met with the team for a final foray into the underground.
A miracle was not in the works. At ten a.m., Theo, Ike, Slade, and Ackerman left the hotel in yet another black FBI van and went to the airport. They checked in and, after a long walk through a concourse, found their gate. They had over an hour to kill, and Theo was immediately bored. He was also tired of this little adventure. Furthermore, he was irritated because he was missing his weekly round of golf with his father.
During the tour of the Hoover building the day before, he had entertained thoughts of becoming an FBI agent, of traveling the word stalking terrorists and the like. Now, though, he dismissed those thoughts and could not imagine a career that involved sitting on subway trains for hours on end. He told Ike he was going to find a restroom and roam around. Ike, his nose stuck in a newspaper, grunted in response. Slade and Ackerman were both on the phone and watching planes take off and land in the distance. The airport was not busy, and as Theo walked along the concourse he passed a bookstore, a gift shop, two bars where some folks were already drinking too much, a sad little quarantine box where the smokers were caged in, and several restaurants. He used the restroom, and as he stepped back onto the concourse to continue his stroll, he bumped into a man who was in a hurry. The contact was slight, but it was enough to make the man drop his carry-on bag.
“Sorry,” the man said as he hurried to pick up his bag. When he bent over, his eyeglasses slipped off.
“Sorry, too,” Theo said, embarrassed.
As the man grabbed his glasses, Theo looked at him and moved back a step. Something about him was familiar; in fact, he looked a lot like Pete Duffy, but with blond hair and different glasses. He froze for a second, glared at
Theo as if he knew him, then smiled as if all was well. Theo froze, too, but quickly remembered Frye’s warning: Don’t stare. He returned the smile and walked in the opposite direction. Duffy continued on, in a hurry, and Theo ducked behind a newsstand. As he watched Duffy hoof it down the concourse, he realized he’d seen that walk before. He called Ike. Straight to voice mail. He had numbers for both Slade and Ackerman. He called Slade and began trailing Duffy, who was getting farther away. Twice he glanced over his shoulder, as if he knew someone was back there.
Slade answered after the fourth ring. “Yes, Theo.”
“I got Packer,” Theo said. “Come quick.”
“Where?”
“Down the concourse. He just passed gate number thirty-one. He’s in a hurry and I think he’s trying to catch a flight.”
“Stay on his tail. We’ll be right there.”
Theo moved along the edge of the concourse, trying to stay out of sight but having trouble keeping up with Duffy. At gate twenty-seven, though, Duffy slowed down and got in the back of a long line of people boarding. He glanced back again, but Theo was hiding behind an information booth. He waited for what seemed like hours until he saw Slade and Ackerman walking rapidly toward him. Ike was trying to keep up.
Theo waved them over. “He’s at gate twenty-seven, waiting to board.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Ackerman asked.
“Pretty sure. We made eye contact. I think he thought he’d seen me somewhere before.”
“Which guy?” Ackerman asked as they peeked around the booth. A lady at the desk asked, “May I help you?”
Slade said, “FBI, ma’am. We’re cool.”
Theo said, “He’s at the back of the line, brown jacket, khaki pants, black carry-on bag. He’s got blond hair now.” Ackerman looked at the large screen above them and said, “Gate twenty-seven. Delta nonstop to Miami.”
Slade said to Ackerman, “Call Frye. Get the flight delayed or grounded or whatever. Let’s stay here, let Packer get on board, and at that point there’s no escape.”
“Right,” Ackerman said, punching numbers on his phone.
Slade said, “I’ll go get in line behind him, just to make sure he doesn’t disappear.” Slade casually strolled down the concourse, like any other passenger, and got in line for the flight to Miami. There were six people between him and Duffy and the line was moving slowly. Duffy seemed a bit jumpy. He was probably wondering where he’d seen that kid before, and he kept glancing down the concourse. Ackerman was talking to Frye. Ike was crouching behind Theo and breathing heavily. The lady at the desk just stared at them. She was probably thinking This kid ain’t no FBI agent. But she said nothing.
Ackerman stuck his phone in his pocket and said, “Got it. The flight will be delayed until we do our business. Packer won’t make it to Miami. Assuming, of course, it is Packer.”
“Is it Duffy?” Ike grunted at Theo.
“I sure hope so,” Theo replied, and then almost got sick again with the thought that maybe he had picked the wrong guy. What if all this was one big mistake?
But it was Duffy. Theo had seen his eyes, and he’d seen him walk.
As soon as Duffy handed his ticket to the Delta agent and disappeared through the door to the walkway, Slade walked to the counter, flashed his badge to another Delta agent, and said, “FBI. This flight is being delayed.”
Ackerman hurried to the gate, with Theo and Ike right behind him. All passengers were on board and the crew was preparing to push back. Ackerman said, “I’ll walk on board and see where he’s sitting. That way we’ll have a name.”
“Good idea,” Slade said.
Ackerman explained things to the Delta agent and hustled on to the airplane. Five minutes later he was back at the counter. He said, “Seat fourteen B. Who’s the passenger?” The Delta agent pecked the keys, scanned the monitor, and said, “A Mr. Tom Carson. Bought the ticket yesterday at a Delta office on Connecticut Avenue.”
“Cash or credit card?”
“Uh, let’s see. Cash.”
“Cash for a one-way ticket?”
“That’s right.”
“Okay. We think we need to have a chat with him. There is a warrant for an arrest, but first we need to verify his identity and it might take some time. Have your pilot announce that there is a slight delay. No one will be surprised.”
“Sure. Happens all the time.”
• • •
Twenty minutes later, Daniel Frye arrived in a rush with three other agents, all new ones. He huddled with Slade and Ackerman, and he asked Theo, “Are you sure?”
Theo nodded and said, “About ninety percent.”
Frye said, “Okay, here’s the plan. Let’s get the guy off the plane and talk to him. We’ll check his paperwork and see where that goes. If it’s the wrong guy,
